#Female Peros

[cosmicaura7]

THREESOMES

Pairings : pedro pascal characters x reader

Genre : f/m, m/f/m, smut, threesomes, edging, overstimulation, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, double penetration, oral (male & female receiving), sex toys

Synopsis : Oh the joys of being sandwiched between two of your favorite men.

Clint Flood (Freaky Tales) & Joel Miller (The Last of Us)

The room smells like whiskey and sweat, the low hum of the city beyond the windows muted by the thrum of your own racing heart. Clint’s back is against the wall, shirt half-buttoned, belt hanging loose. Meanwhile, Joel’s sprawled across the worn leather couch, legs spread wide, forearms resting on his knees, watching you like a predator with a dark glint in his eyes.

And you’re caught between them. You don’t know how it started, just that it did. A glance from Clint, a brush of Joel’s rough palm against your thigh, and the air thickened with a heat that settled low in your belly. Now you’re standing there, lips swollen from kisses, skin flushed, breath hitching.

“C’mere, baby. Let us take care of you.” Joel’s voice is low, that familiar southern drawl wrapping around you like silk. 

Clint chuckles darkly, stepping closer, his knuckles grazing your jaw as he tilts your face up to his. “Don’t make her choose, Joel.” He murmurs. “She’s ours tonight.”

Your knees nearly buckle at the weight of their attention but Joel rises from the couch, stepping in behind you, his big hands settling on your hips. His lips graze your neck, teeth scraping lightly against your pulse as Clint’s mouth claims yours in a kiss that steals your breath. You’re sandwiched between them now, Joel’s rough calloused hands pulling your skirt up while Clint’s fingers work at the buttons of your blouse, lips trailing down your throat. You shiver as cool air hits your bare skin, your bra undone and pushed aside by greedy hands.

Joel growls low against your ear, his breath hot. “Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart. Gonna have you screaming for both of us.”

Clint’s hand slides between your thighs, teasing over your panties before yanking them down. “So wet already.” He murmurs approvingly, fingers dipping between your folds. “She’s ready for us.”

You gasp, hips rocking into his touch but Joel’s hand slides between your legs from behind, his thick fingers joining Clint’s, stretching you out and making you whimper. The contrast of their touches, Clint’s sharp teasing strokes and Joel’s steady claiming pressure, has your head spinning. They share a look over your shoulder, a silent agreement passing between them and then they’re moving you toward the bed. Joel lays you down first, his hands firm but careful as he settles between your legs, his mouth hot and possessive against your core. Clint stands beside the bed, undressing slowly, watching with that cocky grin of his as you writhe beneath Joel’s tongue.

“Fuck, she’s perfect like this.” Clint murmurs, voice low and rough. “All spread out for us, takin’ what we give her.”

You cry out when Joel slides two fingers into you, curling them just right, his mouth relentless. Clint steps in, stripping the last of his clothes and kneeling by your head, his hard length brushing your lips. His voice is almost a plea when he murmurs, “Open up, darlin’.” You do, taking him into your mouth while Joel works you below, his deep groans vibrating against your skin. The combined sensations are overwhelming, Clint’s thick salty-sweet taste on your tongue, Joel’s skilled fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Such a good girl.” Joel murmurs against your slick folds, his voice rough with need. “Taking both of us like you were made for it.”

Your orgasm crashes over you, blinding and all-consuming and they don’t stop, Joel keeps working you through it, Clint thrusting shallowly into your mouth, his hand tangled in your hair. They pull back only to reposition you, Joel’s thick cock replacing his fingers as he thrusts deep inside you, while Clint slides in behind you, pressing his lips to your neck, his cock hard and insistent against your back.

“Ready for both of us, sweetheart?” Clint whispers, biting down lightly on your shoulder. You nod, breathless, eyes half-lidded, completely at their mercy. Joel groans as he starts moving, slow and deep, while Clint pushes in behind you, the stretch nearly too much but you want it, need it. Their combined weight, their heat, the way they fill you, push you past pleasure into something primal. You’re caged between them, marked by their hands, their mouths, their bodies, completely owned and worshipped.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dave York (The Equalizer 2) & Marcus Pike (The Mentalist)

The air crackles with tension, thick and heavy like a storm about to break. You can feel both their eyes on you, Marcus leaning against the doorframe in his fitted button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his gaze soft but hungry. And Dave was seated in the worn leather armchair across the room, legs spread wide, a predatory smirk tugging at his lips. You stand there, the heat of their combined attention wrapping around you, leaving your skin prickling and your breath hitching.

“Come here, sweetheart.” Marcus says, his voice low and steady, but there’s a hint of command beneath his usual warmth. You cross the room toward him, your bare feet silent against the floorboards, your pulse pounding louder than the rain tapping against the windows. His hand cups your face, his thumb brushing over your lips as his dark eyes search yours.

“You sure about this?” He murmurs, voice rough with restraint.

Before you can answer, Dave’s low chuckle cuts through the air, dark and laced with heat. “She’s sure, Pike. Look at her.” He rises from the chair, stalking toward you like a man who’s made up his mind. His hand comes to rest on your hip, his grip firm, fingers digging just enough to make you gasp. “Aren’t you, baby?”

“I want both of you.” Your voice comes out in a breathless whisper. 

That’s all it takes. Marcus’s mouth crashes against yours, his kiss deep and hungry, while Dave steps behind you, his hands slipping beneath your shirt, palms hot against your skin. You’re sandwiched between them, Marcus’s soft but insistent lips on yours, Dave’s rough calloused hands exploring your body from behind, his breath hot against your neck. They peel your clothes away slowly, Marcus’s touch reverent while Dave’s greedy. Marcus kneels to trail kisses down your stomach, his hands skimming your thighs, while Dave unbuttons your jeans, pulling them down with a roughness that leaves you gasping. By the time you’re naked between them, you’re trembling with anticipation.

Dave growls low in your ear, his hand sliding between your legs, fingers teasing. “So wet for us already.” He murmurs. “You’re gonna take us both, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Your whimper is all the answer he needs.

Marcus rises, his hands steady as he cups your face again. “Look at me.” He says softly. “You’re safe. We’ll take care of you.” His lips brush yours as Dave sinks to his knees behind you, his tongue tracing along your slick folds, making you cry out. Marcus catches your moans with his mouth, swallowing every sound as Dave works you from behind, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for him. The contrast between Marcus’s gentle steady control and Dave’s rough demanding touch makes your head spin.

When Dave stands, his chest pressing against your back, he growls. “On the bed now.” Marcus guides you there, laying you down with a gentleness that makes your heart ache. Dave joins you, stripping the last of his clothes with a predatory grin. They flank you, Marcus kissing you deeply, his hands exploring every inch of you, while Dave kneels between your legs, his thick cock brushing your entrance.

“Ready for me, baby?” Dave murmurs, his voice low and rough.

“Yes…” You breathe, arching into him.

Dave pushes in slowly stretching you, groaning at the feel of you wrapped around him. Marcus watches, his pupils blown wide, stroking himself as he waits his turn. When Dave starts moving, hard and deep, his hands gripping your hips, Marcus leans down, his mouth capturing your moans, his free hand teasing your breasts.

“You’re so good, sweetheart.” Marcus murmurs. “Taking him so well. My turn soon.”

Dave’s thrusts grow erratic as he groans your name, pulling out just long enough for Marcus to replace him, his cock sliding into you with a stretch that has you gasping. Marcus’s touch is more measured, his thrusts steady and deep, but Dave isn’t done. He positions himself behind you, his cock brushing against your other entrance.

“You can take us both, can’t you?” Dave growls against your shoulder, his breath hot and heavy. “Be a good girl for us.” Your breathless whimper is all the permission they need.

The stretch is overwhelming, the sensation of both of them filling you, claiming you, making you theirs. You’re caught between them, your body trembling, your mind blank with pleasure. They move together, their rhythm perfect, their hands and mouths marking you as theirs. When you finally shatter, it’s with both their names on your lips, your body clenching around them, dragging them over the edge with you. They collapse against you, breathless and spent, their hands stroking over your skin, murmuring praise and promises. And in that moment, tangled between them, your body marked by their touch, you’ve never felt more wanted, more cherished or more complete.

Dieter Bravo (The Bubble) & Javi Gutierrez (The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent)

You didn’t plan this.

It started with a look, Dieter’s lazy smirk from across the suite, the glint of mischief in Javi’s warm brown eyes as he leaned closer, his breath ghosting against your neck. A casual drink had turned into heated touches, whispered confessions, and before you knew it, you were here naked between them, breathless and trembling, caught in a perfect storm of pleasure.

Dieter’s hands are on your hips, his rings cool against your flushed skin, as he pulls you back against him. His cock brushes your entrance, the anticipation making your knees weak. Behind you, he leans in, his voice a low, teasing growl in your ear. “Ready for me, baby? Gonna fuck you so good.”

At the same time, Javi kneels in front of you, his hand cradling your jaw, his thumb tracing over your parted lips. His voice is gentle, contrasting Dieter’s edge. “Querida, open for me, hmm? Let me feel you.” You’re breathless, completely at their mercy but you nod, opening your mouth for Javi just as Dieter slides into you from behind, stretching you with a deep rolling thrust that makes you moan around Javi’s length.

“Fuck…” Dieter groans, his hands tightening on your hips as he drives deeper, his pace already rough and demanding. “So tight, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

Javi’s hips shift, his cock filling your mouth, his moan a soft, desperate sound as he strokes your cheek, guiding you to take him deeper. His voice is low, shaky with restraint. “You’re perfect like this.” He whispers in Spanish, his words a heated rush against your flushed skin. “So beautiful with your mouth full, taking us both like a good girl.” Your mind spins with sensation, the deep relentless thrust of Dieter behind you, the heat and weight of Javi’s cock in your mouth, the way their voices blend into a haze of pleasure. You moan, the vibrations making Javi’s hips jerk, a soft curse falling from his lips.

Dieter’s pace quickens, the slap of his hips against your ass echoing in the room, his voice rough with need. “Shit, I’m not gonna last if you keep sucking him like that, baby. Fuck.”

Javi pulls back slightly, letting you breathe for a moment, his hand caressing your cheek, his eyes dark with desire. “Slow down, hermosa. Let me feel you, savor you.”

But Dieter’s not having any of it, he groans, thrusting harder, his grip almost bruising, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. “No, don’t slow down. I wanna see you messy and ruined, taking us both.” Your whimpers are muffled by Javi’s cock as he pushes back into your mouth, his control slipping, his hand tangling in your hair. The intensity of being stretched, filled, taken by both of them is overwhelming, you’re dizzy with it, your body a live wire of sensation.

“Such a good fucking girl.” Dieter pants, his thrusts turning erratic. “Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna fuck you full of me while you suck him off.”

Javi’s voice trembles, a mix of praise and desperation. “I’m so close, querida. You’re perfect. Perfect.” You’re right there with them, your body taut with pleasure, your mind spinning from the dual sensations, the delicious stretch, the way they use you and worship you in equal measure. When you finally break, it’s with a muffled cry around Javi’s cock, your body trembling violently as your orgasm crashes over you, clenching around Dieter so tightly it drags him over the edge with you. He spills inside you with a deep groan, his hips stuttering. Javi follows, a shuddering breath escaping him as he comes into your mouth, his voice breaking as he murmurs your name, praise falling from his lips like a prayer. They both pull you into their arms, breathless, bodies tangled and sticky, their hands soothing over your flushed skin.

“You’re ours now.” Dieter murmurs against your neck, his voice low and possessive.

Javi’s lips brush your temple, his voice a soft, reverent whisper. “Siempre nuestra.” And in their arms, between roughness and tenderness, demand and worship, you find the perfect balance you never knew you needed.

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) & Ezra (The Prospect)

The air in the dimly lit quarters is thick with heat and tension, heavy with the weight of desire simmering just beneath the surface. You feel both of them, Din standing tall and imposing, still half-armored, his helmet discarded, his dark eyes drinking you in, and Ezra, lounging on the edge of the bunk, his rough hands tracing lazy circles over your skin, his smirk dark and inviting.

“You’re ours tonight.” Din growls, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine.

Ezra chuckles softly, the sound rough and warm, his voice curling around you like smoke. “Can’t wait to see you fall apart between us, pretty girl.”

Your breath catches as they close in on you, their bodies caging you between them, their touches possessive and reverent all at once. Ezra’s hands are already at your hips, tugging your clothes away with a practiced ease, while Din’s gloved fingers slide up your spine, his heat searing through the thin fabric of your shirt. They strip you slowly, Ezra’s touch teasing and playful, Din’s methodical and firm. By the time you’re bare before them, you’re trembling with anticipation, your skin prickling with need.

“On your knees, cyar’ika.” Din murmurs, his hand threading through your hair, his grip firm but gentle. “For me.” You sink to the floor, heat flooding your cheeks, your heart pounding wildly. Ezra moves behind you, his rough hands gliding down your back, over the curve of your ass, his breath hot against your skin.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. “I’ll take good care of you.” Din steps closer, his cock thick and hard, brushing against your lips. You open eagerly, your tongue flicking out to taste him, the salty tang of his skin making your head spin. He groans, low and rough, his hips jerking slightly as you take him deeper, your lips stretching around him.

Behind you, Ezra kneels, his hands gripping your hips, spreading you open. You feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance, the stretch making you gasp around Din’s length. “Fuck, she’s tight.” Ezra growls, his voice ragged as he pushes into you, inch by slow inch, filling you completely.

Din’s hand tightens in your hair, his cock hitting the back of your throat as you moan around him, the sensation sending vibrations through him. “That’s it, cyar’ika. Take me. Take us both.”

The two of them move in tandem, Ezra’s thrusts hard and deep, his pace relentless as he drives into you from behind, while Din guides your head, his hips rolling slowly, letting you savor the weight and heat of him in your mouth. You’re lost to the sensations, the stretch, the fullness, the way their voices blend into a rough, possessive symphony around you.

“You’re so fucking wet for us, pretty girl. Gonna come all over me, aren’t you?” Ezra’s hand slides around to your front, his fingers finding your clit, circling it with practiced ease, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. 

“Look at you, taking us both like a good girl. You’re perfect.” Din’s voice is strained, his restraint fraying as you hollow your cheeks around him, taking him deeper. 

Your body tightens, the pleasure building to a breaking point, your moans muffled by Din’s cock as you tremble, clenching around Ezra, dragging him over the edge with you. He spills inside you with a ragged groan, his hips jerking against yours.

Din pulls free just long enough to let you breathe, his cock slick with your spit and his own arousal. His voice is rough, almost desperate. “Not done yet, cyar’ika. Open wide for me.” You do, lips parted and tongue out, and he thrusts back into your mouth, his hips snapping forward as he chases his release. He spills down your throat with a low, broken growl, his hands cradling your head as you swallow every drop. When he pulls back, both of them gather you up between them, their bodies warm and solid against yours, their hands stroking over your trembling form.

“Told you we’d take good care of you.” Ezra presses a kiss to your shoulder, his voice soft and teasing. 

Din’s lips brush your temple, his voice low and possessive. “Ours, cyar’ika. Always.” And in the quiet aftermath, tangled between them, your body marked by their touch, you feel utterly, deliciously ruined.

Francisco Morales (Triple Frontier) & Jack “Whiskey” Daniels (Kingsman)

The low light of the hotel room flickers against the walls, the air thick with tension and need. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, it was clear what the night would bring, the heat in Francisco’s dark eyes, the knowing smirk playing at the corner of Jack’s mouth as he poured himself a glass of bourbon, leaning against the dresser with an easy dangerous confidence.

“Looks like we finally get to see what you’re made of, darlin’.” Jack drawls, his voice smooth as honey, but with an edge sharp enough to cut.

Francisco’s hands are already on you, pulling you in, his grip rough, his kiss bruising and possessive. “She’s all mine first.” He murmurs against your lips, his voice low and full of heat. “You just watch, cowboy.”

“I’ll enjoy the show.” Jack raises his glass, his eyes dark and glittering with anticipation. 

Francisco wastes no time, he strips you bare with practiced ease, his hands roaming over your flushed skin, his lips trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your throat. He pushes you onto the bed, spreading your legs with a rough commanding touch. “God, look at you.” He growls, his voice thick with desire. “So fucking perfect.”

Behind him, Jack leans back in the chair by the window, sipping his bourbon, his eyes never leaving you. “That’s it, Frankie.” He murmurs, his voice low and sinfully amused. “Show me how she falls apart for you.”

Francisco’s cock is thick and hard as he lines himself up, his fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts into you with one smooth, powerful stroke. You cry out, the stretch deliciously overwhelming, your body already trembling from the force of him. “Fuck, so tight.” Francisco groans, his thrusts deep and relentless, his body pressing yours into the mattress with every roll of his hips. “Taking me so good, baby. You’re fucking perfect for me.”

Your gaze flickers to Jack, who’s watching with a slow, dangerous smile, his eyes dark with heat. He takes another sip of his drink, his gaze devouring the sight of you being used, fucked senseless by Francisco. “You look so pretty like that, sweetheart.” Jack murmurs, his voice a lazy drawl that makes your skin flush. “All spread out for him, moaning like a needy little thing. Thinkin’ about how I’ll have you next.”

“She’s mine right now. But don’t worry, Whiskey. You’ll get your turn.” Francisco growls, the sound primal, possessive, as he drives harder into you, his pace punishing, his voice rough with need. 

The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, the bed rocking beneath you as Francisco takes you hard and deep, his thrusts shaking you apart. His name tears from your lips, a desperate breathless cry, your fingers clawing at the sheets as your body tenses around him.

Jack’s low chuckle rumbles through the room. “Go on, darlin’. Let him hear how good he’s making you feel.” With one final, deep thrust, Francisco spills inside you, his grip tightening as he groans your name, his hips jerking with each wave of his release. He collapses against you for a moment, panting, his skin slick with sweat.

Slowly, he pulls out, his breath ragged, his lips grazing your ear. “Get ready, baby.” He murmurs. “It’s his turn now.”

Jack stands, setting his glass down with a deliberate clink. His smirk is slow and wicked as he saunters toward the bed, shedding his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. “Now it’s my turn to see what you can take, sugar.” He drawls, his voice thick with anticipation.

And as you’re laid bare again, caught between their possessive ravenous gazes, you know the night is far from over.

Harry Castillo (The Materialists) & Marcus Acacius (Gladiator II)

The moment you step into the softly lit room, you can feel their eyes on you, Harry’s gaze, dark and hungry, a spark of mischief glinting behind his easy charm, and Marcus’s sharp unyielding stare, full of primal intent.

They don’t waste words. Harry’s hands are on you first, pulling you closer, his lips brushing your jaw. “Been waiting all night for this, baby.” He murmurs, his voice low and rough against your skin.

Marcus steps in behind you, his strong hands gripping your hips possessively, his lips at your neck. “Let’s see how loud we can make you beg.” He growls, his tone thick with an edge of command.

They work together to undress you, Harry’s touch teasing and playful, Marcus’s slow and deliberate. By the time they’re done, you’re breathless and flushed, your skin prickling with anticipation. They lay you out on the bed like an offering, your legs spread wide between them. Harry kneels between your thighs first, his eyes dark with intent as he leans in, his breath ghosting over your slick, heated skin. “God, you’re so wet already.” He murmurs, his voice a mix of awe and hunger.

Marcus joins him, his large, calloused hands stroking up your thighs, parting you even wider. “Perfect.” He growls, his lips pressing against the inside of your thigh, his stubble scraping your sensitive skin.

Then they both dive in, Harry’s mouth hot and insistent against your clit, his tongue flicking and circling with expert skill, while Marcus’s lips find your entrance, his tongue thrusting inside you, tasting you deeply. Your back arches off the bed as you cry out, your hands fisting in the sheets, overwhelmed by the dual assault of their mouths. The contrast between Harry’s teasing licks and Marcus’s deep possessive thrusts of his tongue sends sparks of pleasure racing through you.

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.” Harry’s voice is low and teasing, his breath hot against you. Marcus growls in agreement, his tongue working you with increasing intensity, his fingers digging into your thighs to hold you steady. They take turns, switching seamlessly, Harry’s mouth sliding lower, his tongue delving deep inside you, while Marcus’s lips close around your clit, sucking and flicking with just the right amount of pressure.

You’re trembling, your hips bucking helplessly against them, your cries growing louder with each stroke of their tongues. They moan against you, the vibrations making you shudder, your body tightening like a bowstring about to snap.

“Come for us.” Marcus commands, his voice a low growl against your clit. Harry hums his agreement, his tongue thrusting deep inside you, his fingers pressing into your hips to hold you down.

The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision going white as you scream their names, your body convulsing between them. They don’t stop. Harry’s tongue laves gently over your entrance, tasting every drop of your release, while Marcus’s lips and tongue continue to tease your clit, drawing out your pleasure until you’re a trembling breathless mess beneath them.

When they finally pull back, both men look up at you, Marcus’s gaze dark and intense, Harry’s lips glistening with your slick, his smirk lazy and satisfied. “Think you’re ready for more, baby?” Harry murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

Marcus growls softly, his hand stroking your trembling thigh. “She’s perfect. Let’s show her what else we can do.” And you know the night is far from over.

Javier Peña (Narcos) & Tim Rockford (Merge Mansion)

The night hums low with anticipation, the dim light of the room casting shadows over the walls. You’re pressed between them, Javier on one side, his dark eyes heavy with hunger, and Tim on the other, his smirk sharp as he trails a hand up your bare back.

“You’re sure about this, sweetheart?” Tim murmurs, his voice a low, rumbling tease against your ear. You don’t hesitate. You drop to your knees, the thick carpet soft beneath you as you glance up at both of them, feeling the heat in your belly coil tighter with every heartbeat.

Javier groans softly, his fingers brushing your hair back as he unbuckles his belt, the sound sharp and commanding in the quiet room. “Christ, look at her.” He mutters, his voice thick with need.

Tim’s already pulling himself free, his cock hard and flushed, the sight making your mouth water. His hand tangles in your hair, guiding you to him first. “Go on, baby.” He coaxes, his voice rough but playful. “Show us how good that mouth of yours is.” You wrap your lips around Tim’s cock, taking him deep, your tongue swirling over the sensitive head. His groan vibrates through the air, his grip tightening as he rocks his hips, shallow thrusts against your mouth.

Behind you, Javier’s voice is a low growl. “My turn.” He says, and you feel the brush of his cock against your cheek. You turn, your lips wet and swollen, and take him in, the bitter-salt taste of him filling your senses. Tim groans as you pull back from him, your hand stroking his length while you give your attention to Javier, your mouth working him with the same slow teasing strokes. They both groan, their hands tangled in your hair, their hips rocking in unison, driving you to take more of them.

“That’s it, baby.” Javier pants, his voice rough. “Fuck, you look so pretty with your mouth full.”

Tim chuckles low, his voice tight with pleasure. “She was made for this.” He says, his tone rich with pride and desire. 

You alternate between them, your hands stroking the length of each cock as your lips and tongue tease and pleasure them, their groans and curses filling the room. Their combined scent, the taste of them on your tongue, makes you dizzy with need, your own arousal slick between your thighs.

“Gonna come for you.” Tim growls, his hand tightening. “Gonna fill that pretty mouth.”

Javier’s voice is a sharp, low growl. “Me too. Fuck, you’re perfect.” Their hips jerk, one after the other, as you take them both in turn, your lips wrapped around Tim, swallowing him down as he groans your name, then Javier, tasting the salty release of his need. They collapse back, panting, as you sit back on your heels, your lips swollen, your breathing heavy. Their gazes are hot and possessive, their hands reaching to pull you up between them.

“You’re fucking amazing.” Javier mutters, his lips brushing yours.

Tim’s grin is slow and wicked. “Don’t think we’re done with you yet, sweetheart.” he says, his voice thick with promise.

And you know the night is far from over.

Lucien De Leon (The Uninvited) & Dieter Bravo (The Bubble) 

The low hum of anticipation thrums through your veins as Lucien guides you backward onto the bed, his hands firm but gentle as he pushes you down. His lips brush your ear as he murmurs, “You’re going to be so good for us tonight, aren’t you?”

Before you can answer, Dieter’s already stepping closer, his grin wide and wicked as he sets down a sleek velvet bag on the nightstand. “She’s ready.” He drawls, pulling out an array of toys, vibrators, plugs and even a delicate remote-controlled bullet. His voice drops, teasing. “We’re going to have so much fun with her.”

Your breath catches as Lucien’s hands stroke your thighs, spreading them open, his dark eyes gleaming with hunger. “Let’s start with something slow.” He murmurs, reaching for the bullet.

Dieter kneels on the bed beside you, his fingers brushing your hair back, his lips grazing your jaw. “Relax, baby.” He soothes, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrays his intentions. “Let us take care of you.” Lucien’s fingers slip between your thighs, parting you gently, and you shudder at the cool touch of the toy against your slick entrance. He eases the bullet inside, his thumb grazing your clit as he clicks the remote on. The low buzz fills the room, vibrating deep within you.

You gasp, your back arching as Dieter’s hand finds your breast, his fingers teasing your nipple, twisting just enough to send jolts of pleasure through you. “Oh, she’s already so responsive.” He murmurs, his voice a low purr.

Lucien chuckles softly, his thumb flicking the remote, increasing the vibration. “Let’s see how much she can take.” He murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

Your hips writhe helplessly as the vibrations intensify, the toy pressing against sensitive spots inside you, your breath catching with every pulse. Dieter leans in, his lips brushing yours, his kiss slow and possessive as Lucien’s fingers tease your clit in slow, deliberate circles. The combination is maddening, Lucien’s relentless teasing, Dieter’s heated kisses and roaming hands, the toy’s deep insistent hum. Your moans grow louder, your body trembling, but every time you get close, Lucien clicks the remote down a notch, easing the vibrations, denying you release.

“Please…” You whimper, your voice breaking.

Dieter’s grin widens. “Oh, she’s begging already.” He murmurs, his lips brushing your cheek. “What do you think, Lucien? Should we let her come?”

Lucien’s voice is low and dangerous. “Not yet.” He growls, his hand sliding beneath you, his fingers stroking your slick folds as he watches your face twist in pleasure and frustration. “Not until she’s completely falling apart.”

Dieter laughs softly, pulling a second toy from the bag, a slim glass butt plug, and coating it with lube. “Let’s see how she handles this,” he murmurs, his voice teasing.

Lucien holds you steady as Dieter eases the plug inside your other hole, the cool glass making you shiver. The sensation of being so completely filled, the toy pulsing inside you, Lucien’s fingers at your clit and Dieter’s teasing words against your ear, pushes you to the edge.

“Now…” Lucien murmurs, clicking the remote to its highest setting, the vibrations deep and relentless.

You shatter around them, a cry tearing from your throat, your body trembling uncontrollably as pleasure crashes over you. Dieter’s mouth finds yours, muffling your moans, his kiss hot and possessive. Lucien groans softly, his fingers working you through every wave of your release, his lips trailing fire down your throat. When you finally collapse, boneless and gasping, between them, they both pull back slightly, watching you with satisfied, hungry gazes.

“She’s perfect.” Lucien murmurs, his voice low and rough.

Dieter grins, his fingers brushing your flushed cheek. “And we’re just getting started, baby.”

Marcus Moreno (We Can Be Heroes) & Reed Richards (Fantastic 4)

You feel the weight of their eyes on you as you stand between them, Marcus Moreno, his eyes dark and heavy with need, and Reed Richards, his expression controlled, but his gaze betraying a similar hunger.

“You really want this, baby?” Marcus murmurs, his voice rough against your ear as his hand strokes your hip.

You nod, your breath hitching as Reed steps closer behind you, his lips brushing the back of your neck. “Tell us what you want.” He says, his voice low and smooth, his hands sliding around your waist to pull you back against his hard, eager body.

Your voice trembles, but you say it anyway. “I want you both to fill me up.” You whisper, your cheeks flushing as the words spill out. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t think… until I’m bred and full of both of you.”

The growl Marcus gives in response is low and possessive. “That’s it.” He rasps, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you wider as he lifts you into his arms.

Reed’s chuckle is darker, his lips pressing heatedly against the shell of your ear. “We’ll give you everything you’re asking for, sweetheart.” He promises, his voice full of a promise that makes your knees weak.

They take you to the bed, laying you out between them, your body flushed and trembling with anticipation. Marcus kneels between your thighs, his fingers teasing over your slick folds, while Reed settles behind you, his hands massaging your hips, his cock hard against your back. “Gonna make you feel so full, baby.” Marcus murmurs, lining himself up with your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing insistently. “You’re gonna take all of me, then Reed’s gonna fill you from behind.”

Reed’s hands tighten, his voice rough as he adds, “You’ll feel us both, stretching you, filling you up until you’re dripping with us.” Your moan is breathless, your body arching as Marcus thrusts in, filling you completely, his cock stretching you deliciously. Reed strokes himself against your back, waiting until Marcus is fully seated before he guides your hips back, pressing himself to your other entrance. The slow stretch makes you whimper, the sensation of being filled by both of them overwhelming but so good. They move in sync, one pressing deeper as the other pulls back, their cocks working you open, making you gasp and cry out.

“You’re taking us so well.” Marcus groans, his hands gripping your hips, his pace steady and deep. “Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna make you ours.”

Reed’s breath is hot against your ear, his voice thick with desire. “Gonna breed you, sweetheart.” He murmurs. “You’ll be dripping with us, full and marked, just like you want.”

Your release crashes over you, your cries muffled against the sheets as they drive into you, filling you completely. They don’t stop, their thrusts deep and possessive, until they both groan, spilling inside you, hot and thick, their combined release spilling from you, marking you as theirs. When they finally collapse beside you, their hands stroking your trembling body, their voices are low and satisfied.

“You’re perfect.” Marcus murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Reed’s lips graze your shoulder as he whispers, “Next time, we’ll see just how much more you can take, sweetheart.”

Max Philips (Bloodsucking Bastards) & Maxwell Lord (Wonder Woman 1984)

You didn’t even get a chance to finish your drink before they were both on you. Max Philips leaned against the bar with his trademark smirk, his sharp eyes locking on yours from across the room. Maxwell Lord, ever the charming showman, brushed past him, sliding in close with his hand pressing the small of your back.

“Come on, sweetheart, you deserve more than some bloodsucker with a sharp tongue.” Maxwell murmured against your ear, his breath warm.

Max Philips snorted, stepping in so close his body pressed against your other side. “Please. She knows I’m the only one who can handle her.” He purred, his lips grazing your neck.

They bickered the whole way up to your room, Maxwell’s smooth persuasive words tangled with Max’s sarcastic quips. But the moment the door closed behind you, they fell into a different rhythm. Max Philips was on you first, pressing you against the wall, his mouth devouring yours, his fangs scraping teasingly against your lips. Maxwell’s hands were already at your hips, pulling you back against him, his cock hard and insistent through his slacks.

“Hey, get your own turn.” Max growled, though his hand slid between your thighs, stroking you through your panties.

“Why don’t you shut up and let me show her what a real man can do?” Maxwell shot back, his mouth finding your neck, his teeth nipping at your pulse point. You were gasping, your head tilting back against Maxwell’s shoulder as Max slipped your panties aside and pressed his fingers into you, his touch rough and teasing.

“I’ll make her come first.” Max murmured, curling his fingers just right.

“In your dreams.” Maxwell snapped, his hand sliding up your blouse to cup your breast, his thumb circling your nipple.

Their arguing faded into background noise as pleasure surged through you, your body arching between them, caught in their relentless push and pull. They maneuvered you to the bed, stripping you quickly, your clothes tossed aside as if they couldn’t bear the barrier between them and your skin. Max was already pushing your legs apart, his cock pressing inside you, stretching you deliciously as he hissed in pleasure.

“God, you’re tight.” He groaned, his hands gripping your hips.

Maxwell wasn’t far behind, he knelt at your head, his cock brushing your lips. “Open that pretty mouth for me.” He murmured, his voice low and commanding. You obeyed, taking him in as Max thrust into you, both of them groaning as they filled you completely.

“See? She’s mine.” Max gasped, his pace quickening.

“Bullshit.” Maxwell growled, his hand tangling in your hair as he guided you to take him deeper. “She’s going to come on my cock too.”

Their arguing, their hands roaming your body, their possessive words, it was all too much. You came hard, your cries muffled around Maxwell’s length, your body shuddering as Max thrust deep, groaning as he spilled inside you. But even as he slowed, Max refused to pull out. “Not done yet.” He panted, his smirk lazy and satisfied. “I’m not letting him claim her without a fight.”

Maxwell’s laugh was breathless as he pulled you up, turning you to straddle him while Max stayed buried in you from behind. “Guess we’ll just have to share, sweetheart.” He murmured, his voice rough as he kissed you fiercely.

“Fine.” Max muttered, his hands gripping your hips. “But I’m still going to make her scream louder for me.”

Their combined movements, the push and pull of their bodies, the rough clash of lips, the possessive words, sent you spiraling into pleasure all over again, caught between their rivalry and desire.

Oberyn Martell (Game of Thrones) & Pero Tovar (The Great Wall)

You knew the look in Oberyn’s eyes the moment he stepped into the room with Pero Tovar. It was that dark gleaming hunger, the one that promised mischief and indulgence. Pero stood beside him, his broad shoulders tense but his dark eyes full of curiosity and desire. You felt the weight of both their gazes settle on you, and a flush of heat spread through your body.

“Look at my wife.” Oberyn said, his voice smooth as silk, his fingers stroking your jaw. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

“She’s perfect.” Pero’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smirk. 

Oberyn’s hand slid lower, cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your gown. “I’ve told her many times that I want her bred.” He murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “Full and round with life. And tonight, you’re going to help me make that happen.” You gasped, but the sharp bolt of arousal that shot through you left no room for hesitation. 

Oberyn turned you to face Pero, his hands sliding over your hips as he pressed against your back. “Do you want that, my love?” He whispered against your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin. “Do you want to feel both of us inside you? To be filled so full you’ll be dripping with our seed?”

Your breath trembled, your body arching against him. “Yes…” You whispered, your voice breaking. “Please…”

Oberyn’s low chuckle was dark and possessive. He undressed you slowly, baring your skin to Pero’s hungry gaze. Pero stepped closer, his hands rough but reverent as he cupped your face, his lips crashing into yours with a bruising kiss. Between them, you felt utterly consumed, Oberyn’s hands sliding between your legs, teasing you open as Pero’s fingers tangled in your hair, his tongue claiming your mouth.

When they laid you down on the bed, Oberyn knelt between your thighs, his mouth and tongue working you open, tasting every inch of you as Pero stroked himself beside you, his cock thick and hard. “She’s so wet already.” Oberyn murmured, his voice thick with lust. “She’s ready for you, Pero. Give her what she wants.” Pero moved over you, the weight of him pressing you into the bed, his cock sliding into you slowly, stretching you open. You gasped at the burn and fullness, your hands clawing at his shoulders.

Oberyn’s hands gripped your hips, steadying you, his own cock hard against your back. “That’s it.” He murmured, his voice raw. “Take him, my love. Let him fill you.”

Pero groaned, his pace picking up, thrusting deeper, his breath hot against your throat. “She’s so tight.” He rasped, his voice thick with need. “You’ll feel me leaking out of her when I’m done.”

Oberyn’s growl was dark and possessive. “Not just you.” He said, pulling your hips up, pressing his cock to your other entrance, stretching you with both of them. “She’ll take us both. She’ll be filled from every angle.” The overwhelming fullness, the stretch of both of them moving inside you, made your body tremble violently. They moved together, their cocks stroking deep, their hands holding you open and still.

“You’ll be round with both our seeds.” Oberyn groaned, his lips brushing your ear as he pounded into you. “A child born of both our desires.” Pero’s growls mingled with Oberyn’s low curses as they filled you, their thrusts deep and possessive until they spilled inside you, their combined release thick and hot.

When they finally collapsed beside you, their hands stroking your trembling body, Oberyn’s voice was soft and dark against your ear. “You’re mine.” He murmured. “And now, you’ll carry a piece of both of us.”

[vinsgart]

[something-tofightfor]

A Wonderful, Awful Idea / 1

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Female Reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 10,196

Summary: Since meeting Pero Tovar through your friends William and Lin, you've wanted - and tried to get to know him. But he's always been less than enthusiastic about making it happen.

This Christmas, thanks to an assignment Pero and William take... everything changes.

Rating: M: language.

Author's Note:

I decided to write this last week and have worked on very little else since. I've always wanted to write for Pero, but have been really nervous to do so. He seemed like the perfect Christmas Grump to get the "discovering the true joy of the season" Hallmark-ish treatment. @oonajaeadira says that if he doesn't fight you the whole way when you try to write him, you're doing it wrong - and let me tell you, he's been a menace, so ... we'll see.

There are going to be three parts to this. The second is almost completely written, and the 3rd should be close behind. I'm sorry it won't be done by Christmas like I planned, but it is what it is.

The title comes from Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

Thank you for reading, and happy holidays!

*dividers by @/strangergraphics

“You want me to what?” You froze with one hand on a hanger, turning your head to look at your friend. “Repeat that, please.” 

“I think you should be Tovar’s date for the holidays.” Lin shrugged her shoulders, flipping through a rack of long sleeve, button down shirts. “He’s single and you’re single, you’ve said you think he’s hot, and you know what they do, so he wouldn’t have to lie about it.” 

You stared at her, dumbfounded, as Holly Jolly Christmas blared out through the store’s sound system. There’s more to it. “Tell me the truth.” You set the hanger back on the rack, stepping closer and crossing your arms. “Why does he need a date? Isn’t his work … private? Like, they’re not exactly supposed to be in the public eye, or -”

“That I can’t tell you. You’d have to talk to William about it.” She sighed, finally looking over at you. “But what I can tell you, is that I’ve been listening to my husband complain for a week that none of the women he’s reached out to will agree to do it because his best friend is kind of a grump.” 

“So why would I?” You scoffed. “Tovar is … I think we’ve spoken about twenty words to each other in the three years I’ve known you. He isn’t exactly friendly, Lin. Why would I want to spend the holiday season with someone that hates me?”

“He doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t really hate anyone, he just doesn’t trust people, and doesn’t know how to … be gentle about saying it.” She held up a dark blue shirt, arching a brow. “How’s this one for William?” 

“It’s a good color.” You sighed. “I think he’ll like it.” She beamed at you, draping the fabric over her arm. “Lin, this thing with Tovar, what is it? Really, I mean. Why are you suggesting this?” 

“Because you’re both my friends. And I think it would be good for you.” She moved closer, reaching over to take your arm. “And good for him, too. He’s like that movie, the one with the Grinch?” You laughed at that, and she joined you, her fingers curling against your sleeve. “He just needs to find a reason to soften up.” 

Two days later, you were sitting in Willam and Lin’s lavishly decorated living room, waiting for him to come downstairs and talk to you. It’s just curiosity. You looked around the room, eyes lingering on pictures of you with the two of them, reminders of memories you’d made together on vacations and at parties. I just want to know what this is about. 

And when you found one that included Tovar, too, you lingered there, frowning slightly as you chewed on the inside of your lower lip. “Nobody should look that upset sitting in front of a Christmas tree.” William stepped into the room, holding two mugs in his hands. “Lin said you’d drink this.” He set one down in front of you and then sat on the chair next to the couch you were on. “Thank you for coming over.” 

“No problem.” Sighing, you reached for the mug and lifted it to your lips. He did the same, and then for a few seconds, William just watched you, a thoughtful expression on his face. I don’t like that look. “What’s this about?”

“To make a long story short,” he started, one side of his mouth twisted upward into a smile. “Tovar and I have a client for almost the entire holiday season that needs … extra protection.” That wasn’t a shock; they were in private security, and commonly took on high profile clients. “She’s got her own team, but they want local backup. Tovar and I will provide that, but to do so, and to make it look less… well.” He rolled his eyes. “Less like she’s got a ton of people surrounding her at all times and more like he’s here celebrating the holiday, the plan is for us to attend the same events like we’re guests. That way we can be there if necessary.” 

“Is Lin going with you?” He nodded. “Won’t you be distracted by her?”

“Yes and no.” He leaned in, linking his fingers together. “We’re supposed to blend in, but we’ll be connected to the main team at all times with earpieces.” He wet his lips. “Unless we’re actually needed, we’ve just got to be on-site.” It didn’t sound terrible, and you assumed that if the client was famous, the events would be fun - and probably have good food. “You would be there to keep him occupied. You’d be there to make it look like he wasn’t just hanging around and waiting for something terrible to happen.”

“As his date.” William nodded twice, eyes locked with yours. “Does he know about this?”

“Yes.” William blinked. “Lin suggested you last weekend as a joke, and he didn’t … he didn’t react the way that he has to other people’s names.” What? That made no sense to you. We’ve barely spoken. He’s never gone out of his way to talk to me. “It’s a paying job, of course. And it pays well, since it requires an NDA and multiple nights. I’ve drawn up the contract for you to take a look at. It’s standard, and what we’ve offered to other people in your position, but you can tell me what you think.” 

He shuffled a few of the papers on the table in front of you and then pushed a small stack at you, gesturing with one hand. He had it waiting? 

William stood, letting you know that he’d give you a few minutes to read over it in case you had any questions, and then left you alone in the room. “What the fuck?” You stared at the tree for a few seconds, thinking… and then picked up the contract and began to read. 

When William came back into the room about fifteen minutes later, you’d pulled a pen from your bag and made notes on the papers, crossing things out and jotting down a few ideas. “I see you’re making changes.” He laughed, settling back into the chair. “Does that mean you’re interested?” 

“Only if they can be accommodated.” You handed over the contract and leaned back, taking a deep breath. “The timing of the events means I wouldn’t have to miss work to attend them, so there aren’t lost wages to make up for.” He nodded. “I’ll sign the NDA, but there’s no way I can accept the amount in there. That would make me feel like you were paying me to spend time with Tovar, and I don’t like the implication of that.” 

William raised his head to look at you and you were surprised to see an alarmed glint in his eyes. “That’s not what it is. You’d be paid for spending part of your day working, not just for -”

“I’ll accept payment in the amount of whatever costs I accrue for the job.” You held up a finger. “Clothes, shoes, transportation, if I needed to get my hair done or anything like that. If I had to make a donation to get into the party, I assume that it’d be a substantial amount that I’d rather not be out, but …” You swallowed, thinking of Tovar’s dark eyes. “Spending time with him isn’t something you need to pay me for, William. My pay can be TBD based on what I have to spend in order to meet the parameters of the job.” 

“Of course.” He kept looking through, and then laughed when he got to the end, where you’d scribbled a longer note. “Unfortunately I don’t think I can meet that request. You’d have to talk to Tovar about that.”

“I know. It’s just …” You looked down, picking at the cushion of the couch with one hand. “I just don’t know how we’re supposed to play it off like we’re dating if he won’t speak to me, William. I can only pretend so much when the other person acts like they’d rather be anywhere else.”  

“I’ve offered this job to two women already.” He set the papers down and reached up to rub at his jawline. “And they’ve both said no, because the amount I offered wasn’t worth it to have to deal with his moods.” He cocked his head to the side. “And you … are offering to do it for less, but only if I can promise he won’t scowl the entire time.”

“I am.” You gestured to the one of the pictures of the three of them. “There’s got to be more to him than that. I can see it in pictures and I’ve heard him laugh, William. I know it’s in there. Maybe it just needs an opportunity to come out.”

“It does.” He leaned forward, reaching out to set a hand on your knee. “He’s my best friend, and he’s been through a lot. I don’t blame him for a lot of his behavior, and I don’t think others would if he let them get to know him.” William sighed. “I’ll make the changes you’ve requested, and email you the new one to sign virtually. The NDAs will be signed as soon as the client gets here. But… how would you feel about meeting with us and Tovar for dinner?” 

“Why?” William raised both eyebrows, staring at you. “When?”

“Tomorrow? We’ve got plans already, and you’re more than welcome to come.” 

There was no reason for you to say no. You’d have to spend at least three nights with him throughout the course of the contract, and starting early - on a night with nothing to lose - would possibly help the two of you become more comfortable around each other. And I’d like that. “What time and where?” 

“I’ll have Lin text you.” He leaned back, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Excellent.” 

“Wait. William.” You released a slow breath, closing your eyes. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell him that you’ve already asked me. You know I said yes. But I think … it might be better if it seems like it’s a spur of the moment thing. That way I can see if … how he reacts when I’m right there.” He watched you for a few seconds, and you saw him narrow his eyes, lips turned down into a slight frown. 

“That might be a good idea.” He cleared his throat. “Ok. That’s what we’ll do.” 

The restaurant that you met them at the following day was nothing special; just a local place that had - according to almost everyone that had eaten them - the best chicken wings in the city, and some of the coldest beer to go with them. 

But when you pulled the door open to step inside, you learned something else: they’d turned the interior into a winter wonderland for the holiday, complete with fake snow and hundreds of twinkling lights hanging from almost every available surface. Oh, he’s going to hate this. 

You found the table immediately, and were thankful to see that Lin and William were sitting across from each other, leaving the other two seats at the table open. She waved you over, and when you lowered yourself into the chair beside her, she reached over to squeeze your hand, giggling as she did. “I thought you weren’t going to come.” 

“I said I’d be here.” You said hello to William, too, and then gestured to the empty chair next to him. “Where’s -”

“He got a phone call.” William rolled his eyes. “He went to take it in his car.” It gave you a few minutes to prepare for Tovar’s entrance, and as you and the Garins looked over the menu and made small talk, you were thankful for it. 

The truth was that Tovar’s behavior toward you had always bothered you. 

Not because it made you angry, but because it was frustrating. You’d never given him any reason to avoid you, and had been nothing but nice to him since the first day you’d met. You understood that it wasn’t just you; he took a long time to warm up - even slightly - to anyone. While his personality was likely beneficial to the work he did, giving clients reassurance that he was focused on the job and didn’t allow distractions, it wasn’t as helpful in everyday life. And it can’t be good for his love life.

So when you knew that the two of you would be somewhere together, you needed time to prepare, because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that it bothered you that he didn’t ever give you a chance. You didn’t expect to become best friends, but it would have been nice to be able to hold an actual conversation with him that didn’t feel like pulling teeth to get responses. 

You felt him before you saw him, his presence almost imposing as he approached the table and walked next to you to reach his seat. Even though William was still talking, your attention shifted. 

He wasn’t scowling when he dropped into the chair, but his face was impassive, his dark eyes darting around the room before they landed on your face - and then kept moving. “Phone call go alright, Tovar?”

“Yes.” He nodded, shrugging a shoulder at William. “Just business. They wanted to talk about the new client.” 

William hummed but didn’t say anything else, instead reaching for the menu in front of him and opening it. To your surprise, Tovar pushed one of the two laminated pieces of paper toward you before picking his own up, though he didn’t make eye contact again. You felt Lin’s foot knock into yours and fought back the roll of your eyes - but the truth was that the single, simple gesture was enough to make you think back to what both she and William had said earlier. Maybe he doesn’t hate me. 

After the waitress took your order and brought out a round of drinks, conversation began again. At least for three of us. Tovar silently watched the rest of you talk to each other, two fingers tapping against the tabletop. There were a few moments where it seemed like he wanted to interject, but it wasn’t until Lin spoke to him directly that you heard his voice again. 

“Did you find anyone to come to the party with you, Tovar?” She rested her chin on her hand, her attention fully on him. “William said -”

“No.” He sipped his drink, brow furrowed. “I am going alone.” He spoke with an accent, each word punctuated with purpose. “Maybe I will be a third wheel for you two.” Did he make a joke? You couldn’t believe it, but when Pero continued speaking, you felt your eyes widen. He did. “I can spike the punch, or -”

“You know, there’s an obvious solution to you taking a date. We talked about it last weekend.” William turned slightly in his seat, gesturing at you with one hand. “I think all you’d have to do is ask.” The shift in conversation took you by surprise, but you figured there was no point in putting it off. Here goes nothing. 

“You do realize I’m right here, William?” He winked at you and then laughed, holding both hands out. “Is there a party I don’t know about, Tovar?” When you said his name, his gaze shifted to you, and instead of looking away immediately, he maintained eye contact. Oh. “Don’t let him put you on the spot.” Smiling at him, you reached for your cup again. “But -”

“For work.” He nodded once, and you caught the tightening in his jaw. “The client I mentioned earlier.” It was a start - full sentences were a change of pace, and you felt a shiver of excitement at the way he was looking at you; like he was actually seeing you for the first time. “William and Lin want me to take someone, but I have found no one to ask.” 

You focused on his lips as he spoke, the sound of his voice soothing. You liked hearing it - liked the cadence of it, and the sincerity in his tone. Maybe it’s a good thing he’s never talked to me before. “When is it?” 

“Christmas Eve.” Lin cut in, resting her hand on your arm. “And it’s really fancy. But there’s other stuff before then, too. The client they’re talking about, she -”

“She cannot know.” Tovar leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “The more details we give, the more dangerous it -”

“She’s not dangerous.”  Lin exhaled, waving one hand. “And if she goes with you, she’s going to need to know something.” 

“No one’s asked me to go anywhere.” You spoke quietly, looking between the two of them. “But I don’t have plans on Christmas Eve.” You cocked your head to the right, attention back on Tovar. “So maybe I could fourth wheel.” Lin laughed again, but neither Tovar or William spoke up. 

You’d done your part - admitting in a roundabout way that you were open to acting as his date… and it was up to him to decide whether or not he wanted to act on it.  If he didn’t, William would have to go over his head and force the situation, and that was the last thing you wanted. Giving him an option was one thing, but making a choice for Tovar? He’d never speak to me again after that. 

The thought made you uncomfortable, and you hoped that none of them could tell. 

Luckily for you, the food arrived then, giving all four of you a distraction - and William another opportunity to tease Tovar about the amount of wings in front of him. 

“What? I am hungry.” He huffed. “It is not my fault that you didn’t order as many.” That made you chuckle, and you caught the way he looked back at you briefly before you dropped your eyes to your own plate, lips pressed together. “And just so all of you know… I don’t share.” 

You laughed out loud then, looking up and meeting his eyes - and if you weren’t mistaken, you saw the most fleeting hint of a smile on his lips before he reached into the basket, picking up his first piece of chicken.

Maybe there’s hope for this yet. 

All of you walked out into the parking lot together, William and Lin holding hands and you and the other man on either side of them. They veered off to the left after saying goodbye, William catching your eye and mouthing good luck before he turned away… which left you and Tovar alone. 

“I’m parked over that way.” You pointed. “So it -”

“I am too.” He gestured with one hand. “We’ll walk together.” It wasn’t much, but it was a start, and even though neither of you said anything as you approached your car, you noticed that he stayed closer to you than he had been before. “This is your car?” He stopped and pointed. “I remember it from William’s.” 

It stunned you that he’d paid enough attention to what you drove to remember which one was yours in the full lot, but you murmured in agreement, turning so that you could lean against the back end of it. “It is, yeah.” You eyed him, watching as Tovar stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark gray coat, the ends of his hair blowing slightly in the breeze. “Have a good night, Tovar. Dri-” 

“Did you mean it?” He shifted from one foot to the other, eyes narrowing. “About going to the party?” 

“I did.” You nodded along with your words. “Lin mentioned it to me the other day while we were shopping, she seems excited.” 

“You would go with me?” He inhaled, holding his breath. “And stay with me at the party, like we were -”

“On a date?” You pressed your lips together, watching as he gave a single nod. This is hard for him. “I would. I know it wouldn’t be a real date, but… we could pull it off, Tovar. Especially if you had to do it for work.” 

“There…” He cleared his throat. “There are two other events that I need to be at, too. Would… could you …” He looked down and then away, turning his head to give you a clear view of his profile. You stared at it, trying to memorize the slope of his nose and the line of his jaw, Tovar’s mouth set into a pensive pout. “Lin will be with William, and I am supposed to…” He looked back at you. “Having someone with me would be good.” 

“Yes. On one condition.” 

“Go on.” He inched closer, the surprise evident in his eyes. “Please.” 

“I know you don’t like me much, Tovar, but … if we’re going to multiple places together, and we’re supposed to be together, I’ll need you to pretend like you want to be around me.” You gestured between you with one gloved hand. “This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had, and we met three years ago. I need more of this, and less of your two word responses and you looking like you want to snap at me.” 

“You think I don’t…” He lowered his head and swore, pulling his hands free from his pockets. “Alright. I can do that.” He held out a hand, waiting for you to take it. His fingers closed around yours, Tovar sighing as you shook hands. “And you should call me Pero. Tovar is what William has always called me, but …” He squeezed your hand again and then released it. “That does not sound right for a date.” 

You agreed - and wondered if he could see the surprise in your expression. No one called him by his first name; even Lin referred to him as Tovar. So I wonder why he’s … hmm. “Ok, Pero.” You bit your lip, watching as his cheek twitched at the sound of your voice. “What’s the first thing we need to be at?” 

“There is a charity event next week.” He reached up, rubbing the back of his neck. “And then a concert the week after, and the party on Christmas Eve.” This is spread out, Jesus. “If you give me your phone number, I can send you more information.” 

You agreed and he pulled out his phone, waiting for you to recite the number for him. You felt your phone vibrate a few seconds later as he confirmed that he’d sent you a message, and then Pero sighed, closing his eyes. “Will this make your job easier?”

“Yes.” He pressed his lips together. “And it will get William off my back, too.” You laughed, covering your mouth with one hand as you stared at him. Another joke? “It’s getting late. I should go.” 

It really wasn’t, but you understood that he was trying to end the conversation gracefully, and so you let him, looking down at your bag and digging for your keys. “Goodnight, Pero.” Fingers wrapping around the metal, you raised your gaze again, meeting his eyes. “I’m looking forward to next week.” 

That got you another smile, and it lingered for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and stepped back turning on one heel and heading further down the line of parked cars. He stopped when he was about ten feet away, looking back over his shoulder at you. “You’re wrong, by the way.” About what? He closed his eyes and straightened his shoulders before continuing. “It isn’t that I don’t like you, it’s… more complicated than that.” 

It sucked the breath from you, and all you could do was stare at him. What? Luckily, Pero didn’t say anything else before he resumed the journey to his car, leaving you standing behind yours. What just happened? 

You hurried to the door and then sat down, putting both hands onto the wheel after you started your car, fingers gripping it tightly. You had plenty of questions, and wondered if he’d actually answer any of them. I think he will. I think he… I think he does want to talk. 

You hoped that you were right. Reaching for your phone, you typed out a quick text to William. 

 Send over the new contract. I’ll sign it. He asked me.  

Whatever happened with Pero would likely test not only your patience, but your self control… and you couldn’t wait. 

He texted you a few times throughout the following week, and while the messages weren’t quite friendly, they weren’t cold, either. 

He filled you in on the events, even though the information that William sent over with the contact did, too. 

The first one was casual, a charity fundraiser where the client would be in attendance and raising money for local organizations by hosting an auction and early dinner. 

The second event, the concert, would require you to go to a meet and greet with Pero, that one held in the club level of the venue, followed by attending the actual show as part of the crowd. 

The final event was a party on Christmas Eve, which was meant to welcome a mix of the people that the first two events set out to benefit, as well as higher-end donors and other people of the singer’s status. 

Each of the events was highly publicized, and people in your city had been looking forward to them for weeks, along with the boom in business that people coming in for the events would bring. You felt a surge of pride in the center of your chest that William and Pero had been chosen to act as local security. Even though you knew there wasn’t a high chance of anything happening where they were needed, you were certain that they could meet the challenge if necessary. 

But on the night before the fundraiser, you were anxious about the following day. 

It wasn’t the event, or that you’d be in the presence of a celebrity for a few hours. It was that during those few hours, you’d be one on one with Pero Tovar, trying to pretend like you hadn’t just started speaking actual words to each other. 

So before you could second guess yourself you picked up the phone and dialed his number, pressing the device against your ear as it rang. He answered almost immediately, tone clipped as he said your name. “You are calling to cancel.” 

“No. I… what?” Inhaling through your nose, you whipped your head back and forth, even though he couldn’t see you. “No, I was calling to see if … if you wanted to meet up tonight for an hour so we could talk.” 

“Talk? About what?” 

“About some of the basic things we’d know if we were actually on a date tomorrow.” You bit the inside of your lip. “Nevermind. We’ll just do a crash course before we go in to the fundraiser. Have a -”

“I’ll pick you up.” He coughed, and your mouth dropped open in surprise. “Send me your address.” 

You hung up moments later, typing out the information and pushing send. He replied that it would only take him about 20 minutes to get there, and you nearly dropped your phone. Oh, shit. 

There was no time to get ready - no time to do anything more than brush your teeth and check your clothes to make sure that you looked presentable, and pull on a pair of thick socks before you shoved your feet into boots. He’d taken you by surprise with his suggestion, but you were excited for the opportunity. And if he suggested it, then it means he wants to talk. 

Lights shining in your front window alerted you to Pero’s arrival, and after grabbing your wallet, keys, phone and a coat, you headed out to meet him, hurrying toward the passenger side of his car. 

Before you could touch the handle, the door popped open, and when you pulled it further, you peered in in time to see him sit back up, his right hand returning to the steering wheel. “Hi, Pero.” Climbing in next to him, you turned your head to look at him. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Sure.” He nodded, putting the car into reverse once you’d buckled in. “Where would you like to go?” You thought for a few seconds and then decided, hoping it was a good choice. 

“That 24 hour coffee shop would be good. There are tables and no one will bother us.” 

He agreed with a nod of his head, and for the few minutes it took to get there, you and Pero sat in silence. He paid attention to the road and you paid attention to him, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he drove. There was plenty that you wanted to say, but you didn’t want to distract him; it was likely a huge step for him to have invited you out, and you figured he was focused. We’ll talk over coffee. 

The parking lot was full, but he found a spot after only one circle through it. After crossing the parking lot to the entrance, you went to open the door. Pero inched forward and then reached past you, mumbling that he’d get it. Ok. That’s fine with me. You thanked him as you entered, going straight to the line to place your order. 

It didn’t surprise you when Pero ordered a large black coffee, but it did surprise you when he paid for both of your drinks, passing over a handful of cash to the barista and telling him to keep the change. 

And when you led him to a booth in the back, sinking down onto one of the plush cushions after taking your coat off, you waited until he was seated, too, to speak again. “Thank you. You didn’t have to -”

“We are supposed to be dating, right?” He blinked a few times, head shaking back and forth. “It’s just a coffee.” 

He was right - technically - but it was also something that he hadn’t needed to do because that night wasn’t a date. “I don’t want to keep you out late, I just …” 

“What do you want to know about me?” He wrapped both hands around his cup, and your eyes were drawn to them. Tiny scars criss-crossed his skin, the healed areas a slightly lighter shade than the rest of it. “Ask.” 

“When is your birthday?” You led with something simple, taking a sip of your own drink. “What’s your favorite food? Where are you from? Do you like movies or TV, and if you do, what do you watch?” He seemed stunned by your questions, and you wondered what he thought you’d lead with. “We obviously aren’t going to be one of those PDA couples, but is it alright if I touch your hand or your arm or -” 

“My birthday is in June. The 9th.” He narrowed his eyes. “I like all food, but if I had to choose a favorite, it would be sweet things.” 

“Then why did you order your coffee black?” Pointing with one finger, you cut in. “You could have added sugar or caramel or -”

“Because I always do.” He looked down and then back at you. “I was born in Spain, but moved to the United States when I was very young. I don’t watch many movies, but when I do watch TV, I like shows about history.” He paused. “And home improvement.” You smiled at that admission, thinking of Pero doing construction or household maintenance. “I live in a small house a few minutes from Lin and William.” 

“That’s good. It’s helpful.” You flattened one hand on the tabletop. “Would you like to know anything about me?”

“I already know some things.” His eyes flicked to the right and he lowered his shoulders, but when Pero looked back at you, you saw determination in them. “Would you like to know what I know?” Lips lifting into a smile, you gestured for him to continue - and he did. 

Pero knew your birthday and your parents names. He knew where you worked and where you’d gone to school. He knew what shows you watched, what you liked to eat, and who your celebrity crush was. How? How could he possibly know this? “Did you talk to Lin? Did she -”

“No. You put too much information online.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I just typed your name and things came up.” The matter of fact way he spoke to you made you laugh, but as soon as the sound erupted from your lips, he flinched. Shit. “You laugh at me.” 

“No, I just…” Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Hearing it all laid out like that is … weird.” He spun the coffee cup between his hands, keeping his eyes on you. “It’s right, but it’s still…” You didn’t know how to explain it; the way he’d recited the facts to you, it just made you seem typical. 

“Why did you agree to do this?” He finally took a drink of his coffee, tipping his head back slightly and giving you a glimpse of this throat as he swallowed. “To let me pretend with you?” 

“Do you want me to be honest?” He agreed with a single yes, leaning back in his seat as he waited. Here goes nothing. “You’ve always been a mystery. We’ve been in the same place at the same time a lot since we first met, and I’ve always gotten the impression that you were just … uninterested in being friends.” He frowned, but didn’t interrupt. “I’ve tried. I don’t know if you realize it, but I’ve tried to talk to you. I’ve tried to get to know you, and you just…” Sliding your hand up and down your forearm, you finally looked away, staring at the table. “This seemed like an opportunity to make it happen. And that makes me sound like an asshole, but -”

“You are not an asshole. That would be me.” He cleared his throat and said your name, the frown gone from his face but replaced with concern. “Making friends is not easy for me, and so I made the choice to keep people away on purpose.” He gestured to his face, fingertips following the line of the scar that slashed across one side of it. “This makes it easier.” 

“Pero, it -” You felt your chest constrict at the thought that he viewed his appearance as a reason - and a way - to further isolate himself. “If I had my way, we would have had this conversation a long time ago.” 

“You did not ask.” He gestured to the scar again. “Everyone always asks. But even when we met for the first time, you didn’t mention it.” 

“Because that’s rude.” Tilting your head to the side, you chewed on your lower lip. “If you wanted to tell me or anyone what the cause of it was, you would.” That took him by surprise, and you could tell by the widening of his eyes that he hadn’t expected any combination of those words to come out of your mouth. But it’s the truth. “I’d love to get to know you. And if I can do that and help you with a job, that’s even better.” 

He stayed silent, turning his head toward the window. After a few seconds, you did the same. It was late but there were still people on the street, and since you’d gotten to the coffee shop, it started snowing. It wasn’t coming down hard; instead, the sky was spitting snow almost lazily, the flakes falling down to land on the existing piles from the previous snowfall. “Do you want to know why I said it was complicated the other night?” 

“Yes.” The answer was automatic, and through his reflection in the glass you watched as he straightened up, shifting until he was facing forward again. What is he going to say? You turned back, too, waiting. 

“It’s complicated because I want to know you. I have wanted to. But why would you want to know me?” He scoffed. “You know what I do for a living. What I have done, and how I have treated you. Every time you tried to talk to me, I had to force myself to remain quiet. If I answered you it would have encouraged you. If I encouraged you, it would be so much harder to -”

“Wait. Pero, wait.” Your heart racing, you leaned in. “Are you trying to tell me that this whole fucking time, you’ve been … you don’t hate me? You’re just … like this because you thought your interest had to stay one-sided?” It took a second but he nodded, the frown back. Oh, you silly man. You groaned and put both hands over your face before taking a deep breath. “Pero, I’m friends with William, too, and he does the same thing you do for work. Why would you think it’s any different?” 

“Because I’m dangerous. William does not like to get his hands dirty. I don’t mind.” You believed him - or at least believed that he believed what he was saying. “People look at me, and they see…” He gestured to himself. “It frightens some of them. Others just stare. But I use that to my advantage.” 

“Neither of those things apply to me.” It was your turn to frown. “Let me be very clear, Pero. I agreed to this, to help you, and expected nothing. I hoped, though, that at the very least, we’d come out of it friends.” His eyes were narrowed and he was scowling, but there was something new there, too, and it gave you courage to continue. “And I know that you do have to work while we’re at these events, but if … if you wanted to use them as actual dates? I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t say no.” 

 He blinked slowly, and the scowl morphed into a look of disbelief. “You wouldn’t?” Shaking your head, you waited, the moment stretching between you. If he denied you, you’d have to spend three nights with him knowing that you’d laid it out and he’d chosen to ignore your admission - and his own feelings. But if he agrees… “Give me your hand.” He flipped one of his over, holding it out to you, palm up.

It was the second time you’d touched him, but when you reached across the table and laid your fingers against his, you sucked in a breath. His hands were warm, and when Pero’s fingers curled around yours and pulled back toward himself, you looked up at his face. His lips were parted, and Pero was staring at your joined hands like he’d never seen anything like them before. “Pero?” 

“You can hold my hand.” He squeezed your hand, nodding. “Tomorrow? We will be walking around a lot, and it might look … strange if we didn’t at some point.” That made sense to you, and you told him as much. “I also…” He groaned, his thumb rubbing against the outside of your pinky. “Since I have to be alert, it might be easier if I put my arm around your shoulders, or -” 

You moved without letting him finish, pulling your hand free so that you could stand. He watched you intently, sitting up and leaning back against the booth. Is this a bad idea? Probably. Definitely. 

You’d made progress with Pero in the previous few minutes, and your action had the potential to derail all of it. But when you sat next to him and turned your head, arching a brow, you were confident. “You can try it out now.” Something flashed in his eyes then, and for a split second, you thought he was going to say no. 

Instead, Pero raised his arm and slipped it behind you and across the top of the booth. “You’re sure?” 

“Yeah, Pero.” You held your breath but didn’t look away, and then his arm went around you for the first time, the weight of it heavy across your back. You didn’t know if he did it on purpose, but when his hand settled against your  shoulder, fingers curling against it, he nudged you closer, your body pressed to his side. “See? That’s not so bad, is it?”

“Not at all.” It was the closest you’d ever been to him, and as you stared into Pero’s eyes, you realized that it would be easy to get used to being that close to him. “It has been a long time since…” He took a deep breath. “Since I have let myself touch someone like this.” 

It seemed unbelievable to you that someone who looked like Pero could be successful at keeping someone determined away from him. But look at how he’s been with me. And if what he said was true - that he worked hard to make sure no one got close - you had to assume that his behavior toward you had been less overt than with others. Because I’m friends with Lin and William. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get rid of me easily. 

“Can I ask you something?” It was voiced with reluctance, but the question was answered with a yes. Ok. Here goes nothing. Wetting your lips, you were emboldened by the way his eyes dropped to follow the movement of your tongue. “Why? Women like dangerous. They like dark, mysterious men. A lot of them like men they feel like they have to work on before they open up, and -”

“Is that what you are doing?” He leaned closer, searching your face and lowering his voice. “This because I am dark and mysterious? Because you want a challenge?” 

“Not entirely.” You drew in a shaky breath, knowing that he was aware of the effect he had on you in such close proximity. “I’m doing it because I think you’re worth it. Lin and William wouldn’t be friends with you if you weren’t, and -” 

“Liar.” He smiled then, the growl in his voice making you shiver. “You are one of those women that like to be challenged.” 

You groaned at his words, jabbing your elbow into his side and scooting away. Pero’s hold on you loosened as you stood, putting a hand on your hip. “Fine. I admit it. But, if you’d said no to this, or if you’d said yes but just wanted to keep things professional and focused on work, I wouldn’t have fought you.” You paused and then winked, relishing in the way he inhaled sharply. Gotcha. “I can take no for an answer, but I’m glad it doesn’t seem like I’m going to have to.” 

You sat again, reaching for your cup and taking a long sip. None of what had happened was expected - but things had gone much better than you’d anticipated. And that’s a good thing. Because now even if things are awkward, they’ll be awkward because we’re figuring it out, not because - “That is enough for tonight, I think.” He reached up, scratching the side of his head. “I have to meet the client tomorrow morning. Early. And then I have to come and pick you up, and -”

“Oh, you’re picking me up again?” He nodded, eyes locked with yours. “I thought I’d drive over myself, and -”

“No. We stay together.” His tone was firm. “The whole time.” Ok then. 

Raising your cup and tipping it in his direction, you gave him a wide smile. “Sounds perfect to me, Pero.” 

While you got ready the following day, you replayed the end of your coffee “date” with Pero over and over in your head. 

You hadn’t stayed out much longer, but the drive back to your house wasn’t quiet. Instead, you talked the entire way. It was mostly about Lin and William, but it was still progress. And when he’d parked in your driveway, he’d paused before saying goodnight, followed by the sound of your name in a voice so low you barely heard it. 

He’d reached for your hand, fingers curling around yours as he lifted it to press a kiss to your knuckles. That took you by surprise, but instead of voicing that surprise, you only bit down on your lip and squeezed his hand back before letting go and telling him to let you know when he was on the way the following day. 

Compared to other first dates you’d been on, Pero’s behavior was tame. 

He’d made no move to actually kiss you, hadn’t even suggested a physical attraction or a desire to stay close after you’d moved to sit next to him and essentially forced him to practice putting his arm around you. 

But you went to bed feeling hopeful about the three dates you’d go on with him. You were interested in seeing if you could get him to open up more. You wanted more nights like the time you’d spent in the coffee shop with him, but with less distance between you. 

You’d always been attracted to Pero, and his attitude hadn’t done what he’d likely hoped it would. Instead of scaring you off, it made you cautious about the way you approached him, but no less interested. You weren’t hung up on him, but there’d always been a part of you that wondered what would - or could - happen if he let you in even a little. 

You’d asked Lin once during a girl’s night, the two of you wrapped in cozy blankets on her couch with snacks in front of you and a rom com playing on the TV, why he was so distant. She hadn’t been able to  give you an answer, aside from “he does it to himself”, but you’d seen the way her lips twisted into a frown as she spoke, sadness flitting across her features. You were curious about Pero’s scar, as you imagined everyone was, simply because of its position on his face, and how deep it looked. 

It wasn’t a lie that his demeanor was attractive to a lot of women; what you had lied about was the way you felt about it. He would be a challenge, no matter how you looked at it, but with anyone else, the amount of time and effort he’d put into trying to push you away would have been a total turnoff. But not with him. 

After gathering your things, you headed into your living room, sitting on the couch and checking the time. You expected his text within the following few minutes, but since there was nothing else to do, you leaned back against the cushions and closed your eyes. 

The event that day was the fundraiser, and with the advertising you’d seen for it over the previous few weeks, you knew it was going to be a lot. Pero and William’s client was a celebrity that also dabbled in singing, and the fundraiser featured items from throughout her career up for sale, along with opportunities to do things like attend premieres, have VIP at one of her future shows, and to meet - and spend time with - her and her costars on a set in the new year. 

It would raise a lot of money, but it would also bring a lot of people into the area - and the need for updated security wasn’t a surprise to you. And they’re the best. They probably won’t be needed, but they’re the best. 

Your phone vibrating startled you out of your thoughts, and after replying to Pero’s text - and confirmation that he’d be to you in under fifteen minutes - you stood and stretched, taking a deep breath. I can do this. 

Putting your boots on, you moved toward the kitchen and pulled your coat from the hook by the door. “I want to do this.” 

You didn’t give him a chance to get out after he parked. By the time he was reaching for his seatbelt, you were outside and almost to the passenger door. 

“Why will you not let me meet you by the door?” You laughed at his scowl, and when you met his eyes, you saw that for the first time, there was no weight to it. This is good. “Is that not -”

“I’m not that old fashioned, Pero.” You buckled yourself in, adjusting the strap. “There’s no reason  for you to get out of the car just to get right back in.” 

“Women.” He grumbled out the word, shaking his head. “Maybe it’s better I do not try to date. You are confusing.” It made you giggle, something you rarely did, and the sound caught Pero’s attention, his dark head turning toward you before he could put the car in reverse. 

“What?” You pressed your lips together. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“No reason.” He smiled then, the look in his eyes softening. “No reason at all.” 

“Well that was a nightmare.” You and Pero were standing at one of the raised tables off to the side in the main exhibit room. “You have to do that every time you get a new client?” 

“Most of the time it happens before they get here.” He gestured to you. “But because you are a new piece of the puzzle, it couldn’t be done early.” Thank you, William. “They just needed to make sure you weren’t dangerous.” 

“Me?” You rolled your eyes and then let your gaze wander over the room as it filled. “I’m probably the least dangerous person in this room.”

“Not true.” He rested his elbows on the table, leaning closer. “There is more than one way to be dangerous.” You didn’t have time to question him about that, because the emcee stepped onto the stage and tapped the microphone at the podium. 

“We’ll be starting the bidding in just a few minutes.” He pointed at the table set up along the far left wall. “For smaller items on that table, you can check in with one of my employees to place a bid.” He gestured to the empty space beside him, a pristine tablecloth draped over a second platform. “And for the more valuable things, those will be available here, one by one.” The crowd murmured in agreement, and you watched as Pero looked around the room, too. 

He was alert, but in a way that still looked relaxed, and it was impressive. “I’m going to go and get something to drink, do you want anything?”

“No alcohol.” He looked back at you, shaking his head. “Not until later. Not until she is safely out of the building.” Agreeing, you left him to join the short line waiting for drinks. You hadn’t seen Lin yet, and wondered where she and Willaim were. Maybe back in the dressing rooms. That would make sense.  

You waited in the line, listening to the way people around you were chattering. They seemed to be having a good time, and excited about the fact that they’d get to bid on the items - and be in the same room as a celebrity. You didn’t blame them, it was a neat opportunity, but truth be told, you were looking forward to the time with Pero more. Even if he’s working. 

Carrying the drinks back to your table, you paused long enough to watch your date for a few seconds, relying on the people passing between you to keep you hidden. But when, moments after you stopped, his attention shifted and his eyes landed on you, you realized that there was no being stealthy when it came to him. 

He raised a brow but didn’t look away. I should have known better. You smiled at him and then started moving again, weaving through the crowd until you were by his side. “Nonalcoholic beer.” You set the cup down, glancing over at him. “For both of us.” 

He grumbled when he raised it to take a sip, and you watched his lip curled at the first taste of it. “People pay for this?” 

“They do.” You swallowed your own drink, sighing. “So what do we do now? Do we have to bid? Should we walk around and look at the stuff for sale?”

“We do nothing.” He trailed a finger through some of the moisture on the table. “I stay alert. William and Lin are back with her right now, and when she comes out to talk to the crowd, then I move closer so that I can keep my eyes on her.” 

“You said we stay together the whole time.” You frowned, elbowing him. “So that means I’m going with you when you get closer.” He was quiet for a few seconds, but then Pero’s shoulders relaxed and he lowered his head. 

“I did say that.” 

The first portion of the auction went smoothly, and just after they closed the bidding to give everyone a chance to get settled for the main segment, you saw William and Lin step out from a set of doors on the right, his arm around her waist. 

“Look, there they -” You spoke up but were interrupted when Pero started talking, too, nodding his head. 

“Yes, I see you. We will move to the other side of the room now.” He’s had an earpiece in. I didn’t even notice it. 

That meant that William had been able to hear everything Pero had said to you - and likely most of what you’d said in return. You hadn’t had any deep conversations, but knowing that your privacy was limited changed things. So was he answering me with that in mind? Or was he … shit. 

To your surprise, Pero reached over and took your hand, hesitating only slightly before sliding his fingers between yours so that you could press your palms together. We’re holding hands. Actually holding… wow. “We will move to the chairs on the left. William and Lin are staying on the right.” He squeezed. “Are you ready?” 

You were, and as the two of you found a new place to sit, you paid close attention to the way he interacted with the people you passed. Pero didn’t speak to anyone but he looked at all of them, assessing the other attendees with practiced ease. You wondered what they were looking for - or if they expected there to be trouble. 

Pero waited until you were seated to take his place next to you at the end of the row, and you were disappointed when he let go of your hand to do it. While everyone was getting settled, you took a deep breath and leaned over, turning your head to speak into his ear. He sat with the earpiece on the other side. “Is this as awful as you thought it’d be?” He stiffened, but there was a minute shake of his head before he turned in your direction. 

“I never said it would be awful. Just … difficult.” He looked down, his eyes on your hands where  they rested on your thighs. “And it has been.” You frowned, thinking, and opened your mouth to ask him how. “It is starting.” He pointed. “I have to pay attention now.” Pero reached into his pocket and handed you a slip of paper with a number printed on it. “In case you want to bid.” 

“I’m not bidding on anything.” You took it, though, laughing quietly. “But -” But it will look less suspicious if we pretend. “Thank you.” 

For the next thirty minutes, you watched as item after item was brought out onstage to cheers and applause. There were three autographed scripts, a tour-used microphone, some wardrobe and prop pieces, and a handful of signed items both by their client and her costars and band. It was an impressive assortment of memorabilia, and when each winner’s name was called, you felt how excited they were. 

And when the auction shifted to the new items - the ones that would bring in the most money and had the most potential to cause trouble for Pero and William to step in and fix, you shifted slightly closer to him, your arm brushing against his. 

He didn’t say anything, but a few minutes in, Pero reached over and brushed his knuckles over the back of your hand briefly - the contact taking you by surprise. It was a good sign, you thought, as you glanced over and saw his lips twitch. And that’s almost a smile, which is even better. 

He stiffened slightly when the emcee announced a special guest to present the following few experiences, and even you felt your heart rate rise as the woman walked out onstage to a much louder chorus of cheers and applause. 

She introduced herself and said hello to a few people in the crowd, but then got right down to business, slipping into the persona that you were familiar with based on seeing her performances and interviews. 

You found yourself laughing along when she started the bidding on a visit to set, describing it as an opportunity to see her - and her castmates - make a mess out of their lines for the first dozen takes. And the laughter continued when she paused between items to tell a story about working on her first show, and how anxious she’d been, which turned out to be for nothing, because it had ended up being one of the smoothest filming experiences of her career. 

There were a few tense moments toward the end of the auction when someone stood up and shouted over the rest of the crowd that they loved her, and you felt Pero stiffen again, his body angled slightly toward the sound. But as soon as she responded, telling the man that she loved him, too, and thanked him for coming, he sat back down and Pero relaxed against his chair, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. 

“We’re almost done, Pero. Couple more bids, and -”

“And then we can get out of here.” He sighed, nodding. “I know.” 

The night had passed much more quickly than you’d anticipated, and you were sad that it was coming to an end. As soon as the hammer fell on the last auction item - and the grand total of winning bids flashed on a screen behind the podiums, everyone started cheering again. You risked a look over at Pero - and then another at William and Lin - and noted that while both men were watching the stage, Lin was watching you, her eyebrows raised and a knowing smile on her lips. I’m never going to hear the end of this. 

The client was ushered offstage by a few men that you assumed were her personal security team, and once she was gone, Pero stood, reaching over to pull you to your feet. “Come on.” He tugged you toward the doors opposite the ones William and Lin had emerged from, and moments later, you were in the back hallways with the people behind the scenes. He kept holding your hand as you made your way back to the room you’d given the information for your background check in, fingers linked tightly together. 

The two of you joined a small group of others in the security room, and watched on monitors as the client’s team navigated her out the back entrance and into a waiting car. The moment it pulled away, another with her small entourage following close behind it, Pero breathed out deeply, his hold on you relaxing. “Night one, done.” 

It shocked you that they were getting paid to be bystanders, but part of you wondered if he and William preferred simple, safe jobs to the ones that required lengthy trips or the potential for danger. And so close to the holidays, he gets to stay home with Lin. “Do we need to meet with William before we leave, or -”

“No, I can take you home.” He flexed his fingers, his chin tilting downward as he realized you were still holding hands. Please don’t let go. Please don’t let go. He didn’t, pausing before he spoke again. “Thank you for -”

“Tovar.” William’s voice cut in, and you looked up in time to see him and Lin making their way through the room and toward you. “Good job tonight.” Pero nodded, immediately releasing your hand and crossing his arms, shoulders straight. “Lin and I are going to get something real to eat. Want to come?” 

You wondered if it was purposeful - if William was inviting Pero to see if he’d say yes for just himself, or if he’d invite you to go along. “We drove together, so I hav…” Your stomach dropped at his response, and you knew there was no hiding the disappointment on your face or the way you flinched at his sudden change in demeanor. “No. That is not …” Pero turned his body so that he was facing you and took a deep breath. “Do you want to go and get food with them?” 

“Yes. But only if -” His eyes widened and you watched his lips part, Pero clearly surprised by your reply. “Only if you want me to.” 

“I want you to.”

Part 2 coming soon!

[sirowsky-stories]

Hello! Here I am, yet again posting a themed fic at the wrong time! I'm trying okay, but shit keeps getting in the way...

Description: The day before Valentine's, you and Pero are sent on a mission to repair a broken machine at the sister factory to the one you work at. And of course, the hotel reservation gets screwed up, and obviously you end up having to stay much longer than expected.

Warnings: Pero Tovar x Female Reader (no descriptions of reader beyond being female), both main character's pov, Valentine's Day theme, forced proximity, only one bed, coworkers to friends, friends to dating, vague references to a planned SA but no descriptions whatsoever, protective!Pero.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Word Count: 11,572 Sirowsky's Masterlist All dividers by the amazing @saradika-graphics

   “Is this a joke?” You’re too stunned to even be upset about it yet, because this is just too fucking rich.

   “I’m afraid not,” your supervisor Gary apologetically shakes his head. “Look, if there was anyone else we could send, we would, but…”

   “But what? There are two thousand people working here, so don’t tell me you don’t have anyone else to send,” you grumble, not really out of anger, that’s not part of your overall makeup, but more out of nervousness.

   “I meant in the sense that you’re probably the only one who can put up with him for that long.”

   “That doesn’t mean it would be easier on me. It just means I can tolerate feeling like shit better than most.”

   “I’m sorry, I know it’s a bad deal for you,” he sighs, and he does look like he feels genuinely bad about it, but he’s also not leaving any options open for you.

   “And you’re still not gonna budge, are you?”

   “We have to send someone…”

   He gives you the details for the hotel and the keys to a company car, and you’re given one hour to go home and pack for at least a two-day stay in the neighbouring town.    The factory where you work is relatively new, only about ten years old, but it’s been performing excellent from the start, which means a sister factory has been in construction for the past two years just a hundred-and-fifty miles to the east.    It was officially launched six months ago, and there have been very few hiccups since.

   But a couple of days ago, a complex overhead crane began to malfunction, and then completely broke down, and that’s the machine which you have quickly become a master at handling, despite only having been working here for a little over a year. And you’re happy to go and help the new factory back on its feet, that’s no problem at all, you’re only excited about the fact that the company is doing so well, since it means you’ll get to keep your job.    Your issue with all this is that the only person who really knows how to mechanically repair this particular machine, is Pero Tovar.

   He’s been working here since the mother factory was first built, and he was the one who hatched the idea to build the crane, and then both designed and built the damned thing, largely on his own.    He’s a genius, for lack of a better word, but he’s also the most unfriendly person you’ve ever met.    And now, you have to not only work with him on repairing the damaged one, but you also have to travel and live with him for as long as that takes.

   Gary told you that he’d made reservations for you at the nearest hotel to the sister factory, but that they only had one room available, since it’ll be over Valentine’s Day, so you’re quite certain that no matter what happens, this is gonna be a horrible week.

   It’s still only 7am when you arrive back at work with your small suitcase, locate the correct company car and throw your luggage in the trunk, but you don’t get in.    You have no intention of angering your travel mate, so you’re not gonna assume anything in terms of whether he wants to drive or not. You lean against the side of the car with your arms crossed and your cap pulled low over your eyebrows, trying not to think about just how much this is gonna suck.

   He arrives just a couple of minutes later, parking his own car and then walking over to you with brisk steps.    You’ve never seen him dawdle, but he never seems rushed either. More like he just has his own pace through life which he keeps to no matter how fast or slow the world around him is moving. Like he’s perpetually unaffected by absolutely everything, which he probably is.

   “You wanna drive, or should I?” you ask before he reaches the car, so you’ll have time to move out of his way if you need to.

   But he doesn’t answer. He just walks up to the boot and throws his bag into it, shuts it, then heads for the passenger side.    A bit surprised, you take the driver’s seat, but you’re sure as hell not gonna ask him why he doesn’t wanna drive. It just seems out of character, so far as you know him, because he’s always in control of everything around him.    He’s the one person in the entire factory who has every license required to operate every piece of machinery or vehicle available, and he never seems the least bit unsure of what to do or when.

   Still, he’s not a supervisor. He has the same rank as you, which seems ridiculous given the disparity of skills between you, but it does mean that technically he can’t order anyone to do anything. And you’ve never heard him try.    People very nervously come to him with their problems or questions and for the most part, he just sighs and takes care of it, usually without a word but with a fair bit of growling. And if it's something simple enough that the person asking should be able to do it themselves, he’ll begrudgingly instruct, or show them, no doubt hoping they’ll never bother him again.

   But for all his expertise, the only times he outright tells people what to do, is when they’re asking for help. Beyond that, even on the occasions when he overhears operators talking about a problem and he knows how to sort it out, he never says a word without being asked.    And you’ve never been able to work out if it’s out of a deep respect for rules and procedure, if he just doesn’t give a shit, or if he secretly enjoys hearing them struggle with stuff that’s simple to him.    He’s about as easy to read as a book with every page blacked out.

   Which is one of the many reasons why you’re glad it isn’t a longer drive, since you wouldn’t dream of trying to start up a conversation with him.    But even without asking, you know he doesn’t want to stop by the hotel and check in before going to the factory, so you head straight there.    They’re expecting you, evident in how the gates swing open before you’ve even come to a full stop in front of them, so you roll your window down and wave to the security camera as you drive through.

   Parking by the large Arrivals entry at the back, where all new materials are brought in, you step out and wait for someone to come and escort you inside. Since you’re not employed at this factory you can’t enter the factory floor without a yellow vest and a supervisor to take you to the area that you’ll be working in.    Safety procedures are so precise that not even Tovar, who’s done this several times before, is allowed to step foot inside without an escort.

   “Good morning,” a cheerful older woman greets you after just a minute. “I’m Hannah, supervisor of the assembly team.”

   You notice that she only introduces herself to you, so she’s clearly met Tovar before. She’s carrying two vests and hands them to each of you, waiting until you’ve put them on fully before she invites you inside.

   “How big of a failure are we talking about?” you ask as you follow her out of the morning sunlight and into the crisp white, fluorescent lighting, which seems so dark in comparison.

   “Complete. My estimate is that we’re looking at both mechanical and hydraulic malfunction, and there also seems to be a problem with the software.”

   “In that case we have to consider the possibility that the software is the root cause.”

   “I wasn’t aware the crane could sabotage itself,” she ponders, turning a corner around a plastic processing machine before you reach the assembly section, which sits two floors lower down to make room for the giant overhead crane in question.

   You still have to walk halfway through the rest of the factory to reach the control panel, but while you do, you get a good look at two sides of the machine. It has a scientific name, but all workers just call it MAP, short for the three processes it’s capable of performing simultaneously: moulding, assembling, and packaging.

   “If the software fails to accept new commands, especially if they’re related to the assembly arms rather than the material deposits and moulds, then it can end up over-reaching or colliding with itself, which isn’t necessarily visible on the outside, since the turning radius is shorter than it appears to be.” You rattle off the explanation without pause, and she turns her head to the side to look at you while you continue to walk.

   “You mean it can crash into itself without us noticing?”

   “Unfortunately, yes. And when it happens because of a software problem, there’s no guarantee the system will be able to identify the collision and inform you about it, so then the only option it has is to default to its primary security mode and completely shut itself down.    But we won’t know if that’s what’s happened until we’ve had a chance to look at the failure logs.”

   You’re highly aware that Tovar is walking right behind you, and it makes you feel self-conscious in terms of your knowledge about the potential problem.    He knows so much more than you, and yet here you are, talking about the machine that he developed as if you’re every bit as familiar with it as he is. You wouldn’t even blame him if he told you to shut up and leave it to him, because honestly, he’d be well within his rights to.    But he doesn’t say a word.

   Reaching the control panel, you find a whole group of operators waiting with tools of every kind, ready and possibly even eager to pitch in and start fixing stuff, but you merely nod at them and then the two of you set to work. They won’t be able to help with anything until you’ve identified what the actual problem is.    Still with his mouth firmly shut, Tovar begins to dismantle a cover which protects a kind of black box, designed to record and store all malfunction log entries of the operating system for the entire machine, while you start tapping keys to assess how big of a problem you might be dealing with.

   “Shit… The system’s completely crashed,” you relay your findings to your colleague. “We might be looking at a partial or even complete reconstruction.”

   As always, without being asked a direct question, the grumpy Spaniard doesn’t reply, but you’re expecting that. You’re just trying to keep him informed.    But when he manages to gain access to the box, what he finds is even worse than you’d imagined.    The box contains servers, about a hundred of them, and there’s a small screen on one end where he can access specific logs by searching for dates and times. But when he activates the screen, it’s already displaying thousands of entries, all flashing red to indicate problems.

   “We will need to look at the main servers,” he instructs, and the operators immediately spring into action to unscrew the access panel for the primary system.

   It only takes them seconds, and then the core of the computer is revealed.    There are about five hundred servers in there, each with its own little sequence of tiny lights on the front, to indicate where there might be problems. They can shine green, yellow, and red, but also flash in each colour and in a specific order to tell him what’s going on.    But more than half of them have gone dark. Not shining red or flashing, but completely dark. Dead. Which means those servers have suffered such a catastrophic failure that they’ve burned through their circuits.

   “That didn’t happen all at once, did it?” you guess, peering over Tovar’s shoulder after he kneels in front of the open panel to take a closer look.

   “No. This started months ago and slowly built into a cascade. The entire computer must be replaced and the operating system re-uploaded and installed.”

   You can’t quite hold back your heavy sigh of disapproval as you realize just how long this is gonna take.    It was bad enough to be stuck here and living with the unfriendliest person in the world when it was just gonna be for a couple of days, but now it’s looking more like it’s gonna be a couple of weeks.

   “Fuck…”

~~~    You don’t arrive at the hotel until almost 9.30 that evening, after trying to get as much of the dismantling as possible done, so you’ll be able to get started on the rebuild already tomorrow morning. And you’re so tired by the time you get to the room that you don’t even care about having to sleep in the same room as Tovar. All you want is just a shower and then as many hours of rest as you can possibly get.    However, when you walk into the room and see a large double bed, instead of two separate ones, sleep suddenly seems very far away indeed.

   “T-there were supposed to be two beds…” you nervously stutter, while racking your brain to try and remember exactly what Gary had said about the booking.

   Did he say that they only had one room available, with double beds, or with a double bed?    The more you think about it the more convinced you become that it was in fact the latter, and your pulse jumps to what seems like twice its normal pace.    But your colleague doesn’t respond, nor does he look the slightest bit concerned about it.

   “’I’m gonna go talk to the front desk clerk again,” you say while already heading for the door, grabbing a key card on your way out.

   Pero sighs deeply after hearing the door close behind you. Nobody likes him, for good reason, so he isn’t surprised that you don’t want to share a bed with him, but it also offends him somewhat.    It’s not like he’d ever do anything to you. He’s not a kind or sweet person, but he sure as shit isn’t an abuser either. He would never lay hands on a woman without permission, and he’d rather chew off his own arms than hit someone who couldn’t possibly defend themselves against him. There’s no victory to that kind of fight.

   But of course, you can’t know how he thinks since he never shares any of his thoughts with anyone.    Hence the sigh.    The likelihood of another room being available is very low, though. Gary wouldn’t have booked this if there was any better alternative available within the company’s budget, so while he waits for you to return, he takes a quick shower and brushes his teeth.

   You come back just as he leaves the bathroom, which is right next to the front door, so the two of you almost collide in the hallway. And if he isn’t mistaken, he catches a glimpse of you eyeing his naked upper body with what doesn’t appear to be disgust or disinterest. More like the opposite.    It’s only there for a millisecond before you’ve schooled your expression and turned your entire face away, but he could swear there was a sliver of desire within you just then, and he’s quite surprised at how much that pleases him.

   “Uh… wh-.. Hrm…” you try, but whatever you meant to say, it doesn’t seem to find its way out, so you simply pass him in the hall and head for your suitcase which is parked at the foot of the bed.

   Since he’s done with his evening toilet, Pero ends up following you there, rounding the bed behind you and pulling the covers back on the right-hand side of it.    He’s only wearing his boxer briefs and when he sits down, his back is to you, so he can’t see if you steal any more looks at him, but it does secretly bemuse him to imagine that you do.

   “There weren’t any other rooms available,” you finally manage, just after he lays down and pulls the covers over himself. “They apparently have a Valetine’s Day special here every year, offering all kinds of romantic couples spa treatments and even a speed-dating event, all of which seem to be very popular.”

   Your voice is small and nervous, as if you’re worried that he’ll scold you for speaking too loudly in his presence, which seems excessive. He’s never been cruel to you.    At least, not by any of his own definitions of cruelty.    He’s lying on his side with his back to you, so he can’t read your expression, but he wonders if you’re actually scared of him, because that’s what it sounds like.    It’s quiet for a minute then, and all he hears is the zipper on your suitcase being opened and you grabbing some things before heading for the bathroom, so he assumes everything’s okay, and with the day you’ve had, he falls asleep not long after.

   He wakes up to his alarm the following morning at 5:45am, and rolls out of bed on routine, heading for the bathroom. Rounding the foot of the bed, he notices that the covers on your side are already immaculately made up and when he looks up, he finds you sitting at the small table in the corner by the TV, dressed and ready, fiddling with your phone.    Momentarily confused, he glances at his wristwatch, wondering if he set the alarm the wrong time or something. Because why would you get up earlier than you need to when you got in so late last night?

   He would’ve slept another half-hour himself if not for the fact that you need to go to the hotel restaurant for breakfast since you didn’t have time yesterday to buy something you can eat in the room or on the way.    Your head is bowed as you’re looking at the screen, but he can still see how tired you are, so clearly, you didn’t sleep nearly as soundly as he did, which seems to match with your nervousness last night.

   And while he’s doing his morning toilet, he realizes that something about seeing you look so tortured really annoys him. Deep down, he knows why, but he doesn’t allow himself to go there.    Returning to his bag on his side of the bed, he steals glances at you, trying to quell the stronger feelings that your presence keeps stirring up, but he can’t seem to gain control of himself, which leaves him sour and cranky. So, when he finally has cause to speak to you, it comes out with much more of a sting than he’d intended.

   “Let’s get going.”

   It sounds harsh and almost accusatory, which comes as a surprise to Pero himself, because you’ve been ready to go since before he woke up, so he has no right to hurry you on.    Still, you don’t protest or challenge him, even though you absolutely should, and as he leads the way down the corridors to the elevator, he wonders if he truly has left such a horrid impression on you over this past year, that you genuinely do fear him.

   You’re a happy person. He’s not good at interacting with people, but he’s excellent at reading them, and he’s been working closely with you since you first started, so he’s had plenty of opportunities to study you. And what he’s seen is a lot of humour and a generally positive attitude, even when things are tough. You’re the one who keeps everyone’s spirits up in the breakroom, coming up with little games and puzzles to keep your coworkers entertained and let them forget about the problems out on the factory floor.

   But he hasn’t seen that side of you for even one minute since the two of you were sent on this repair mission, and the only reason he can see why that would be, is because you’re on your own with him.    It’s not like the two of you haven’t been on your own in your sector of the factory before, but it’s different when you’re in an unfamiliar environment surrounded by people you’ve never met, and can’t even go home to your own bed at the end of the day.

   Pero has never had more than temporary relationships with women, because he does know how unfriendly he is and why he behaves that way, which means that there’s a lot he doesn’t know or understand about the fairer sex. But what he does have extensive experience with, is seeing how the world treats you, and how powerless you often are to change your own circumstances or even keep yourselves safe.

   He’s lost count of how many brawls he’s gotten himself into, and walked away from largely unscathed, simply by intervening whenever he’s witnessed men behaving badly towards women. He doesn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart, he’s not even sure his heart is good at all, but simply because it irks him. And he doesn’t expect or accept any thanks for it because he only does it to keep from losing his fucking mind with the urge to vomit all over those kinds of guys.

   But now that he watches you hurriedly fill a plate from the breakfast buffet, ignoring all the things he knows you normally love to indulge in when you get the chance, like the Nutella croissants and raspberry yoghurt with fresh berries, he realizes that he’s the only one who’s being disrespectful towards you right now.    He should apologize for barking at you, maybe compliment your cute red nail-polish with little white hearts, or perhaps express some concern over how tired and stressed you look.

   Instead, he finishes filling his own plate and takes his seat opposite you, without a word spilling over his lips.

   Work is slow and tedious, each new hard drive being installed takes about twenty minutes because each one has to be independently connected to the core system, in the correct sequence, before you can move on to the next. And on top of that, the hydraulics in all eight of the machine’s mechanical arms needs to be replaced, which is where most of your focus lies, while Tovar primarily works on the computer.

   He’s better at it than you or anyone of the other operators, so it’s only logical, and you’re somewhat relieved to not be around him much today.    You hadn’t been able to bring yourself to lay down next to him last night, so you’d spent the night on the floor instead, thankfully waking up early enough that you’d had time to make your side of the bed before he noticed.    Not that you’re sure why he’d be bothered by that. He doesn’t give a shit about your comfort, so why would he care where you sleep?

   Unfortunately, this means you haven’t gotten much sleep at all since the floor was hard and cold and you kept having to change positions to keep various body parts from going numb.    But working on the mechanical arms means working with the sister factory operators, and they’re proving to be just as good fun as your regular coworkers, so while the day might have started out crabby, by lunchtime you’re feeling pretty good.    Until you hear that Tovar has left the factory over lunch, taking the car into town to eat, without asking if you might wanna tag along.

   You wouldn’t really have expected him to ask, that’s not his style, but he could’ve let you know that he was leaving to give you a chance to go with him and maybe buy some breakfast for tomorrow or just a damned Valentine’s gift for yourself.    Today is the 14th after all, and since it was supposed to be a day off for you, you had a whole day planned back home.

   Nothing fancy, just a nice solo dinner and dessert, a spa bath and some skin pampering, and then just relaxing on the sofa with the book you’re currently reading and some of your favourite music.    It would’ve been a perfect day. But instead, you’re literally covered in engine grease, the kind used for airplanes, no less, and there’s no point in washing more than your hands before digging into your microwave meal which you bought from a vending machine outside the management offices.

   Your colleague returns within the allotted half-hour break, which seems odd considering the time it usually takes to order a meal, receive it, and then eat it, plus the drive back and forth into town. But you’re sure as hell not gonna ask him about it. He’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with you.    So, you get back to work, doing your best to ignore him for the rest of the day.

   However, it being a holiday, albeit a small one, the staff aren’t gonna stick around until 9pm like last night. They start packing it in before 6pm, and since you can’t be there without a chaperone, you’re both forced to leave early as well, which means you now have an entire evening to spend with the one person you’ve ever met who hates spending time with a single living thing.    On fucking Valentine’s Day.

   He drives this time, and you’re so tired and fed up with this whole situation that you never even ask if you can stop by a grocery store on the way. And once back in the hotel room, you’re all but ready to collapse and sleep for the rest of the evening, but then you remember that you’re not in any way interested in sleeping next to your travel companion, which just sours your mood even more.

   “Do you need the bathroom any time soon?” you ask after arriving back in the room, and he just shakes his head, so you grab your toiletry bag and some clean cozy clothes from your suitcase and then lock yourself in there for what’s gonna be a very long shower.

   For a long while, you just sit on the floor underneath the spray, and cry. Maybe because you feel particularly lonely today, or maybe just because you’re so tired, but whatever the reason might be, you don’t care enough to try and work it out.    But after what has to be an hour, possibly even more than that, you start to feel overheated, so you quickly clean your hair and scrub your skin before stepping out and getting started on some moisturization.

   You still don’t wanna go out into the other room, though, so you take your time blow-drying and styling your hair, even though you’re just going to bed. Then you clean and dry all your product bottles before putting them back into your toiletry bag.    And then you can’t find any more excuses to stay in there any longer, so with a deep sigh, you unlock the door and step out into the cool and dry air of the bedroom, heading straight for your suitcase without even looking to see where Tovar is.

   Until something catches your eye.    There’s a glimmer towards the head of your side of the bed, and when you look up, a little gift box is sitting on your pillow.    You turn around once, scanning the room, but he isn’t in there. What is in there, sitting on the small table in the corner, is a classic silver tray with a cover, and a single red rose resting in front of it.

   Confused, you look from the silvery little box with a perfect bow on top, to the silvery tray in the other end of the room, utterly unable to connect the dots and unsure of where to even start with this.    Finally, after at least a minute of perplexed deliberation, you decide to open the gift first.    It’s about the size of the palm of your hand, and it isn’t wrapped, so you can just lift the top half of it off, but once you do, you kinda forget how to be a human being for a split second.

   Because this must be from him. But how the fuck does he know? You’ve never had a genuine conversation with the man, and he’s never once expressed any interest in learning anything personal about you. So, how could he possibly know that you’ve wanted a d’amour gold diamond necklace from Cartier for years, and just never felt like it was an acceptable expense?    It’s not the priciest piece of jewellery, just shy of a thousand bucks, but that’s still way beyond what you feel is acceptable to spend on what’s essentially just an accessory.

   Yet, here it is. The exact piece you’ve been dreaming about one day feeling like you can gift yourself. It makes no sense.    Tearing your gaze off the sparkling jewellery to try and regain some clarity of thought, you then remember the tray, and slowly approach the little table, suddenly extremely curious but also kinda worried about what might be under that cover.

   The rose is also of the expensive type, as big as a coffee cup saucer and blood red, with a sweet and soft aroma. You know the kinds of florists who sell these and it’s about the last place you’d ever expect to see Pero Tovar. The mental image alone is enough to make you snort.    And then you lift the cover and once more lose your marbles, because the tray is absolutely filled with all your favourite treats.

   From strawberries to your favourite sour candies, to caramel brownies, peanut butter cookies, your favourite chocolate, grapes, and two bottles of the best sparkling water you know.    Even if your solo Valentine’s hadn’t been cancelled you never would’ve treated yourself to all this. And once again you’re left wondering how in the hell the unfriendliest man in the world has accomplished this.

   But he’s not here, and his phone is sitting on the bedside table on his side of the bed, so you can’t reach him. Which has to mean he did all this so that you’d have a night to yourself in the middle of all this work, and the thought damned near makes you cry again.    So instead, you take the necklace out of the box and put it on, then you grab the tray, move it onto the bed, turn on the tv and snuggle up while you search for something to watch.

   He comes back around midnight, to give you as much space as he can without making himself miserable with too little sleep before work tomorrow, and he tries to be quiet when he steps out of his shoes and sneaks into the bathroom.    Once he’s used the toilet and brushed his teeth, he stays in the bathroom while he undresses and then quietly makes his way to the bed. But once he sees you, he has to stop for a moment and just look at you.

   The bedside lamps illuminate you where you lay, curled up against the headboard with the covers bunched up as a third pillow for you to hug, still fully dressed and with the tray of sweets in the middle of the bed, most of it already eaten. You’re holding the rose so that the soft petals touch your cheek, and around your neck the thin chain and tiny diamond glimmers.    You’re far away, sleeping soundly with a slight smile in the corner of your mouth, and it makes him feel warm to see it.

   You always smile, even when you have no apparent reason to. It’s how he’s used to seeing you, and it’s an unexpected relief to have that smile back.    It takes him several minutes before he realizes that he’s been staring at you for far too long, and promptly reaches over to lift the tray out of the bed and take one of the spare blankets to cover you with, before he carefully crawls into bed beside you and falls asleep still watching you smile.

~~~    The alarm on his phone is automated, set to 6:15am for the entire week, and it goes off when it’s supposed to.    He turns around and reaches for his phone but then hits snooze instead of turning it off. He’s dead tired and not at all in the mood to get up, so he tries to go back to sleep, hoping the alarm will magically turn back time and give him another two hours.    But then that feeling hits him. That feeling which tells him something’s off and he needs to be alert, so he opens his eyes.

   He’s still lying on his left side, facing your direction, so when he looks up, he meets your eyes staring back at him.    You’ve sat up and you look tired and confused, but also… softer, maybe. Less tense than you have these past two days.

   “When did you get in? I didn’t hear you.” You seem truly surprised to not have noticed him coming back, but then, you have no idea how stealthy he’s had to be earlier in his life, and how those skills still serve him on occasion.

   “Midnight,” he sleepily slurs without lifting his head off the pillow.

   “Oh. I was trying to stay up… to thank you.”

   He doesn’t reply to that, because he really doesn’t know what to say, and he much prefers silence to outing himself as both stupid and incompetent where conversation is concerned.

   “I spent all night trying to figure out how you could possibly know how much I love all these things,” you quietly continue in your raspy morning voice, which he finds himself enjoying far too much, “but then I decided that it doesn’t really matter. Because I know you aren’t nearly interested enough in people to ever stalk anyone, so however you found these things out, I don’t think there’s anything bad about it.”

   You haven’t asked him anything, or indirectly posed an inquiry of any kind, so there’s nothing for him to answer, which is why he simply keeps looking at you. But in his mind, he recalls all the moments when he’s overheard you talking to your colleagues, freely sharing your interests, tastes, and dreams, as well as what things annoy, scare, or unsettle you. And he wonders if you’re even aware of how much you openly reveal about yourself without hesitation.

   He thinks you must fear a great many things to be so ready to be known. To have such a need to never be misunderstood or caught on a lie that you’ll tell complete strangers about your thoughts and feelings on almost any subject, just to ensure they’ll know in advance why you might react negatively to certain things. Because that way, no one can ever call you a liar or attack you for being dishonest or unapproachable.    He thinks you must be terribly scared of people in general, and that being completely open is your way of both protecting yourself and ensuring you won’t become closed off from the entire world.

   But for all your vigilance, like everyone else around him, you don’t seem to notice him when he works within earshot of you, or just passes by close enough to overhear a few words or sentences of whatever conversation you happen to be in.    He’s good at blending into the background when he chooses to, but he’s also aided by the fact that everyone overlooks him because they know he won’t interact with them even if they try, so it’s like their brains scrub him out of their senses to make sure they don’t waste any energy on him.

   “What I do need to know,” you continue, oblivious to his internal memory trip, “is why you would ever spend a thousand bucks on a gift for someone you don’t care the least bit about.”

   The alarm goes off again, and since he’s wide awake now, he sits up and switches it off, turning away from you as he throws his legs over the side of the bed.

   “We need to get going,” is all he replies, fully aware that he’s avoiding the issue and using the fact that you still haven’t asked him a direct question as an excuse not to answer.

   But he knows the answer. He knows it painfully well. And there’s a part of him who seriously hates that truth.    You’re always unsure around him, for good reason since he’s never made it possible for you to be comfortable and relaxed in his presence, but his dismissal this time is more than just rude. It’s cruel, because it leaves you completely unable to judge his behaviour.

   Did he do this for you because he’s trying to manipulate you? Or because he expects a favour in return? Is he trying to get into your pants?    He can tell even without looking at you that these questions now flood your mind, as the tension of fear makes the entire room electric from one moment to the next.

   Ordinarily, you don’t shy away from tough conversations. You hate it when things hang in the air like thunderclouds waiting to strike at you. But you’re also smart enough to pick your battles and you’ve understood from day one, that all discussions involving Pero are gonna be largely pointless, especially when he behaves this erratically.    But he wishes you would pick this fight.    He hates to see your fear. If only he had the guts to let you know that.

   The workday continues just like the previous ones, with the two of you on separate tasks, him working on the computer and you out on the main body of the machine, teaching the operators how to reset and mend the hydraulics.    You’re tremendously skilled at all functions of this complicated machine, especially considering how short a time you’ve spent learning it, so he’s never concerned about you working on it. The sister factory operators, on the other hand, he could outright strangle with their own incompetence.

   And it only gets worse today, after he overhears a conversation between a few of them while they’re making their way to the lunchroom.    As usual, they don’t notice him still working where they slowly pass while quietly speaking amongst themselves, and the first sentence he hears is enough to set his teeth on edge, so he abandons the work and sneaks after them.

   He’s in a seriously bad mood that evening, and you can’t help but think it has to do with you, for some reason. He doesn’t wanna look at you and every time he has to, his mood seems to sour even more, and since you have no idea what you could’ve done, it just scares you.    So, by the time you get back to the hotel, around 9pm, you’re not even thinking about laying down in the same bed as him.

   Using the same tactic as the first night, you offer him the bathroom first and then take your time in there once he’s done. Then you sneak out and quietly pull the covers and pillows down on the floor, where you make a bed for yourself.    You don’t hear anything from him, so you assume he’s already asleep, and after a little while, you manage to drift off as well. But the floor is hard, and you’re not used to that, so you wake up frequently as your body goes sore and occasionally numb from the pressure, forcing you to switch positions.

   All of which means you don’t really get a lot of sleep, and by the early hours of the morning you’re finally all but passed out from exhaustion. And of course, that’s when his alarm goes off.    You’re sleeping so heavily just then that you go back to sleep the moment the alarm is turned off, and it isn’t until you feel a hand on your shoulder that you finally wake up fully, with an instinctive, sharp jerk away from the unfamiliar touch.

   “What are you doing on the floor, Sonriente?” he asks, and he still sounds almost angry, which makes you shrink away from him.

   But you can’t find a single word to explain how he is the reason why you’ve put yourself in such an uncomfortable position, so you just turn away and start trying to wake your limbs up enough that you can stand and maybe begin to feel a little less vulnerable.    Surprisingly though, as soon as he sees what you’re doing, he immediately reaches out and helps you until you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. Which only further confuses you because why would he help you when he’s angry with you?

   You’re trembling slightly when he lets go of you, and you’re not sure if it’s because your limbs are still in the process of waking up or if it’s adrenaline, but either way, he notices, and it seems to connect the dots for him.

   “You sleep on the floor because of me?” he quietly asks, while slowly backing away from you, and he looks either shocked or hurt. You can’t tell which.

   “I don’t know why you’re so angry… but whatever I’ve done-…”

   “No,” he cuts you off sharply, shaking his head and closing his eyes as if it’ll somehow make all of this go away. “It is not you.”

   There’s something very raw and open about him in that moment. As though his innermost being is exposed and trying to crawl back into the shadows of his heart, but hindered by whatever this thing is that’s making him so angry.

   “It is never you…” he barely whispers, and now he is the one who’s trembling.

   “But then… why? Why could you barely even look at me yesterday, and why did it seem like you only got angrier every time you did?” you question, feeling slightly bolder now that you’re starting to see how vulnerable he is in this situation.

   A ripple seems to go through him, and suddenly all the hairs on his arms stand up, and the trembling in his hands intensifies.

   “I can’t say it.” He’s gritting his teeth as he speaks, so the words come out in a slight growl, but you can sense now that this isn’t directed at you at all. “But I would never hurt you.”

   He sinks to one knee on the floor in front of you, still with his eyes closed and his head bowed, and his fists closed tightly against his thighs, but somehow you’re not the least bit scared of him anymore.    You slip off the bed and drop to your knees before him, carefully reaching a hand up to his shoulder to see how he reacts, and the moment you make contact, another ripple goes through him.

   But in the aftermath, he softens. His shoulders drop and something seems to unlock within him, so you decide to take both his hands in yours, fully expecting him not to accept the small act of comfort. But he does.    Piece by piece, he surrenders, first by letting his hands be held, and then by holding yours in return.    He’s breathing hard, and you can see the pounding of his heart in his neck and on his temples, but the longer you hold onto him, the calmer he becomes.

   “I’m sorry… for ever letting you think you had to protect yourself from me,” he eventually whispers, and his voice trembles with the anger that still simmers within him. “I promise you will never have to.”

   You feel like you’re seeing him for the first time all over again, or at least seeing sides of him you never would’ve thought even existed if this stupid trip had never happened. And it emboldens you in terms of how much you dare to stand up for yourself and demand a few explanations. Because you sure as shit have questions and it’s about time he answers them.

   “Why did you buy me the necklace, Pero?” You keep your tone soft, but you also let your voice remain strong to let him know you’re not gonna tolerate any excuses, and then you wait patiently while he gathers himself.

   “Because you were stuck here with me,” he eventually begins, and his voice is full of uncertainty now, which is something you never thought you’d hear from this man. “I know you had plans for Valentine’s and it all got ruined, but then you also had to put up with me and I just thought… maybe it would bring your smile back for a while.”

   “My smile?” Of all the reasons to give someone a gift, making them smile is certainly good enough. But this particular man wishing to make you smile is entirely unexpected.

   “You always do. Like there is a happy little film playing on the insides of your eyes all the time. Have you not noticed how everyone you meet smiles back at you?” he wonders, and you think back to all the people you’re regularly around, and then all the people you’ve met for the first time recently.

   And he’s right. Everyone always smiles at you, even the most sour office workers whenever they have to set foot in the factory where they’re no longer the experts on everything because their knowledge is all theoretical and they wouldn’t be able to operate much of anything out there on the floor.    Everyone smiles at you. Except Tovar.

   “You are sunshine,” he continues, “drawing people in with your light and warmth. It is impossible to resist.”

   “But you do. I’ve never seen you smile, not at me or anyone, for any reason, not even a smirk,” you counter, before you slip a hand out of his to reach up and gently lift his chin, because you need to see his eyes. “So, why are you suddenly acting like this matters to you?”

   It takes him a minute, in which he keeps trying not to look at you, but his eyes still return to meet yours every few seconds, as if he really can’t resist.

   “It always makes me happy to see you,” he finally admits, and he looks so small and unsure suddenly, which stuns you somewhat, because you would never even have imagined that Pero Tovar could look anything but tall, broad and competent. “I’m sorry that I am not better at showing you this.”

   It’s still so difficult to wrap your head around this, because in the entire year you’ve been around him, this man has never shown any level of care for another human being, whatsoever. As in, you’ve seen him sigh and continue working as if nothing happened, after a guy standing next to him accidentally crushed his own foot.

   “So… you’re saying you care about me?” you ask, needing the outright confirmation before you’ll even be able to begin accepting it.

   He pauses again. But this time, he meets your eyes the whole time.

   “Yes.”

   You’re a little late to work this morning, but he’s very relieved to have had the conversation you ended up having after waking up.    It had damned near broken his heart to find you on the floor, knowing it was all his fault for being such a fucked-up person that he can’t even tell you he wasn’t angry with you. And he’s absolutely certain that anyone else would’ve either gotten angry with him or just tried to avoid the conversation all together.

   But not you. You always take the hard road, because that’s how much honesty means to you, and you always manage to do it without losing your temper or getting rude about it. It’s one of a long line of things he admires about you.    And that’s precisely why he’s never dared to actually talk to you.    He doesn’t know how to do any of that. How to have honest and open conversations without losing his shit at some point. It’s destroyed every relationship he’s ever tried to have, and he’s been so scared of losing the calm and harmony you bring into his life by just existing in his presence, that he never would’ve attempted it.

   But this morning was different, because you didn’t get angry or defensive or even demanding. You just kept opening doors for him and for the first time in at least twenty years, he found the courage to step through them, one by one.    And now, when you park at the sister factory for your fourth day of working on MAP, he feels like maybe this won’t be as bad of a day as he had initially thought.

   As usual, Hannah comes out to escort you both, but there’s a grim look on her face today, and while Pero can guess the reason behind it, you still have no idea what happened here yesterday.

   “Good morning. I’m afraid we’re a bit short-staffed today so you’ll have to make due with just two extra pairs of hands on the hydraulics.”

   “Is there a flu going round, or something?” you ask, which is a valid question given that you worked closely with the three men who are out sick today and who could’ve infected you with a disease.

   “No, no. It seems there was an incident here yesterday, and a few of our workers were injured.”

   “Oh. Was it another malfunction?”

   “It appears to have been an altercation, actually,” Hannah explains, to which you raise a shocked brow. “None of the boys are talking about it, so we don’t know exactly what happened, but between them they have broken hands, arms, noses, ribs, a dislocated shoulder and a shattered knee. So, whatever went down, it was serious.”

   At this point, Pero notices a slight stutter in your steps, just before your head turns ever so slightly in his direction.    You know that he can fight, and you know he isn’t afraid to get in the middle of it when he wants to, so you’re probably guessing that he was involved in this altercation and that it explains his temper problem from yesterday. All of which is correct, and none of which he intends to confess to in front of the supervisor, which is why he’s relieved when you don’t say anything.

   Once by the control panel for MAP, however, where no other operators are working, since they’re already busy with the hydraulics, you only wait until Hannah’s moved out of earshot before you come at him.

   “What the hell, Tovar? Did you mess up those guys?” Your voice is low, but the tone is heavy with accusation and even a bit of disbelief, so you clearly never noticed the darker shades of these particular operators as they worked with you.

   “Yes,” he admits without shame or hesitation, to which your shock doubles.

   “Why would you do that?”

   He doesn’t want to answer this one, so he gets to work, hoping you’ll let it go as you usually do when he shuts you down. But of course, this is one of those times when you decide to take the fight, probably because of the progress with communication you had this morning.

   “None of them even worked with you, what reason could you possibly have to break their fucking bones?”

   Disgusting words spoken in entitled and arrogant voices suddenly flood his mind once more, and his anger re-emerges with full force. But he manages to stay in control of himself, so while he turns his head to meet your questioning gaze, none of that anger spills onto you, and it only takes you a second to realize why.    Your breath seems to die inside your lungs and for a moment he worries that you’re about to pass out. But then you suck in a shaky breath and tears form in your eyes as the understanding dawns on you.

   It’s a horrible thing to see, watching as you involuntarily envision what could’ve happened, the nausea and sudden weakness which seems to creep into your very bones even at the mere suggestion of the plans that Pero interrupted by taking them out.    If he’d needed any reassurance that his actions were just, your reaction is more than enough. But it only lasts for a few seconds, and then a different emotion begins to replace the fear and discomfort.    It takes him a minute to figure out what it is, and just as he does, you step towards him.

   The strength of your arms when they wrap around his waist is almost enough to bruise him, but he doesn’t mind.    He might not often feel deserving of someone’s gratitude, as the things he occasionally does to aid them are largely self-serving, but he does this time. Not because this threat was more real than any other, but simply because he knows and cares about you.    He’s tried not to. Tried every day not to let you creep further under his skin and infect him with your joy, but he never stood a chance.

   You don’t speak and you don’t need to. Your body tells him the truth of what you’re feeling in that moment, in the tiny shivers which keep making you tremble against him, and the strained breaths you struggle to take with your face buried against his chest. He can feel how hard you’re trying not to cry, how you bite it back with each inhale and then almost lose control of it every time your lungs empty.    But he also feels the relief within you when he wraps his arms around your shoulders and rests his cheek against the side of your head.

   In this moment, he has become your safety. The place where you choose to be because it makes you feel better. And for all his accomplishments, his inventions and ideas, technical skills and comprehensive knowledge, this is the only time he can recall ever feeling truly proud of himself.    Because you’re choosing him. You. The strongest and most impressive person he’s ever met.

~~~    That night, you fall asleep lying next to him, and although he’s tired after a long and emotional day, he stays awake for a little while just to look at you. Just to make sure you’re still smiling in your sleep.    And in the following five days, which it takes to finally fix the machine, this becomes your routine every night.    So, when the day eventually comes when it’s time to return home, you’re both mildly disappointed by the prospect of going back to your empty beds.

   Still, it’s nice to come home. You see your cars still parked where you left them when you drive past the employee lot on your way to the company car slots. It’s past office hours so once you’ve collected your things, you drop the keys in a kind of mailbox designed specifically for that purpose, and then begin making your way back to your own vehicles.    Neither of you are in a hurry, and he decides to walk you to your car before he heads to his own, just to help you feel safe. He’s noticed that you’re still rattled about the incident he prevented, in how you’ve been jumpier than usual.

   “I never thought I’d say this,” you quietly muse once you reach your car, “but I’m gonna miss your presence tonight.”

   You say it with a smile, but there’s insecurity within the expression, making him think that what you’re really going to miss is the feeling of safety which his closeness over the past week has given you.

   “But it will be nice to sleep in your own bed, yes?”

   “Definitely.”

   “And we will meet for the debrief first thing in the morning,” he concludes, hoping to leave you with a brighter perspective. And perhaps also hoping that you’ll reassure him of your desire to see him again.

   “The debrief?” Your question is genuine, reminding him that this is your first time working away and that you’ve probably never been told about the follow-up procedures.

   “Yes. We must meet Gary in the morning and explain everything that’s happened and what we have done.”

   “But won’t he have gotten continuous updates from the management team over there?”

   “Of course. The debrief is to ensure that our recollection and experience of what has happened concurs with theirs, to eliminate the risk of either side trying to hide any problems or complications.    So, we will need to tell Gary about the user errors which led to the breakdown.”

   “Okay. But we’re not telling him about…” you trail off, unable to finish the sentence because the thought alone still makes you curl in on yourself.

   “It would not do much good. Those men will be dealt with by the sister factory’s human resources unit.”

   “How so? We never told them what really happened, so why would their HR get involved at all?”

   “Because I hacked their phones and took a look at their search histories and saved videos, and even the small percentage of things I anonymously sent to their HR representative will be enough to get them arrested eventually,” he confesses, and it somehow still surprises him just how warm it makes him feel inside when he sees the relief in your frame.

   “Careful, Pero. I might start spreading a rumour that you’re secretly the sweetest guy in the world,” you joke, but there’s a hint of seriousness behind the teasing tone.

   “Go ahead, Sonriente. No one would believe you.”

   He says it with a soft note to his voice, just to make sure you know he wouldn’t mind if you did decide to spread rumours about him, regardless of what they might concern, if it would in any way help you feel good.

   “That’s definitely true,” you agree, mirroring his softness, and a slight spark lights up somewhere in your eyes then. “But you know, I kinda like that I’m the only who’s seen this other side of you.”

   “You may take all the credit for this yourself, because no one else has a hope of drawing it out of me. But it seems, against you, I have no defences anymore.”

   The smile you give him in response to that is enough to make him wish he could always sleep beside you. But this is where you finally part ways for the night.    He waits until you’re safely locked inside your car before he heads over to his own, already missing your closeness when he takes a seat and buckles up, and already accepting the fact that he won’t get much sleep tonight.

   It almost feels stupid how relieved you are to see him again the next morning. And the way his eyes light up when you walk into Gary’s office, just a few seconds past the dotted time, makes you wanna sit down on his lap rather than the chair beside him.    But you notice how discreet his reaction is now that there’s an audience, compared to how directly he’s been allowing you to see his emotions while you’ve been couped up together in that hotel room.    So, even though he might like you, he’s not prepared for the world to know about it, which is why you greet him with just a polite nod while you take your seat.

   “Good morning,” Gary grumbles in his characteristically sour morning mood. “So, this took a bit longer than I’d hoped, but I see you got the MAP working again, well done.”

   “Yeah. It was shot to shit when we got there,” you chip in, immediately back to expecting Tovar not to speak unless he’s asked a question, since that is still his normal state of being.

   “I saw the pictures of the hard drives. Someone sure did a real number on that thing.”

   “I’m guessing more than one someone. But we’ve shown them how to operate it correctly now, so hopefully it won’t happen again.”

   He asks you to go over the repair process day by day, and he has a lot of questions along the way, and true to form, your colleague remains silent unless Gary addresses him, so it ends up being a lot of talking for you.    But as it begins to wind down, you start to wonder if Pero is being deliberately silent specifically because he wants you to talk through it.

   He’s always quiet at work, that’s not unusual. But this was his repair job, not yours. You were just the extra hands, which means that this debrief should be primarily directed at him, yet by keeping his mouth shut, he’s forcing the supervisor to focus on you. And in doing so, you’re getting a chance to unpack everything that’s happened, at least in your own head, even though you’re editing stuff out before you speak.    Gary knows better than to push his top employee for a comment when the man is clearly not in a talkative mood, so it works perfectly, if indeed that is what the Spaniard’s doing.

   “Alright, I think I’ve got everything I need, so unless either of you have anything you wanna add, we can wrap it up here.”

   “Nope, all good,” you cheerfully declare, feeling lighter than you have in the past few days.

   “No critique you wanna hurl at me? About the hotel or the car? No jackass operator giving you a hard time over there, or anything?”

   From the corner of your eye, you see Tovar shift ever so slightly in his seat, and you wonder if he’s thinking about the men he hurt, or the one bed hotel room you initially hadn’t wanted to share with him.    But he says nothing, so you just shake your head at your supervisor and then the two of you leave his office and head onto the factory floor to get started on your regular workday.

   It’s nice to be back at your own station with your regular crew. It feels safe and familiar. But you find yourself thinking about Pero almost every second of the day. Wondering what he’s up to whenever you can’t see him at his station and wondering if he’s thinking about you at all whenever you do see him.    He never looks at you while he’s working, at least not that you can tell, so by lunchtime you’re pleased when he falls in beside you while you walk towards the breakroom, although it is a bit disappointing when he still takes his usual spot at the far end of the room rather than choosing to sit with you.

   But you do understand. It’s not like he’s gonna become a different person just because the two of you have begun to build a friendship, and you wouldn’t want him to.    So, you take your usual seat and play along with the customary banter, answering everyone's questions about the sister factory and what you got up to over there, and it all feels comfortably normal.

   Until someone makes a remark about Pero, the kind of thing you would’ve previously just ignored, but which now that you feel closer to your taciturn colleague, you suddenly find offensive.

   “Bet this one charmed everyone’s socks off,” the operator smirks, throwing a thumb in Tovar’s general direction after you’ve just finished describing the difficulty of coming in as the experts and trying to find a good working dynamic with a different crew.

   And in that moment, the fact that the Spaniard never defends himself, despite seriously fucking people up for just talking about hurting you, just makes you feel like it’s your turn to have his back and teach this crew not to talk about him like he isn’t even there.

   “No, he didn’t. But he did manage to charm my pants off.”

   You say it frankly, leaving no question that it’s the truth, even though you’re twisting the narrative a bit to make it sound like the two of you hooked up, when you’re actually just referring to him making you feel safe enough to sleep beside him in nothing but your panties and a top.    Still, the effect it has on the entire room is worth the fib.

   They all know you’re not easy. It takes a lot just for someone to get a date with you, courtesy of trust issues because of previous experiences. Nothing traumatic, thankfully, but enough that you always have your guard up and actively look for red flags in every guy you meet. Also, you’re very clear on what you want and what you tolerate, as well as what you don’t, which is enough to deter a great many men.    So, for you to let a mystery like Pero anywhere near you, he has to have insanely good game, and not one of the people in that breakroom with you can picture a reality where that’s even possible.

   Which results in a highly amusing blend of shocked and disbelieving faces, some frozen while they’re clearly trying to visualize this alternate universe, while others are just staring at Tovar, still sitting there perfectly calmly in his usual spot, reading something on his phone.    And the best part is, none of them have the guts to ask him about it, because they’re all just as scared of him as you still were two weeks ago. Which means that all they can do is live with this incredibly shocking revelation, presumably forever.

   You continue to chuckle about it for the rest of the day, and when the next shift arrives to relieve you, from a distance, you can see how they too are informed of this latest piece of gossip. So, odds are, this is now gonna be the talk of the factory for the foreseeable future.

   “You know you will be the topic of discussion for a long time now,” Pero cautions as if he’s just read your mind, while he comes to help you clean up before you leave your station.

   “It’s harmless, I don’t mind. Besides, it is true.”

   “Technically. But I do not like them thinking of you as a conquest. Mine or anyone else’s.”

   “Okay. Then shut them down,” you smile, and he can tell there’s a hidden meaning behind those words, but he can’t quite make it out, so you decide to spell it out for him. “Let’s go on a date.”

   Your confidence ebbs out about halfway through the sentence, resulting in a sudden fade of both volume and potency, so the word date comes out all strangled and barely even audible. But you’ve said it now, so you might as well soldier on.

   “What I mean is, I would like to go on a date with you. You’re free to decline, of course,” you elaborate, feeling more insecure by the second, even turning your head down to look at your shoes because you suddenly remember how much rejection stings, which you somehow hadn’t thought about until just now.

   “Do you like empanadas?” he asks then, and his voice is soft, just like it always was when the two of you were alone together in the hotel room this last week.

   “I’ve never tried them,” you confess, still unsure of what he means by that, but then he gives you a little smile.

   “Then I will make them for you. My mother’s recipe is a bit spicy, but I think you can handle it.”

   Relief and joy wash over you as you realize he’s agreeing, and your responding smile feels like it blossoms out of you. Like there’s no connection between your brain and your heart in that moment, it just happens because the feeling is too big to control.

   “Okay. So… your place?”

   “You choose. If you wish to have the option to leave if you feel uncomfortable: my place. If you wish to eat by a table and not sitting in the sofa: your place.”

   “For the record, I know I’d feel safe at your place. But yeah, a table might be nice,” you chuckle, and he nods in agreement, so you decide to be bold. “How about tonight, maybe 6pm?”

   “Sure,” he quietly agrees, but you can tell he’s pleased that you didn’t suggest waiting until the weekend.

   “Great. And if you’re gonna cook then I’ll get dessert.” You say it while starting to walk towards the assembled crews, ridiculously happy to see them still flabbergasted at the realization that their grumpiest colleague apparently has more game than all of them.  

But when you turn your back to him, you miss how his expression changes as he follows you, turning from a controlled interest and mild happiness, to almost tearful with gratitude that you’d still choose to spend time with him even when you no longer need to.    He might not be ready to show it in front of the others, but the brightness you pour into his soul with just your smile and your willingness to give him a chance, would make him glow in the dark if it was visible.    You might not have figured it out yet, but Pero Tovar already belongs to you, so all you need to do to have your forever Valentine, is simply to keep choosing him.

   I’m not gonna write THE END on this one, because I feel like I’m gonna be returning to these two at some point, so please let me know if that’s something you’d like to see.    All my love, always.    /Jay

@pedrostories @harriedandharassed

[trulybetty]

no flights tonight | masterlist

pedro stories secret santa '24

pairing: modern day au!pero x reader warnings: 18+ overall & individual warnings on each chapter summary: with flights delayed due to the snow, and a wedding to attend, you find yourself stranded at the airport and with the last person you want to run into, your ex.

A/N: This is a special gift for @little-mrs-morales for the @pedrostories 2024 Secret Santa event! I hope you enjoy it ♥️

⇢ Part One ⇢ Part Two ⇢ Part Three ⇢ Part Four

[missredherring]

Black Powder

Pero Tovar x Fat F!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2.7k. One-shot.

Contents: Phoenix AU. Mentions of being held prisoner. Nudity. Canon-typical violence. A kiss.

Summary: As the rumors solidified a sense of duty grew within him. He would seek out this black powder and if it truly was phoenix ash he'd put a stop to its twisted use for only death and destruction.

A/N: This AU is inspired by the Monster (S)mash challenge hosted by @quinnnfabrgay-writes and @hauntedhowlett-writes. I made a moodboard to get the idea out of my mind and I was so motivated by the reception that I wrote a one-shot for it.

Not beta read.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

Pero wakes.

White spots obscure his vision and when they take much longer to clear than they had the previous day it tells him what he already knows: he's put it off for too long.

His body doesn't respond at first when he wills it to move, and it takes several tries to sit at the edge of his sleeping pallet.

"Ayú-," he has to cough to clear his throat and the effort feels like expelling rocks. "Ayúdame."

The noise he makes isn't loud or strong, but he knows it doesn't need to be. Soon there are footsteps outside of his room and the door opens. The round face of his aunt looks in at him, her dark eyes warm even as she frowns in disapproval.

"Ay, Perito." She tsks and bustles in. Her rough hands are on him as soon as he's within reach and he shivers at how cold they feel on his feverish skin. She checks his eyes and his neck and his shoulders, making her way down to the center of his chest where his heart beats sluggishly.

Her mouth twists even further and he knows what she must see: eyes on the verge of unseeing, skin as warm as a dying ember, and a heart that is struggling to keep his stubborn spirit going even when his body is telling him that he can't.

She grips him under his arms and hefts him up onto his feet. He does his best to help as much as he is able to and slings his arm over her shoulder.

"Enough of this foolishness, Pero," his aunt scolds him as they leave his room and make their way through the house. "You will burn today and I will hear no arguments."

Members of his family peak out of doorways and around corners as they make their slow progression, but the annoyed tone of his aunt's voice keeps them at bay. It's only when he stumbles and almost takes them both down that a cousin sighs and steps out into view. He takes up Pero's other arm and together he and his aunt bring him from the house and across the village to the kiln.

The domed structure has no windows and a singular door that only shows the darkness within. Its size and scorched appearance might look foreboding to outsiders, but to Pero it is comforting. Here is the place where generations of his community had taken shelter when they were vulnerable. This kiln had allowed them to protect themselves and their homes from the more volatile aspect of their nature.

Villagers look at him with concern. Pero seeks out a few faces and when he finds them he makes eye contact. They give him firm nods in return, passion and duty burning in their eyes- the same feelings that'd been fueling him in the past weeks as they made plans. Pushing his burning had been worth it; when he leaves the kiln they will be ready to leave the village and set out in search of rumors.

His feet drag as he's helped through the kiln doorway. It won't fit three people abreast so his aunt gives him into the care of his cousin and leaves him with a stern look and a kiss to his sweaty forehead. His cousin strips Pero with efficient but gentle motions and sets his naked ass on a brick bench at the back of the kiln.

When his eyes finally adjust to the dim lighting he sees others in the kiln with them. A potter sets up their latest batch of pottery that will sell for a good price at the market as they always do. An elder checks on the vessels that will catch the majority of the ash produced in their burning, the ash that will go on to be used in various ways from reinforcing the nursery to being used in medicine and holy rites.

Belatedly he notices two other figures that aren't rushing to get their tasks done before the burning starts. A solo burn is unusual here and he's never gone through the transformation by himself. Pero has always been surrounded and cared for by his community and it pains him to think of the burnings he might be facing alone while he's on his quest. How many burnings would a phoenix be forced to endure alone in captivity?

That thought is the final flint strike that sparks the dry kindling of his heart. His fever spikes and smoke rises from his skin, releasing any moisture that remains.

The kiln is quickly emptied and Pero is left with his kin. The heat coming from him absorbs into the brick all around him and radiates back onto the others, kick-starting their own immolation.

This is the price for the gift of phoenix fire. The weakness in his body will be consumed and tempered back into strength enough for ten men. Again and again this process will happen to those lucky enough to have a long lifetime, until there's nothing left to offer from their body except the ash they leave behind.

There is a cycle to the fire, as there is to everything in the world. A natural ebb and flow that sustains the cycle of life and death. So when whispers reached the market on an ill wind from the East, rumors of powder so fine it could turn air into fire and kill a dozen men at once, unease urged him to seek the truth out for himself.

He traveled to other villages and stalked the markets and taverns there and the whispers congregated into something more.

They call it black powder and use it as a weapon of warfare in mortal hands.

There are other communities of their kind and each seemed to be blessed with different gifts: just as his own village had great strength and heightened senses, he'd heard stories of fiery flight and magic spells crafted into warbling songs.

The possibility that phoenix ash was being used for such ill means chilled him. It was unnatural that a phoenix would be forced into burns that would eat itself into death.

As the rumors solidified a sense of duty grew within him. He would seek out this black powder and if it truly was phoenix ash he'd put a stop to its use for only death and destruction.

Pero's breathing is labored and heavy. His eyes, now almost completely blind, can only watch the movement of the flames that rise from where his hands rest on his legs.

Letting go of his worries is a relief and he gladly embraces the searing heat that takes over his consciousness.

"How do you handle this heat, Tovar?" William asks, forcing the question through peeling lips.

"It reminds me of home, amigo," Pero replies, not bothering to open his eyes as he takes in the strong heat from the sun above them.

The heat soothes him. The role of the heartless mercenary he's had to play for the last year wears on him. While there is a kernel of truth to his dogged pursuit of the black powder, the boastful words of being the strongest in the land sours his tongue and proclamations of the powder being a weapon of dreams curdle in his belly when he's forced to swallow them.

The unforgiving landscape that sprawls in front of them seems endless, but there are alcoves here and there were they can rest, and it's in one of these where a slope of rock allows for a fire that night.

The beasts attack after nightfall and what remains of their party is captured by the Nameless Order shortly after.

The entire fortress smells of it. Black powder. Phoenix ash.

It permeates every room he has been in, and it's almost welcome as it covers the stench of the Tao Tei gore spoiling the land at the base of the wall.

It's a sharp acidity on the hands of those that pass them, and he wonders if the ash is the only thing that stains them or if it's blood as well.

Ballard is the key. It's easy to sway a prideful man like him and soon he is setting flame to a few pilfered grains of black powder in his quarters in front of them, eager to show off for the newcomers.

It's only when Pero inhales the smoke and tastes the bitterness that coats the back of his tongue that he acknowledges the truth: there is no mistaking the taste of phoenix ash. The small portion of hope that his suspicions were wrong fades away to leave an ache in his chest.

And he must smile in wonder at the evidence right in front of him as Ballard crows and preens.

"Why have we not seen them?" William asks after the weapons and Pero listens closely as Ballard unveils his plan.

Freedom or death, there is no other end for any of them.

William Garin is a good man. It's unfortunate that it's at this point in Pero's quest that William's conscious decides to have a say in the man's actions.

It's easier to manipulate men blinded by greed and fear, like Ballard.

“He'll be here," Pero says as he examine the blade of his dagger.

"When? When it's over?" Ballard demands while darting to the doorway, anxious for anyone to find them.

"We start and he will find us."

"Start?" Ballard doesn't like his answer and rushes to Pero's side, countering his statement with furious whispers. "We're jumping off a cliff here. I have everything. Powder, tools, maps. It's all hidden and arranged along the route. Once we start, there's no going back."

For once Pero agrees with the man.

His inventory finished, he sheathes the blade and leaves the room, confident that Ballard will scurry close behind him.

The black powder is where Ballard said it would be, an a room of it's own in the armory. The smell of ash is so strong here he can barely make out any directions where it's stronger, but movement at the corner of his eye catches his attention. Ballard is too busy filling sacks to notice Pero moving away from the black powder weapons towards a doorway at the back of the room.

Pero catches the movement of shadows coming from underneath the door. It is a locked door behind a locked door, and Pero sees no reason not to use the same key. This time he's prepared for the explosion and only winces at the bright flash of light it produces in the dim room.

While his eyes adjust the rattle of metal guides him to the center of the room. To the figure bound by chains from the ceiling. To you.

You track his movements with unfocused eyes as he comes closer. The chains glow red where they touch your skin, and the air around you shimmers with the heat you're radiating. Your form is bare from head to toe with ash at your feet. He wonders why they haven't collected it. Did they even give you clothing or have you burned through every type of material they've tried to cover you with?

When he is too close you bare your teeth at him and push against your restraints. A screech comes from your throat, raw but still musical. Can you use human speech or have they taken that from you too?

"Paz, paz, fénix," Pero tries in Spanish, and again in a few other languages he knows. You don't react to any of them and he sighs.

Reaching out, he grasps your hand where it's clutching a chain and you watch, eyes trained on him, as he doesn't jerk back at the heat in pain. He shifts his hand to touch more of you and you both listen, eyes locked on each other, but the hiss of burning flesh never comes.

The glow of a banked ember encircles your pupils and you must see something similar in his eyes that makes you relax a fraction and let the chains creak and sway as they take your weight.

It's an easy thing to free you; to take his dagger and use his strength to cut through the links that you've already weakened with your fire. You fall to your knees, but don't crumple at his feet. Shaking arms hold you up until Pero helps you to stand with a supporting arm around your waist.

You're saying something now, in a language he doesn't recognize, but it's the same syllables or word repeated. He looks at you and shakes his head to show his confusion. You repeat the word and press your hand to your chest, and he sees it then. There, under your fingers, the skin has split like the vents of a volcano. He sees them all over you body now that he's looking closer: at the curve of your shoulders and hips, the tops of your breasts and thighs, and cracking the rounded slope of your belly. The light is brightest over your heart and he thinks he might understand what you're saying.

You must burn.

The pounding of footsteps and the accompanying noise of armor-clad bodies approaches the armory and Pero tenses, clutching you to him reflexively. With his attention no longer focused on you he takes in the chamber they've been keeping you in and recognizes it for what it could be: a kiln of your very own.

This isn't the best idea. The armory with the black powder weapons is just outside the door and William is probably up on the wall with the the Order, preparing for the next attack. If they ignite the weapons, will he be far enough away?

You repeat the word again, pleading while you grip the breastplate of his stolen armor.

William's fate has ever rested in his own hands, but Pero still says a quick prayer for the man who had become like a brother to him.

"Paz," he says again and tips your head towards his. Your shoulders drop, your eyes dimming, but you don't fight him when he presses his mouth to yours.

Perhaps you think he is taking advantage of you and that this is just another indignity you must endure, but his kiss is not lascivious. He uses his lips and tongue to part your lips and mouth and when you are open to him he exhales, pushing the air into your lungs like a bellow to stoke the banked fire burning in your heart.

You gasp and release him, tipping your head back even further to exhale a shower of sparks. Again you say that word, crooning and melodic, savoring the taste of it, of him maybe, until you come back to yourself and straighten to your full height.

You tell him something in your language, the tone determined and brooking no argument, and he nods his agreement. A translation is unnecessary.

Pero lowers his head to rest his forehead against yours. The air sizzles and snaps between you as his armor ignites. The hot gusts of your breath fanning over his face is comforting in this strange place and he wonders just how long you've been alone here.

Pero's body is fuel for you and he gives it gladly. It's an exchange: an inhale traded for an exhale until the fire inside is strong. Your magic takes him and melts him down to shape him into something new and winged.

Though strong, the brick and cut stone blocks of the Order's fortress can't hope to hold two phoenixes at the height of their burning, and give way to their force. It causes a chain reaction in the armory, just as he thought it would.

The black powder weapons explode and the blast breaks apart the mortal-made structures around them, clearing the way to the open skies above.

Pero hears you shake and ruffle your feathers beside him, but the only features he can make out from the surrounding blaze are your eyes.

Amid the destruction he feels a sense of peace. The weapons made by twisting phoenix ash are destroyed and you are freed from mortal hands. His quest will be finished when he sees you to safety.

You stretch your neck and sing a string of notes that calls to something deep within him. It tugs behind his chest and when he feels the flap of your wings and the heat of you rise up into the billowing smoke, he follows and you soars like comets across the sky.

Tagging those who be interested: @oonajaeadira @perotovar @djarinmuse @covetyou @ghotifishreads

@galaxyedging

[mybworlds]

Chapter 3

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

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

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

More warnings will follow in later chapters.

Hey there, I know, I'm terribly late, but I had no inspiration so I preferred not to write this story at all at least until I was sure to give it a proper chapter, or at least I hope so. I don't think this story will have many more chapters, maybe three or four more, but no more. I apologize again for the very long waits and thanks to those who want to support me by leaving a like and a comment.

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“Put me down, put me down!” you shout as you and the stranger walk away from the inn.

“Will you stop kicking me?!” a familiar voice blurts out, as you put your feet back on the ground and find yourself face to face with Pero who is looking at you with an annoyed look and a slight out of breath.

“Sorry, I thought it was a guard!” you exclaim, looking around warily and noticing that you have returned to the horses.

“Well, make sure of that next time!” he scolds you, sighing loudly. “And didn’t I tell you to wait for me? Why did you want to do it all by yourself? What did you want to prove?”

“Never mind, I discovered another worrying thing. Yesterday we saw huge quantities of flour, vegetables and other essential goods being brought to the village,” Tovar looks at you perplexed “but my people buy spoiled stuff, so..”

“Where does everything that is edible end up?” Pero completes.

“Exactly. That’s what we need to find out, and we need to talk to my father about that, too. He needs to know what’s happening to our people.”

But he nods, “You would make a fine ruler, mi joven princesa.”

You smile, looking down for just a moment, “I only want the best for my people, I want them to be well and to live at least a peaceful life.”

He smiles back slightly, “Precisely because you are so selfless, you’d make an excellent heir to the throne. Your father should seriously consider the idea that you can reign alone without any prince beside you to instill in you ideas or thoughts that are not yours, thoughts that might make you wither.” he concludes by slightly lowering his gaze "Anyway, let's get out of here and quickly." adds the man gently pushing you onto your steed, while he climbs onto his, the two of you giving spurs and moving away from there. As you walk away, you notice someone pointing at you as if they recognized you.

In the past you’d have liked it because it meant that you were a princess not far from the people, but very present since you often visited the village, but today being singled out means something completely different. Today your own people would sell you for coins and this means that the people are hungry, as well as your father's guards would soon be arriving to patrol the entire village area and the surrounding area.

You and Tovar need to disappear. Your place isn't safe at the moment either. But he told you he knows of another place up in the mountains, it's so cold up there that no one dares to go there. You trust him, he knows what he's doing.

The wind up there is so biting that you can almost feel the cold scratching your skin, you have taken refuge in a small cave with a low ceiling. You and Pero have lit a fire and sat around it, you are shivering from the cold, but you do everything you can to hide it.

“Now we should rest a bit. And tomorrow we'll think about what to do. Together.” He insists on the last word “I don't want any more impulsive actions from you, do you understand, princesa?” adds the man looking for your gaze.

You nod.

“Do you understand?” he insists.

You look at him, "Okay." You reply annoyed. You remain silent for a while, then add, “I didn't mean to run away or do things my own way, I just... I hoped that my people could somehow protect us. I hoped they wouldn't see me as a bargaining chip just to feel good and instead...” you lower your gaze “I'm so stupid.”

“No, princesa. You are not stupid. It's just that your people are hungry, they are desperate. And your closeness in the past is not enough to guarantee them a peaceful future.” you nod looking up at him, you see him fiddling with some gravel “They need more. When this is all over, make sure you're better than your father and be even closer to them.” he suggests, looking you in the eyes.

“Only if you're by my side.” You reply immediately. “You're an excellent advisor, you know? The best. My father should have had you by his side and not that greedy and sneaky being who gives him bad advice!” you assert vehemently.

“You know I'm not good with words, only with the sword.” he reminds you and you smile bitterly. “Only with you is it easy for me to talk.” he adds, “But that's the reality. We both are who we are and nothing can ever change that, even if we don't want to.” You frown as he stands up and walks slightly outside where you notice it's even starting to snow.

You reach him, taking his hand and making him turn towards you with a questioning look, “I decide my own destiny, no one has to impose it on me.” You reply, going to kiss him, but he pulls away.

“No, princesa, no.” he declares.

“Why?”

“Princesa, I.. am just your bodyguard, I am not a prince or your fiancé. And besides, I am much older than you.” he declares forcefully, then turns to stare outside.

You smile bitterly without stopping looking at his profile and without being able to stop thinking about how much he means protection, security, strength to you. You think about how safe you would always and forever be with him by your side, how much you would like to be his, to be with him, to travel with him.

“But do you know who I'm engaged to?” you ask him, making him turn towards you again. “To a man much older than me, much older than you. And do you know what this man has? Only an advantageous position and a very, very large land..

Do you know what my life would be like next to him? What would I do next to him? Nothing. I would only be seen as a woman who has to bear children, if that were to happen... fine, but if I were not capable of it, I would be thrown away and returned to my father who would be ashamed of me.

Do you know what would become of my life then? My father would have me locked away in some monastery for the rest of my days and then hand over all his power to his slimy advisor. Do you want this for me?”

Maybe you overdid it, it doesn't mean you can really undergo this treatment, maybe the man you are supposed to marry will treat you well just because he is old or maybe he would allow you to have relationships with whoever you want as long as you do it with discretion, you don't know it, but just the thought makes you shudder.

“Princesa,” Tovar says looking you in the eyes “I respect you. Only the gods know how much I respect you and how much your safety means to me..”

“Do you only care about my honor and safety?” you press.

He gives a crooked smile, rolling his eyes, “Sometimes I forget how… insistent you can be.”

You smile back, “I was hoping you’d say persuasive.” you say, raising an eyebrow as if to provoke him.

“Go to sleep, princess,” he says, barely touching your arm. His correctness, his rigor and his very training as a knight are something you have always liked a lot about him and which somehow teased your rebellious soul to go beyond your label as a princess. In fact, the first few times your mother heard you speaking frankly to him and using, in her opinion, language that was not appropriate for a princess, she feared she had entrusted you to the wrong hands. Today, however, you are certain that you could not be in better hands.

You look down, though you're not ready to give up. “As you wish. But I think you should sleep too. If we have to figure something out, there need to be two of us.” you add, shrugging your shoulders and assuming a vague, almost innocent expression.

He chuckles, perhaps sensing your provocation, “Yes, in a little while. You start sleeping.”

“Who do you want to come up here in this cold and snow?” you ask him. “And besides, didn’t you say that it’s an almost completely isolated place?”

"It is. Almost completely." He emphasizes. "Rest." He insists, touching your cheek with the back of his hand in a tender gesture.

You have always liked this aspect of him too, the sweetness that he knows how to camouflage well with the rigor and the temper that he possesses make him irresistible in your eyes.

Your mother called him a brute because of his ungallant ways towards the King, towards herself and in teaching you things that you - as a princess - should never have learned. You, on the other hand, thanked him many, many times and you still thank him because if he hadn't taught you how to use the sword, you’d never have defended yourself in that inn and they probably would have already captured you and then who knows what your fate would have been.

So many things would have been different in your destiny if you had never met Pero Tovar. You’d have continued to feel bad, poorly concealing what you really are behind the beautiful words, bows and lace that your mother always forced you to learn, but by now you would probably already be married and unhappy, locked in a cage with bars even thicker than the ones you grew up in and your thoughts would probably have led you to dark and scary endings..

“Close your eyes, princesa.” Tovar says, noticing your eyes still open and your gaze fixed on an unspecified point. “There is no point in thinking about things that have been or will be,” he adds, “we must only look at the present, at the moment. We cannot change the past and the future is still beyond our control.” you watch him thinking about who knows what adventures or things he has experienced and seen and that you will almost certainly never see even though you wishing it.

You let your wildest fantasies run wild in your mind, you imagine strange worlds full of adventures, the most bizarre situations and contexts until sleep overcomes you.

Pero unconsciously wraps an arm around your torso as if to protect you even while he sleeps. But his sleep only lasts a handful of minutes, his mind keeps him alert the whole time.

Ever since he had separated from his friend and companion William, Pero had done nothing but wander from place to place as a mercenary, as a smuggler for his own pleasures, interests and attempts to survive. Then, he arrived at the lands of your father, king of this immense European territory, and the way he was fed and welcomed, pushed him to stay. Then his sword skills did the rest after you suffered an attempted assault by two outlaws.

You immediately struck him. You were never the typical damsel in need of saving. Even in that dangerous situation, you fought tooth and claw to protect yourself, so you told him with a slightly mocking tone as if you wanted to reassure him that you were not the little doll to wrap in cotton wool. He looked at you sideways before giving you an amused look at your arrogance towards danger. Other women in your place would have hidden in their room and cried, they would not have spoken about that episode so fast and loose, but not you.

You were never afraid of him from the first moment, you immediately spoke to him almost as if he were a friend rather than your bodyguard. In fact, this role is not very good for him, especially considering your temperament and your tendency to never respect the etiquette imposed by your role and your family. And he loves to observe how even the smallest change alters your features, how expressive your eyes are to indicate boredom or pleasure in doing something, how your tone of voice is so different when you talk to him or when you talk to someone else.

Tovar never thought of having a woman by his side, until that moment the only ones he had were those who gave themselves to him in exchange for a few coins and to be totally honest with himself he never felt the need for it. The idea of starting a family is not for him. His life is different. The only companion he has ever had at his side has been the sword and that is forever and certainly never betrays.

Then, you arrived and made his certainty tremble because you immediately showed yourself to be so similar and yet so different from him and you almost discovered that you were two sides of a coin, he has always respected you a lot, beyond your cheekiness, and loved you since your first meeting.

Pero smiles when he thinks back to that day...

He knocked a couple of times, as instructed, and waited for your nod, which came in a bored voice, "Come in."

He found you sitting on the stone windowsill of your window, he immediately noticed your very long cerulean dress that cascaded down the wall of your room until it reached the floor of your room and then the tired and bored look on your face.

Your father had told you that from that day on you would have a bodyguard and from the tone and look you gave him, Pero immediately understood that you weren't at all enthusiastic about it.

“Are you the man who will follow me everywhere?” was the first thing you asked him, looking at him with an annoyed expression.

“This is what the King your father commands,” was the man's serious reply.

You sighed as you looked outside again, “My father always exaggerates. I don’t need a little soldier following me everywhere,” you added annoyed.

“I'm sure of it!” was Tovar's only exclamation as he looked at how your room was anything but what he had imagined a princess' room to be, he saw your many beautiful princess dresses on display and then in one corner were some clothes that looked like they were a peasant's clothes “You must be very bored, princess, if I don't dare,” he commented, noticing your face and your tone of voice.

It was then that you turned to him and looked at him with a hint of a smile on your lips, "You are the foreigner skilled with the sword. The man everyone is talking about, the Hispanic." you noted.

“Am I that famous?” he asked, smiling at you askance.

You bit your lower lip gently and then let your gaze wander from his face to his figure, “Your exploits in the Eastern continent are famous,” you replied, then looked up at his face, “You must have seen a lot.”

“Some of these are very common, others are absolutely extraordinary and hard to believe.”

“Try.” You urged, but he didn’t say as much as you wanted to hear him say, “What happens now? Are you going to stand there all day with your sword drawn ready to strike anyone who tries to get close to me?” you asked him almost amused “In fact, I’d like to see my maids run away so I can be free too.”

“Princesa..” he started, but you interrupted him by telling him your name as if to invite him to call you by your first name, but he completely ignored that correction “Princesa, I am not here to see you laugh at other people's misfortunes, but to protect you." he reminded you.

He didn't know you, but your approach was so different from the way your mother the Queen and the King had described you. You certainly struck him right away.

You sighed, “I have no intention of turning you into my jester if that's what you're afraid of.” You reassured him, turning serious and looking outside. “I just want to be free. You know, you who come from a world of freedom, maybe you love what you see here: power, wealth, stability. But I grew up like this... I want the exact opposite.” And in that moment Tovar's heart sank“You may think I am crazy to want things like running across a meadow, brandishing a sword, riding my steed on the beach, instead of one day ruling this nation with my future husband.” you sighed sadly “Forget what I said. Maybe you should also tell my father and it’s better that he doesn't know my thoughts. He wouldn’t understand.”

“It is understandable that he doesn't approve,” Tovar agreed, lowering his gaze for a moment and then raising it again to your sad face.

You nodded, “Okay.” You cleared your throat as if to silence those thoughts that were not in keeping with your status, “Um, what are we gon—?”

Pero interrupted you, “I won't tell anyone what you confided in me.” He reassured you. “I am not your enemy. I was called to protect you and I will, but protection does not mean keeping you in a cage.”

Tovar was then that he saw that sparkle that has never left your eyes when you and him are together. You had found an ally for the first time in your life.

He watches you in the firelight, watches that state of pure bliss that makes you as beautiful as a painting he once stole for a rich lord a few years ago, a slight smile curves your lips upwards and a small lock of hair falls across your face. You are a tender and sweet image to see, you are so different from the strong warrior you want to appear, you are beautiful like an angel.

He who has met so many monsters with beautiful faces, fought against monsters in the flesh, ran away from one place to another, never knew or understood what peace or stability was, but since he met you it's like he started to be serene in some way; he had started to have a routine, a day marked by repeated and regular actions, although with some exceptions here and there to satisfy your rebellious soul and to make sure that he himself was happy in knowing you were happy and satisfied. When you smiled at him after a long ride through the meadows it was as if everything was in its place, as if he had fully fulfilled his duties, as if he was somehow really living in those simple moments with you.

He sees you groaning in your sleep and holding you close to him as if seeking protection in a vulnerable moment like rest. And he knows it well since his whole life he has done nothing but keep his guard up, always ready to bite and scratch to protect himself from everything and everyone. He understands you very well, perhaps better than anyone else.

From the very beginning he felt a strange, unknown warmth invade his chest and the unknown instinct to protect you regardless of the task he had been called to perform. He has never experienced feelings such as affection or love, or rather perhaps in his own way he felt them, but that happened a long time ago when his life was very different...

“Pero,” you mutter sleepily, catching his attention as he sees you wrinkle your nose and open and close your eyes, “is it morning already?” you ask “Did I sleep much?” you groan, dazed.

“No,” he replies, moving away the arm that was holding you closer to him, always respecting your person, “barely a couple of hours.” You hear him sigh, “It’s still night outside.” he adds, touching your forehead with his fingers with disarming delicacy, “Rest a little longer.”

You still look at him half asleep, “Go to sleep too.” You suggest, opening and closing your eyes. “I’m glad you’re by my side, but we both need to be strong.” you say, abandoning yourself to sleep and slightly bowing your head in his direction.

You're right, he needs to sleep too. At least a little.

When the light of dawn caresses the mountains, you are already awake. You have your legs pulled to your chest and you stare at the horizon with a thoughtful expression. A bunch of possible scenarios run through your mind based on what your actions might be in the next few hours. You sigh before turning towards the inside of the cave where Pero still rests. He tried to hold you by the wrist in an attempt to get you to rest some more, but you shook your head and you touched his rough cheek as if to say rest, don't worry about me, then you stood up, while he - you're sure of it - followed you with his gaze as if he wanted to make sure that you don't do anything stupid.

You're a rebel, but you're not a fool. You know you have to think carefully about your actions and decisions, but you also know that you have to talk to your father and run the risk that he will have you arrested or that many lies have been told about you in order to discredit you in his eyes.

A father should believe his daughter regardless, but yours... well, he's never been on your side, he's always wanted to do things his way. And this time you fear he won't make an exception.

The sky has timidly turned a pale blue and you get up determined to face everything, Tovar has also already suggested the way for you to sneak back into the castle, but this time you will go with him, with the one who very quickly became a friend — and in your heart something more, even if you don't have the courage to say it out loud — beyond your bodyguard.

Tovar, after yawning loudly, stretches as he stands up, “So, princesa, what's the plan now?”

“It’s a risky plan, but I think it’s the only feasible one,” he announced.

Pero watches you thoughtfully and waiting for you to continue, but then he completes for you, “You want to go back to the castle to talk to the King, and that's understandable, but I think we should do something else first.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him, placing your hands on your hips and zigzagging your gaze from one side of the cave to the other, trying to figure out what you'd missed.

“We must first understand who or what is starving people. There is certainly an explanation and we must understand which one.”

You smile, “We?”

He nods, “You know I’m on your side and I follow you wherever you go.” He confirms, taking a half step towards you.

You also take a small step towards him, “Are you doing this as a bodyguard?”

He smiles at you, timidly bringing his hand closer to your cheek, “You know I’m doing this as your friend and not out of obligation.” You smile slightly at him. “I’ll help you shed some light on this, I promise.”

“If only you could be my betrothed!” you exclaim, looking into his eyes. “You understand me, you are...”

“No, princesa,” he immediately interrupts you by moving away from you, turning his back on you “what you're saying is wrong and I don't want it.” he continues using a firm tone. Pero loves you, but his heart can't allow such involvement.

It's not fair to him or to you. It's not fair that you get attached to someone like him, nor that he forces you to have to see him in secret so as not to cause scandal.

"I don't want you." he says almost with contempt. "You're a little girl." he adds.

He knows he hurt you because he defined you exactly as you don't want, he belittled you and this has always bothered you enormously. And he knows it, but if it's the only way to make you give up, so be it.

For a while he doesn't even hear you breathing as if you were holding your breath, then he hears you reply with a cold tone of voice, “I don't believe you, but... it's okay.” He hears the bitterness in your tone of voice, but this time – unlike others – he doesn't try to make up for it by cracking a few jokes or taking you to your favorite places, he stands still, silent.

“Let's go.” you use an authoritative tone. Pero has already heard this tone like that of a master who calls his dog and this obediently starts to follow him, only he has never heard it coming from from your lips and it hurts him, but he prefers to be sick himself rather than see you suffer one day because of him.

You both walk away from the makeshift shelter, feeling a weight on your chest and a lump in your throat, but neither of you mentions it. Both of you mount your steeds towards the house of one of your faithful vassal who will surely be able to give you an answer and shed light on the conspiracy that is weighing on your land and perhaps on your own father.

[unsuperingyournatural]

not without you

Pero Tovar x Female Reader

dividers @saradika-graphics

The fire crackled softly between you and Pero, casting flickering shadows across his face. The warmth of the flames was a welcome contrast to the cool night air, but it did little to temper the quiet familiarity between you. Every glance, every wry remark carried an unspoken weight, the kind that only came from surviving too much together.

Pero had never been one to waste words, but his wit was as sharp as his sword, and his dry humor had a way of easing the tension in your chest. He caught you watching him again, dark eyes glinting with something unreadable.

“What?” he asked, voice low and rough. “You still trying to figure out if I was worth all the trouble?”

You huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I already know you weren’t.”

Pero chuckled, the sound warm and amused. “And yet, you stayed.”

The words sat between you, heavier than they should have been. It had been a choice, after all. Ballard had never meant to take you when he and Pero were meant to escape with the gunpowder. You only found this out because Pero, stubborn as ever, had refused to leave without you.

The memory of the Wall surfaced, clear as firelight.

You had met him in a hidden alcove at his request, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited. When he appeared, his expression was grave, and his voice was low as he told you of his and Ballard's plan to steal the gunpowder and escape. You were startled—your father had said nothing of this, despite the years you had spent in the Nameless Order's captivity, longing for freedom. A bitter realization curled in your chest. Ballard hadn’t mentioned it because he had never intended for you to be part of it.

Pero's hands came to rest on your shoulders, his grip firm yet careful as he stepped closer. His dark eyes locked onto yours, grounding you, ensuring you heard every word as he laid out the plan. The firelight from a distant torch cast sharp angles over his face, highlighting the rugged lines, the scar that cut over his left eye. You had noticed it before, but never this close, never with the sudden urge to trace your thumb over it. You tamped it down, pushing aside the pull that had always been there in the quiet moments between you.

"Repeat it back to me," he murmured.

You did, steady and sure, and the flicker of a warm smile crossed his lips. It softened something in his expression, just for a moment, before he remembered himself. He gave a curt nod, his hands slipping away as he turned to go. You fell in step beside him, your fate now intertwined with his.

When Ballard ran off with the gunpowder after fooling Pero, you had stayed—not out of obligation or fear of the unknown you were about to travel into, but because there had always been something unspoken between you and Pero, something that made walking away impossible. Something that had been there from the start, from the moment his dark eyes found yours in the main hall and refused to look away. You trusted him in a way you had never trusted Ballard.

Pero had sworn not to kill your father if you helped track him down, and you had believed him. Even after Ballard was killed by bandits and Pero took what gunpowder he could salvage, he had laid a comforting hand on your shoulder, seeing the tears in your eyes at your father’s death. He thought Ballard was a bastard, but the man was still your father. Pero had softly entreated you to come with him, promising he would keep you safe. After a moment, you wiped your face and agreed, but just as you were about to take off, the Nameless Order caught up to you.

“I meant it, you know,” Pero murmured after a beat. “About not leaving you behind.”

You swallowed hard, then said quietly, "I know." A soft look passed between you, lingering in the flickering firelight, something unspoken but deeply understood.

Across the fire, Garin groaned, clearly unimpressed. “Can you two stop making eyes at each other? Some of us actually need sleep.”

Pero's eyes snapped over to his old friend. “You’re just bitter because I had to suffer through watching you and Lin Mae back at the Wall. Consider this payback.”

Garin’s glare was downright murderous, but Pero just smirked, the picture of self-satisfaction. With a final muttered curse, Garin turned over, throwing his cloak over himself. “I swear, I should’ve left you behind instead,” he grumbled before settling down.

You and Pero exchanged a glance before breaking into quiet laughter, making Pero's grin melt into a warm smile as he watched you. The humor faded into something softer, something that didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

“Get some rest,” he said, voice quieter now.

You smiled, watching him for just a moment longer before giving him a nod and settling in. "Good night, Pero."

His eyes were warm as they watched you before turning back to the fire. "Good night, cariño."

You couldn't help but smile at the familiar term of endearment as you shut your eyes, exhaustion from the day's travel settling over you like a thick blanket.

The world around you was still dangerous, still uncertain, but in this moment, beside him, you felt safer than you ever had before.

[peridoxikal-redux]

Various DQB2 doodles that popped out once I started my second playthrough of this game

I....forgot how much I loved it 😭

[missyorkswhore]

Slooooow buuuuurn🔥

Ft.@umadosedepascal

[cosmicaura7]

AITA SERIES

Pairings : pedro pascal characters x reader

Genre : f/m, sexual implications, controversial topics, taboo topics, use of R to refer to reader, 

Synopsis : So Reddit, Am I the Asshole…?

Clint Flood (Freaky Tales)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for being in love with my boyfriend’s dad?

I know how this sounds. I’m not proud of it. But I also can’t stop thinking about it, so here I am.

I (26F) have been dating J (28M) for almost a year now. He’s a good guy, steady, kind and a little boring but safe. The kind of guy you’re supposed to want to marry. The kind your mom would approve of.

Then there’s his dad. C (mid-50s). A little rough around the edges. Quiet, tall and intense. He’s got these piercing eyes that feel like they can see right through you and this whole ex-military and no-bullshit vibe that makes the air change when he walks into a room.

The first time I met him, I already felt something. But I ignored it, pushed it down. But it’s gotten worse. Every time I visit their family cabin, every time we sit across from each other at dinner, I feel his gaze linger just a little too long. I catch him watching me when he thinks I won’t notice. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look right back. It’s not just lust, either. He actually sees me, listens to me in a way his son never really does. He remembers the small things I say, and even notices when I change my hair. Once, when I was quietly crying in the hallway during a family weekend (long story), he was the one who came out and handed me a glass of water without a word.

I feel so drawn to him. And I know how messed up that is, I’m dating his son after all. There’s no world where this ends well. I haven’t cheated. I haven’t done anything beyond maybe letting my imagination wander and entertaining a few dreams I’ll never admit out loud. But lately, when I’m with J, I just feel off. Like I’m pretending. Like I’m waiting for someone else to walk into the room. Someone who makes my skin burn with just a glance.

So Reddit… AITA for staying in a relationship when my heart might be somewhere else? Am I horrible for wanting a man I can’t have? Or is this just a passing obsession I need to bury deeper?

Dave York (The Equalizer 2)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for not acting on feelings for my kids’ babysitter even though she clearly wants me to?

Okay Reddit, I know how this sounds, but hear me out before you jump to “creep” in the comments.

I (41M) am a divorced dad of two daughters, A (10) and M (7). They’re my world. Been raising them mostly solo for the past three years since the split and it hasn’t been easy. Between work, school pickups and dance recitals, I needed help. Enter her (let’s call her R, 26F), the babysitter I hired after a friend’s recommendation.

She’s absolutely incredible. Responsible, patient, smart, funny and grounded. Everything you’d want in a woman. My girls adore her. They draw her pictures, ask for her when they’re sick, even slip up and call her “Mom” sometimes. I figured that would make things easier, someone stable in their lives.

What I didn’t expect was me being the unstable one. Because the problem is, she’s also gorgeous. Like, unfairly so. And lately, I can’t tell if I’m imagining things or if she’s trying to test me. The casual touches, the way she lingers in the kitchen when I come home, the soft voice when she tells me I look tired and should get more sleep, the ridiculously tight tank tops, the lip gloss and the way she looks at me when she doesn’t think I notice.

Part of me, a big part, wants to give in. I’m a man, I’m not oblivious to it. But the other part? The one that tucks my daughters in at night? That part is scared shitless. What if I misread everything? What if this ruins the bond she has with my girls? What if they lose someone they love because their dad couldn’t keep it in his pants?

She’s never said anything outright, never crossed a clear line. But I can feel the tension and I can feel myself getting closer to breaking every day. I want her so badly but I also want what’s best for my kids. I just don’t know if those two things can exist at the same time.

So Reddit… AITA for keeping her at arm’s length when all I want to do is pull her closer?

Dieter Bravo (The Bubble)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for falling in love with my fake PR girlfriend and not knowing if she actually likes me or is just a better actor than I am?

Okay. Buckle up, internet strangers because I’m spiraling.

I (early 40s M, actor, you’ve probably seen me snort a line or die dramatically in something) was recently paired up with another actor (let’s call her R, 30s F, wildly talented, unfairly hot and intimidatingly cool) to star in this big dramatic slow-burn romance film. Think tortured artists, rainy kisses and completely Oscar bait.

To sell it? The studios and our agents cooked up this genius idea, let’s fake date. Hold hands at events, post blurry selfies on Instagram, give flirty interviews. You know, classic “no, we’re just good friends… wink” PR bait. At first, I laughed. I’ve done this crap before. All the camera flashes, fake kisses, casually mentioning her in interviews, rinse and repeat.

Except it stopped feeling fake. I stopped feeling fake. Somewhere between the shared hotel rooms, the quiet after-parties, the little glances during press junkets, I fell for her. Fully, horrifically and irrevocably. The kind of fall that makes your chest hurt and your ego scream. The worst part? I have no clue if she feels the same. She’s good, man. Oscar-nominee good. She leans into my arm like she means it. Laughs at my dumb jokes like they’re brilliant. Once she looked at me after a long day of shooting and said, “Sometimes I forget this isn’t real.” and I swear to god my soul left my body.

But then the next morning she’ll be cold again. Professional and distant. Like I dreamed the whole thing. Like it’s all just lines from a script I don’t have a copy of. Now I’m sitting here, fully in love with the woman I’m supposed to be pretending to love and I don’t know if I should say anything. What if I ruin everything? What if she is just pretending? What if I’m just another role she nails while I’m over here method acting heartbreak?

So Reddit… AITA for catching real feelings during a fake relationship? Or just an idiot with a crush and no chill?

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for not following through with a hit because I fell in love with the target?

Yeah. That title’s a mess. So’s the situation.

I (40M) work in a niche line of work. Let’s just say I solve problems that require extreme discretion and no paper trail. You hire me and the problem disappears. Clean and quiet within a blink of an eye.

A few months ago, I got a high-paying job from a rich smug prick who wanted his ex-wife taken care of. No explanation, just names, photos and a price I couldn’t ignore. I’ve done worse for less so I took it. Her name is R (36F). First time I saw her, she was sitting outside a little bookstore she owns, sipping coffee, talking to some neighborhood kid like she wasn’t marked for death. I kept my distance. Observed and waited for the right time.

Only it never came.

The more I watched, the harder it became to see her as a target. She volunteers at shelters. Leaves snacks out for delivery drivers. She sings in her car when she thinks no one’s watching. She’s light and warm. The kind of woman you protect, not eliminate.

I told myself I was just gathering intel but days turned to weeks. I started memorizing her routines. I learned the way she laughs when she texts her sister, the exact brand of tea she drinks, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s nervous. Somewhere along the way, the job stopped being a job. I never made contact, never said a word. But I started feeling and now I’m in too deep. I backed out of the job quietly. Told the client it was unworkable, returned the deposit. He wasn’t happy but I’d rather deal with him than live with the thought of hurting her.

Problem is, I still want her. And I’ve imagined going up to her. Introducing myself as just a guy who walked into her in a random shop. Letting her fall for me without knowing who I really am. But that feels like a lie. I’ve already lied by omission.

So Reddit… AITA for falling for her while stalking her? For not telling her the truth even though every part of me wants to protect her now? Or would telling her everything be the most selfish thing I could do?

Ezra (The Prospect)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for secretly dating my best friend’s brother even though she explicitly told me not to?

So I (F, 27) have been best friends with this girl since we were 7. We grew up together, sleepovers, secrets, teenage rebellion, the whole deal. She’s like a sister to me and we’ve been through everything.

Which means I also grew up around E (M, 34), her older brother. E was the charming, sarcastic, effortlessly cool older brother who’d tease us when we were kids, drive us around when we were teens, and smirk at me in that infuriating way that made me blush harder than I’d like to admit. We always had this… thing. Flirty comments, lingering looks, stupid jokes that only made sense to us. But I never acted on it. My best friend made it very clear and very early on that E was off limits. “It’d be weird.” She said, “Gross. I don’t want my bestie being near my brother like that

Fast forward to last year. I ran into E at a party she dragged me to and it was different. The flirting was heavier. The air was tense. He looked at me like he really saw me. One thing led to another, and… yeah. We started secretly dating. At first, it was light, late-night texting, stolen moments, private dinners. But it grew deeper. He’s thoughtful, steady, makes me laugh and makes me feel safe. He listens. We talk about everything. I think I’ve loved him longer than I’ve even known what love was.

We’ve been together for 5 months now. My best friend doesn’t know. I’ve lied to her face more times than I can count and I hate it. Every time E and I sneak around, a part of me dies a little because I know how betrayed she’ll feel if (when) she finds out.

But here’s the thing, it’s not some casual fling. We’re in love. I want to tell her. We both do. We just don’t know how without blowing up twenty years of friendship. And I can’t stop asking myself, do I owe her that level of loyalty? Or am I allowed to be happy even if it’s messy?

So Reddit… AITA for going behind my best friend’s back and dating her brother, the one person she begged me not to fall for?

Francisco Morales (Triple Frontier)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for wanting to ask out a woman who used to sleep with my best friend (even though I’ve liked her for years)?

Yeah, I know how this sounds. Buckle up.

I (38M) have this friend, let’s call him Pope, who I’ve known forever. We’ve been through the shit together. The kind of friendship where you’d kill for the guy, no questions asked.

A few years ago, he was hooking up with this woman (let’s call her R, 30F). Nothing serious. Just casual, no-strings. He made that clear to all of us. And she seemed fine with it. They’d hook up after drinks or late nights but it fizzled out naturally. No drama. No breakup. Just life moving on.

Thing is that I liked her, always liked her. Since day one. She’s smart, hilarious, can handle a room full of testosterone like it’s nothing and has this way of looking at you that makes you feel like you’re the only guy in the world. I kept my distance out of respect. You don’t move in on your best friend’s girl even if she was never really his girl. But now, years later, I still haven’t stopped thinking about her. We still talk and hang out sometimes. There’s a spark there, I swear. But I haven’t said a damn thing. Partly because I’m a coward, partly because I don’t want to blow up my friendship with Pope.

I asked him once, hypothetically, how he’d feel if someone dated a girl he’d just “hooked up with.” He shrugged and said, “If it was just a hook-up, I wouldn’t give a shit.” But I don’t know if he actually meant it. And I don’t know if it’s different when it’s one of us, tight-knit, military bond and all.

So Reddit… AITA if I ask her out? Am I a bad friend for wanting a chance with the woman he technically had first, even if it was casual and years ago? Or should I just shut my mouth and keep pretending I don’t care?

Harry Castillo (The Materialists)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for wanting to financially support my assistant in a way that might make me her sugar daddy?

Throwaway because, well, obviously.

I (42M) run several successful business firms and have a phenomenal assistant (26F). Let’s call her R. She’s sharp, competent, endlessly patient with my disorganization and frankly the reason this whole damn office runs at all.

Here’s the thing, I’ve noticed she’s been struggling lately. She’s skipping meals, avoiding turning on the office heat even when she’s freezing. I caught her patching a hole in her shoe with tape. She’s proud and never complains, but it’s obvious she’s barely staying afloat. I pay her more than what she deserves for her position but I know life’s expensive, especially in Manhattan. I also know she’s got student loans and takes care of her family. And I hate seeing her like this, it’s been eating at me.

So here’s where I might be the asshole, I’ve been toying with the idea of offering her help. Not a raise (I already gave her one recently). Not a loan (she’d never accept). More like a “no strings attached” arrangement where I’d take care of her rent, groceries or whatever she needs, if she lets me. Yes, I know how that sounds. I’m not trying to be a creep. I’m not expecting anything in return, no paying back, no sexual favors. But there’s no way to make this offer without it sounding like I want to be her sugar daddy.

Truth is… I wouldn’t hate that idea if she was open to something more. She’s beautiful and smart. The kind of woman I’d fall for in another life. But that’s not what this is about. I just want to take care of her and make sure she’s okay. If there’s anything more deserving in living the lavish life, it’s definitely her. 

So Reddit… AITA for even thinking about offering something like that? And if not, how the hell do I go about it without sounding like an old pervert?

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels (Kingsman)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for being cold to a woman at work because she reminds me of my dead wife?

I (late 40s, M) work in a high-risk field, let’s just call it federal-level security with a cowboy hat on top. I’m used to staying sharp and staying detached. I’ve had to be, ever since I lost my wife ten years ago. She was my everything. Sweet, sharp-tongued and tough as nails under lace. When she died… I buried my heart with her.

Then came her.

Let’s call her R (mid-30s, F). She’s the new secretary at our organization. Handles the logistics, the schedules, the background noise of our chaos. Always has a coffee in hand, always humming something, always looking at the world like it still deserves to be forgiven. The first time I saw her, I froze. She didn’t look exactly like my wife, not quite, but she moved like her, laughed like her and smiled with that same little tilt that used to undo me in an instant. And ever since then, I’ve treated her like she’s done something wrong just by walking into the damn room.

I’m short and dismissive with her, sometimes even rude. I pretend not to hear her when she says good morning. Once or twice, I’ve even corrected her harshly in front of others for mistakes she didn’t make. I know I’m being cruel. She hasn’t done a damn thing to deserve it. But every time she opens her mouth, I hear a ghost. Thing is, she’s never pushed back. She just looks at me with this confused kind of hurt, like she doesn’t understand what she did wrong and the truth is, she didn’t, never did. I did. I’m the one turning grief into anger. I’m the one who never dealt with losing the woman I loved and now I’m taking it out on someone who’s just being kind.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about apologizing, about telling her the truth. But I’m afraid if I let her in, I’ll start feeling again. And I don’t know if I’ve got the strength to lose someone twice.

So Reddit… AITA for being a jackass to someone just because she reminds me of someone I lost? Or is this just the only way I know how to cope?

Javi Guttierez (The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for kissing my assistant and confessing my feelings, only for her to completely ignore it the next day?

This might be a mess so bear with me.

I (M, 33) am a scriptwriter and producer. I’ve worked my way up in this business and I take it seriously. One of the smartest things I ever did was hire her, my assistant (F, 28). Let’s call her R. She’s incredible. Organized, sharp, cool under pressure, has this dry humor that makes me laugh at the worst times and somehow remembers every detail about everyone I ever meet. She makes me better. She makes the job look easy.

And I’ve been in love with her for almost two years.

I know it’s unprofessional. I kept it quiet, never crossed a line, not even a toe near one. Because she deserves respect and I’d rather suffer in silence than make her uncomfortable or jeopardize her career.

But it’s been getting harder lately, especially at industry parties. She turns heads when she walks into a room. Every actor, every big name, they all want a piece of her. And I just stand there, pretending I don’t care. Pretending I’m not dying inside when they make her laugh, when they ask for her number, when she says, “I’m working” and looks away.

Then came this gala. One too many champagne flutes. One too many guys trying to corner her. She looked uncomfortable, kept glancing at me across the room. And something in me snapped. I pulled her away from the crowd, took her to the balcony, and without thinking, I kissed her. Then I told her everything. That I’ve liked her since week one. That I think about her all the time. That it kills me to watch her with anyone else.

And she just ran. Didn’t say a word. Just turned and walked away.

Next morning? It was like it never happened. She showed up, clipboard in hand, rattling off schedules, looking me dead in the eye like she hadn’t fled from my lips ten hours prior. I’ve tried talking to her. I’ve begged for just five minutes of her time. She dodges me, changes subjects, acts like everything is normal, and it’s driving me insane. I feel like I crossed a boundary. But also, I was honest. I never forced anything. I just said how I felt.

So Reddit… AITA for kissing my assistant and confessing my feelings after years of silence, even if now she won’t speak to me?

Javier Peña (Narcos)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for constantly rejecting my coworker’s advances even though I’m actually in love with him?

This is going to sound like I’m the world’s biggest idiot, but here goes.

I (29F) work for the government. It's a hard, high-stress job and there’s not a lot of room for vulnerability or, y’know, romance. Which sucks because I’ve been half in love with my colleague, let’s call him J, since the day I met him.

He’s everything you’d want in a man. Confident, charming and dangerous in that bad boy way. He walks into a room and women stare. He talks and people listen. He flirts like it’s breathing. And yeah, he’s got a reputation. Everyone knows he’s been around, probably the most sexually experienced man I’ve ever met.

Me? I’ve never even had sex. Not religious, not traumatized, it just never happened for me. I’ve always been shy and easily intimidated. I was the "shy bunny" in the academy, not the one guys chased after. And when J started flirting with me, like really flirting, I froze.

It’s not like I’m not interested, I am. But every time he makes a move, I panic, I dodge, I pretend that I’m too busy or brush him off with a joke. Because the thought of actually being with him, of taking off my clothes in front of a man like that, makes me want to crawl into a hole. I’m scared I’ll disappoint him. That I’ll be awkward or inexperienced or just not enough. And then I’ll ruin the one good relationship I have on this damn job. He still flirts, still checks in. But I can feel the distance growing. I think he’s starting to think I’m not into him. Or worse, that I’m playing games. I’m not. I just don’t know how to tell him why I keep backing off.

So Reddit… AITA for rejecting him over and over while secretly being in love with him? Should I be honest and risk everything? Or just keep my mouth shut and let him move on to someone who won’t choke up the second he touches her?

Joel Miller (The Last of Us)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for having feelings for my dad’s best friend, who basically helped raise me?

Okay, so this is going to sound real bad on paper, but hear me out.

I (26F) have known this man, J, since I was a kid. He’s my dad’s best friend, a grumpy rugged Texan who’s been around for every milestone in my life. School plays, birthdays, college move-in day, you name it, J was always there, usually fixing something or standing off to the side with a cup of coffee and his permanent scowl.

Here’s the thing, somewhere in the last year or two, I started not seeing J as just “Dad’s friend.” Like, I’ll walk into the kitchen in my pajamas and he’s fixing the sink with his sleeves rolled up, arms flexing and suddenly I’m thinking things I should probably be arrested for. It’s not just physical. He listens to me, respects me and treats me like a grown woman, not a little girl.

A few nights ago, he stayed over after helping Dad rebuild the deck. I poured him a whiskey after Dad went to bed and we talked for hours. At one point, he brushed my hand and didn’t pull away right away. It was small but it felt like something shifted. Here’s the kicker, I want something to happen. I want him but I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet because 1.) he’s my dad’s best friend, 2.) he’s literally 20+ years older than me, and 3.) I know if my dad ever found out, it’d destroy their friendship.

So Reddit… AITA for wanting to sleep with the man who basically helped raise me? I haven’t acted on it yet, but I want to desperately. Am I a terrible person for thinking so?

Marcus Acacius (Gladiator II)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for secretly dating my professor after we hooked up, even though I was the one who pursued him first?

Throwaway for obvious reasons. This is messy and I know it.

So I (22F) am a senior in college, finishing my degree in classical studies. For the past year, I’ve been taking a Roman history seminar taught by Professor M (M, late 30s?). He’s brilliant, sharp-tongued, a little intimidating and, honestly, incredibly attractive in that cold, untouchable kind of way. I’ve had a crush on him since day one.

He’s very professional, like textbook boundary-keeper. Never gave me special treatment, never even hinted at anything, even though I was top of his class and probably tried way too hard to impress him. I figured it would stay one-sided forever. Until a few weeks ago, I went to a bar near campus with friends. And who do I run into? Him. Out of the suit, out of the lecture hall, totally relaxed. He buys me a drink. We talk, like, really talk. He’s charming, funny and flirty. I was shocked. One thing led to another and I ended up at his apartment. We slept together. It was intense, passionate and everything I’d secretly fantasize about.

We talked the next morning. He made it very clear that he hadn’t planned it, that it was wrong in theory, but neither of us wanted to stop. So we kept seeing each otherecretly. Always professional on campus. No PDA. No weird behavior in class. It’s all strictly off the clock.

And honestly? I’m happy. I care about him. I think he cares about me too. But lately, some classmates have started joking that he favors me, not knowing anything is happening, and it’s making me feel paranoid. I’m terrified of ruining his reputation, of jeopardizing his career or mine. 

So Reddit… AITA for crossing that line with him? Or are we just two adults trying to be careful about something real in a setting that doesn’t make room for it?

Marcus Moreno (We Can Be Heroes)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for feeling blindsided that my neighbor, who babysits my daughter and I might be falling for, has a kid I didn’t know about?

Hey Reddit, this might sound like a midlife crisis-in-the-making but I really need some outside perspective.

I (M, 39) am a single dad. My daughter, also M (F, 8), is the best part of my life. I work a demanding job, and for the past year or so, my neighbor (F, 35), let’s call her R, has been babysitting M when I’m away. She’s kind, dependable and just gets my daughter in a way that instantly puts me at ease.

More than that, she gets me. We’ve grown close. Coffee on porches. Passing each other in the hall. Sometimes we talk until midnight over paper takeout boxes and M’s school projects. I always chalked it up to neighborly chemistry, nothing more. But lately, I’ve caught myself looking at her differently, wondering if maybe, just maybe, she might feel the same. My daughter doesn’t help. Every other night it’s, “Daddy, she has a crush on you.” Or “I think she’d be a great mom someday, like, to me.” Kids, right?

I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. I figured if she felt something, she’d say something or maybe I’d grow the courage to bring it up myself. But then, this weekend, a car pulls up in her driveway. I look out the window and I see a man step out, not threatening, just there. And then a little boy hops out of the back seat and runs into R’s arms.

My heart dropped. Turns out she has a kid, a son. From a previous marriage, she’s divorced. None of this was ever mentioned in all our conversations and now I feel off? Confused. A little betrayed? I know that sounds unfair, she’s not obligated to tell me her life story. But after all these quiet, close nights and tender moments and hearing from my daughter that she might have feelings for me, why didn’t she ever tell me about her son? I haven’t said anything. I don’t want to make her feel guilty. She still babysits my daughter. But I can’t stop replaying it all. Did she keep it from me on purpose? Was I just a fool for thinking we had something? Or am I just overwhelmed because I wanted her to be part of our little family and didn’t realize she already had one of her own?

So Reddit… AITA for feeling a little heartbroken and distant after finding out my neighbor has a son she never told me about?

Marcus Pike (The Mentalist)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for not telling my best friend that I’m secretly dating the man she just asked me to help her get with?

I (F, 30s) have been dating a coworker of mine, let’s call him M (late 30s, thoughtful, charming, ridiculously handsome) for over three years. We met working in the same department (federal law enforcement, so discretion is basically part of the uniform), and from the start, we kept it quiet. No PDA at work, no romantic texts on company phones, nothing that could put us under scrutiny. It was just easier that way, completely private and ours.

Fast-forward to now, we’ve built a whole life together in the shadows. We take trips, spend weekends at each other’s apartments, and talk about buying a house someday. The real deal.

Here’s the problem, my best friend, who also works in our agency, pulled me aside a few days ago and told me she has a huge crush on M. She said she’s had a thing for him for months but didn’t know how to approach it. And then she asked if I could help set her up with him, talk her up, ease her in, “put in a good word.” She has no idea I’m with him. We’ve never told anyone. And the worst part? She was genuinely excited when she told me, like school girl giddy level. She said, “I really think he could be the one.”

Now I feel sick. I didn’t know what to say. I kind of froze, gave a weird laugh and changed the subject. But now she keeps asking about it. And I feel like I’m betraying both of them, M, by not protecting our relationship and her, by hiding something huge.

M says we can go public. That he’s fine with it if I am but then what? I tell her I’ve been with the guy she’s secretly pining over for years and just didn’t say anything? Won’t she feel humiliated? Betrayed? I’m terrified it’ll destroy our friendship.

So Reddit… AITA for not telling my best friend I’m already with the guy she wants? And if not, what the hell do I do now?

Max Philips (Bloodsucking Bastards)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for wanting to quit because my boss won’t turn me into a vampire even though I’m literally the top performer?

I (24F) started an internship at a mid-size sales company a few months ago. I was just trying to get some experience and a paycheck. I didn’t expect, you know, vampires to be a part of that experience.

The office rumor (that everyone knows is true) is that M (mid-30s? ageless? hot in a soul-sucking Wall Street vampire sort of way) is the boss who handpicks the best employees to “promote” aka turn them into vampires. It’s a reward. Eternal life, endless energy, better insurance and apparently a coffee tolerance that doesn’t make your hands shake. Thing is, I’ve crushed the sales board for three months straight. Like, no competition. The next closest guy is 42 calls behind and cries during lunch. I stayed up late. I meet quotas no one else touches. My neck is basically exposed at this point, figuratively and literally.

And yet nothing. No shadowy invite. No creepy-but-glamorous “let’s talk in my office with the lights off.” M just gives me these weird once-overs in the elevator and says things like, “Good work, kid,” like I’m still in high school. Meanwhile, last month’s top performer (D, who sells like he’s reading from a cereal box) got “promoted” after one good week.

I tried asking. M just smiled, that smug fanged GQ smile and said, “It’s not just about the numbers.” Which… okay? What is it about then? Charm? Blood type? Being less annoying during meetings? Now I’m spiraling. Like am I not vampire material? Am I too ambitious? Not attractive enough? Too human? Every day I walk past the break room and see the cool undead crowd sipping their crimson smoothies and laughing at inside jokes about graveyards and their never ending orgies, and I feel like the nerd no one wants at the slumber party.

I’m starting to hate him. Not just because he won’t bite me but because I wanted it. I earned it. And now I’m stuck here, mortal, exhausted and drinking stale coffee while wondering if I’m not enough.

So Reddit… AITA for wanting to quit my job because my boss won’t make me a vampire? Or am I just taking professional rejection way too personally?

Maxwell Lord (Wonder Woman 1984)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for wanting to ask out my son’s teacher even though I’m afraid of messing up his life again?

So, I (M, early 40s) am a single dad to the best kid on the planet, A (9M). Sweet, brilliant and too good for me honestly. His mom and I split a few years ago and I’ve been doing the whole daddy CEO redemption arc thing ever since. Trying to be a good man. Trying to keep the chaos in check. Trying not to completely screw this kid up.

Enter her. My son’s teacher. Let’s call her R (30s F). She’s sunshine in human form. Whip-smart, patient and warm. She talks to A like he’s the most important person in the room, and hell, she talks to me like I’m not just a walking Wall Street headline. I’ve been smitten since parent-teacher night. Every time I drop A off or pick him up, I try to be charming, likeable, funny, confident. You know, my usual moves.

And I fail miserably. Every. Single. Time.

She doesn’t laugh at my stupid money jokes, she gives me this look when I bring her overpriced coffee like she knows I googled “gifts teachers love.” Once, I tried to compliment her and said, “You’re doing really admirable work wrangling a room full of small people.” I sounded like I was describing a livestock auction. Still, she smiles. She’s kind and I think, maybe, she likes me back? Or at least doesn’t hate me. Which, for me, is progress.

Here’s the problem, I’ve been thinking about asking her out. Just coffee, something simple. But I keep stopping myself because of A. He adores her. I mean, glows when he talks about her. I don’t want to confuse him. I don’t want him to feel weird if she becomes something more to me than “Ms. R.”

But lately, he’s been drawing pictures of the three of us. Me, him and her. He says stuff like, “Ms. R would make a good mom.” Or, “Ms. R always makes me feel safe.” And I can’t help but wonder, is he already hoping for something more?

So Reddit… AITA for wanting to ask out my son’s teacher even if it risks changing something sacred in his life? Or should I just keep pretending this isn’t killing me a little more every time I see her?

Lucien De Leon (The Uninvited)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for not being able to look at my best friend the same after I saw her camming and moaning my name?

Yeah. I know how that sounds. But please let me explain before you judge.

I (M, 29) have been best friends with R (F, 28) since we were kids. Grew up in the same neighborhood, went through awkward teen years together, cried on each other’s shoulders during breakups, shared popcorn during horror movie marathons, the whole “platonic soulmates” deal. Everyone always assumed we’d end up together but we never crossed the line. Mostly because I never had the guts.

Truth is, I’ve been in love with her since high school. She’s funny, brilliant, completely unfiltered and has this laugh that makes me feel like everything’s okay. I never told her because I didn’t want to lose what we had.

Then last week, I was up late, bored, scrolling whatever and I ended up on a cam site. Just clicking around, not expecting anything.

And there she was.

On camera. 

In the most sinful lingerie I’ve ever seen and looking gorgeous as ever. And at first I froze. I thought, “No way. That can’t be her.” But it was 100% her. The mole on her hip, the way she chews her lip when nervous, her voice. 

And then she moaned my name. Not in passing. Not like in a roleplay type of way. My actual real name. I exited so fast I nearly dropped my phone. I haven’t told her. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop picturing it. Her, saying my name, like that. And now every time we hang out, it’s like a war in my head, part of me still wanting to protect her, the other part completely wrecked by desire and curiosity. I feel like I’ve violated something, even though she’s the one streaming it publicly. I feel like a creep but also kind of hopeful? Like maybe she feels something for me, too? I don’t know what to do. I can’t unsee it and I don’t know if I should talk to her, confess, or bury it forever.

So Reddit… AITA for not being able to treat my best friend the same now that I’ve seen her in that way, even if she doesn’t know I know?

Oberyn Martell (Game of Throne)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for falling in love with the enemy and not telling her I originally used her to get revenge on her family?

I (41M) come from a family with blood in the streets and revenge in its bones. We’ve been at war with another family, let’s call them the Ls, for decades. The kind of feud where you don’t just destroy businesses, you burn bloodlines.

A while back, I met her. Let’s call her R (32F) and is the youngest from that said family. She walked into a neutral club downtown like she owned it, and every man in the room turned to look. So did I. At first, I saw an opportunity. I’m not proud of it but I’ll be honest, I wanted to get close to her to hurt her family. Seduce her. Use her. Break her heart. Maybe learn a few secrets along the way. That was the plan.

Except, it didn’t go that way.

She didn’t fall easily. She’s not some porcelain princess. She challenged me, even mocked me. Didn’t take any of my shit. And somehow, in all that fire and venom, I started wanting her. Not as a pawn. As a person. As mine. We've been seeing each other in secret for almost a year now. Behind closed doors, it’s real. It’s not a game. I bring her flowers. She brings me peace. She’s the only one who touches me like I’m a man, not a monster. And gods help me, I think I’d burn down my whole empire just to keep her safe.

But I haven’t told her the truth. That I used her at first. That I lied when I said I just "ran into her." That I walked into her life with a knife hidden behind my back and only dropped it once I realized I didn’t want to hurt her, I wanted to keep her. Now I’m stuck. If I tell her the truth, I risk losing her forever. If I don’t, I’m living a lie. Every time I touch her, I wonder if she’d still look at me the same if she knew what I was when this started.

So Reddit… AITA for not telling her? For falling in love with the one woman I was supposed to destroy?

Pero Tovar (The Great Wall)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for wanting to say yes when my boss’s daughter asked me to get her pregnant to avoid sleeping with her fiancé?

I know how that title sounds. Believe me, I’ve lost sleep over it.

I (late 30s M), am an ex-military, currently working in private security. I was hired by a very rich, very controlling man to be his daughter’s bodyguard. Let’s call her R (mid-20s, beautiful, clever, and way too good for this world or for me).

R’s family is old-money, traditional and practically treats her like a business asset. A few months ago, they arranged for her to marry some stiff in a suit who’s more in love with her father’s power than with her. She doesn't love him, she’s made that clear. And now her family is pushing for kids. Like, very soon. Like, contracts signed and wedding night kind of pressure.

I’ve seen the way she looks after long meetings. Like she’s drowning. I’ve heard her cry in her room when she thinks no one’s listening. But I didn’t expect what she asked me. She pulled me aside yesterday. Calm, serious and no games. She said she couldn’t go through with letting a stranger own her body. That if she had to have a child, she wanted to choose the father. Someone she trusted. Someone she felt safe with. Someone like me. She said she wouldn’t expect anything else. No strings. No relationship. Just this one thing. And god help me, I want to say yes.

Because I’ve been falling for her since day one. Quietly. From the shadows. I was hired to protect her, not touch her, but every time I see her, I want to pull her away from all of this. From her family. From the cold fiancé. From the life she never chose.

But if I say yes, am I crossing a line? Taking advantage of her desperation? If I say no, I keep things clean, professional but I leave her alone in something that clearly terrifies her.

So Reddit… AITA for wanting to say yes when she asked me to give her something real in a life full of things she never chose?

Reed Richards (Fantastic 4)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for constantly arguing with my scientific rival, even though I might actually be in love with her?

Let me start by saying I’m not great with emotions. Equations? Fine. Quantum mechanics? My playground. Human connection? That’s where I fall apart.

I (40M) work in advanced theoretical physics, and I’m fairly well-known in my field. A few years ago, a new name started popping up in peer-reviewed journals. Let’s call her R (34F). She’s brilliant, bold and completely unapologetic. And somehow, infuriatingly, smarter than me in areas I used to dominate.

We met at a symposium and things escalated. What began as subtle jabs turned into full-blown intellectual warfare. Debates in front of panels. Arguments in laboratories. Petty rebuttals in published work. To everyone else, we’re rivals, frenemies at best, sworn enemies at worst.

But here’s the part no one knows, I don’t hate her at all.

In fact, I admire her more than anyone I’ve ever met. She challenges me. She keeps me on my toes. And, God help me, she’s gorgeous when she’s yelling at me about my “antiquated entropy model.” I’ve even found myself intentionally provoking her just to see the fire in her eyes. The problem? I’ve backed myself into a corner. I’ve spent so long acting like she’s my nemesis that I don’t know how to flip the script. I can’t just say, “Hey, I know I’ve spent the last three years criticizing your work in front of Nobel committees, but want to grab dinner sometime?”

She probably does hate me. Or worse, she sees me as a childish competitor who can’t handle being challenged by a woman. And maybe that’s not entirely wrong.

So Reddit… AITA for keeping up the act? For pretending to hate her when in reality I can’t stop thinking about her? I don’t even know if she’d take me seriously if I tried to be honest now. Or is it too late to change the rules of the game?

Tim Rockford (Merge Mansion)

~~ COMING SOON ~~

AITA for developing feelings for a witness in a murder case even though I’m the lead investigator and she’s the victim’s wife?

I know how it sounds. I hate that I’m even writing this. But here we are.

I (M, 40s) work in law enforcement, been doing it a long time. I’ve seen the worst of people. I’ve interviewed killers with no soul behind their eyes, and families so broken by grief I had to go sit in my car afterward and just breathe.

Then came her.

Let’s call her R (30s F). She was the wife of the man we found shot dead in their home. Brutal scene. She was there too, barely alive when we arrived. Beaten, bloodied and she fought like hell to survive. We think she wasn’t supposed to make it. Suspect must’ve thought she was dead when he fled.

We put her into a protective program while we sort this out. There’s still a threat, still pieces missing. And since I’m the lead on the case, I’ve been around a lot.

It started small, making sure she felt safe. Bringing her updates. Listening when she needed to talk about the past. Her husband wasn’t exactly Prince Charming. There’s a lot to unpack there. And somewhere along the line, I started seeing her as more than a witness. More than a case file. She’s sharp and resilient. The kind of woman who makes you want to be softer just standing near her. And she smiles at me, like she’s grateful I’m there, like she trusts me.

But here’s the thing: her husband just died violently. No matter how their marriage was, he’s gone and I’m the man investigating it. I’m supposed to be objective, professional. And I am, I swear I am. But I can’t lie to myself anymore and pretend I’m not catching feelings I shouldn’t. I haven’t acted on anything. I’d never cross that line. But the way she looks at me sometimes, I wonder if she feels it too.

So Reddit… AITA for wanting something with a woman who’s still technically grieving her dead husband, while I’m supposed to be the one protecting her?

[brewsterispunkk]

marriage of convenience: part 5

pairing: pero tovar x f!reader

WC: 10.1k (longest part yet!)

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

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

series masterlist

PART FIVE

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

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

“Will you see Lisbeth today?”

“I expect so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He will recover soon. He always does.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That is not what I meant.”

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

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes. So dramatic. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t trust you.”  

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

And endure you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- - 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You furrowed your eyebrows. 

“What is–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Agnetha smiled a secretive grin and patted your hand. 

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grinned at her. 

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

“I have something to tell you.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

“I would say you complain more than I—”

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

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

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

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

You sighed. 

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

Your heart sank. 

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I see,” you said. 

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

You smiled at her sadly and nodded. 

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

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

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

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

- - 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You approached her door and knocked gently, calling inside. 

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

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

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

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

What you saw made you stop in your tracks. 

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Olga tilted her head, hands finding her hips. 

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

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

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

Pero chuckled, shaking his head and looking down. 

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

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

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

Olga turned to you. 

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

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

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

Olga’s lips pressed together in a sympathetic smile. 

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

“Oh, please don’t trouble yourself–”

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

You smiled a tear-filled smile at her. 

“Thank you,” you said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your father was a blacksmith, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked.

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

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

“So many questions,” he shook his head. 

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

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

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

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

You smiled at her kindness. 

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

“Think nothing of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

- - 

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

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

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

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

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

Now, the only one left to convince was Pero. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You watch her then.”

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

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

William laughed at that. 

“You are bothered too easily, friend.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Move, amigo. I’m not in the mood.”

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

“Us?”

“Yes—”

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

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

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

He looked at you with a dry expression. 

“No.”

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Pardon?” Pero turned to William. 

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

“I owe you nothing—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- - 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The mare. What is her name?”

“Horse,” he replied shortly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt. 

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

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

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

“The very same,” you groaned. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You opened your mouth to respond before being interrupted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She returned your smile and squeezed your arm. 

“I wonder why he is so…”

“So…uncaring? Aloof? Unkind?”

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

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

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

You hummed, reflecting on her words.

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

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

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

Good, you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

- - 

After her dance with William, Lisbeth pulled you aside. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What ever shall we do with you?”

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

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

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

“Before what?” You asked. 

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

“Before what, Lisbeth?” You asked again.

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

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

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

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

You blinked, processing what exactly this meant. 

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

So why did you feel so sad?

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

Lisbeth smiled weakly. 

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

“Have you met him?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“And he’s not…old, is he?”

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

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

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

“And, are you happy with the arrangement?”

Lisbeth considered it a moment. 

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

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

“No, I daresay he wouldn’t.”

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

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

You laughed at her. 

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

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

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

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

“Let us,” she replied jovially. 

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

- -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[something-tofightfor]

A Wonderful, Awful Idea / 2

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Female Reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 9,299

Summary: The first event's over, and Pero still wants to spend time with you - that's good, right?

Surprisingly, it's him that takes initiative to tell you a little more about himself - and what he wants.

But during the second event, it's you that can't keep your mouth shut, even though you know it's probably best to do so.

Rating: M: language.

Author's Note:

My last writing post of 2024, and it's Pero Tovar. I never would have guessed this would be the case even a few weeks ago.

Thank you so much for your interest in the first part, and in this story in general. I've loved seeing your comments and reading your responses to it. It's been a lot of fun to write, and I've desperately needed the distraction, so it's helped.

Part 3 is well underway, so look for it early in the new year.

The title comes from Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

Thank you for reading!

*dividers by @/strangergraphics

Part 1

The four of you chose a diner a few minutes from the venue, and that time, Lin slid onto the bench next to her husband, forcing you and Pero to sit beside each other. 

You knew exactly what she was doing, and while part of you appreciated her pushing the two of you to remain close, you were also worried that it was too much, too fast for Pero. We’ll see. 

After you’d placed your orders, the conversation turned back to the event you’d just left, and the men’s impressions of the client - including that she’d taken a liking to Pero. You stayed quiet for that, listening to the two of them talk, and you had to admit that the way they approached discussing work impressed you. 

They were clinical in their assessment of her and her team, and you weren’t surprised to hear that they were pleased with the lengths she’d gone to to ensure her safety. “She had a stalker last year,” William informed you as he took a bite of one of the appetizers that had been delivered. “Her team upped protection then. They caught him, but who knows if there’s anyone else just waiting.” 

“I wouldn’t know how to deal with that.” You reached for your water cup, taking a drink before you continued. “Especially if I had to do as much as she does around strangers? Yuck.” 

“You wouldn’t have to look far for protection, though.” Lin winked at you, gesturing at Pero and William. “Two built in bodyguards right here at this table.” 

“I couldn’t afford these two.” You laughed, looking over at Pero and catching his eye. “Hell, I probably couldn’t even swing the budget for one of them, so -”

“You think we would charge you?” Pero narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “No. Never.” You watched as his expression changed - eyes darkening, the set of his lips turning into a smirk. “That would be a job I took because I wanted to.” 

That stunned you; you’d gone from him speaking ten words to you over the course of your association to him offering to protect you if necessary - for nothing. He wasn’t lying when he said he was interested. But him saying this in front Lin and William is … “Luckily for all of us, I’m never going to be in that position. But it’s good to know I’ve got somewhere to turn.” 

“You could pay Tovar in food.” William took a large bite and then gestured at his friend with two fingers. “For just about anything, honestly.” 

“It is true.” Pero grinned, nodding his head. “We do not tell clients this, but…” He looked over at you, raising an eyebrow. “I would not turn it down.” 

You’d never seen him smile so broadly before, and the sight of it left you speechless. I want to see that more. It made him look younger; the smile showing off fully rounded cheeks and a deep dimple that you hadn’t known existed. But now I do. Now I’m going to dream about it. 

“Alright, I’ve got a triple jalapeño burger and seasoned fries for…” The moment was interrupted when your waitress came back, but you were almost thankful. You’d been staring at the man next to you, and even though you were certain Lin had filled William in on the situation between you and Pero, you didn’t want to make things awkward - for anyone.

As dishes were handed out, you focused on your food, taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself. It’s fine. It’s going to be fine. But a few seconds later, when Pero reached over and laid a hand on your knee, cautiously squeezing it, you weren’t so certain that that was the truth. 

As the four of you headed to the front counter to pay after the meal, you were wondering if you should ask to get a ride home from the Garins, since they had to drive past your house to get to theirs. It makes sense. “Would -”

“Oh, look. Mistletoe!” Lin pointed up, and the rest of you followed the motion, raising your gaze to the sprig of faux greenery hanging just above the cashier’s counter. Shit. “C’mere, William.” She giggled as she grabbed the lapels of his coat, tugging him closer for a brief kiss. You looked away and met Pero’s eyes, not surprised to see actual fear in them, but before you could say anything, Lin spoke again. “Your turn! It’s tradition.” 

“No.” Pero shook his head, stepping back. “I will not be following this tradition.” It hurt more than it should have, and you tried to keep the fact that his words hit you hard from showing by biting the inside of your cheek. You stepped back, too, looking away from Pero and at the front windows of the diner - but not before you saw him wince. 

“We’ll wait outside.” Lin stepped between the two of you, linking her arm through yours. “Come with me.” 

“I have to pay, I -” 

“No, you don’t.” She gestured to the two men. “One of them will get it.” William waved you off and you let her pull you through the glass doors and onto the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. Once the door shut behind her, she unwound her arm and then hugged you tightly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he’d react like that, it was just a joke.” 

“It’s fine.” You mumbled the words, blinking back tears. “Things were going well, but I didn’t think … I didn’t expect him to want to kiss me, but him just saying no like that was a surprise.” It hadn’t even been the denial itself; it was Pero’s tone along with the look in his eyes that upset you the most. “It’ll be fine. We’ve only got two events left, and the next one will be so loud we won’t have to talk, I’ll just…” 

“Do you want us to take you home?” She backed away, giving you a sympathetic smile. “It’s on the way, and I feel like this is my fault, so -”

“Yes. Please. That would be a relief. And I’m sure he wants to go home right away.” You’d been looking forward to a few more minutes with Pero, and an opportunity to thank him for the night. But that’s changed now. “Lin, I -” 

The door opened then, William coming out first with a cheerful expression on his face and Pero behind him, the scowl back in place. Fuck. “Ready to go home, Lin Mae?” 

“We’re going to take -”

“I will take her home.” You looked back at Pero, watching as he steadied himself with a deep breath, his full attention on you. “Unless you do not want me to.” The fear in his eyes was gone, replaced with a weariness that you almost liked less. Oh, Pero. 

“You can take me home, Pero.” Pausing, you nodded. “Please.” 

The four of you separated in the parking lot, Lin hugging you and whispering that you needed to call her when you got a chance before she got into their car. 

It was silent between you and Pero while he busied himself with getting the heat and defroster going, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable a silence as you thought it would be. Say something. Speak up. “Is that how most of your jobs go?” You held your hands out, enjoying the way the warm air felt on your skin. “Where you leave as soon as it’s over? Or -”

“No.” He didn’t look at you when he spoke, concentrating on the rearview mirror as he backed up. “Usually we are the only security. This is a very different assignment than usual.” You looked over, watching as the light from another car’s headlights passed over his face. “This time, we will only step in if it is necessary.” He glanced over at you. “I hope it is not.” 

He didn’t say anything after that, and so you fell into silence too, staring out the window and at the decorated houses as you passed them. You wondered how the night would have ended without the mistletoe incident - if you and Pero would have hugged goodbye over the center console, or if he would have offered to walk you to the door. He held my hand multiple times tonight, so I don’t see why not. 

When he parked in your driveway, he didn’t turn the car off, but he did put both hands back onto the wheel, his fingers curled around it tightly. I guess that answers part of my question. “Thank you, Pero, for -”

“I did not want to kiss you under the mistletoe.” He stared straight ahead as he spoke, hands in place. “But that does not mean that … I do not want to kiss you.” Wait, what? Your mouth opened, but you didn’t speak. Instead you just stared at him in disbelief. “Please understand.” He turned his head toward you, Pero wetting his lips before he continued. “That should not be the first … it is not how I imagined kissing you for the first time, in front of Lin and William and the entire fucking diner staff in a room that smelled like old coffee and burned toast.”

That finally broke you out of your stupor, and you laughed, reaching up with both hands to cover your eyes. “Oh, Pero.” You kept laughing, the upset you’d felt since he’d said no disappearing and replaced with something that felt strangely like hope. He’s thought about kissing me. He wants to. “I do understand. I just thought …” Dropping your hands back onto your thighs, you exhaled. “I thought you didn’t want to at all.” 

“Of course I do.” He reached over, putting his hand on top of yours. “Even more now than yesterday.” Pero said your name, the sound of it barely loud enough for you to hear. “I am fucking this up. I -”

“You’re not.” You flipped your hand over, taking his. “Not at all. Fucking this up would have been not talking about it or lying to me about it. You just … it was a misunderstanding.” Tell him. Tell him the truth. “I want you to kiss me, Pero. That’s why I reacted the way I did. I’d rather it didn’t happen for the first time in public, too, but to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t have been mad if you’d done it in the diner.”

“I am not romantic. I’m not like William. I don’t … I don’t know how to be like him, saying sweet things or being nice to people all the time, or picking the right moment to -”

“Don’t do that.” Shaking your head, you lifted your joined hands, gesturing to them with your free one. “This is a good start. Earlier, when we were sitting and you casually touched me? That’s good, too. I’d tell you if it wasn’t, or if I didn’t like something you were doing.” You sighed. “It takes time to learn about someone, you’re not just going to know everything after one date.” 

“That is a good point.” He was still holding your hand, but he’d pulled them over to his side of the car, letting them rest against his thigh. “Maybe I should take your advice more.” 

“You should.” You squeezed his hand. “Definitely.” Under other circumstances, you would have invited him in, asking if he wanted to have a drink or sit and talk. But tonight’s been a lot already. “So the concert next week?” He agreed, humming as he nodded. “Are we just watching again?”

“We will be at the meet and greet.” He sighed. “And then during the show, we’re going to be in the crowd. So will Lin and William.” You groaned, head dropping. “Why is that your reaction?”

“I’m a fan of her acting. But the music is … not my thing.” Wrinkling your nose, you rolled your eyes as he smiled. “I’ll suck it up, though. It’s just one show.” 

“And you’ll be with me.” I sure will. Pero cleared his throat. “We have an assignment out of town for two days, so if you don’t hear from me until right before the concert, that is why.” You nodded, even as you felt disappointment growing in your chest. “Let me walk you to your door.” 

It meant the night was ending, but you figured it was for the best. You could only handle so much in one night, and figured Pero felt the same. “Sure, but it’s still cold out. You don’t have to.” 

“I want to.” He let go of your hand and turned the car off before he unbuckled his seatbelt. Pero followed you the short distance up your driveway, and you were surprised - and relieved - to feel his hand against your back the entire way.  When you reached for your keys, he stopped you, his hand moving from your back to your elbow. “Wait.” 

You turned your head to look at him, and watched as Pero shifted nervously from foot to foot. There’s something else. He’s too... “Pero, if this is out of line, please tell me, but …” You closed your eyes and tipped your head back, releasing your breath. “When’s the last time you dated someone? Like … gotten to know them, or… have you ever dated anyone before? ”

“I have gone on dates, yes.” He frowned, his head shaking back and forth. “But dating? Long term? Never. Not really. It is easier for me to know people for a short time, and …” He shrugged. “Setting expectations is important.” 

After the misunderstanding you’d had earlier, it was a risk to continue the conversation, but you knew that you only had one shot - and didn’t want to waste it. “Are … would you like to keep this short term? Are we going to hang out these three times and then just … go back to how it was? Or…” Crossing your arms protectively over your belly, you looked down and then back up at him through your lashes. “I assume when you say a short time you mean just for sex, and that’s alright, but I don’t … that isn’t all I’d want with you.” You paused, thinking. “Or at least right now, after one date, that isn’t…” 

You trailed off when he moved closer, his hands going to your arms and resting against your biceps. “It has already been hard enough for me to keep you at a distance since we first met. Why would I make things easy now?” That made you laugh, and before you realized what you were doing, you’d leaned in and wound your arms around Pero’s body, turning your head to press your cheek against him. Oh, shit. I shouldn’t have done that. 

It took a few seconds for him to respond, but Pero eventually put his arms around you, too, his touch comforting. You liked the way it felt to be held by him, and closed your eyes as you inhaled deeply, letting the scent of him fill you - cologne and clean sweat and the winter air, along with a lingering hint of the diner’s interior. 

He was breathing steadily, too, and for a few seconds, you focused on the way his chest rose and fell, one of Pero’s hands moving up and down your back, his skin whispering off of the thick material of your coat. 

It would have been the perfect moment to pull back slightly and tilt your head to kiss him, and if you hadn’t just had a conversation about it, you would have done it. He said he wants to kiss me. He knows I want to kiss him. It needs to be him that chooses. The last thing you wanted to do was spook Pero, and so you pulled away with some reluctance, a smile on your face when you met his eyes again.

Deciding to press your luck, you raised one hand and cupped his cheek with your palm. “Thank you for a good night, Pero Tovar.” He nodded, his eyes widening and his lips parting at your touch. “Please be safe while you’re out of town. You can call or text if you want, or -” 

You watched as his lower lip trembled, the look in his eyes going from surprised to steely as he stared at you. What’s that look for? “Fuck it.” 

He kissed you then, lips settling against yours and then pressing, his forward motion catching you by surprise. You didn’t pull back, though, instead keeping your hand in place on his cheek and using the other to pull him closer, fingers twisting into his coat. Your heartbeat raced, but before you could truly begin to enjoy the kiss, he broke it, sucking in a quiet breath as he pressed his forehead to yours. “Pero.”

“If you say my name like that again, I will have to kiss you again. And if I kiss you again, it would be hard to stop.”

“I’d be alright with that.” You huffed out a laugh, keeping your eyes closed. “I’m glad you did that. I’m glad you -”

“May I do it again?” You nodded instead of speaking, happy that he was going against his better judgement and letting his emotion win out. The second kiss was slower than the first - and gentler, too, Pero taking the time to slot his lips against yours, catching your lower one between them. Your hand slid back, moving from his skin and into his hair, the strands soft between your fingers.  

You couldn’t believe it was happening - that Pero was kissing you on your front porch, that his hands had moved from your arms to your hips, that he was letting you pull on his curls with one hand in the same moment that his lips parted enough that he could flick his tongue out between them and against yours. 

“Enough.” He backed away, though you felt his mouth move as he spoke. “Enough for tonight.” You understood the significance of him saying that - especially so soon after he’d admitted that typically his nights out with women ended in sex. “Go inside where it is warm.” He put more space between you, but didn’t let you go, and you left your hands where they were, too. “You’re welcome, but it should be me thanking you for tonight.” 

“We should do it again sometime.” You winked, heart still slamming against your ribs. “That sound good?”

“It does.” His smile widened, and Pero’s eyes dropped down to your lips again briefly. “And we should.” He removed his hands and stuck them in his pockets, taking another small step backward. “I will call you soon.” 

Agreeing, you turned away from him and reached for your keys again, pulling them from your bag and unlocking the door. He was still there when you stepped through it and turned around to say goodbye, and the sight of that was almost enough to push you back out the door and into his arms. No. It might freak him out. 

“Goodnight, Pero.” You bit your lip, one hand gripping the door frame.  “Drive safe.” 

You felt like you were a teenager again - not wanting to be the one to end the night or finish the conversation, but when Pero nodded and closed his eyes, murmuring that he would, you knew things were coming to an end. He gave you a final look and a nod before he turned his back to you, heading for the car. 

You stood in the doorway until you heard his car start and then finally closed it, stepping all the way into your house. His headlights flashed in the front window and you heard a single toot from his horn, and that’s what made you react. 

One hand rose to cover your mouth as your eyes widened, and when you backed up enough that you hit the wall, you actually squealed, your eyes squeezed shut. “He fucking kissed me.” You’d wanted it, but hadn’t expected it, especially after the back and forth between you throughout the night. But he did. Lowering your hands, you stepped away from the wall and took a deep, steadying breath. And I’m going to enjoy doing it again. 

You only heard from him a few times over the following few days, and the messages were short because he was busy. 

But Pero was the one that sent the first text, and that was another good sign. 

And even though you knew she expected to hear from you when it came to what had happened with you and Pero, you didn’t spill everything when you spoke to Lin. You didn’t think he would appreciate it, first of all, and you also didn’t want to talk up what had happened until you knew whether or not it was going to continue in a positive direction. I can’t set myself up for that disappointment. 

As the date of the concert got closer, you did let yourself focus on the night, and what you hoped would come from it. You tried to keep your expectations low, but the memory of Pero’s touch - and his kiss - and the way he’d smiled in the diner didn’t make it entirely possible. 

You spent a little more time on yourself when you got ready that night, putting on a new pair of boots with your jeans and adding an extra spritz of perfume before you put on your jacket. It would be dark for the majority of the time you were together, but you still wanted to look nice for the meet and greet portion - and for Pero to pick you up. 

It was silly, and you knew it, especially since he’d made his interest known. But in the time that you’d had to yourself since the fundraiser, you’d thought about what Pero had said - and what he hadn’t said. 

You had no way of knowing if your assumptions were correct, but you thought that he likely hadn’t had a lot of experience with people trying to impress him, or with wanting to be impressed by the women he dated. You wanted to be different. You wanted him to know that you were making an effort for him, and that it wasn’t because it was expected - it was because you wanted to. 

By the time he pulled into your driveway, you’d psyched yourself out. 

It was stupid, and you knew it; it was just Pero, just going to a concert so that he could work … but that didn’t matter. Get it together. 

It seemed that he’d taken your advice from the previous week and waited inside the car for you. When you slid in next to him, you were barely settled before he spoke, Pero’s voice even. “Hi. I am early, but -” 

“You’re right on time.” Smiling at him, you gave him a onceover and sucked in a breath at the sight of a bruise on his cheek, the skin there purpled and beginning to turn green at the edges. “What happened?” 

“Work.” He waved a hand in your direction. “Someone put up a fight but I handled it.” Cautiously, your hand moving as slowly as possible to give him a chance to ask you to stop, you let your fingers trail over the skin just beside his injury. “You do not need to worry about me.” 

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I won’t.” You bit the inside of your lip and sighed. “It looks like it hurt.” 

“You would…worry about me?” He sounded genuinely shocked, but you nodded again, replacing your fingertips with the pad of your thumb. “I think I like that.” 

“Good.” I’m going to kiss that bruise tonight. You made the promise to yourself as you withdrew your hand. “It’s nice to be able to dress down a little for this, hmm?”

“Yes but on Christmas Eve, we won’t be able to.” He wrinkled his nose and put the car into reverse. “Will that be a problem for you?” 

“Nope.” You leaned back in the seat and took a deep breath. “I already know what I’m wearing.” That made him chuckle, and the sound finally broke through the last of your nerves. Things are alright. It’s not weird after the kiss. He didn’t pull away when I touched him. “Do you?”

“No.” He groaned. “Clothes. Something with too many buttons, I’m sure.” You laughed at his words, picturing Pero standing in front of his closet and scowling at the assortment in front of him. 

“Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll look handsome.” He scoffed, but when you looked over, you saw a faint pink tinge to his cheeks. I made him blush. “We can talk about something else, it’s fine.” You pressed your lips together to keep a broad smile from spreading across your face. “Do you know how many people are at this meet and greet tonight?” 

“About a hundred.” He switched lanes and then eased onto his freeway. “I’ll have the final number when we get there.” It was a lot more than you’d expected, and even though you knew more people would make it difficult to keep an eye on every one of them, the increased number would also make it simpler for William and Pero to blend in. 

“It’s going to take her a long time to meet a hundred people.” He agreed, keeping his eyes on the road. “What can you tell me about her? Just -”

“She is … forward.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “She treated William and I like she knew us even though we’d only met a few minutes earlier.” You figured that she’d had practice throughout her career, so it didn’t surprise you. “You will get to meet her tonight, just to make it look real.” You hadn’t planned for that, but it made sense. “They will explain everything when we get there.” 

He fell silent, but when he reached over with one hand a few seconds later, yours was waiting. And when his fingers slid between yours, you didn’t waste a moment in tightening your grip. 

The organization of the meet and greet made perfect sense to you once you were in the building and briefed. 

Everyone was gathering in one of the venue’s rentable spaces, which had been decorated festively to reflect the season. Round tables were placed throughout the room, each with a number sticking out of a Christmas-themed centerpiece and various holiday props scattered across each table’s surface - and more piled up on a longer table against the far wall. 

Their client would meet each table individually and in order, speaking with people and taking photos or signing autographs. Her personal security would be spread throughout the room and at tables themselves, with one person remaining by her side as she moved from table to table. 

There was plenty of food and drink to enjoy while you waited, and a playlist that included some of her music - along with that of other artists in her genre - was audible through the speakers. You and Pero were at table 11, and William and Lin were stationed at 3, which meant that you could see them, but weren’t close. 

You knew that Pero would treat the event like any other job, but you also knew that you’d need to sell the idea that you two were there because you wanted to be, and so after settling into place, you’d asked him to go and get you something to eat. While he was gone, you observed the others in the room. 

It was obvious that most of them were fans of the artist’s, and had either paid good money for the experience or were lucky enough to have won the opportunity. It felt sort of wrong to be among them, but since you weren’t actively taking up someone else’s spot, the feeling passed quickly. And it disappeared entirely when Pero returned with two plates of food balanced atop each other and two drinks carried with his other hand. “Impressive, Mr. Tovar.” He ducked his head, but you caught the brief smile on his lips. “Will you be able to eat, or do you have to -”

“There is always time for food.” He stared at you, dark eyes bright. “And if I’m going to work all night, I need to eat.” You do. 

It only took a few minutes for you to finish most of it, and to your surprise, Pero wanted to talk while you ate. It wasn’t anything in depth, but it was still conversation, and it felt nice to have him speaking to you in the same way you’d seen - and heard - him speak to William and Lin throughout the years. 

He was more relaxed than you’d ever seen him, which made his shift back into business mode much more noticeable. You didn’t mind, though, when he moved to your side of the table and stood next to you, leaning his elbows on the brightly patterned tablecloth. It was so that he had a clearer line of sight, and you knew it, but that didn’t change the fact that it meant he was so close that he was nearly touching you. 

“Am I allowed to speak to you? Or do you need to focus?” 

“Please.” He looked over at you, giving you a lopsided smile. “I can do two things at once.” 

You took that as an invitation and reached toward the center of the table, picking up one of the Santa hats there. 

“You should put a hat on.” Running your fingers over the fur trim, you nodded. “Get into the spirit.” 

“I will if you will.” He took the hat from you and put it on his head, pulling it into place. “How’s it look?” The truth was that it looked ridiculous - but that didn’t mean you didn’t like it. 

“You’re the most handsome Santa I’ve ever seen.” Reaching over, you adjusted the pom-pom at the tip, folding it over so that it hung just right. “Let me take a picture.” You pulled out your phone and snapped a few, barely holding back your laugh at his frown - and then widening your eyes in surprise as it switched into a broad smile that was directed at you. “Perfect.” 

“Are you finished?” He cocked his head to the side. “Because it is your turn.” You hoped he picked out something good for you, and when Pero reached forward, you held your breath. There was no reason to, though, because he chose a headband that had a shiny tinsel tree atop it, complete with tiny, glittery beads in place of ornaments scattered throughout the branches. 

“Pero, it -” You took it from him and settled it in place, keeping your eyes on him. “There. How’s that?” 

“I would have chosen a mistletoe.” He smiled again, reaching for his phone. “But there was not one on either of the tables. I checked the other one when I was getting food.” Oh. Really? You… You were speechless as he started to take pictures, capturing a few before setting his phone back down on the table. Should I ask to take one with him? 

You didn’t need to, because an event photographer stepped up then, raising his camera and telling you to smile. Without even thinking about it, you leaned against Pero, tipping your head in his direction. When he put his arm around you, settling it across your shoulders, you breathed out a sigh of relief. Good thing we practiced.

Even when the photographer stepped away, he kept his arm around you though he moved it so that he could tighten his fingers against your side. “Do you want to keep them on?” He pointed at his hat with another finger. “At least until we go out into the crowd?” 

“You don’t have to.” You licked your lips, giving yourself a few seconds to think. “But I think it looks good on you.” He was going to reply but didn’t get a chance to. A loud cheer and some clapping signaled the singer’s presence in the room, and once again, playful Pero was gone, replaced with a man that was laser focused on the task at hand. 

She wasted no time, greeting the crowd and thanking everyone for coming before immediately moving to table 1 and interacting with the people there. 

The conversion in the room stayed at a lower level than you expected, but everyone was respectful. They stayed at their tables for the most part, with the exception being people at the higher numbered ones leaving to go and get snacks and drinks while they waited their turn. 

She was pretty in person, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders as she spoke with each individual. You noticed that she was personable, but didn’t get too close to anyone until it was time to take photos. “I don’t blame her.” You pointed across the room. “She’s taking good pictures, but she’s not really letting anyone crowd her space. 

“She was told not to.” He leaned closer, dropping his voice - and his hand. “By us and her own team. It’s important she meet people and be herself, but her safety…” He hummed. “It is not worth the risk.” 

You didn’t say anything in return, instead watching as she made her way to Lin and William’s table. It was more of the same, both of them being polite to her, followed by her taking a few minutes to have an actual conversation with them before she took photos and moved on. 

“We’ll be on the lower level for the show.” He cleared his throat, picking up his cup to take a drink. “We get to watch from the mixing booth, because it is elevated.” 

“Yeah?” He nodded, his eyes following her as she moved to a new table. “So you have a better view of everyone?”

“Yes. I need to watch the crowd.” He gestured around you. “All of these people times a hundred.” That made you laugh, and when you reached over, settling your hand on his forearm, you were pleased to find that Pero didn’t shy away from your touch. 

“Are we going to talk about it, Pero?” He turned his head to look at you, and even though his face was impassive, you saw the slight widening of his eyes as they met yours. “The kiss, or the things you said, or -”

“Yes.” He wet his lips. “If you want to, we can.” Of course I want to. “When?”

“I’d say now, but we’re about to have company.” You squeezed his arm and then sighed, pulling your hand away “She’s only got a few tables left, and I don’t want to get interrupted in the middle of that conversation.” 

“You’re right.” Pero nodded, taking another drink. “Not a good thing to get stopped while talking about.” Not at all. “What will you say to her?” 

“I have no idea.” You reached for your cup, too, spinning it on the tabletop. “Maybe I’ll just tell her I liked her last movie. Or that I’m excited to see the next one.” You looked down at your hands and then back over at him. “You?”

“I was hoping you’d lead the conversation.” He smiled at you, shrugging his shoulders. “That way I don’t have to.” That made you laugh, and when you lowered your chin to catch your breath, you were still smiling. 

“Typical. We’ve been out two times and I’m already picking up your slack.” He snorted at that, but when he leaned in, putting his mouth close to your ear to speak, neither of you were laughing. 

“There are other times where you will never have to worry about that.” He paused and then leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear when they moved. “And that is a promise.” You backed away from him, turning to look into his eyes and finding that his pupils were enlarged, Pero’s lips parted as he waited for you to reply. 

How do I even respond to that? What do I say? “Pero, I -”

“Well hello, you two.” You were interrupted by the appearance of Pero’s client at your table, the woman’s voice high and bright. “Nice to meet you, I’m Christina.” She stuck her hand out, and you reached for it, greeting her and telling her your name, too. “And I already know you.” She winked at Pero, leaning closer and putting her palm flat on the table. “It’s good to see you again, Tovar.” 

You thought back to the conversation in the diner - to William and Pero’s assessment of Christina and then jumped to him saying she was forward. I didn’t think he meant flirty, though. “Yes. You too.” He cleared his throat. “Are you having fun?” Oh, shit I was supposed to… 

“You were fantastic in End of the Night, Christina.” Cutting in, you tried to draw her attention back to you. “I loved your character’s arc, and -”

“We had a lot of fun making it.” She nodded once at you and then looked back over at Pero. “I’m trying to get this one to come work for me on the next shoot.” She looked back at you and lifted a brow. “You can never be too careful with security, and he’s supposed to be one of the best.” What? “Maybe you can convince him to help me out.” She bit her lip and then reached over, moving to put her hand atop Pero’s. “Hmm?” 

He pulled his hand back at the last second, sliding it off the table and lowering it to his side. Interesting. “Christina, I’m not sure I have that kind of -”

“I like my job.” He cleared his throat and then reached over, sliding his hand along your lower back until it settled in place on your hip. “I’m not interested in a new one.” She looked shocked for a few seconds but recovered, straightening up and putting both hands on her hips. 

“There’s still time.” She nodded. “Now how about we take some pictures?” She gestured for you and Pero to move toward her - so you did, reaching over to push him forward with one hand. “Tovar and me first.” Part of you was irritated with how obvious she was being, but another part of you was intrigued. Because she’s going for it. She’s probably not used to people turning her down, and … “Smile!” She stood next to him, tilting her head in and toward his shoulder. 

You watched as he stood stiffly next to her, his arms hanging by his sides as she put one of her hands on his back, between his shoulders. And you bit back a laugh when she moved even closer, asking him to take a funny picture and then mirroring his scowl as she faced the camera again, one hand rising so that she could touch the pom pom on the point of his hat. 

As soon as the photographer lowered the camera, Pero stepped away and waved you forward. You didn’t really want the photo with her, but Christina moved into place, putting one hand on her hip and actually posing. Fuck it. You posed, too, getting closer than Pero had but still not touching her, and when the images were snapped, you backed off. I’m ready to be done with this. “How about the three of us?” She turned to look between you, her eyes glinting in the glow of the Christmas lights. “We can pretend to kiss his cheeks or something, if that’s alright with him.”

You knew it then - that instead of pretending, she was likely going to actually kiss him. You wondered if it would cause rumors. You wondered if Pero would get angry when it happened. I wonder if I should warn him. But it wasn’t your place to step in, and if Christina wanted to flirt with him in the open, letting it play out was the only thing you could do, because it had to be him that chose how to react.  

“Sure.” You reached out, touching his arm. “But only if you actually smile in this one, Pero.” He grumbled out his agreement but moved into place between you, and that time, you didn’t wait to put your arm around his waist, turning your head toward him and tilting it to get the best angle. 

You didn’t worry about what Christina was doing, and when the photographer began to count down, you leaned in closer, letting your eyes droop partially shut. It was hard for you to keep from actually kissing him in the picture - especially since the cheek you’d chosen was the one with the bruise, but you managed. You also caught the way he swore under his breath in Spanish, Pero staying in place but stiffening. “You actually… why did you…”

“I thought we’d both…” Christina groaned, leaning forward so that she could look past him and at you. “Thought you’d take the opportunity to -”

“Nah. Not for a picture.” You grinned, holding her gaze. “I’ll just actually do it later.” Her mouth dropped open, and you heard Pero disguise a surprised snort with a cough. I said what I said. “It was nice meeting you, Christina.” Her surprise turned into a smile, and to her credit, she leaned forward, still watching you, but with her eyes slightly narrowed. 

“I’ll give you this one.” Standing back up, she switched her attention to Pero. “She’s good.”

“She’s the best.” He cleared his throat. “You should go to the next table. There are more people to meet.” She wanted to say something - you could see it in her face. But Christina didn’t speak again before she moved on, leaving you and Pero standing beside each other next to the table again. 

You wondered if you’d overstepped. You had no right to make a claim like the one you’d made, and though it had felt good in the moment, you weren’t sure if it was the right thing to have done. He’ll tell me. “Pero, I -”

He turned, so that he could once again keep his eyes on the woman as she continued to make her way through the tables, but Pero also reached over, taking your hand again and squeezing. “I think we have something else to talk about later.”

For most of the concert, you and Pero stood next to each other and didn’t speak. You weren’t in the mixing booth; there was a space beside it that was separated from the rest of the crowd, and that’s where the two of you ended up. He’d handed you a pair of earplugs before the music started, and you’d watched as he slipped a single one into his ear, too. He must have the earpiece in again. 

It was strange to stand beside him without talking, but as time passed and the music played, you got more comfortable. He touched you often, though, his arm brushing against yours, or his hand resting on your back, and those moments gave you the courage to touch him in return. When he put his hands on the railing in front of you, you covered one with your own, letting it linger for a few seconds as you turned your head enough to give him a smile. And when he leaned forward, eyeing the crowd, you rested your hand on his upper back, moving it in a slow circle.

They were simple things - things that wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to occur between two friends - but with Pero, they were significant escalations in the behavior between the two of you. Because a week and a half ago, we didn’t even speak. It was especially encouraging because of his reaction to Christina attempting to touch his hand. Even though you didn’t know whether or not he’d pulled away because she was a client or because he just wasn’t interested, you didn’t think it mattered much. 

He left you briefly to head into the crowd, Pero giving your hand a squeeze before hopping over the low railing and then heading down the two stairs into the general admission area. You immediately looked away from the stage and followed him instead, heart rate elevated. 

You had no idea what he’d seen, but it must have been something that also caught the attention of Christina’s team, because as he moved through the crowd, he was joined by one of the men you’d seen in the briefing room. They beelined it through the sea of bodies and approached a man that was by himself - and had his phone out and pointed at the stage, a hood covering the back of his head. 

They spoke to him for a few seconds and then the trio moved toward the edge of the crowd, leaving the floor area and going out of sight as they stepped out and into the aisleway. You frowned, staring for a few seconds longer at where they’d been before turning your attention back to the stage - and to the woman on it. 

She was a good performer, and even if her music wasn’t what you typically listened to, you had to admit that it was the truth. You could understand why so many people were fans, and were happy that she was able to utilize multiple talents in her career. As she finished one song and started to talk to the crowd, the lights came up a little and let you see more of the people in it. 

There were just as many men as there were women, and you knew - without a doubt - that many of them would jump at the chance to interact with her in the way she’d tried to with Pero earlier. But he didn’t take the bait. And she said she’s been trying to get him to agree to work for her, so he knew she was interested in … 

Your fingers curled around the railing as you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. It wasn’t a surprise to you that she was interested in Pero, even on just a physical level. He was an attractive man, and his demeanor only made him more alluring. She’d likely only seen the professional side of him, but there was no doubt in your mind that even if she’d only seen moments of his actual personality coming through, it was enough. Because it was enough for me. 

You felt a presence at your back, and were stunned when you felt an arm wrap around you, the scent of Pero’s cologne filling your nose. Is he seriously… wow. He didn’t speak, but when you turned so that you could look at him, he gave you a single nod - and a brief twitch of his lips. He wouldn’t have come back if things were bad. 

Settling back into place, you leaned against him, content  to watch the rest of the show that way - unless he needed go to back into the crowd. 

When the music ended, he moved his arm and you reached up, taking your earplugs out and slipping them into your pocket. As you turned to face him, you heard Pero speaking and realized that he was likely updating William about what had happened during the show. 

“Come on.” He held a hand out when he was done, waiting for you to take it. “Gotta go and debrief and then we can leave.” You followed him backstage, and when you made it to the room you’d first entered earlier that afternoon, he let go of your hand and pointed. “There’s coffee over there. Will you make me a cup while I talk to them? The same way I ordered it before is fine.” 

You knew it was to keep you busy, but you didn’t mind and agreed. It only took you a few seconds to fill his cup, and by the time you’d moved to the smaller table where the sugar and creamer was, Lin had joined you. “Tell me all about it. We saw her take the pictures with -”

“She wants him to work for her.” You stirred his drink, staring down at it. “She was flirting, and then she actually kissed his cheek.” Lin’s gasp made you pause. “I know, right? I’m sure it’s a great picture, but it was …” Putting the lid onto his cup, you fully faced your friend. “She made it very clear that she’s interested in him. And she’d probably pay really well, so it would be stupid for him to -”

“What was his reaction? He didn’t seem…” She frowned, thinking. “He didn’t seem too excited. And what did you say? You were right there. You must have said something.”

“She played it off like she expected me to kiss his other cheek.” You bit your lip. “I didn’t. And when she asked why, I just said I’d actually kiss him later.” Lin’s eyes widened - and so did her smile, before one hand rose to cover it. “I don’t know where it came from. I just … I’ve waited so long for him to actually…” You closed your eyes. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“And you shouldn’t.” She reached over, the look in her eyes kind. “It was a genuine reaction, and he’ll know that. He’ll appreciate that.” You hoped she was right, and as the two of you looked over at where Pero and William were talking to Christina’s team, you sighed. “He told William he kissed you. He said it just happened, and he hopes that it didn’t ruin anything.”

“It didn’t.” You touched her shoulder. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I wanted to keep it between us for now, because it was just a kiss. That’s all it might ever be, Lin. I just didn’t want to get too excited.” 

“I understand.” She smiled at you. “I’ll always listen if you want to talk, but you don’t have to tell me anything.” She gestured over at a set of couches in the middle of the room. “We should sit, they might be a -” You heard William calling her name, and both of you looked over in time to see him waving her over. “OK, nevermind. I guess we’re going over there.” 

Pero was still talking to the other security guards when you got to where they were all standing, and their voices were low enough that you couldn’t make much out. I hope everything’s alright. “As soon as Tovar finishes, we can head out.” His attention shifted to you. “I don’t want to leave you here, because it might be a second before he’s done.” 

“It’s alright.” You waved a hand at them. “I can sit and wait. You don’t have to stick around.” William looked like he wanted to argue, but Lin didn’t let him, grabbing his arm and launching into conversation about how hungry she was, and how they could stop and pick something up to eat at home. When she met your gaze, you mouthed a thank you at her, Lin’s only answer a wink followed by a sideways glance at where Pero stood. Got it. 

When they headed for the door, you took Pero’s coffee and sat down on one of the chairs, pulling out your phone. You didn’t expect to hear a woman saying your name moments later, and you expected to see Christina even less when you looked up. Shit. She’d changed out of her show clothes into a pair of sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt, and had removed all of her makeup and put her hair up and into a high ponytail. She looks like a regular person. 

“Oh. Hi. I wasn’t… it was a great show. You -”

“I wanted to apologize.” She sat across from you, putting her hands into her lap. “To you and to Tovar. It was … inappropriate. I shouldn’t have kissed him without his permission, even if it was only on the cheek. And I shouldn’t have … you’re clearly here together, and I knew it. But I still…”

“We aren’t together, though.” You smiled, shrugging your shoulders. “We came here together, yeah, and we were at the fundraiser together and are coming to the Christmas Eve party together, too, but we aren’t…” You paused, wondering why you were being honest with her. “Pero and I are just friends. I was as much out of line with what I said as you were.” 

“I’m not sure about that.” She smiled at you, looking past where you sat and at where Pero and the others were. “I was serious about wanting him to work for me, though. I feel safer knowing he’s around.” She laughed. “And my guys are already good, so that’s saying a lot.” You understood completely; there was just something about Pero that put you at ease, and you imagined that in her position, feeling that way would be a comfort. “I think they’re done. I should go and talk to my team before we leave. I hear they pulled someone out of the crowd?”

“Yeah. Middle of the set, but he didn’t fight or anything, he just went with one of your guys and Tovar. I didn’t see anything else.” She nodded and moved to stand, but before she could, you felt Pero behind you again, followed by the brush of his fingers against your shoulder as he gripped the back of the chair. 

“I see you found someone to talk to.” You looked up, finding Pero’s eyes on you. “I’m sorry it took so long.” Waving the apology off, you reached forward and picked up the cup, handing it to him. Once he was holding it, you watched as he looked from you to Christina, Pero’s chest rising and falling as he took a few breaths. “Everything is good. The man we spoke to tonight was just …” He frowned, narrowing his eyes. “He was not dangerous, just behaving a little oddly.”

“That’s good to know.” She smiled up at him and then stood. “Tovar, I’m sorry about earlier. I’ve already apologized to your friend here, but …” She tapped her lips with one finger. “I wanted to do the same to you.” Pero’s lips parted, but he didn’t speak. “I should have asked before I kissed you, especially in front of someone else.” Christina’s smile widened. “I’m sorry. I hope that I didn’t fuck anything up for the rest of the time we’re working together, or …” She pressed her lips together. “Or for more potential to work together in the future.” 

So she still wants him to work for her, and she wants him to know it. “Thank you.” Pero cleared his throat. “Everything is fine.” He moved his hand from the back of the chair to your shoulder, his thumb sweeping slowly over the outside of it. “But like I said, I am more than happy with my current job.” Christina blinked a few times but only nodded in reply, her eyes moving to your face and then back to Pero’s before she excused herself. “Are you ready to go? I’m done.” 

You were and told him as much, standing and then turning to face him. “Is everything alright? That guy -”

“We’ll talk about it.” He pressed his lips together. “My house is closer than yours. And it is not too late, so I thought …” Pero looked down and then back up at you. “Maybe we could order a pizza before I take you home?”

Your stomach rumbled at the suggestion, and even though you didn’t know what to expect from actual private time with Pero, you wanted to find out. “I can order it on my phone while you drive. Sounds perfect.” 

[sirowsky-stories]

Part 2 - The Date

Hey, y'all. I had hoped to post this early last week, but childhood trauma decided to join the conversation, and here we are. It is looking like this is gonna be a shorter series, though, so I hope to be able to update more frequently, but I make no promises.

Description: You and Pero have your first date and as promised, he cooks for you. But it's the conversation that is the real treat of this evening, because you finally get to learn more about this mystery of a man, and share some things of your own.

Warnings: Pero Tovar x Female Reader, reader is not described but there are descriptions of clothing in this part, mention of road rage and a fatal crash, mention of problematic mental health (neither reader nor Pero), one mention of adhd, mention of the Cali cartel and associated issues.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Word Count: 10,460 Sirowsky's Masterlist All dividers by the amazing @saradika-graphics

   He goes directly to the store at the end of the workday, still screaming internally at the mere fact that you invited him to your home, not to mention that you’re calling it a date.    But the voice inside of him isn’t just screaming with excitement. There’s massive quantities of fear and anxiousness in there as well, because he has no clue how to behave on a date, or what you might expect from him, beyond him being nice to you.    Therefor he passes as much time as possible strolling down the aisles and busying himself with looking around the entire store just in case he finds something other than the ingredients he needs.

   Your ordinary workdays on the morning shift are between 6am and 2pm. It’s only when working away that any operator can flex their hours a little, since it’s considered a big enough inconvenience just to live away and work with strangers. Which is why you’d pushed your schedule to start at 7 while you’d been at the sister factory.    But it’s back to the normal shifts now, which means he’s got four hours to kill before going to see you. And his entire body feels strangely charged and alert as he repeatedly looks at his watch, getting increasingly frustrated with how slow it seems to move.

   He stops in the aisle where they have household items, like coffee cups and vases, cutlery and dishtowels, but also scented candles and little knickknacks, as well as tiny stuffed animals and plushies.    Would you like it if he got you something for your apartment?    You’ve been living all alone for years, so you probably have your place decorated exactly as you want it. But a candle couldn’t hurt, could it? And most people love plushies, right?

   With a deep sigh of annoyance, entirely directed at himself, he starts picking up candles and sniffing the different scents, disliking practically all of them, until he finds a vanilla scented one which isn’t as strong as the others. A more subtle fragrance. And when he sniffs it, it somehow reminds him of you, which seems odd, until he realizes that your perfume must have a vanilla-based fragrance as well, which settles it.    He puts the thing in his basket and goes to leave the aisle. But right at the end of it, a frankly adorable grey teddy bear with a red heart stitched in on its right butt-cheek catches his eye, and without even stopping to consider if he should, he grabs it.

   Because fuck it. If you don’t like it… Well, he’d be heartbroken, actually. Not to mention the poor little bear.    Seriously shaking his head at himself, he continues through the store, wondering if you’re on the verge of driving him insane before you’ve even started dating. But also realizing, within just seconds of pondering on it, that he wouldn’t give a shit if you were, he’d still wanna see you.

   That smile you gave him right after he’d told you about wanting to cook for you was the most incredible thing he’s ever seen. He couldn’t describe it, or what it made him feel, even if it was the only way to save his own life, but he’d bring the stars down from the skies if it meant he’d get to see it again.    Honestly, he can’t think of anything he wouldn’t do for you, just to make you happy, because your joy truly does infect everything around you, and that’s a precious thing. If his past has taught him anything, it’s that while he struggles to accept happiness for himself, he knows how important joy is, in how it prevents people from becoming the worst versions of themselves.

   He ends up spending almost ninety minutes in the store, and he notices the slight surprise on the cashier’s face when she scans the candle, the plushie, and the bouquet of flowers, little gift bag of small fridge magnets with smiley faces on them, and a miniature gift box of your favourite brand of chocolate, which he stumbled on closer to the checkout.    This is his regular store, so the staff recognize him and probably remember that he’s never bought anything of the sort before, although she’s kind enough not to get nosy about it.

   “Are they stupid?” he finds himself quietly asking while he gets the money from his wallet, since there isn’t anyone else in the que behind him and he really is nervous about getting this right.

   She’s about your age and several things in her appearance reminds him of you. He feels like you’re the same type of woman, if there is such a thing, so odds are you like some of the same things, at least.

   “Are you kidding? If my man brought me stuff like this, I’d be giddy for days,” she says with a genuine smile, understanding even without further explanation, that the items in question aren’t being purchased for his own use.

   “It is only a first date…” he admits, wanting to make sure it isn’t too much, and the woman quickly puts him at ease.

   “Oh, that’s lovely, congratulations! And don’t worry, first date or tenth, if she’s anything like me, she’ll love this.”

   “Okay.” He doesn’t have a smile for her because those only ever come natural to him when he’s around you, but he does nod politely and tells her that she can keep the change, which makes her smile.

   Once back home, he unpacks the groceries and then repacks them, putting everything that needs to be refrigerated into one bag and then putting the entire bag in the fridge, while he leaves a second bag with the room temperature stuff on the counter, ready to go.    He almost forgets to put the flowers in water, and then he spends a good twenty minutes trying to decide how to present all these gifts to you.    Why did he get so many?

   It’s still not even 4:30pm once he settles on an idea, and he’s too nervous to try and do anything relaxing, so he ends up cleaning his apartment instead. And then, when he’s only fifteen minutes away from having to leave, he remembers that he should maybe take a shower before the date.    Which is why, when he rings your doorbell a few minutes after 6pm, his hair is still wet, making him feel like a dog begging to be let in after taking a shit in the rain.

   You’ve been fretting ever since you got home. You don’t have adhd so far as you know, but you do have some of the very typical traits that many types of neuro-divergent people have, such as task-fatigue. Which means you sometimes just can’t bring yourself to clean your apartment or take care of the laundry, even though you absolutely hate seeing the dust and dirty clothes pile up.    But it also means that all it takes for you to feel motivated to take care of it, is knowing that someone is coming to visit.

   Which is why, the moment you step through the door, you start picking stuff up and, in your head, getting started on about ten different tasks simultaneously.    You had intended to start the laundry first, since that would mean you’d have time to swap it into the dryer while getting other things done, but while you’re picking up the clothes left on the sofa and the living room floor, you get distracted by the clutter on your coffee table and the used drinking glasses and cups you’ve had sitting there for the almost two weeks you’ve been away.

   There wasn’t time to take care of it before you left, and you haven’t had the energy to get to it in the one night you’ve thus far spent at home since, but it now disgusts you to see it, which is why it makes you forget all about the laundry.    Then, bringing the dishes to the kitchen and putting them in the dishwasher, you find empty food packages and other junk and start throwing that away, which then makes you remember that the bathroom trash can needs to be emptied.

   It carries on like this for over an hour before you eventually remember the laundry, at which point you’re about ready to slap yourself with how much you’re needlessly stressing over this. Because Pero is not gonna care if your home is spotless. At least, you don’t think so. Then again, he does always keep his station very neat at work.    You technically work at his station as well, the two of you alternating between operating the MAP, taking care of the orders on the computer and doing the daily maintenance work, so it’s never seemed strange to you that he always comes to help you clean up at the end of each shift.

   But what if he does it because he doesn’t think you’re thorough enough?    Two weeks ago you wouldn’t even have entertained the thought that he even cares about such things, but everything’s different now and you just don’t know.    At 5:30 you decide it looks good enough and hop into a very quick shower followed by the fastest and sloppiest blow-dry of your life, so you’ll have a few minutes to throw on some makeup, albeit very basic and neutral.    You finish with about five minutes to spare, and it’s only then that you realize you haven’t decided what to wear.

   Thankfully, since you both have to wear safety clothes at work and mostly arrive in sweats or other simple and soft garments, he hasn’t seen you wear any of your fancier items. The occasional jeans, sure, but not any of your truly nice pants, nor any blouses or dresses.    You hadn’t brought any of that for your hotel stay either, since it was a work trip, so literally everything you look really good in will be something he’s never seen on you. And yet, it still stresses you out, because it’s a first date. Which means it can’t be too fancy, but it also has to be a little fancy, otherwise it might seem like you’re not that interested.

   The doorbell rings just as you’ve thrown on the top, so you don’t even have time to check yourself over in a mirror before darting to open it, you just take a quick look down to make sure your top isn’t unbuttoned or anything.    You open the door to find him standing there in the stairwell with two full grocery bags leaning against his legs, wet hair and a generally sour expression, which then vanishes the moment he sees you smile at him.

   “Hi,” you greet, and for a moment, he looks paralyzed.

   “Uh… Hello,” he finally manages, before bringing his arms out from behind his back, revealing a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and a large glass jar candle.

   The flowers are the grocery store kind, but you know the brand, and the chain of florists which the store collaborates with is an excellent one. It’s a spring bouquet, yellow and pink with white sprinkled in there as well, and it's so big that you suddenly can't believe you didn't notice it until he brought it out.    Then again, he is the broadest person you’ve ever met.    You take the bouquet and smell it, before doing the same with the candle, finding the fragrance of both to be subtle and sweet, which you approve of.

   “Oh, my goodness, thank you so much,” you grin, suddenly no longer the least bit stressed about anything because his presence seems to coat everything under a blanket of comfort and safety. “Come on in.”

   He looks you over thoroughly before stepping in, though, and you can tell that he likes the soft but tight pants you chose, and the simple and cute silk blouse with the widely cut V-shaped neckline, which sits further out on your shoulders and therefor shows off the thin gold necklace he gave you perfectly.    The blouse is designed not to be tucked but rather hang loosely over your hips where it’s cut to enhance the female curves, which always makes you feel a little more confident.

   You do the same to him in return, remembering you’ve never seen him in anything nicer either, and you’re surprised at how much it affects you.    He’s wearing dark blue jeans, clearly not new but designed to last and only get better with wear and tear. And on top he’s gone for a white henley underneath a black leather jacket which is unzipped.

   Now, you would’ve found him attractive no matter what he’d decided to wear, but this?    It’s not overtly sexual, but that’s also exactly what makes it so damned good. The combination of colours which manage to enhance his skin, eyes and hair, the way the jeans hug his male anatomy just right to give you a hint of what’s under there, how the shirt falls so that it just brushes over his softly muscular abs, and then the leather to frame it all in…    If he didn’t do this on purpose then he’s adorably ignorant of his own attractiveness, and if it was intentional, then he’s clearly a genius on more levels than you’ve given him credit for.

   To reign yourself in and prevent the ogling you’re already guilty of, you grasp at the first thing to come to mind as a conversation topic, while he grabs the bags and steps past you into the front hall.

   “Is that a motorcycle jacket?” you ask, since you recognize the distinct cut and collar.

   “Yes. But I did not ride here.”

   “No, I suppose it’d be kinda difficult to get all this on a bike,” you chuckle, closing the door while he takes his shoes off. “I’m surprised I’ve never seen you arrive to work on it, though.”

   He picks up the bags again and follows you to the kitchen, which is the closest room to the front hall and from which the spacious living room is fully visible, where he sets the groceries down on the counter and you grab a vase to put the flowers in.    You place the candle on the kitchen table, followed by the bouquet once it’s been trimmed, and suddenly it looks so much cozier.

   “I prefer to drive it only for the pleasure of the ride, not as a means of transportation,” he explains, and then proceeds to remove the jacket and push the sleeves of his shirt up over his forearms, which momentarily makes you forget how the brain connects to the mouth.

   “O-oh. I… don’t think I’ve ever met a biker with that perspective on riding before,” you finally manage, now awkwardly trampling from one foot to the next because you apparently have no fucking idea how to act in your own kitchen with him there.

   “How many bikers have you met?” he wonders, which would’ve been an innocent enough question, if not for the barely detectable competitiveness which sneaks into his voice.

   And since this very unexpected reaction brings some focus and clarity back into your brain, you jump on the opportunity to tease him a little.

   “Wouldn’t you like to know.” You can see that he wants to press the issue, but he lets it go and starts unpacking the groceries instead, so you decide to reward him for his restraint. “My brother used to ride when he was younger, and he had a whole group of friends he’d go out with, so I’d end up hanging out with them sometimes when they were waiting for the group to gather at our house, or when they helped each other work on the bikes.”

   “I did not know you have a brother,” he says after taking a moment to absorb this new information, and he suddenly seems only openly curious.

   “Yeah, I don’t talk about him a lot since we kinda lost touch a while back.”

   “You said he used to ride. Does he not anymore?”

   “No. He stopped after losing his best friend to a road rage incident,” you explain, to which he simply lowers his brows in a silent question, so you start to elaborate. “The driver of an SUV got angry that they filtered to the front of the que at a stoplight, so she raced after them and at the next light, she tried to run them all over.    She clipped Richie’s back tire, and he went down right in front of the car, so she just gunned it and drove over him. Then she kept trying to get the rest of them, so they had to abandon their friend while he was dying in the street, to save themselves.”

   You haven’t talked about this in a long time, and now that you do, the memories make you sad, but it’s also a bit cleansing to sort of dust it off and air it out, so even though he doesn’t ask any follow-up questions, you keep talking.

   “My brother escaped unharmed, but he was only twenty-one and it scared the shit out of him, so he never rode again afterwards. An accident would’ve been difficult enough, but knowing there are people out there who might try and kill him if he does something they don’t like, even if it’s legal… it made every car a weapon in his mind, and he couldn’t handle it.”

   “I have seen this behaviour as well,” Pero nods in recognition, and his tone is low now. “For me, it was never a problem because I know how to scare people into leaving me alone, but I know how dangerous these drivers are.    I am sorry it happened to someone you knew.”

   “It was a horrible day. But honestly, it was the aftermath that really messed things up.”

   “How so?”

   “Because my brother didn’t just lose his friend and his passion for riding bikes that day. It was like he lost a part of himself he didn’t know how to exist without.    At first, he got depressed, which then affected his grades and eventually got him kicked out of university. But as it progressed, his mental health got so bad that he tried to end his own life three times within the space of just one month.    So, our parents decided that the only way he’d have a chance to get himself out of that state, was to put him in an environment where his entire life would be controlled and structured.”

   “They had him committed?” he carefully asks while somehow locating the correct cabinet to find a bowl on the first try, which he then fills with water and dunks a packet of raisins into.

   “No. My father was a navy captain, so his solution was to force my brother to enlist. Although, he figured a young man wouldn’t be aided by being in the same branch of the military as his own father, but he wanted the strictest possible regiment, so he threw his weight around a little and that’s how my brother ended up in the Special Forces.”

   Your date gets a strange look in his eyes when he hears that, but you can’t pinpoint what the reason might be, so you decide not to ask him about it.

   “And this is how the two of you lost touch?” he wonders, while he begins to prepare the meal, so you take out a cutting board for him and watch him chop onions and garlic cloves as you answer.

   “Kinda. He’d already distanced himself from me at that point, because I didn’t understand what he was going through and just wanted my brother back.    I made it worse for him back then, just out of ignorance. Thinking if I could just find something that would make him happy, all his problems would magically disappear.    He stopped talking to me, and then he started getting mean. Until eventually, he even tried to hurt me, and I still didn’t understand that it was because I was adding to his stress.”

   “How much younger are you than your brother?”

   “Just over eight years. Our parents had him when they were pretty young, and then my dad had a period of time when he was away a lot, so it wasn’t until he was promoted that I came along.”

   “Then you were still only a teenager while this happened. This must have been very scary.”

   “It was, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished I could go back. Because I get it now. With what I know about life and mental health today, I would’ve been able to help him. But I guess there’s a reason why that stuff takes a lifetime to learn.    And now it’s too late,” you end in a sigh, which makes him pause his work to look at you.

   “Is your brother dead?”

   “No. But I’ve only seen him once since the day he enlisted, sixteen years ago. He showed up for mom and dad’s funeral about five years ago, but he never spoke to me or wanted anything to do with the inheritance, and he was gone the moment the ceremony was over.”

   “What happened to your parents?”

   “They died in a plane crash on their way to a favourite holiday spot of theirs, up north. It was a small prop plane, one of those for like four people, so a bird-strike was enough to take it out.    I’ve been afraid of flying ever since,” you admit, but he puts a warm hand over yours on the counter and when you look into his eyes, there’s no judgement in them.

   “I’m sorry to hear your family is no longer with you. I do not like to think of you all alone,” he offers with a slightly concerned tint to his features, which only makes you like him more.

   “Thanks. But at least I have you now,” you carefully suggest, not wanting to jump to any conclusions.

   But he gives you one of his rare smiles in return.

   “Yes, you do.”

   “So, what about you? Do you have any family?” you ask when he returns to the meal, moving on to the minced meat, so he locates a frying pan and turns the stove on.

   “No.” He first intends to leave it there, because he doesn’t like to talk about it.

   But then, it must’ve been just as hard for you to share these terrible memories from your past, so it’s only fair he does the same.    It does not come naturally to him, though, and he’s certain that you can hear the frustration in his voice, so he just hopes you won’t misinterpret the cause behind it.

   “I was an only child, and my father was out of the picture before I was even born.”

   “So, your mom raised you?”

   “For a time,” he starts, but then needs to pause to figure out how to explain, so he lets himself focus on the food for a beat, while you patiently wait. “I was born in Colombia, and my mother was not someone who could afford a good education, so her options were limited.    She worked as a dancer, but it was not always enough, so to make ends meet, she would help the Cali cartel.”

   “As a mule?” you quietly wonder, and in the depths of your voice, he can hear the other, more frightening options you’re also aware that the cartels might’ve used a woman for.

   “Yes. But when I was only ten years old, she got caught by the Narcos, and she was too afraid of the cartel to turn witness, so she was sent to jail instead.    I found out later… she died just six months after her sentencing. I was told it was due to dehydration after a very bad stomach flu, but I was never able to confirm if this was true.”

   “How much later? Were you able to go to her funeral?”

   “No. I only heard about it several years later.”

   “Why? What happened to you?”

   He pauses again, this time because there’s shame involved in what he needs to say next, and he’s never been good at handling that particular emotion.

   “The people she smuggled for knew about me, so when she was caught, they came to find me and took me away to work for them. They did this with orphaned children a lot, because it was an easy and cheap way to procure safe labour for them.”

   “Oh. I’m sorry, I’m sure that wasn’t an easy way to grow up.”

   “I knew of nothing else. I was a strong child, so rather than put me to work in the jungle factories, they taught me how to use weapons and hurt people. And for a long time, this was my life.” He doesn’t notice that he’s stopped working on the food until your hand lightly rubs his shoulder, bringing him back to the present.

   “I’m guessing you’re ashamed of that?” you correctly surmise, so he just nods in confirmation and returns to the task at hand, putting the finished pino aside to cool and getting started on the dough.

   He’s forgotten to boil some eggs, and while he prepares that and starts to melt the butter, you remain very quiet.    Still, he feels like it’s a loud kind of silence, hanging under the pressure of a million thoughts and reactions, none of which you’re letting him see.    Until the pressure seems to ease when you draw a slow and deep breath.

   “I can’t imagine the things you must’ve done, either because you had to or because you thought it was normal, but it doesn’t matter which.    We’re not responsible for the things we’re taught as children. How we behave when we realize that those things are wrong… that’s what matters.    So, what did you do?”

   You don’t know it yet, but you’ve stumbled upon the most difficult question you could ever have asked him, because the answer requires him to reveal the most cataclysmic event of his entire life, and he has no idea if he’s ready for that.    And even more significantly, he knows with almost complete conviction that you’re not.

   “Ay, Sonriente… I am not sure you are ready to know this. It is not… the happy ending you want it to be.” He says it while meeting your eyes, so you can see the honesty in him.

   He doesn’t lie and he isn’t going to, so if you ask him, he will tell you the truth. But he hopes you won’t. Not yet.    You take your time, examining his face, maybe looking for some clue to explain what could be so terrible that he’s asking you not to go there.

   “What does Sonriente mean?” you finally ask instead, and relief washes over him.

   He’ll owe you for this one, and if you somehow find it in your heart to keep dating him, he will tell you at some point. But for now, the lighter subject is a balm to his nerves, bringing a grin to his lips while he pours the melted butter into the mix of flour, salt and baking powder, followed by some water before he begins to knead it into a dough.

   “You have not looked it up?”

   “Asking you is more fun,” you shrug, allowing the playful atmosphere to blossom.

   “How do you know I will not make something up?”

   “Firstly, because you’ve never lied to me and that’s not a streak you wanna break if you want me to stick around. And second, because I’m obviously gonna look it up after you’ve told me.”

   “How would you know if I have ever lied to you or not?” he wonders, partly just playing along, but also making a little point for you not to assume he’s incapable of being dishonest.

   There’s a dramatic pause then, in which you throw him a look that clearly says this is a very stupid question, before you proceed to explain why.

   “Pero, I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve said a single thing to me that wasn’t a description of how to perform a task at work, and believe me, I remember them all in perfect detail.”

   “Oh, really? Name one,” he challenges, and you don’t miss a beat.

   “Two months into my employment, we were waiting for Gary when he was bringing that big shot visitor from Japan, and I sighed and complained about having to just stand around forever when there was so much work to be done. I finally resorted to asking you if you knew why it was taking so long, to which you replied: Gary has a thing for Asians.    And at the time, I actually assumed you were trying to be funny, especially when they finally arrived, and I saw no evidence whatsoever to suggest any secret interest in anyone.    So, you can imagine my surprise when the guest leaves, and Gary turns to me and says: Oh, thank god, I was running out of lemon-related content in my brain…”

   The memory makes him huff a tiny laugh, particularly at how accurately you’re recounting it, while you start fully laughing once you’re done.

   “I mean, it would’ve been a completely innocent little joke,” you add between giggles, “even if it had been made up, but the fact that it was true just made it so much funnier.”

   “I was nervous,” he admits, feeling a bit sheepish now.

   But the fact is, you’ve made him nervous from day one. And while he’s always been quiet and kept to himself, specifically because he hasn’t wanted to become friends with anyone and have to talk about himself and his past, he’s always been extreme with you because of how beautiful you are.    He’s known, from the first time he laid eyes on you, that if he ever allowed himself to start talking to you, he’d never wanna stop.

   “About meeting a big shot businesswoman?” you incredulously wonder, making him shake his head while he waits for another bout of your giggles to settle.

   “No… about just standing there awkwardly with you. You were talking so much, and I was trying not to engage with you, but then you asked me a question and it would have been rude not to answer.”

   “And instead of giving me some bland conversational answer like agreeing with me that it was a waste of time, or saying they’d probably be there soon, you chose to share a truth that no one else in the entire crew knew about him,” you question, but you’re not really looking for a reply. This is clearly your way of showing him how well you have him figured out. “That’s how I know you’ve never lied to me. Because even when you’ve had the chance to do it in the most innocent of ways, you still haven’t.”

   He doesn’t know what to say to that, so he returns to your original inquiry.

   “Sonriente means smile, or in this case, Smiley. It is how I think of you.”

   Nervously, he reaches into the left front pocket of his jeans, where he locates the little clear plastic-wrapped package of smiley magnets, which he then hands to you.    You take it, immediately realizing what it is, and while not a word spills across your lips, he knows without question that you love them. You rip the package open while mildly squealing with excitement, and immediately start to arrange the little faces on your refrigerator door, giggling to yourself as you come up with funny combinations of expressions.

   “Thank you! For the magnets and the nickname. I love them,” you giddily declare after stepping back to admire the now much happier-looking fridge.

   He nods in recognition of your thanks, feeling less nervous about whether you’ll like the little teddy bear, which he intends to give you at the end of the night.    But for now, he just keeps working on the empanadas. The dough is rolled, and he’s begun cutting it into pieces, and the eggs are done just when he’s about to start flattening the pieces into round little plates.

   “Something I’ve always wondered,” you start after waiting for him to discard the boiling water and return to the dough, “is why you never help anyone, unless they ask?”

   “Why would I assume they want my help, unless they ask?” he counters, to which you cock your head to the side with a sceptical frown.

   “When Eric accidentally crushed his foot right next to you, I’m pretty sure he would’ve appreciated a bit of assistance…”

   “Oh no, that was very intentional.”

   You obviously weren’t expecting that, so you’ve probably never heard about this particular operator’s lesser qualities.

   “What do you mean?”

   “Eric is a bully. He is scared of women, though, so you never became a target, but many of the younger crew were constantly heckled and ridiculed by him whenever he was alone with them. I was one of the few who noticed this, and I tried to get management involved, but I had no proof, and the victims of his abuse never spoke up themselves.    So, when I finally got fed up with it, I made sure he would not be able to work with us anymore.”

   “Wait, I’m confused. Are you saying that you caused his injury?”

   “Yes.”

   This is all news to you, and he can see how you’re trying to absorb it all while re-framing the memories inside your mind into such a different and surprising perspective.

   “But he was operating the press himself when it happened, so how did you…” you trail off, probably unsure of how to even phrase it, now that you’re no longer certain of anything regarding the situation in question.

   “The reason I was standing next to him was because I was working on the computer for that machine, so I created a temporary error, causing the press to glitch. And when he kicked it, which I knew he would because that is the kind of man he is, I reset it, and it fired up again.”

   Your jaw drops for a second, but there’s still a smile in your eyes, so even though this might be a bit disturbing for you to learn, you’re not put off by it, at least.

   “You are diabolical. And very clever, since you’re the one who does the diagnostics on those machines, which means you can hide your tracks,” you conclude after closing your mouth. “And I have no idea why this turns me on a little.”

   Now it’s Pero’s turn to be surprised and mildly confused, and he quickly turns all his attention back to the food. But he can’t help but smile with pride, despite the slight awkwardness.    He can’t deny that he does very much hope he’ll be able to turn you on more than just a little, in the future. Not tonight, though.

   “Come on, you can help me with this last step,” he offers, because the silence is too fucking loud, and he indicates the finished flattened pieces of dough which are ready to be filled and shaped into the final product.

   You’ve always been good at taking instructions, so once he’s showed you the correct technique, you pick it up and immediately start generating perfect little empanadas.    They need to sit in the oven for about twenty minutes, so in the meantime, you both clean up the kitchen and then you give him a small tour of your apartment.

   “It is bigger than I thought at first,” he observes after you’ve shown him your guest bedroom and the very large balcony which is accessible from both your master bedroom and the living room.

   “Yeah. I don’t really need the extra space, but I like to have it, and since the inheritance I got from my folks allows me to afford it, I figured I could give myself that.    Don’t get me wrong, I’m not rich, or anything. If I’d inherited that much, I would’ve bought a house.    But I set it up so that the bank releases a certain sum every month, designed to last for the rest of my life, so that even if something happened like I lost my job or got injured, I’d still have enough to survive on.    I wouldn’t be able to live here anymore, obviously, but I’d survive.”

   He has wondered how you can afford a place in the city on the same salary as him. Granted, he’s chosen to live pretty far out into the suburbs because the apartments out there have the same great quality as these city ones, at a fraction of the cost, which allows him to save a lot of money and still live comfortably.    But if you have the means, of course you should live where you wish, and these buildings are expensive because of their security rating as well as their top quality, which he approves of for you.

   “This is a very smart set-up,” he hums approvingly. “You must stop calling me clever when you are clearly the brighter of us two.”

   “Hey, I might’ve made some good decisions in my life, but you thought up the MAP. You built it… There is no comparison to be made.”

   “It is only a machine.”

   “A pretty darn impressive one.”

   “But still only a thing. When it comes to people… socializing, expressing myself, emotions… I am an idiot.”

   “Maybe, but not with me,” you counter, and he has no reply for that, because it’s true. “Anyway, it’s not that smart of a decision when I also waste the extra money on space I don’t need, rather than save it up.”

   “If this is how you wish to live, then there is no fault to your logic.”

   “Yeah, I guess. To tell you the truth, I’ve always dreamed of having a house, but I just don’t wanna live alone in one. An apartment somehow seems less empty even when it’s just me.”

   He understands that feeling, and he can appreciate how a single woman, in particular, might find it reassuring to have other people around.    For a split second, he imagines a future where you could have your dream house and not live alone, but it’s an image he doesn’t dare to linger on or allow to take footing in his mind, because even if it is a remote possibility, the present is what matters if he wishes to reach the future he glimpses.

   The food is finished just as your little tour comes to an end, so Pero takes the tray out of the oven and then you set the table while it cools a little. It makes the entire kitchen smell amazing, so you have high hopes for how good it’ll taste.

   “So, I might be revealing my total ignorance of foreign foods here, but I thought empanadas was usually like a starter, or a snack, not a full meal,” you ponder, thinking back on the few times you’ve come across them on a menu or heard someone talking about the dish.

   “It depends on the country and the recipe. When I was growing up, it was our equivalent to a Sunday roast. My mother would always make them on Sundays, and she made them large enough that two or three was a full meal.    Other families I knew only made the smaller versions, eating them as evening snacks while playing games or watching tv,” he kindly explains without giving any indication that he’s disappointed in your lack of cultural awareness.

   “We never did the Sunday roast thing in my family,” you offer in return. “Mostly because dad was away so much, and mom wasn’t actually that interested in cooking, so she’d stick to simpler and quicker meals if there wasn’t a celebration or other occasion where we might want something more elaborate.”

   “Did your father enjoy cooking, then?”

   “He loved it. Some of my fondest memories with him are the two of us out by the grill in the backyard, with him showing me how to prepare and cook different meats and fish and veggies.    For someone with such a serious job and so much pressure to live up to, he was extraordinarily good at just stopping to enjoy the simplest moments with his family. He was always relaxed and happy when he was home.”

   Pero seems to think on that while he finishes preparing the meal, so you wait to say anything more until you know whether he’s going to. And sure enough, a minute later, he rights himself up, leans his hip against the counter and looks at you with a curious but also knowing kind of gaze.

   “This is why you are so comfortable in a male workplace. Because your father taught you that real men are not cruel or unkind without cause, so when you have met this behaviour in your life, you have not tolerated it.    I have seen this strength in you many times, and I know it is the reason why the crew respects you. They can sense, even before they know you, that while they can certainly scare you, they can never manipulate you.”

   He says it so simply. As if it doesn’t even occur to him that this could be the most profound thing anyone’s ever said to you.    Emotions deeper than you’re able to recognize in the moment, are making your chest ache and bringing tears to your eyes, but it’s a strangely wonderful feeling.    And then he smiles, just a little, and says the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

   “Your father lives in you in this way. Protects you, even from the grave, with the certainty he put inside your heart, that you are worth a man’s time and his respect.”

   The tears in your eyes spill over onto your cheeks, but when you smile back at him and start moving towards him because you want a hug, he surprises you by shifting his weight back, away from you.    You stop, suddenly feeling a sour pit begin to form in your stomach where the overwhelming gratitude was just swelling so warmly, with the abrupt expectation of something bad.

   “But…” he begins, and then looks away, back down at the plate of delicious food waiting to be enjoyed, and the look on his face is something you’ve seen before, but never thought you’d ever see on this man. “I don’t know if I can claim to be worthy of such a woman.”

   The feeling in your gut disappears when the warmth returns, and you take a soothing breath before finishing the motion you started before, closing the distance between you even though you can see him make another attempt to deter you.    He crosses his arms over his waist to limit how close you can get, so you settle for putting your hands on his cheeks instead, which prompts him to meet your eyes again.

   Unworthiness is a feeling you know painfully well, both from personal experience, and from how often you’ve seen it in people around you. It lies and contorts a person’s view of themselves until it becomes this unbreakable truth, built on nothing but the fear of not being enough, and yet so powerful it can make one turn away from the most wonderful and positive opportunities that might ever come your way.    All because of a single thought. Because that’s how it always begins. Just one moment in which you aren’t your best self, and someone happens to notice it, and suddenly it becomes a pillar of your existence, as real and significant as those biggest core memories which build your individuality from childhood.

   “If my father was here, he would be the first to tell you that it doesn’t matter what you’ve done before you met me, because worth isn’t measured by tallying up how much good you’ve done versus how much evil.    Worth is a gift that other people give you.”

   He almost flinches with how hard that hits him, and you can see how the words play on repeat in his head in the moments of silence you let him have before you hit him with the next volley.

   “You are worthy of me if I choose you. It really is that simple, Pero. And if you need proof, just go pet a dog. Because I can promise you no dog chooses to love or trust you due to some secret ability they have to detect if you’ve got more than fifty percent goodness in you.    And I’m no different, so if you want to feel worthy of me, just keep making me feel safe and cared for, because that’s all it takes for me to decide that you are.    Do you hear me?”

   You keep holding his face, waiting for him to either brush you off or accept what you’re telling him, but even before you’ve stopped talking, you can see in his eyes how deeply he wants to believe every word.    And sure enough, not two seconds later, he uncrosses his arms and wraps them around your waist instead. He holds you gently at first, but when you lean into the hug and squeeze his shoulders, his grip becomes so firm that even a deep breath is out of the question.

   “I got it wrong,” he whispers into your neck. “I should call you Asombro.”

   “Okay. Why?”

   “It means amazement and wonder, and I know of no human being who makes me feel such things like you do.”

   By the time you’ve sat down to dig into the meal, the empanadas are at perfect eating temperature, slightly cool on the outside while the pino is still nice and hot.    He watches you closely when you take your first bite, because your reactions are always honest, so he will see it if you don’t like them, you won’t be able to hide it.    But his worry is unfounded. Your immediate reaction is to close your eyes and actually moan with delight, taking the next bite before the first one is even close to chewed.

   You notice him watching you and a small laugh makes you hunch forwards and dip your chin a bit, so he can’t quite see your face. There’s too much food in your mouth for you to be able to speak and explain why, although he guesses it’s because you’re embarrassed about the sounds you just made. You don’t need to be, though, since he finds them only endearing.    There’s a big grin on his face as he quietly observes, incredibly pleased to have created something you enjoy, not just because he likes to see you happy, but because he’s never cooked for anyone before, and he was genuinely nervous about it.    This is the one recipe his mother taught him and he still has no idea why, after so many years lost to violence and rage, he remembers it so clearly.

   “Oh, Pero… this is so good!” you finally mumble, because you won’t stop stuffing your face with the food, and he can’t help but laugh heartily with the thrilling warmth that spreads through him at the scene.

   “I can see that. I am very happy you like it,” he muses, but it makes you pause, stopping your chewing to just stare at him, which in turn makes him unsure. “Is something wrong?”

   “No, I just…” You keep looking at him with this peculiar expression he can’t place, but it’s still a happy one. “I’ve never heard you laugh before. I mean, I’ve heard a few chuckles from you recently, which was shocking enough, but that was a real laugh just now.”

   He doesn’t spend much time reflecting on how often he smiles or laughs, but he does know it’s not a frequent occurrence by any measure.    Your reaction seems a tad excessive, though, since you should’ve learned by now that all bets are off whenever you’re involved.

   “I have told you before, Sonriente, your joy is infectious, it is beyond my control.”

   “Oh, really? Then how come you’re still fully able to control it at work?” you challenge with a confidently raised brow, surely thinking he won’t have a good comeback for this.

   “Because you are still the only one who gets to see this other side of me,” he smirks in response, to which you proudly square your shoulders, clearly happy to claim the privilege despite having your challenge bested.

   But his confidence falters somewhat as he thinks back to this afternoon and how he’d been nervous enough to ask a cashier for advice. And then his thoughts travel back further, to the sister factory, and how he’d all but lost his fucking head when going at those three assholes. Then every moment he’d spent after that, almost unknowingly checking where you were every few minutes, not to mention last night and the sudden inability to sleep well without you, and he can’t deny that things have changed rather drastically lately.

   “Although, I will confess… since that morning in the hotel room, I have had a much harder time controlling my emotions around you,” he quietly admits, feeling no shame, but a great deal more vulnerable than usual. “You might not see it on me, but there is a reason I still avoid getting too close to you around the crew.”

   “I did wonder at lunch today. But I figured you were just sticking to your routines.”

   “No. I wanted very much to sit with you.”

   “Then why didn’t you?”

   “Because I want it too much. More than I am ready for,” he tries, mentally kicking himself for not being able to explain it better. “Do you understand?”

   “I think so… You worry that if you just cave to all these strong feelings you’re not used to having, you won’t know how to control yourself?” you surmise, and again, he wants to kick himself because he should’ve been able to say this.

   “Yes, exactly,” he agrees, adding a nod of approval just to emphasize how much better you are at finding the right words to describe what’s going on in his head.

   “Well, thank you for thinking like that.” Your quiet voice surprises him enough that he pauses the bite he was just about to take. Because this is the sad kind of quiet. The kind he thinks you’re not even aware reveals all the pains inside you. “Most men don’t take much responsibility for their emotions, much less actively work on controlling themselves.”

   He hears the echo of conflicts from your past in those words, which is not unexpected, he’s seen enough traces of defensive behaviour in you to have known for some time that you’ve had bad experiences.    What is unexpected is how much it suddenly affects him to see it. How much he wants to ask you to name anyone who’s ever hurt you so that he can track them down.    Reminding himself that this is a first date and you’ve both already shared darker parts of yourselves, he instead settles for offering the most significant bit of wisdom he’s gained from the trials of his youth.

   “One thing I learned growing up among evil men, is that when all you pour into the world around you is anger and fear, this is also what comes back at you. You cannot expect to be met with kindness and generosity if you scream at people or beat them.”

   “Does that mean the reason why you’ve always kept away from everyone is that you wanted them to stay away from you?” you ask without even a second’s delay, as if you already had the question locked and loaded. “Because I assumed it was because you just don’t like anyone.”

   “No, you are correct, I dislike most people, and this is the reason I wish for them to stay away from me.”

   “Ah. Especially with your lack of control over your emotions and all that. Could get very messy.”

   “See? You get it,” he winks, and you smile back before delving into more of the empanadas.

   Neither of you speak for a minute then, allowing the good food to have undivided attention and satisfying your stomachs.

   “So, at the risk of biting myself in the ass here,” you start after finishing your fourth piece of stuffed pastry, “what is it about me that’s different? Why do you like me? Because I refuse to believe it’s as simple as you being affected by my smile.”

   He ponders on this for a bit, trying to decide if he should name the things about you which he just casually likes, like the way you’re always so honest, or the direct way you deal with things that bother you, like confronting those who talk shit about you behind your back. Or maybe the grace and dignity with which you’ve endured his unfriendly and probably often frightening behaviour for the past year.    But those are all largely superficial things. They’re not the real reason for his evolving and blossoming affection, and the problem is, he doesn’t know what that real reason is.

   “If I told you the number of hours I have spent wondering this myself… I wish I had a good answer for you, and for myself, but alas, I have not yet found it,” he finally admits, and is relieved to see you still smiling despite what must be a disappointing outcome.

   “Will you promise to let me know if you do?” is all you ask in return, and since he can’t wait to find out this answer for himself, it’s only fair you get to know it as well.

   “Yes. I promise.”

   Full and happy after that amazing meal, which was actually perfectly spicy in your opinion, the couch seems like the natural option for the next portion of the evening. So, once the dishes are squared away and the ice cream is just soft enough, you dig into the squishy pillows and blankets with your little bowl, while Pero takes a seat like a normal person, at the other end of the spacious two-seater.    Again, you’re a little bummed that he didn’t opt to sit closer to you, but since he’s explained why, you decide not to press the issue.

   “Wanna watch something?” you ask, before realizing you have no clue if he even likes movies, since the topics of this date have been very intimate and not at all light-hearted for the most part.

   “Sure.”

   “Okay. Anything in particular you prefer?”

   “Not really. I will watch almost anything, so you pick.”

   Oh, great. That’s not stressful at all, you just have to try and find something that won’t put him to sleep, potentially trigger his childhood trauma, or make him think you’re a total weirdo… Simple.    You scroll through one of your streaming services, eliminating genres like gangster films, period dramas and horror, followed by teen movies, steamy romance and anime, until you finally decide on adventure, because who doesn’t like a little adventure.    E.T is among the first films to come up once you’ve gone into the genre specific menu, and you haven’t seen it in at least ten years, so that’s your pick.

   “Have you seen it before?” you ask while the opening credits begin to roll.

   “Of course, I have seen all the classics, and all the 80’s and 90’s action movies. They were the best, in my opinion.”

   “I mean, you can’t really beat The Rock, The Long Kiss Goodnight, or Screamers. Not to mention RoboCop, Top Gun and Tremors.”

   “Yes, Tremors is one of my favourites,” he agrees with a grin, and you’re pleasantly surprised by his choice, since you consider it the best B-movie ever made. "I also like The Goonies, Karate Kid and Indiana Jones.”

   Since you’ve both seen E.T before, you’re okay with chatting quietly during the film, talking about your favourite cinema experiences and movies that made lasting impressions on you.    It’s a very comfortable kind of conversation, naturally paused by the more dramatic scenes before you, and then casually picked back up. It feels cozy, simple and safe, which is probably why you begin to almost doze off about two thirds into the movie, which Pero notices.

   “Perhaps we should call it a night,” he suggests, in a warm, also quite drowsy voice. “We do have to work tomorrow morning.”

   “We’ve worked for almost two weeks straight already, they really should give us Thursday and Friday off,” you sleepily mumble, mildly annoyed at the idea of having to end such a lovely evening.

   “Yes, they should. But they prefer to throw money at us rather than lose workforce, since that impacts productivity, especially when our shift has already gone understaffed for ten days.”

   “But that’s not our fault…”

   “No. It is just how the corporate world thinks.”

   He gets up and grabs both of the empty ice cream bowls, bringing them to the kitchen on his way to the front hall, even putting them into the dishwasher before he reaches for his leather jacket, while you simply follow him to say goodnight.    But before he slips the jacket on, he digs around in it for a moment, which you assume is just a hunt for his keys. Until he pulls a small flat box out of it and hands it to you.

   “What?” You stare at the little blue square with the familiar emblem, once more wondering if this man is even real. “This is my favourite brand of chocolate…” you point out, meeting his eyes with incredulity once more. “How do you know?”

   “I listen,” he shrugs. But when he speaks again, his tone suggests there’s uncertainty underneath the apparent comfort. “Especially when you speak.”

   It makes you smile, knowing that he’s been quietly absorbing all this information about you, not to use against you, but simply because he found it interesting enough to warrant his attention.    He slips the jacket on and moves on to his shoes, and once they’re in place, he stands before you in your hall, ready to leave. But he lingers, and there’s a restless kind of awkwardness to him, making you wonder if he’s pondering on the traditional first-date kiss.    You wouldn’t mind if he does want to go for it, but you’re not gonna try and persuade him either way. If there’s one thing this evening has taught you, it’s that this man is much more sensitive and fragile than his public behaviour would have you think.

   “I would like to do this again…” he finally says, earning another smile from you, which seems to put him at ease, “if you would not mind.”

   “I’d like that very much.”

   The grin that adorns his face is one of pure joy, and then he nervously turns to leave, reaching for the doorhandle and stepping out into the stairwell. But then he turns back a little too fast, startling you as you’re following him to close the door behind him.

   “Oh, sorry.”

   “That’s okay,” you reassure him, although you are wondering why he still seems nervous. “Was there something else?”

   “No. No, not really. I just… well… Listen, I spent way too much time in the store today, and it was not my intention to get you all these gifts, but I was nervous about tonight and what you might expect, and I wanted to make sure you would be happy. But now it all seems a bit silly…” he bumblingly explains, all of which sounds only endearing to you.

   But before you can tell him that, he continues.

   “Still, there is one more thing I must give you, and it is perhaps the silliest of all, and if it is you may say so. I am fully aware that you are a grown woman and not a child, it just looked cute, and I thought… heck, I don’t know what I thought.    But here…”

   From behind his back, he somehow produces the most adorable little grey teddy-bear with a bright red heart sewn onto its butt cheek, and aside from the question of where the hell he’s been hiding this thing all night, all you can think is that you’ve never been more happy to be proven wrong about someone in your entire life.    You take the gift with a squeal that morphs into an aww-sound by the time you’ve brought the teddy to your chest, where you hug him close while bouncing slightly on your toes.

   “He is not silly, he’s perfect! I love him, thank you so much! If being a grown woman means having to give up on teddy-bears then I don’t ever wanna grow up,” you assure him, pleased to see his uncertainty give way to comfort.

   “You’re welcome, Asombro,” he grins, looking stupidly happy now. “Thank you for tonight. Perhaps next time you will let me take you out on a bike ride?”

   “Yeah, I’d love that. The weather’s gonna be good this weekend, so maybe Saturday?” you hopefully suggest, and his smile seems to spread from his face all the way through his entire body.

   “I cannot wait. Sleep well, and I will see you tomorrow.”

   “You too. Goodnight, Pero.”

   He leaves down the stairs rather than wait for the elevator, and you close the door, locking yourself in as always, already certain you won’t be able to sleep much tonight because there’s just too much to think about.    But you wonder how in the world you’re gonna go to work tomorrow and pretend like he hasn’t just given you the best date of your life. Because you know he’s still gonna act like there’s nothing special between you in front of your colleagues, and since you know it’s only because of his desire to keep people’s noses out of his business, you’re okay with that.    You simply have no clue how you’re gonna keep yourself in a purely professional state of mind around him.

   Chuckling to yourself at the thought that you’re definitely falling for him now, and it’s making you think and probably behave like a teenager again, you blow out the lovely candle he gave you, take one more whiff of the bouquet of flowers next to it, turn the tv off and leave the little box of chocolates on the coffee table, and then you head straight for bed, still holding the teddy to your chest.    No matter what, tomorrow’s gonna be a good day, because you’ll get to see him again. And the most wonderful thing of all is that that’s a thought you never would’ve dreamed of having two weeks ago.    What a difference a day makes.

Thank you for giving this story a chance, and please don't hesitate to shout at me about it if you want! 🥰

@pedrostories @harriedandharassed @i-say-choco-you-say-ice-cream

[trulybetty]

no flights tonight | part four.

pairing: modern day au!pero x f!reader word count: 1,949 warnings: we're back in G territory now, continued apologies for my poor spanish summary: with flights delayed due to the snow, and a wedding to attend, you find yourself stranded at the airport and with the last person you want to run into, your ex. ao3: linked

x. series masterlist

Part Four.

A Year Later.

The airport doors whooshed open, and the cacophony of chaos hit you sharp from the quiet snowstorm that was threatening its arrival outside. Shuffling feet, overlapping announcements, and the occasional wail of a stressed toddler—and the odd adult. The air smelt like a mix of cleaning products, burnt coffee and something else you couldn’t put your finger on, but it wasn’t appealing. Your suitcase wheels screeched against the glossy tile as you waved through the crush of harried holiday travellers, your scarf slipping down from your neck as you fought to put it back in place.

Your suitcase wheel snagged on a cracked tile, causing you to stumble and halting your determined stride towards the check-in counter. You swore under your breath as you tried to straighten yourself and catch your balance. You tugged at the offending wheel to try and get back on track to your forward march through the crowds but it wouldn’t budge and your slipping scarf and carry-on in your other hand were thawting your efforts.

“Oye, cariño rápido, rápido!”

You rolled your eyes, “The plane doesn’t leave for another three hours Pero,” you grumbled, finally dislodging the wheel and catching up with him. Still forging ahead, effortlessly parting the stream of people with his broad shoulders and the air of unspoken confidence he carried.

Through the planning of this entire trip, Christmas in Spain, he had been cagey, on edge and insistent—he’d taken charge, of the entire thing. By all means, you were happy to let him take the lead, it was his home country after all, he knew it best and you were staying with his family. But the way he would shut his laptop or slam a drawer closed when you’d walk into a room—well, it was kind of strange.

But then again, it was Pero

Pero's exasperated sigh could easily be heard over the hum of the crowded terminal. “I'm fully aware, cariño,” his turn to grumble, his dark eyes flicking between the throngs of people and the departures board.

He slowed down slightly to let you catch up with him, his expression softening when he noticed your scarf slipping from your shoulders again. “Here,” he said gruffly, reaching out to wrap it around your shoulders, “Don't want to hear you complaining later that you lost it.”

You gave him a sarcastic smile despite the way his fingers lingered at your collarbone zapped a warmth through you, “Whatever would I do without you?” you responded dryly.

He gave you a smirk. “Still be home looking for your…” He paused, eyes flicking to your scarf before letting his gaze drift over the rest of your luggage, “… passport, keys—your sense of direction.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Ha. Ha,” you replied dryly as you both continued to check in, “remind me again who forgot both their phone charger and wallet because he was distracted on his way out this morning and we had to go back.”

He only shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling under his coat as you stepped into the line for check-in, “it was early. A man can’t be expected to function before his first coffee.” He tilted his head towards you, a playful glint in his eye, “Besides, you’ve got no room to talk, cariño. Remember Venice? Didn’t we have to go back to the hotel twice due to your forgetfulness?”

“It was once,” you corrected sharply, unwilling to let him have the last word just yet. “And it was because you distracted me.”

“Oh, sí, claro,” he replied dryly, his accent making the sarcasm sound almost melodic. “Always my fault.”

You glanced sidelong at Pero as he scanned the departures board, double-checking your flight status for the third time in as many minutes. His jaw was set, eyes sharp with a trace of worry. He had been this way all week—on edge, protective, and oddly secretive.

“How many times are you going to check, exactly?” you asked, nudging him gently. “You’re not usually this anxious,” you observed, tilting your head to study his face. There were faint creases around his eyes—ones that hadn’t been there last winter. The good kind, laugh lines. But right now, he looked as though he was bracing for something.

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Don’t want to tempt fate and it’s a long flight, cariño.” Then his frown eased as he turned to you. “And it’s…” He grunted. “Anyway, I’m used to you being the anxious one.”

You rolled your eyes at that, but a flicker of curiosity took root. “Seriously, Pero—what’s got you so worked up?”

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then snapped it shut. “Nothing,” he said, his voice tight. “Just want to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

That only fed your suspicion, but you decided not to push—for now. You zipped your coat a little higher, remembering the chill outside. “You know your family is going to fuss over us like there’s no tomorrow, right? I’m the one who should be nervous, I’m meeting half of them for the first time.”

He smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “They already love you, cariño.”

You snorted softly, but your heart lightened at the affection in his voice. “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” he said, glancing away just long enough for you to notice a faint flush at the tips of his ears.

It’d been a whole year of healing, of talking, of growing—until one day you woke up and realized Pero’s mug sat beside yours on the kitchen counter, his books filled the study that overlooked the backyard, and his coat was the first thing you saw when you came in from the cold.

The line for security shuffled forward, the hum of the airport getting louder as announcements crackled overhead. Pero shifted his leather backpack higher on his shoulder, the weight of it making the leather strap creak under the weight of it. You were still trying to get a read on him, between the lines of his stubborn silence as he scowled at the lineup ahead of you both. He was an open book sometimes—when he wanted to be—but today, it felt like the book was firmly glued shut.

An annoyed grunt escaped his lips as you watched him out of the corner of your eye pat his pockets like he had lost something. You caught him chewing on the inside of his cheek—a telltale sign if there was one that he wasn’t as calm as he wanted you to believe.

“Did you lose your wallet again?” you teased, still amused that the organized and prepared Pero Tovar had left his wallet behind this morning in an uncharacteristic rush.

He shot you a glare, the kind that was supposed to quiet you and demonstrate his annoyance at your continued questioning but it only managed to make you want to laugh. “No,” he said flatly, “I’ve got it.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, you leaned in closer, your voice almost conspiratorial. “I mean, there was that time you left your passport behind at the hotel in Vancouver.”

“Dios mío,” he muttered under his breath, his tone somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “You’re relentless.”

Before you could open your mouth to respond you were being called forward, Pero had been standing in front of you and it should have been him going first, but he gestured for you to go ahead, “Ladies first, go annoy someone else for five minutes.” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

You hesitated for a moment, it wasn’t unusual for him to offer these kinds of courtesies, but it was the urgency in his voice that had you caught off guard. He nudged you forward, “Move it,” he said.

You stepped forward, dropping your items into one of the stacked grey trays, sliding it forward towards the TSA agent who added it to the line of trays waiting for inspection. You turned around, expecting Pero to be at your shoulder scowling. But instead, you found an elderly couple smiling patiently behind you. Confused, you tried to look around them, only getting sight of the back of Pero’s shoulders as he shrugged off his jacket and appeared to be engaged in a serious conversation with the TSA officer.

You didn’t have time to linger as the line moved forward and you were ushered through the metal detector. The machine beeped, signalling the all-clear, but your attention was still glued to Pero. You had a better sight of him now as the TSA officer gestured for him to open his bag. He was gesturing animatedly now, his hands moving in sharp arcs that betrayed his usual calm demeanour. Whatever he was saying, it seemed important enough that even the straight-faced officer was leaning in closer to listen.

On the other side of security, you grabbed your belongings, slipping on your shoes as you tried to catch snippets of Pero’s conversation as the officer followed him through the line. The elderly couple who had replaced Pero behind you shuffled past you with knowing smiles as if they were in on some secret you weren’t privy to. It was only when you’d finally wrestled your jacket back on that Pero emerged, his leather backpack slung over one shoulder and his jacket thrown over his other arm.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

He offered a non-committal grunt and then, with a reassuring squeeze of your elbow, guided you through the terminal. It didn’t take long for you to fall into familiar routines. Both of you purchasing a new paperback from the airport bookstore—his a dense historical thriller, yours a breezy romance with a festive cover. He would humour you by agreeing to switch books once you both finished reading them, so you could discuss them together. Even though you’d argued when he’d paid for both, ignoring your protests with a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Lose an argument gracefully for once," he teased as he handed you your book. "I know it's not in your nature, but try."

You’d found a quiet spot tucked away from the gate, where the pair of you read in silence before the announcement came for boarding. The cabin buzzed with travellers settling in, stowing carry-ons, arguing about seat numbers and overhead bins. Pero slipped in ahead of you, carefully stowing his backpack under the seat in front, checking its zip was closed, his eyes lingering on it longer than necessary. You sank down beside him, exhaling in relief as you let your head rest against the back of the seat.

He reached for your hand, “You good?” he asked, taking your hand in his, squeezing it softly.

You turned your head to look at him, and gave him a wide smile, “Couldn’t be better,” you replied as he squeezed your hand once more and you found yourself basking in how good it felt being there, there with him, when just over a year ago the idea preposterous if someone had mentioned it to you.

Closing your eyes, you leaned back against the seat, listening as the flight attendants walked the cabin through the safety instructions and prepared for takeoff. You had no idea Pero was going to propose on this trip, no idea that the nerves keeping him rigid were tied to a small velvet box tucked away in his bag. All you knew was that you and Pero were together, that the weight of his hand in yours, his thumb absently brushing the back of your hand felt like home, and you knew for sure you were exactly where you belonged.

[smilingraccoon1008]

Se acuerdan de la vez que hable sobre otros de mis AU's de trolls?

Bueno, haca les tengo otro:

La principal diferencia es que Branch es una niña llamada Bramble y la otra diferencia es que después de un accidente termina inconsciente y flotando en aguas de territorio Rock (no es lava, solo agua muy caliente por la lava que esta cerca) y es encontrada por Val Thundershok o en este caso Vol Thundershok, se termina criando como una Troll del Rock y vive una buena vida.

Mientras que en territorio Pop, las cosas se comienzan a descontrolar un poco ya que sin Bramble para que ponga trampas y cuidar al pueblo, los animales del bosque comenzaron a atacar y los Pop Trolls se vieron obligados a ser más cuidadosos (sin éxito) y el pequeño príncipe Poppy comienza a obsesionarse con encontrar a Bramble y que vuelva con ellos.

Si, estoy convirtiendo a Poppy en un villano principal, no se van a creer como es Creek (ahora llamada Lotus) en este AU.