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cannedsoupsucks · 4 years ago

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Two people with backstories that have left them lonely, coming together makes me so happy. I'm secretly, well not so secretly hoping that we get to see more of them and I'd be really interested in learning more about Genie's job.

Christmas Special 2

So, apparently, all it takes for my brain (heart) to decide to ignore all the writing that I'm supposed to do, and focus solely on this, is just two people expressing an interest in reading more about these characters. I live to serve you, my loves.

Description: This is a direct continuation of Pero and Genie's story, digging a little deeper into their pasts as they begin to get to know each other. And this one managed to come out quite fluffy overall.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Some Christmas themes, cursing, mild angst, family dispute, descriptions of scars, implied/vaguely described smut, fluff, happy ending. Modern!pero, pero tovar x reader. No use of y/n. Dual perspectives. Word Count: 9334 Link to Part 1

Author’s Masterlist

When you left the shower, having only pulled on an oversized t-shirt since it would’ve felt strange to just walk up to him completely naked, you found him sitting on the edge of your bed, wearing only his underwear and dress-shirt. He’d unbuttoned the sleeves and the first three buttons from the top and when he saw you, he got up and gestured for you to take the bed. He’d promised to make you feel good, so you walked up to him and kissed him, thinking you should let him know that you hadn’t changed your mind, and like before, he wasn’t shy about reciprocating, but only for a few moments, before he pulled back.

“Is it okay if I take off my shirt? I find it hard to sleep in clothes. If I manage to twist them around me, I sometimes feel like I’m being tied up or choked, and it can trigger some really bad memories and cause nightmares.”

That made your mind shift gears. Suddenly you were wondering if those things had ever happened to him, but more to the point at that moment; if you were about to have sex, why would he worry about you disapproving that he undressed? He noticed your confusion but offered no further explanation. He just stood there, patiently waiting for you to decide if you were comfortable with him undressed.

“Uh, sure you can. Whatever you need.”

He gave you a small smile, before getting started on the remaining buttons, and you felt weird just standing there, now that you weren’t sure what was gonna happen between you, so you sat down on the bed while he shrugged off the shirt. For a few seconds, you almost regretted letting him do that, when you saw the many scars that adorned his torso and arms. He kept his eyes turned away from you while he carefully folded the shirt and put it on the same chair where he’d put his other clothes, and you got the distinct impression that it had nothing to do with him being self-conscious about his appearance. He seemed perfectly at ease and as he moved, you got to see every angle of his body, and it was as though he was giving you a moment of privacy. A chance to really look and try to understand what you were seeing. You’d noticed the scar over his eye, obviously, but these were so much worse, and now that you were really looking, you noticed a few marks on his legs too. Cuts, bullet-holes, burns, surgical scars. Whatever branch of the military he’d been a part of it had to be something specialized. Something he probably couldn’t talk about, and more than likely, nothing you really wanted to know about. Suddenly his taciturn behaviour took on a different meaning. But when that first shock had settled, you realised that you didn’t find the marks of his earlier life disgusting or off-putting in any way. You hated seeing them only because you hated knowing that people had hurt him. He let you absorb what you were seeing, before he came to the bed and climbed in behind you, holding the duvet back so that you could settle in too. And he looked entirely unbothered. As though he just knew that you wouldn’t react badly to seeing things like that. You laid down on your back at first, and he chuckled softly.

“Well, that won’t do.”

He was on his side, facing you, and gently coaxed you over on your side as well, before cuddling up behind your back, wrapping his arm around your waist and sliding the other one under your pillow. You felt like there were enough butterflies in your stomach to keep you awake all night, but then he kissed the spot behind your ear before his whole body turned heavy and relaxed, and you suddenly felt just how tired you were. He was so soft and yet somehow solid behind you. Like a brick wall covered in cottonwool. And you felt safe. Not just safe in the sense that you weren’t in danger, but safe to leave your heart with this man. Safe to trust him, lean on him, and that was something you hadn’t felt in a very long time.

You woke up on Christmas eve, warm and relaxed and better rested than you’d felt in many long years. For a minute you just laid there, staring out over your bedroom in contented inactivity, until you remembered that you hadn’t fallen asleep alone. And suddenly a sharpness passed through you, at the thought that he wouldn’t be there. But it made you tense, which meant a slight movement in your muscles, and then you felt him there. Still snuggled up right behind you, his arm still resting over your waist underneath the duvet. Your skin was just so used to the contact after an entire night like that, that you’d stopped feeling him. He stirred in his sleep, and his arm tightened around you while his nose bumped into the back of your head, and you smiled. How utterly strange the past twelve hours had been. Disastrous and wonderful, all mixed into the same bowl. It was still early, you knew that by the way the light tried to slip past your blinds, a sight most familiar to you, and you wanted to stay in bed and keep sleeping just because you could. Just because the bed wasn’t empty for once. But your right side was aching from having been pressed into the mattress all night, so you shifted yourself onto your back and turned on your other side, facing your sleeping companion. You weren’t sure what he really was to you yet, but when he noticed your movement and the slight distance it put between you, his instinctive reaction was to reach for you and pull you into his chest again, and that made you hope that he was all yours from now on. You pulled your head back to keep looking at his face, so much more relaxed than you were used to seeing it, and a tremendous warmth settled into your entire being at the thought that you might’ve been what made him feel so comfortable. Shit. That meant that you already had very strong feelings for him. And that was dangerous. It was a risk you’d always be willing to take, and it wasn’t nearly enough to make you second-guess your decision to let him come home with you, especially when he’d been so decent about it, but you still needed to acknowledge to yourself that it was indeed a risk. You tucked your head back in under his chin and wrapped your free arm around him to stroke his back. You could feel the ridges and unfamiliar textures of his scars, and you trailed them carefully, trying to learn them. Any one of them could possibly have killed him, meaning none of this would’ve happened, and that made them precious, in a way.

*****

Pero was lucky enough to still have good sleep despite his many traumatic experiences and horrendous memories. And they did occasionally keep him up for a few days straight, if he was unusually stressed or upset for some reason. But those nights were rare, and he was very grateful for that. He thought that it was perhaps because he was largely at peace with his own past. He’d never done anything that he hadn’t felt was the right thing to do in the moment, and he felt confident that those that had died by his hands had not been good people. He had no illusions about humanity, as he’d seen the very darkest parts of it. He knew that some people simply had no place in this world and shouldn’t be allowed to pollute it with their depravity, and he was fine with having been a person that had dispatched some of those soulless beings into the eternal void. But that was also what allowed him to truly see and appreciate the opposite, even if he usually did so quietly. The good and beautiful people that humanity was equally adept at producing. People like you. He hadn’t slept next to anyone in a long time, but he knew that it usually calmed him. And this time, sleeping next to someone he had such strong feelings for, with the hope that you might feel the same, he’d slept so heavily that he hadn’t even noticed when you’d turned over. But when he did eventually wake, it was to the feel of your fingertips as they familiarised themselves with his body, and he’d never felt more at ease. You weren’t the sort of person that would shy away from someone based on physical things, he’d known that from seeing how you’d interacted with people with various types of afflictions, from amputees to people with cancer or skin-diseases. And he’d once watched you entertain a group of children with downs syndrome for a whole hour, looking absolutely overjoyed the entire time. Having to stare at security feeds for hours and hours had its advantages, from time to time. You hadn’t noticed that he was awake yet, so you flinched a little when he suddenly spoke.

“Did I keep my promise?”

You pulled your head back to meet his eyes, and the smile on your face was so wide and happy that it sent flutters of something wonderful and completely unidentifiable, through his body.

“You did. I felt good all night long. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. And I mean that quite literally.”

“Good.”

“So, what do you wanna do today?”

“Honestly? I don’t even wanna leave this bed. I don’t care if all we do is talk and nap and maybe watch a movie. I just wanna keep feeling like this all day.”

“Mm. What about food?”

Your happy face fell into an adorable pout.

“Crap. Why’d you have to mention that? Now I’m hungry…”

That made him chuckle and move his hand to your hip to push you over on your back, before letting his torso rest on top of yours, although he kept most of his weight on his own elbows, and his hips and legs were still resting beside you.

“Then we’ll have breakfast and go back to bed.”

He had only meant to kiss you briefly, but when you responded with pure heat, his body suddenly ignored all thoughts. And when your arms ensnared him and your legs tried to pull him up fully on top of you, it took every ounce of determination he had, to resist you.

“Easy, Genie. I’m not going anywhere.”

The words were husky whispers in your ear, all he could manage after every nerve-ending in his system were suddenly dancing to your tune.

“I know, and that’s precisely why I want you so damn much. I don’t wanna wait to know how you can make me feel, how close to each other’s hearts we can get. Because I really, really like you too, Pero.”

Well. Fuck. He’d wanted to wait, just to be certain that neither of you rushed into anything, and to reassure you that he really wasn’t there just for the potential for sex. But if you were that sure about the two of you… He looked into your eyes for a long moment, to make sure that what he saw in there was real, and not just what he wanted to see.

“I didn’t bring any protection. If I’d thought for a moment that you’d ever let me go home with you…”

“I have an IUD. It’s never failed me before.”

In the five years since he’d left the military, he had occasionally gone to bars and sought out someone to help him unwind, but those excursions had always been planned, and he’d brought and used protection every time. But there was something incredibly enticing about the prospect of getting to feel you. To be with you completely without barriers, physical or emotional. That was something he’d never been able or willing to do with anyone before.

“If you’re comfortable with that risk, then I am too.”

You looked relieved to hear him say that, and it somehow only strengthened his belief that your feelings really were as strong as his own. You eagerly nodded, and he shifted his hips onto yours and felt how your legs parted for him, wrapping around him and trembling as he pushed his groin into yours, absolutely loving the way you responded to him.

*****

To call Pero Tovar a good lover would be such an understatement that it would make your brain glitch. Hell, he made your brain glitch that morning. It wasn’t as though your previous lovers had all been shit. You’d counted yourself as being quite lucky in that regard, usually managing to bring home men that stayed within your comfort zone and even when they didn’t succeed in making you climax, still made you feel good. Which only added to the disappointment of always waking up alone afterwards. But for a full hour Pero had you balancing on the verge of what you could endure, physically, and now you suddenly understood that the others hadn’t even been close. He was attentive and caring, while simultaneously somehow also just forceful and craving enough to drive your senses wild, as he let you feel how much raw desire you awoke in him. You’d fallen asleep for a little while afterwards, and when you woke up, he’d made lunch. So, you ate and then moved into the living room and the large sofa, but didn’t turn on a movie, as the man you had still only heard a couple dozen sentences from, was suddenly chatty.

“You don’t have much Christmas decorations. Have you given up celebrating?”

“No, not really. I just… I walk a lot, around town, and there’s just so much of it everywhere and I want to enjoy it. I want it to feel magical like it used to, but when I can’t celebrate the way that I want to, it just feels like it’s being forced on me and I end up resentful instead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“What about you? Do you celebrate at all?”

“Uh, I don’t decorate. And by that, I mean that I don’t even have regular things, much less any specific holiday decorations. And I have no traditions or family to draw from. But I do celebrate, in my own way.”

“You don’t have any traditions left over from childhood even?”

“No. I grew up in a… very strict household. I was an orphan, and my foster-family was less of a family and more of a school. They weren’t mean or anything, but there wasn’t much warmth in that house. They taught me everything I’d need to know to survive in this world, and that was where they felt their responsibilities towards me ended.”

That surprised you, for several reasons.

“Okay, hold on, that was quite a chunk to digest.”

He fell silent and waited patiently for you to gather your thoughts.

“First off: I’m so sorry that you’ve never had a family. It makes me feel so blessed that I at least had one long enough to make wonderful memories that I can lean on, even if I have no relationship with them anymore. And second: how are you still capable of being this warm and loving person today, if that home was the image that shaped you?”

“I may have grown up there, but it was the military that ultimately shaped me, and that’s a family forged of trust and love. It would never work if we didn’t care about each other.”

Of course. You smiled at that, because it made you feel so much better to know that he’d at least had people that gave a shit about him at some point in his life.

“Losing all of them was what drove me into becoming the person you’ve known until now. I’ve tried to shield myself from further loss by being impenetrable, but it would seem you found a way in anyway.”

“Not that I knew it, or even tried to do that.”

“No, but I’m still happy that you succeeded. And as for my way of celebrating… we used to always try and do something special during Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter every year, provided we weren’t in enemy territory or engaged in a mission of some sort. We sometimes only had some candy someone had smuggled in, but we’d make a thing of it. Prank each other and play cards or other games and just be silly. Our work was always so serious and dangerous that it was those moments that kept us sane. So, now I spend those holidays eating the things we used to dream we could eat back then, before I go to the cinema and watch some comedy, just to hear the audience laugh.”

“That’s somehow both sad and wonderfully positive. So, is that what we’re gonna do tomorrow, on Christmas Day?”

He positively beamed at you, and it took you by surprise. You’d never seen him smile so wide that his eyes disappeared before. And where the hell had he been hiding that adorable dimple?!

“As long as the ‘we’ part doesn’t change, I don’t care what we do.”

You shook your head at him, unable to resist smiling with him. He really did have a beautiful smile, and totally infectious too because it was just radiant.

“Then for the time being, how about we don’t plan anything, and just do whatever we feel like doing tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.”

You spent the rest of that day and evening just getting to know each other better, and you kept having to pinch yourself to check that you weren’t dreaming that he was suddenly so easy to talk to. He never dodged your questions even if they were difficult, and if they strayed into something he wasn’t allowed or prepared to tell you, he was honest about that, which made you feel safe to ask him anything. He told you about his fallen brothers and the relationships they’d had seemed to have been tremendously healthy, which surprised you. Because you’d always imagined that military men had a certain way about them, a hardness and perhaps a macho attitude, to a greater or lesser extent. But what he described really was a family. People he could talk to about literally anything without shame or fear of being ridiculed. People that had listened and been there for him, taught him everything about love and friendship that his foster parents hadn’t, and forgave him when he got it wrong in the beginning, because he just didn’t know how to be a friend yet. No wonder he’d struggled to sustain a social life after losing them. Especially since he seemed to have lost them all quite violently, and if you were reading correctly between some of those lines, he’d most likely been there for most, or even all, of their deaths. It made you so sad for him. But after dinner, when you were back in the sofa, cuddled up together in front of a live broadcast of a concert, he seemed to be itching to ask you something.

“What is it you’re chewing on, Pero? I can see that something’s turning in your head.”

“I’m just curious about your family, and what could’ve happened between you to make them turn away from someone as wonderful as you.”

“Well… families are complicated. When you grow up together, there are always gremlins somewhere in the background. Arguments that were never really settled, mistakes that never got resolved, and someone always has secrets. You tell yourself that it doesn’t matter because it’s family, and that that makes them worth a few mistakes, but that only works for a while. Sooner or later, you reach a breaking point, and depending on how willing you are to listen to each other, that point will either strengthen your family, or tear it apart.”

“And that’s what happened to you?”

“Yeah. Secrets. That’s what broke us. I’m the middle child between two brothers, the older named Jim and the younger Brody, and they were terrible rivals growing up, so I ended up being the mediator between them. They fought over everything, and then they came to me and cried about it because they knew that I’d be kind to them, whereas our parents for the most part were too tired to deal with their drama and would just tell them to stop fighting. So, I was the secret-keeper of the family, which was why I knew that Jim is gay. It never bothered me, but he was adamant about no one else knowing, so when Brody suddenly outed him at a family birthday dinner eight years ago, Jim assumed that I’d told him. I wasn’t there to defend myself that day, I was in college and couldn’t go home that weekend, but from what I’ve gathered, it was one hell of a fight. Every little grudge between all of them had been brought up, until they’d all managed to say some things that you just can’t take back. And when it was over, everyone called me, one after the other, and those calls were the worst conversations I’ve ever had with anyone. Jim was so angry with me that in pure spite, thinking that I’d spilled his secret, he’d told the family the one secret that I’d shared with him, which was that an uncle in the family had once been inappropriate with me, which is true, but my parents refused to believe it. They called me to tell me that I was a liar and that my uncle had been nothing but kind to me my entire life, even helping to pay for my education, as if that meant that he was automatically a good person. I had never been truly upset with my parents before that day, but by the end of that call, I never wanted to speak to them again. And Brody was just angry that I wasn’t ‘on his side’, whatever that means. I guess he hoped that I’d do what I’d always done up until then, and try and make him feel better, but I just couldn’t. Not after they’d all somehow decided to blame me for something.”

“But you hadn’t told Brody about Jim being gay?”

“No. I think he figured it out on his own, either by spying on Jim or just through whatever little clues he might have caught over the years.”

“And you don’t think that these things can be resolved?”

“I don’t know. I guess that would depend on everyone being willing to forgive each other, and I just don’t see that happening. I don’t even know if I can.”

He seemed to be thinking hard for a minute, and you silently waited for him to digest all of it.

“I don’t know them, so I can’t say whether they’re good people at heart, but from my perspective, anyone that is willing to harm you just to throw blame away from themselves, are unworthy of your affection or forgiveness. Family or not.”

Hearing that actually made you happy. Because it meant that he valued your emotional health a hell of a lot more than your family ever had. Your brothers had always used you to make themselves feel better, and your parents had relied on your kindness to ease their guilt about not being home more. There had always been a smidgeon of guilt somewhere inside you, that maybe you could’ve done more, maybe you could’ve somehow helped your brothers better and prevented this whole mess. But you also knew that nothing you might’ve done would’ve made any difference, because you hadn’t done anything wrong regardless. None of it was your fault. And Pero reminded you of that. He somehow solidified your belief in your own strength and in the thought that you were right to leave that broken family behind and move forwards instead. How had you ever considered him to be cold and uncaring?

Bedtime came a bit earlier than your usual 11 pm routine, but you still didn’t fall asleep until well after midnight, at which point you were so spent, so unbelievably exhausted that you literally passed out on top of him. You were sitting up, straddling him, with your hands pressed into his chest, but the moment after you’d come for the third time, your arms just gave out and everything went black. All you could do was hope that he’d catch you as you fell forwards, so you wouldn’t crack your head open against his collarbone, or something.

*****

He’d only just gotten his hands up in time to keep you from waking up with what he was sure would’ve been a serious bump on your forehead, or possibly a broken nose, as you’d collapsed from your last tousle. His own arms had trembled with fatigue, forcing him to direct your limp torso off to the side rather than try and hold you up, but you’d landed softly on the mattress instead, giving him time to recover a little before he manoeuvred you to a better sleeping position. When you woke up the next morning it was with a bit of a jolt, probably because the last thing you remembered was fainting, and you looked around dazed and disoriented, getting annoyed with your tangled hair that kept getting in your eyes. He’d woken up before you this time and had just watched you as you laid there on your belly, with your face half buried in the pillow. You’d stirred a few times during the morning, twisting your body like a cat and mumbling unintelligible things, which was why he was just lying beside you now, not holding you in case you needed to move more. Every little thing you did made him smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d found it so easy to smile and enjoy himself. But you made him happy. It was just that simple.

“Oof… if you’re gonna make a habit out of wringing every ounce of pleasure out of me for two hours straight, I’m gonna have to start exercising more. Every single muscle is aching…”

“Don’t worry, preciosa, I don’t have the strength to do that too many times either.”

You merely hummed at that and closed your eyes again, still too tired to fully engage with the waking world.

“Finish waking up, I’ll make breakfast. And then I think we need to take a drive over to my place. I need clean clothes.”

He crawled past you, kissing you on the cheek as he passed over you, and he was well into the process of making pancakes by the time you appeared in the kitchen, having untangled your hair and already gotten dressed in jeans and a knitted white sweater. You both ate like starved wolves and then talked a little more before Pero got dressed too and you made the trip over to his apartment. He was nervous bringing you there but tried not to show it too much. He’d never brought anyone there before, and he worried what you’d think about his complete lack of personalisation. He offered you to step in first, and you did, walking straight in and looking out of the large windows directly ahead in the combined space. The bedroom wasn’t its own room exactly, but it was separated by a single parting wall, just long enough to fit a bed behind. Other than that, the kitchen, dining area and living room was all one space.

“The view is great up here.”

“Yeah. That’s why I took it. It’s a little out of the way, but at least there are no nosy neighbours peeking in.”

“That was one of the draws for me with my apartment too. Granted, it only looks into tree-crowns since the park is right next to it, but it still means no houses opposite. I could never live somewhere where I felt the need to close the blinds just for a moment of privacy.”

“Well, feel free to look around while I get changed. Uh… there isn’t much, I know, but you’re welcome to snoop all the same.”

He moved to the closets next to the bed and started undressing.

“I’ve never once imagined what your home might look like but, strangely, this feels entirely accurate to how I’ve perceived you. And now that I know what you come from, I knew not to expect any embellishments or much in the way of personal trinkets. However, the library is a total surprise. There must be a thousand books here.”

“It’s the one thing I like to do on my days off. Besides the occasional cinema visit.”

“Have you read all of them?”

“No, not yet.”

He’d finished getting dressed by then, in jeans, a warm sweater and a nice brown leather jacket that he never wore to work. Long ago it had been a birthday gift from his brothers, the only one he’d ever gotten, which was why he only ever wore it to special occasions. But every day with you was a special occasion. He debated whether to pack a bag with more clothes to bring to your place, or if that might be too presumptuous. No. You wouldn’t mind that, it was just a sign that he really was serious about you, right? He pulled the bag out of the closet and threw in some basic things before he stepped around the bed and the parting wall, to find you reading the backs of some books, turned away from him.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

He was unreasonably nervous as he watched you turn and take in his appearance, and the bag hanging from his hand. But you didn’t make him wait this time, as it was apparently the first thing you noticed.

“Ah, I like your thinking there. And you look great. I suddenly feel a bit upstaged.”

He breathed a small sigh of relief.

“Don’t. You look perfect.”

That earned him a slightly wonky smile, which he interpreted as you being fine with him believing that, but not believing it about yourself.

“Thanks.”

You spent the rest of what he hoped was only your first Christmas together, mostly just walking around town, trying to find some holiday cheer in the markets and decorated windows and generally happy mood of the people you met, and it worked surprisingly well. But the day ended back at your place, and the bed that he’d already come to think of as the place where he had the best sleep imaginable, and never wanted to leave again.

*****

The following days kept to pretty much the same pattern. You talked, ate, napped, made love, talked more and so on, and you wondered if there was a happier way to live. And then suddenly that morning came, when you had to go back to work, back to reality and pressure and deadlines and you weren’t ready. Because these three weeks had been a dream, and you were terrified that you’d go back to everyday life and the balloon would pop and it would turn out that none of it was real. You were sad that morning, but you tried to act normally for Pero’s sake, so that he wouldn’t think that he’d done something wrong, while you bustled about the apartment trying to get ready when both of your normal routines had been disrupted by each other’s presence. The drive was quiet, and you couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to fall back into his usual gruff work-persona the closer you got to the office. However, there was a part of you that kinda liked that, because it meant that only you got to have that other side of him. And before you parted ways by the elevator (the security staff had a locker room and showers down there in the sub-basement) he pulled you in for a hug, kissed your cheek and whispered in your ear.

“I’ll be right here at the end of the day, and if I can take my lunch at noon I’ll come and find you, okay?”

You almost started crying. He’d known, probably all morning, that you were worried. He already knew what your true happiness looked like and could tell when you had to work for it. Fuck. You loved this man. So damn much. Was it too soon to tell him that? You didn’t wanna say it until you felt sure that he could handle something like that, and wouldn’t be frightened by the implications and responsibilities, that came with a declaration like that.

“I already miss you.”

He pulled back from your cheek just enough to reach your lips instead and kissed you softly for a deliciously long moment, before letting go of you and turning to head for the locker room. You watched him until he disappeared around a corner, and then you sighed and pressed the elevator button.

“Wow…”

You recognised the voice immediately and couldn’t help but smile as you turned around and found Ben Tyler behind you, with raised eyebrows and a general look of awe on his face.

“Morning, Tyler.”

“I always knew he had it in him, but he’s actually like, soft and all, with you. I thought that he’s just perpetually gruff, even when he’s happy, which admittedly isn’t frequent, but it happens. But that was like, all tender and sweet, and he actually talks to you! How’d you do that?”

You had to remind yourself what a tremendous thing that must be for him to see, after so many months of working with a brick wall. But it also struck you that he mentioned Pero being happy, meaning he must’ve somehow learned how to see it on him when he was, even through the bricks, which was more than you ever had. The elevator arrived just then, and you answered while stepping inside.

“I honestly have no idea. Have a nice day.”

He got all serious for a moment and pointed a finger at you for emphasis.

“I will get him to talk to me one of these days. Mark my words, Genie.”

The doors closed just as he finished, and you smiled all the way up to your floor. Leave it to Tyler to get your spirits up just when you needed it the most. You’d have to invite him over for dinner someday, to thank him for being such a good friend, and to let him see Pero when he was really relaxed. You were pretty sure that your boyfriend liked the kid, even if he wouldn’t admit to it, so perhaps there was a real friendship to be made there, with a little push at the right time. Stepping onto your floor you were met by a flurry of activity as there was always work backed up after the holidays, no matter how much you tried to work ahead before the office closed. You made your way to your office and just as you stepped inside, your assistant appeared behind you.

“Welcome back, Genie. I know you don’t celebrate, but I hope you had a good time away.”

“I did, thank you, Isabel. And same to you. But I know my schedule’s packed today, so let’s get started, shall we?”

“Yes, of course. You have a briefing with senior staff at 9, a video-conference with legal at 9.30, a meeting with Eleanor from economy at 10, that thing with the gaming developers at 11, and six departments are waiting for your assessment on that new software for the identification program.”

“That was the one that Reynold’s team developed, right?”

“Yep. Do you wanna start with that?”

“I’m sure those departments want me to, it’s already delayed. Just give me a heads-up ten minutes before the briefing, in case I loose track of time.”

“You got it. Oh, and before I go, well done for thawing that block of ice. I wouldn’t have pegged you as one to go for the broody sort, but you seem happy, so guess I was wrong.”

“Whaa…?”

You just stared at her with your mouth hanging open for a few seconds while your mind tried to catch up.

“H-how do you already know about that? Nobody but Tyler saw us arrive together. OH! Did he tell you? Don’t tell me he sent out a mass-text or anything, because I will punch him in the fucking face!”

“No, it wasn’t him. I heard it from Anna by the coffee-machine just now.”

“It’s already fucking gossip?! It’s not even 7.30…”

“It’s an office, honey. We live for this shit.”

You growled behind your own teeth as you watched her leave, and then passive aggressively started punching keys on your computer while mumbling about people minding their own business and doing what they were paid to do. But you soon forgot all about it. Your morning ended up even more crammed than your schedule had predicted, so by the time you heard a knock on your door and found Pero standing in the open frame, you’d completely forgotten that lunch even existed. You sighed and pushed away from your desk and rolled your shoulders, hearing loud cracks in your neck and feeling the strain of alternating between lots of sitting, and lots of fast walking, in your back and hips.

“I won’t ask how your day is going, I can hear it from here. Do you want a massage?”

“Oh, god… do you seriously think you have to ask?”

He chuckled and came to stand behind your chair, putting his large hands on your shoulders, and going to work on them. He was so good at it, softening you up in no time, dragging his thumbs up the length of your neck and working through that too. It felt so good that you were almost asleep even though you sat upright, by the time he stopped.

“Better?”

“Infinitely. Thank you so much, you’re an angel.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. Now let’s get some food into you before you pass out.”

“Might be wise, yeah.”

He took your hand to help you up, and then kept holding it as you left your office, which made you smile. But it also made you remember Isabel’s comment that morning.

“Hey, did you know that we were the talk of the town even before 7.30 this morning?”

“Mm. That’s because Gaby got in early this morning and was already checking over the security feeds at the time we arrived. She happened to see us, and it apparently made her morning, so she decided to share the news.”

“We have Gaby to thank for that? Gaby?!”

“We do.”

“Well, shit. I can’t be angry with her, I like her.”

He smiled at you and shook his head while the elevator took you up to the cafeteria.

“Isn’t that a wonderful problem to have, mi amor.”

You meant to answer him, but it got stuck in your throat when your brain registered what he’d just said. You didn’t speak a whole lot of Spanish, but you sure as hell knew what those two little words meant. But just as you were about to ask him about it, the doors opened and he pulled you along out into the cafeteria, which was about half full at the time. And every single face in there turned to look at the two of you as you made your way to the counter, still hand in hand. As always, being in this kind of spotlight made you feel awkward, and even though you tried to smile at people, you were sure that it only looked forced and awful. But Pero was used to being stared at, and just soldiered on. You stopped caring about the nosy people when he asked you to tell him about your morning, and you allowed the conversation to distract you, keeping your focus only on him, as you were sure had been his intention with the question. And when your hour was up, he followed you back to your office, and closed the door after he’d stepped in with you. Your office was squared and there were large windows taking up most of the wall-space behind your desk, while the side walls were ordinary wallpapered wood and plaster. But the wall between your office and the cubicle-maze was made entirely of glass, meaning there was nowhere to hide from prying eyes. Unless you closed the aluminium door. He pulled you in behind it so that he could kiss you to his heart’s content without anyone seeing you, and he didn’t stop until you were both gasping for air.

“I’ve been thinking about that all morning.”

He was breathless and craving, you could hear the desire oozing out of every syllable.

“I’m glad you’ve had time to think, at least.”

“Don’t be. It’s torture to have to stay away from you.”

“Well, then I guess it’s good that we don’t have any plans tonight.”

You should’ve known better than to jinx it, but of course, the lack of plans turned into obligated travel two thousand fucking miles away, just twenty minutes before you were supposed to be done for the day.

*****

“Do you have to go?”

“I designed and created that entire system, I’m the only one that can figure out why it crashed, but it’s on a server that isn’t networked and can’t be, for security reasons, so… yeah, I have to go.”

“It can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Pero, there’s a helicopter about to pick me up, just to get me to the airport faster. I highly doubt they’d be willing to wait that long.”

“Fine, but text me when you land, and every chance you get.”

“I will, I promise. I’m so sorry.”

You kissed him goodbye and ran over to the well-dressed men that had come to collect you, and he hated them for stealing you from him. Today had been the first day since you invited him home, that the two of you had been apart for more than twenty minutes at a time, and he’d been looking forward to having you close again. He tried to tell himself that it was healthy to be separated from time to time, that it kept people from getting tired of one another, but it did nothing to soothe his aching chest. Apart from his books, you were literally all he had, and he needed to know that you were safe, something that was impossible when you were in a completely different part of the country, surrounded by strangers. All of which was made worse by the fact that not even you knew how long you’d be gone. He didn’t even know how he’d get through the night, much less several, without you. He was already so used to sleeping with you in his arms that just the idea of not having you there was giving him chills. Coming home to your apartment alone made the place seem so empty and colourless. But at least he got to be around your scent, and your things. Everything you. He showered but didn’t bother making dinner, since he had no appetite, and headed for the living room to pick out a book to read. But then the doorbell rang. No one ever visited you. He knew that because you’d lived there for five years, and besides him, only your failed attempts at finding a partner had ever been there. You weren’t even there now, and nobody knew that he practically lived there too, so why would anyone come by? It had to be a salesperson, so he ignored it. And then his phone beeped, making him jump and almost drop it in his hurry to check it. It was from you, and that alone was enough to make him remember how to breathe. But then he read the message, and felt a deep crease settle into his forehead.

>> On the plane now. Are you ever gonna open the door? <<

Had you sent someone there? What on earth for? He went to the door and checked the peephole, and sure enough, a familiar face was out there. Whatever you were up to, he felt certain that he wouldn’t enjoy it. He just wanted to sit there and brood and wait for you to come home so he could sleep, not play host to some manner of intervention, so he still contemplated ignoring it. But you’d be disappointed with him if he did that, so he took a deep breath and opened the door.

“What exactly did she tell you?”

“To keep you company and be as annoying as possible.”

He sighed. Heavily.

“Your specialty.”

Tyler nodded enthusiastically, and Pero just glared at him. He couldn’t believe you’d done this, but no one else would’ve dared to. You were concerned about him and didn’t want him to be alone, he understood that, but he really couldn’t understand what you hoped that this little trick would accomplish? It was only for your sake that he stepped out of the way, holding the door open for the kid while he walked in, and then slammed it shut behind him.

“So, I’m thinking tacos and nachos and dip, I’ve got soft shells too, in case you prefer that, I’ve got some beer if you want, some chocolate thing for dessert that just looked too good not to try, know what I mean? Also, these gingerbread-flavoured toffee’s that were on sale, left over from the holidays I guess, but man they are crazy delicious.”

He kept talking while Pero led him to the kitchen, completely uninterested in anything the kid had brought because he still wasn’t hungry.

“Ooh, this place is nice. Modern and all. Right, let’s see, where are the frying pans?”

He didn’t answer because he’d already left the kitchen as soon as Tyler stepped into it and had no intention of helping him find anything. If he wanted to cook, he could cook, provided he left Pero out of it. He returned to the living room and the book he’d picked out, but before he started reading, he picked up his phone again to text you back.

>> Stay safe. And what exactly are you up to? <<

Your reply pinged just a minute later.

>> I will. And I’m making friends, which means you’re making friends too. So, get your ass over to the kitchen. <<

He grumbled under his breath. Sure, the kid was tolerable, but he was a poor substitute for you. And he wasn’t helped by the fact that Pero was feeling extra cranky at the moment.

>> I don’t want tacos. <<

>> So? Keep him company while he cooks. <<

>> No. <<

>> Get your ass to the kitchen. I won’t tell you again. <<

>> What are you gonna do about it from two thousand miles away? <<

There was a pause. And it got longer, and longer, and longer.

>> Preciosa? <<

No reply. He tried to be patient, but…

>> Sweetheart, what’s going on? <<

After ten minutes he was in the hallway putting his shoes on, about to leave for the fucking airport, when there was finally another ping and he damn near dropped the phone again.

>> Take off your shoes and go and talk to him, or I won’t talk to you. <<

He actually started looking around for a fucking camera. How the hell did you know exactly what he was doing? Another ping.

>> Stop stalling. Final warning. <<

What the… He made a mental note to check the apartment for any type of bug or transmitter later, and then took off his shoes again.

>> FINE. <<

He walked into the kitchen and sat down by the table, with the book. It was childish, he knew that, but yours was the only company he truly enjoyed, and if he couldn’t have that, he was rather on his own. Tyler was a good kid, but they had nothing but work in common. So, what were they supposed to talk about?

“Oh, hey. I’m almost done with the mince. Listen, I wanted to ask your advice on something, if that’s okay? Because I got inspired by you and Genie, so I finally asked Marie out on a date. But I’ve got no idea what to do. Like, I should surprise her, right? Do something fun that she doesn’t expect, sweep her off her feet!”

Pero almost chuckled. Almost.

“Some people don’t like surprises.”

Tyler could hear the slight accusation in his tone.

“Hey, this was not my idea. You wanna blame someone, take it up with your girl, I’m just following orders. That is one fierce woman. I mean I always knew that, but it’s different when she actually starts bossing you around. But it’s like she’s somehow also just so sweet, that you wanna do anything she asks, even though she’s not actually asking. I see what it is that made you step out of your comfort zone for her.”

That observation surprised Pero, but he wasn’t sure that the kid really knew what he was talking about.

“You think so, hm?”

“Yeah, I mean, she’s energetic and strong and determined, but there’s something so soft about her too, right? Something kinda fragile. And lord knows I know how unflinchingly resolute one needs to be to get under your skin, but also how fiercely protective you are. She’s perfect for you.”

It took the older man a minute to absorb that, because he knew the kid was smart and attentive, but he hadn’t seen this level of calm maturity from him before. At work, he was always ready. Always waiting for the next thing to happen, and excited about every little thing that did happen. But this was the first time that Pero had seen him outside of work, and while he was still the same kid, there was an ease and a comfort to him now. And that suggested that perhaps he wasn’t quite so annoyingly hyperactive ordinarily. Perhaps he was just stressed at work. Scared of failing or doing something wrong or maybe just that people wouldn’t like him.

“You said… that you think of me as your friend. Even though I never talk to you, never offer you anything beyond what the job requires. Why would you think like that?”

Tyler just shrugged while he chopped vegetables, still looking at ease.

“Because I know how you treat people that you really don’t like, and that’s not how you treat me. I know what makes you angry, sad, happy, and I know that even though I irritate the living daylights out of you sometimes, you never tell me to shut up. I think of you as a friend because, in your own way, you’re kind to me but without ever making me feel like a charity case.”

Suddenly he knew exactly why you’d sent Tyler there that night. You really were a fucking genius. He had no clue how you’d known that the kid felt like that about him, or that this kind of setting was the only way he’d ever feel comfortable enough to admit it, but now your adamant insistence that he had to talk to him, all made sense. You weren’t trying to make friends; you were trying to make him see that both of you already had one. He got up and went to the knife-drawer, picked out a good one and found another cutting board to start helping the kid with the veggies and onions. He was very skilled with blades and made Tyler’s eyes pop wide as he made his way through the greens in no time.

“I don’t drink alcohol. Messes with my dreams in all the bad ways. But there’s some lemon-flavoured sparkling water in the fridge that kinda goes with everything.”

It took him a moment to realise that Pero had just agreed to join him for dinner, but when he did, he practically bounced over to the fridge to find the bottles.

*****

You came home early the next morning, having worked through the night, so you were dead on your feet and stumbling out of your shoes and having to wrestle your nearly limp arms out of the jacket, while aiming for the bedroom through barely open eyes. You weren’t even gonna try and have a go at your clothes before you collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep the moment your head hit the pillow. You woke up feeling heavy and sluggish, disoriented by having slept during the day and having no idea what time it was now. But you quickly realised that you were under the duvet and undressed down to your panties, so you knew that Pero had at least been there with you even though you couldn’t see or hear him right then. There had been a few more texts between you during the evening and you’d gotten the impression that he had at least participated in the meal, but you didn’t know yet if your plan had worked, and he’d realised what a friend he really had in Tyler. You needed the bathroom, so you dragged yourself out of bed feeling more asleep than awake still, but when you re-emerged into the bedroom, you were snared by two big arms that enveloped you while a lovely little hum filled your ears. He kissed your neck and rubbed your back, and you relaxed into him, feeling safe and loved and happy.

“I missed you, preciosa.”

“Mmm, I can tell.”

He was mildly pressing his hips into yours, and there was enough going on down there that you knew where it was going, and you had no objections at all. You might be tired, but not of him. He could hear that desire in your voice and his attention got more focused. He was backing you against the bed while he spoke next.

“You are genuinely amazing; do you realise that?”

That made you smile and seek out his lips as you answered him.

“I try not to dwell on it. Makes people uncomfortable.”

The backs of your legs hit the bedframe and you sat down, lazily pulling yourself further onto it while he kneeled and followed you down, settling in on top of your still sleep-soft warm body.

“I’m not gonna let you go, you understand that, right? I mean if you kick me out, of course I’ll leave, but you would have to kick really hard.”

“I know, that’s why I trust you with my heart.”

This time, there was no hesitation. Even in your hazy, half-asleep brain, you no longer feared that he would think it was too soon or be overwhelmed by hearing it.

“I love you, Pero.”

His eyes found yours, and they’d turned that liquid brandy colour that had taken you aback that night by the garage door. So full of desire and affection and appreciation that they just couldn’t stay solid. And in those eyes, you saw so much that you knew he wanted to say, but simply had no words for. The incredulity of hearing that you’d chosen him, despite his strangeness and limited social skills, despite his previously off-putting behaviour and complete lack of emotional response. The gratitude of knowing that you’d be there even if he messed up. The value he placed on the fact that you were happy with him. He said it back to you, over and over while his body showed you just how much he felt for you, and it didn’t matter what time it was, what day it was or where you were. All that mattered, was that you were exactly where you wanted to be.

THE END (again)

@tacticalsparkles @tanzthompson @sarahjkl82-blog @marydjarin @idreamofboobear @annathewitch @agingerindenial @tiffanyleen @winter-fox-queen @elegantduckturtle @lovefreylove @shadowolf993 @callsigncatfish @talesfromtheguild @hounding-around @cannedsoupsucks @startrekkingaroundasgard @thisshipwillsail316 @ellie-darling @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @nakhudanyx @dihra-vesa @tobealostwanderer @ophelialoveshandsomemen @andiesturgss @deadhumourist @spideysimpossiblegirl @pedrostories @toomanystoriessolittletime @tintinn16 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @nolanell

#pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #pero tovar x fem!reader #pero tovar x female reader #pero x reader #pero x fem!reader #tovar x reader #tovar x fem!reader #modern!pero #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall modern au #the great wall au #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fluff #pero tovar fluff #csspt #pt0122 #css0122

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cannedsoupsucks · 4 years ago

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I found this series this morning and just finished. I love Pero time traveling stories and yours delighted me because it had them both traveling and experiencing each other's time.

It's a wonderful series with just the right amount of soft, fluff, angst, and smut.

In Time Masterlist

Pero Tovar x F!Reader

There is a portal to history at the bottom of your garden, of all places. The thrill of exploring the past and it's people is amplified when you befriend a gruff but gorgeous man. But how would he cope in your world?

Feat. Jessica Fletcher, Queen, Chaucer, Teletubbies and much more.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Additional In Time ficlet for Writer Wednesday on 6/10/21 here. Set as an aside in Chapter Seven when they're in Warwick.

Taglist: @mishasminion360 @thisshipwillsail316 @cosmicbreathe @toomanystoriessolittletime @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @elegantduckturtle @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @shayna-winchester

#pero tovar fanfiction #the great wall fanfiction #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x female reader #pero tovar #pero tovar smut #pero tovar angst #pero tovar fluff #csspt #pt1121 #css1121

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cannedsoupsucks · 4 years ago

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“I know, Pero. I just...I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. It’s better to just walk away. If we hadn’t, it might - it might have escalated. This is what women do, Pero. We downplay how unsafe men make us feel from small harms in the present in the hopes of preventing larger harms in the future.”

This paragraph resonated for me because it perfectly describes what I've had to do in past situations and never been able to explain to the men in my life.

On a lighthearted note, I drive a Ford Fusion and could instantly picture Pero in my car! I have to drive a long distance this coming Tuesday and I wish Pero could accompany me.

Stranger At My Gate - Chapter 4 (Pero Tovar x modern!OFC)

A time-traveling Pero. A modern woman trying her best. A kitchen full of possibility. A helping of Midwest kindness. A dash of magic. And a lot of Christmas spirit.

paring: Pero Tovar x modern!OFC

ratings & warnings: T for now [mentions of food insecurity; mentions of a toxic workplace; discussion of parents/grandparents dying; men being vaguely threatening towards Tessa (not Pero); protective!Pero; yearning out the wahzoo; arguably way too much OC backstory; non-explicit hints of Tessa’s praise kink]

word count: 9.3k [yeah I dunno what happened there either]

a/n: Oh my. Strap in, folks. This one got away from me. A lot of things happen in this chapter. Probably too many things. The garbage disposal reference is dedicated to @whataperfectwasteoftime, who sent me the lovely ask that inspired it. ❤️

Previous chapter.

Masterlist.

————

When Tessa was in college, she spent a semester in London.

For a young history major who’d never left the borders of her own country before, exploring Europe had been a dream. Things and places she’d only ever seen via images on a screen were suddenly there, in real life, to see and hear and touch and feel. Things and places that were old, older than she felt she could truly conceive of, that felt holy and sacred by the mere fact that they had endured.

Westminster Abbey.

The Tower of London.

A Gutenberg Bible.

Notre Dame.

The Mona Lisa.

St. Peter’s.

Even in the pub she’d frequented with her friends in Hampstead she’d felt the enormous weight of history, a shiver of distinctly nerdy excitement accompanying every pint with the knowledge that the pub had been there for more than four centuries.

It is especially astonishing to her then that, as old as all of those things are, all of them had been created far into Pero’s future.

What little information she’s been able to wheedle out of him since Moira had bridged their language barrier has allowed her to narrow down the year he’s from to about 1030 or so. Pre-Battle of Hastings, as Moira had suspected. And every day, Tessa is stunned anew as she remembers something else that didn’t exist in Pero’s time.

Forget Dickens or Milton or even Shakespeare. Pero is centuries too early for Dante, for Chaucer.

Sixty years too early for the First Crusade.

Two hundred years too early for the Magna Carta.

Three hundred years too early for the Black Death.

Tessa thinks she probably won’t tell Pero about that last one.

She tries to introduce Pero to things slowly, and only as needed. No use showing the man all of the ways life has changed and become easier in the past thousand years if he’s only going to be here seven weeks.

The problem is that Tessa is realizing just how much she doesn’t know about how really any of the modern conveniences she’s used to actually work. She’d accepted the morning Pero had woken up in her house that she would never be able to explain things like electricity without language, but now she’s realizing she can’t really explain those things with language either.

She tries anyway.

She plays him bits of music from her phone, trying to pick things at first that might have some shared familiar element with things he’s heard before: soft acoustic versions of songs with just a guitar; Irish drinking songs; hymns. Songs that tell a story the way a bard might once have done and that don’t contain too many modern, synthesized sounds. Hotel California. Scenes from an Italian Restaurant. Goodbye Earl.

But it’s tough to convey that there’s an actual logical, science-based, technological explanation for why and how these sounds are emanating from a tiny rectangular piece of metal.

Tessa lasts three days before she graduates Pero from listening to audio to watching video, going absolutely insane from not being able to have her tv on while she goes about her day.

She tries to give him as much information as she can beforehand, to reassure him that what he will see is mostly very elaborate - but very fake - storytelling, but she also recognizes that at the end of the day, she’s asking him to place an awful lot of trust in her.

The first time she turns on the tv, Pero’s whole body goes rigid. Tessa can see his eyes get big as she tries not to be too obvious about watching his reaction. It’s clear that telling him about what he would see and him actually experiencing it are two very different things. After a moment, he gets up and slowly approaches the tv, reaching up to where it’s mounted over her fireplace and placing his hand on the screen. The image changes to a different camera angle and he jumps, startled, and Tessa has to bite back a giggle at how utterly innocent a reaction it is.

“Magic,” he murmurs, with a small shake of his head. “Witchcraft.”

“Technology, Pero,” Tessa gently corrects him.

He says that a lot when she shows him something new, often grumbled half under his breath like he doesn’t quite believe that there isn’t any magic involved in any of this. Tessa honestly can’t blame him.

Once she can use her tv in front of him it actually becomes easier to give him more information about how things work, and to give him a little better picture of how the world is now. But she still mostly sticks to streaming platforms without ads, every commercial break revealing a hundred new things Pero has no context for.

The two of them end up sitting down most evenings after dinner and watching something. Tessa mostly picks historical or fantasy movies. The Three Musketeers. Robin Hood. Pirates of the Caribbean.

As far as she can tell, Pero relies on her to gauge his reaction to the things she shows him the way Tessa looks to flight attendants during turbulence: if she doesn’t seem concerned, there probably isn’t cause for alarm.

Still, on the whole, he’s not as visibly freaked out by any of this as she would expect him to be. One evening, as they share a skillet’s worth of spicy shakshuka and slices of crusty garlic bread, she brings it up.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He nods, a mouthful of food precluding him from answering her otherwise.

“You seem astonishingly calm about - “ she gestures broadly to everything around them, “all of this.”

He looks at her expectantly.

“That is not a question, Tessa Walsh.”

“My question is - why? How? I’m a literal witch and I know I would be losing my mind if I were in your situation. I find it pretty remarkable, actually. Your...fortitude.”

Pero doesn’t say anything right away. He does this, she’s noticed. He takes time to respond to her, and she’s had to learn to be patient.

“A few years ago, I was part of a company of travelers making their way to the far eastern land of China.”

Tessa sits up in her chair. Pero is an anthropologist’s wet dream, but he hasn’t been terribly proactive about sharing much about his life with her thus far.

“Only myself and my friend William survived the journey.”

“Why were you trying to get to China at all?” Tessa asks softly, attempting to hide how much she desperately wants to know everything about this, about him.

But suddenly Pero’s not sure he wants to tell her the rest of this story. Not because he’s worried she won’t believe what he has to say about the Tao Tei, but because he’s afraid of what she may think of him and his actions.

William had stayed and fought, he’d faced death and come out a hero. Pero had selfishly abandoned his friend and fled, a thief in the night.

“We were...looking for something. We had heard rumors of a new kind of weapon, a black powder that could do unimaginable damage to an enemy.”

“Gunpowder,” Tessa says, eyebrows rising in surprise. “That’s right...the Chinese invented gunpowder.”

“You know of it?”

“Everybody knows of it, Pero. It changed the course of human history. But that doesn’t explain why you haven’t run from here in terror after seeing my microwave or hearing my garbage disposal.”

Pero still isn’t convinced that the garbage disposal isn’t really a demon living in Tessa’s sink, but he continues.

“When we made it to China, we found the black powder we were looking for. But we also found...something else.”

He tells her about the Tao Tei, how he and William had fought the monsters and witnessed the incredible invention and bravery of the Nameless Order. He doesn’t look at Tessa when he describes his attempted theft of the black powder, his recapture, and William coming to his rescue.

“He should have left me there,” Pero says bitterly to his plate.

Tessa pauses with her fork halfway to her mouth. “What?”

“He should have left me there,” Pero repeats. “He should have taken the powder instead and left me to rot. It was nothing more than I’d deserved.”

Tessa sets the fork down and reaches across the table, gently gripping his chin in her hand, tilting it up so he's forced to look at her again.

“I’m glad he didn’t,” she says with a quiet fierceness. She has to stop herself from giving him a gentle rub of her thumb against his jaw (his strong, scruff-covered jaw) before pulling her hand back.

“And I guess that explains your nerves of steel about everything new you’ve seen, huh? Subjecting you to my Spotify playlists and movies full of fake monsters is nothing after you’ve actually faced ones in real life.”

———

The house is noisy in ways Pero isn’t used to. It’s loud.

Not that the places he’d been accustomed to in his own time had been silent, whether he was camped outside, or staying at an inn, or bunking with fellow soldiers. The whistle of the wind was usually a constant, always finding some new way to infiltrate under a door or a window or a through a crack in the wall. Depending on where he was, he’d hear the sounds of animals nearby, horses or chickens or songbirds. The crackle of a fire in a hearth. The patter of rain on a roof. The rustle of fellow soldiers in their bedrolls, or the movement of other patrons outside the room he’d have bought for the night. The sound of William’s voice, chattering on at him despite his usual reluctance to respond.

But this house is full of unfamiliar sounds. The dull hum of the larder Tessa calls a fridge. The whirs and thumps of the machines down the hall that wash and dry his clothes. The trickles and whooshes of water from the sink or the toilet or the shower. The cyclical murmur of the house’s invisible heating system (despite there being a perfectly adequate and working fireplace). It never stops. It’s never truly quiet. The house is, it seems to Pero, alive in ways he does not understand. It’s unsettling.

And then there is Tessa.

Tessa, who hums and sighs and mutters to herself as she goes about her day. Who sits in her armchair many an afternoon with a book, rustling pages as she reads, sometimes laughing or gasping quietly at some part of the story. Who plays her music and sometimes sings along as she rustles through the many instruments in her kitchen until finding the thing she needs and working through another recipe. Who talks to Pero and asks him things and watches him through her long lashes like she’s actually interested in what he has to say.

Tessa makes the house feel alive in ways Pero does understand, but finds no less unsettling.

———

Three days into sharing her house with her strange new roommate, Tessa works through the next recipe she wants to post to her site, a crumb cake made with thick slices of apples cooked in cinnamon and brown sugar. She has two different kinds of apples, sweeter Honeycrisps and more tart Braeburns, and decides to try them both separately. As they bake, the entire house fills with the quintessential scents of warmth and spices and autumn. After they’re done, Tessa calls Pero over, cutting each of them a slice of both cakes.

For the first time, Tessa asks him for feedback on something she’s cooked.

“My preference is for the Honeycrisp,” she tells him, “but I always go for the sweeter version of anything. I need a second opinion.”

He takes bites of both.

“They’re good.”

Tessa waits, but he doesn’t seem inclined to elaborate.

“And?”

He shrugs, methodically making his way through the rest of the portions on his plate.

“They’re good. Everything you make is good, Tessa.”

Something pleasant and warm blooms in her chest at his quiet, direct praise. But it’s still not an answer to what she’s asking of him.

“But is there one that you prefer? The Braeburn’s a little more tart, but I think that it does go nicely with the brown sugar. And what do you think of the cinnamon? Have you ever had cinnamon before?”

He shakes his head.

“Not that I recall. And I don’t prefer one; they’re both good.”

Tessa chews her lip thoughtfully. She pulls out and sits on the stool closest to where Pero is standing, getting as near to his personal space as she dares.

“Pero, I have a very important question to ask you.”

He looks up at her as he chews.

“What’s your favorite food?”

Again, he shrugs. “I don’t have one.”

Tessa frowns in surprise.

“What do you mean, you don’t have one?”

“I don’t have one.”

Tessa’s mouth hangs open as she tries to wrap her head around the concept.

“How is that possible? How can someone not have a favorite food? How can you not have a favorite food? You put away food like it’s your job, Pero. You devour everything I’ve put in front of you thus far. How can you not have a preference for at least something you like?”

The corners of Pero’s mouth tighten.

“Food is not about preference, Tessa. Food is about taking what you can get so you do not starve, and eating it quickly enough so that no one can take it from you.”

Oh.

The queasy sour feeling of shame grips Tessa’s stomach. Of course. How could she have so easily dismissed and forgotten about what she knows of Pero’s life?

In an instant, a whole new perspective on food opens up in her mind’s eye. Tessa isn’t ignorant of her own privilege, of the fact that so many people, even in her own community, don’t have enough, and that food isn’t something she’s ever had to worry about. She’s not ignorant of nor indifferent to the truth that there is so much food in the world that no one should ever go hungry, and the injustice that millions of people do anyway.

But never has Tessa considered that someone might view food solely as a means of survival. That someone might have known so little pleasure from food in their life that they cannot even conceive of having a favorite dish.

Tessa doesn’t push Pero any further on the matter, and they finish their crumb cake in silence.

But later that night, Tessa becomes a woman possessed.

Long after Pero’s gone to bed, she sits on the couch with her laptop, having tumbled head first down a Wikipedia rabbit hole about the diet of Europeans during the Middle Ages.

It was mostly a lot of grains, she discovers. Grains and extremely weak beers because most water sources would make you sick.

Bleak. Bland and bleak.

Tessa makes as comprehensive a list as she can of all the foods she has in her kitchen and a bunch of foods she could easily get on her next grocery run that she knows did not exist in Europe in Pero’s time.

Pero may not have a favorite food, but Tessa is sure as shit gonna give him the opportunity to find one.

———

Tessa finally meets some resistance from Pero about a modern invention the day she pulls her car out of the garage, no longer able to put off several errands she needs to run.

“Pero, come on!”

“No.”

The man crosses his arms, plants his feet, and pouts.

“I have tried to take in all the things you have shown me thus far with an open mind, Tessa. Your little communication device that also plays music and the moving images on your teevee and your internet portal of knowledge, but this is clearly a cursed death trap you’re trying to lure me into for your own amusement.”

Tessa is a little insulted on behalf of her car.

“Pero, it is not a death trap,” she says, indignant. “It’s a Ford Fusion, for fuck’s sake. And it is much safer and more comfortable than any horse you’ve ever been on, I promise. Besides, you’re gonna be here for a little while, you can’t spend that entire time cooped up in the house. Let me show you my town. Come on, don’t you wanna go to the post office?” She teases, knowing full well he has no clue what that is, and probably still wouldn’t be interested in it if he did.

Pero attempts to stare her down. Tessa plays her trump card.

“Did I mention that one of the places I need to stop by is the grocery store? You know, the place where I buy all of our food?”

Pero’s scowl doesn’t shift, but Tessa sees the interest creep into his eyes.

“You mean a market?”

Tessa nods. “But bigger and full of more kinds of food than you can possibly imagine, Pero. If you come with me, I’ll buy you anything you want. And I’ll take you to the McDonald’s drive-thru after. We’ll get cheeseburgers and fries.”

“Are you attempting to bribe me with food?” he asks.

“Is it working?”

He huffs, rolling his eyes, and awkwardly folds himself into the passenger seat. Tessa’s grin is akin to the Cheshire Cat’s.

“Magic,” she hears him mutter. “Witchcraft.”

Tessa doesn’t bother to correct him, instead showing how to fasten his seatbelt.

———

Tessa is certain she gets more pleasure out of introducing Pero to new foods than she does introducing him to anything else.

Stuffed eggplant parmesan. Oven-braised beef with tomatoes and garlic. Pear, cranberry, and gingersnap crumble.

And as Pero discovers new dishes for the first time, it’s like Tessa re-discovers them along with him. She can’t remember the last time she felt this excited about cooking. It even inspires her to make progress on her book (much to her editor’s relief). In between home-cooked meals she shares her favorite processed snack foods with him, too.

Frosted brown sugar cinnamon PopTarts. Double Stuf Oreos. Blueberry Eggo waffles.

And slowly, Pero starts to figure out how to actually enjoy food. Tesssa tries to be so careful about not pressuring him in any way, to never make him feel like the way he views and consumes food is wrong. Instead, she coaxes him to take the time to savor meals, to take notice of different flavors and textures. She gives him a safe space to be able to say no, I don’t like this, or yes, I do, and I want more of it.

“What do you think?” she asks him one afternoon, several days into this exercise.

Pero sips a spoonful of the soup she’s put in front of him with a thoughtful expression. He swallows, and Tessa tries her best not to focus on the way his throat moves when he does so.

Then he shrugs.

“I’ve had better.”

He’s never said that before. For a moment, Tessa just gapes at him.

“What do you mean, ‘you’ve had better’? Confidence in my own skills aside, it’s squash - it’s a native North American crop, not to mention there’s a bunch of spices in there that also wouldn’t find their way to Europe for centuries after your time. It would be literally impossible for you to have had - “

She stops, mid-sentence. The corners of Pero’s lips have quirked up, and there’s the tiniest little shake in his shoulders.

“Hang on,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. “Are you - Pero Tovar, are you messing with me?”

He looks down at his bowl and quickly scoops another spoonful into his mouth, but he cannot hide his smirk.

“Oh my god, you are. You’re totally messing with me!”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do too, you absolute bastard.” She tries to make it sound stern, but she can’t make her expression obey, her lips stretching wide in a smile no matter how she fights it.

“That is not funny, Pero,” she says through her laughter, and the more she tries to suppress it, the funnier it becomes, and the more Pero starts to laugh too.

It might be the first time she’s seen him truly smile, let alone heard him laugh.

It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.

———

That same evening, as they sit in their usual places on the couch, Pero finally asks Tessa something he’s been curious about.

“Would you tell me more about your Gift?”

Tessa pauses the credits to another episode of M*A*S*H.

“What do you want to know?” She’d told him the bare basics the first day she could speak to him, if only to clarify that whatever witchy stereotypes he may be familiar with didn’t apply to her family’s type of magic. But he hadn’t asked for more information. Not until now.

“You always tell me that all of these things -” he gestures to the tv, “have nothing to do with your magic. Perhaps I should get better at recognizing magic when I see it. If only for my own safety,” he adds wryly.

And I want to know more, he thinks. I don’t understand why, but I want to know more about you.

Tessa turns to fully face him, putting her legs up on the couch and wedging her toes in between the cushions.

She starts telling him about her Gift: what it feels like, when it first started to make itself known, what it’s been like to live with and to keep secret.

“I could feel it, you know. That you would come here. Not that I knew that’s what was going to happen, but just...this feeling. That something was coming.”

“Does it frighten you?” He asks. “Being able to feel these things?”

“Only when the thing I’m feeling is bad.”

Pero cocks his head at her. “Bad?”

“Sometimes, the feeling heralds something good or hopeful. Like I knew my sister was pregnant all three times before anyone else, even her. But other times, it feels...wrong. It’s a sick, sour feeling in my gut.” She pauses, trying to figure out if she wants to tell him more. She decides she does.

“I felt it before my parents died.” She says it so quietly Pero almost doesn’t hear her. “I was sixteen, and had barely slept for days. This awful feeling of dread kept me up at night, stronger than I’d ever felt before, but I didn’t know what it meant. And because I never quite know what the feeling refers to, I can’t ever do anything about it. Henry and Amie were both away at college by then, and I didn’t say anything to my parents because I didn’t want to worry them.”

She props her elbow up on the back of the couch and rests her cheek on her hand.

“They were in a car accident. A drunk driver ran a red light and hit them,” she tries to say it without emotion, to just relay facts, but Pero can hear the pain that is still so evident in her voice. “The EMTs - the medics who get called to help when things like this happen - told me they probably died instantly. So at least they - “ she has to pause here for a moment, before continuing, “at least they didn’t suffer. They didn’t feel any pain.”

“I’m sorry,” Pero says, not sure what else to do except to look Tessa in the eye and try to convey to her how much he means it.

“After that, I moved into this house, actually. It was my Gran’s; my grandfather died before I was born and afterwards she moved in here to be closer to us grandkids, and to Moira. We got each other through our grief, I like to think. I learned how to cook from her. Every spare minute we had we’d be in that kitchen together; it was like as long as we kept busy, kept cooking, kept creating, we could bear back our grief, keep it from consuming us whole.”

Tessa looks over the back of the couch at the kitchen, and Pero is sure she’s seeing the ghosts of a thousand memories of that space in her mind.

“She was like me,” Tessa murmurs, a faraway look in her eyes. “We had the same Gift. So she understood more intimately than anyone that I wasn’t just sad, I was angry. Angry at myself, angry at my Gift for not giving me the ability to prevent what had happened. She was angry at herself too, for not having been able to save her daughter and her son-in-law.”

Pero thinks he might understand in some small way what that’s like. He recalls moments from when he’d been younger, when he’d been foolish enough to get swept up in camaraderie and brotherhood with his fellow soldiers, only to see them get cut down time and time again on the battlefield before his eyes, unable to prevent it despite all his fighting skill. He can’t imagine how much worse that helpless feeling would be if it had involved his own family.

“I started Kitchen Witchery to share and document what we made,” Tessa continues, “and the site remained this little hobby that I kept coming back to all through college, and then law school, and then even when I was out working.”

“Three years ago, I started having that feeling again. But I was...not in a good place. I was working at a big law firm in Chicago, and it was killing me. I was so overworked and so miserable, I didn’t even recognize the feeling for what it was until Henry called me to tell me Gran had passed in her sleep one night. I hadn’t been home to visit her in a long time, and then suddenly, the person who had become my best friend was gone.”

Pero is not someone accustomed to giving, or receiving, physical comfort, but he has the strangest urge to reach across the couch and gather Tessa up in his arms.

“She left me the house. We’d never talked about it, I’d never expressed any interest in it, but she left it to me anyway. She always seemed to know what I needed, even if I didn’t. I quit my job and moved back in here and now,” the barest hint of a smile crosses her face, “here we are.”

A sneaking suspicion that there is more to that story flares in Pero’s mind, but he ignores it.

“I’ve never told anyone any of this before,” Tessa says quietly, almost surprised at herself. “It’s actually nice to have someone to talk about it with, outside of my family.”

“I’d never told anyone about the Tao Tei before,” Pero responds. “I’d never thought anyone would believe me if I did.”

She meets his eye and something shifts between them, now that they’ve laughed together and exchanged secrets, a new sense of ease and understanding weaving itself into the fabric of their relationship.

They may be in the running for the oddest pair of roommates in history, but now, they’re friends too.

———

The next day marks a week since Pero’s arrival. The occasion ends up being marked by Tessa’s sister barging into her house before nine in the morning.

“Oh good, so you are alive,” Amie says in greeting, her tone thick with exasperation.

Tessa blinks at her from where she sits in her breakfast nook, sipping her coffee and scrolling through Twitter while she waits for Pero to be done in the shower before starting breakfast.

“Good morning, Amie,” Tessa replies, “please, do come in.”

“Don’t get cute with me,” her sister says. “How am I the last person to know that you’ve been harbouring a time-traveling thief in your house?”

Tessa gets up from her seat, glancing down the hallway.

“Please keep your voice down,” she murmurs, holding her hands out in front of her to try to placate Amie.

“Pero is not a time-traveling thief,” he is, technically, but that’s not the point, “he is my guest and I’m just helping him out until he’s able to go back to his own time - “ she squints at the calendar stuck to her fridge, “six weeks from now.”

Her sister sighs.

“Tessa Elizabeth Walsh, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Amelia Margaret Walsh, how did you even find out?”

Amie rolls her eyes. “How do you think? From Moira, of course.”

Now it’s Tessa’s turn to sigh. This conversation was inevitable, she supposes.

“Amie, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. But I was handling it and I didn’t want you to worry. You’ve got a lot going on right now and the farm opens up in two weeks - “

“That does not mean I’m too busy to know what is going on in your life, especially if this is what is going on in your life! Are you going to bring him to Thanksgiving?”

Tessa has an inch or so on her sister, but Amie’s presence has always completely filled and dominated any space she’s found herself in. A tiny, sandy blonde tour de force.

“I don’t know, I - I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

“Because if you want to bring a complete stranger to Thanksgiving at my house and have him be around my children, I am going to first have to meet - “

“Tessa?”

They both turn and look at Pero, who’s emerged from the bathroom. His attention is entirely on Tessa, as though he’s waiting for her to let him know whether to be concerned about the steadily rising volume of voices in the house.

“Well Amie, I have good news. Amie, Pero. Pero, Amie.”

There’s an awkward moment of silence before Pero nods his head politely and offers Amie a quiet, “Hello.”

Amie eyes Pero up and down, though what she’s thinking even Tessa cannot say.

“You vouch for him?” she asks Tessa.

“I do,” Tessa replies without hesitation.

Amie exhales, then opens her mouth to say something else but she’s interrupted by the buzzing of her phone in her pocket.

“Shit,” she hisses, fishing it out and looking at the screen. “I’ve got to get to the farm for a delivery. Nice to meet you,” she says to Pero, “and you -” she looks at Tessa, “be good.”

Then she’s out the door faster than Tessa can remember that she has a tin of cookies intended for her niece and nephews sitting next to her stove.

“My sister, everybody.” Tessa turns back to the table and takes a long sip of her coffee.

“Is her Gift...intimidation?” Pero tentatively asks. “Because I’ve been in the presence of noblemen who did not give off such an imposing air.”

Tessa laughs, and she sincerely hopes Pero will keep showing her more glimpses of what she suspects is a very dry, very intelligent sense of humor.

“You get used to it,” she replies. “And no, her Gift is, well...”

There’s not a particularly elegant or imposing term to describe Amie’s Gift, not like intuition or healing or manipulation. Personally Tessa thinks the coolest-sounding magic in their family is their great-great-great grandfather’s Gift of metamorphosis, a talent he’d used to great effect as a Union spy during the Civil War. Compared to those, horticulture just didn’t have the same ring to it. But anyone fortunate enough to witness Amie’s Gift soon found that her power was at least as impressive as anyone else’s.

“It’s plants,” Tessa tells Pero. “Growing things. Our mom had the same Gift. It’s why Amie took over the family business after she died. The Walsh Family Christmas Tree Farm.”

“Christmas tree farm?”

“Mhm. You can see it from here, actually.” Pero follows her to the window over the sink, looking over her shoulder as she points to the rows upon rows of pine trees that come all the way up to the back of Tessa’s yard. “Finest Christmas trees in the whole Midwest. But it does unfortunately mean that this time of year my poor sister is particularly high-strung.”

She turns around to face him, and the entire front of her body is all at once very, very close to his. Close enough that Pero doesn’t dare breathe.

“Don’t take it personally. She - she doesn’t mean to be rude,” Tessa says softly. Pero knows he should take a step back, but he can’t get his limbs to cooperate. She’s so close to him, if he wanted he could lean down and close the distance between their mouths, he could find out what she tastes like, it would take no time at all -

But then Tessa looks down and away from him. She slides her body around his, reaching in the direction of the coffeemaker and mumbling at him about breakfast. For the first time in his life, Pero has a hard time refocusing his attention on food.

It’s not until many hours later that he thinks to ask her what the hell a Christmas tree is.

———

There’s an odd scraping sound coming from outside her front door.

It’s now ten days since Pero’s arrival, and the November air has turned cold, too sharp and brisk for Tessa, but Pero doesn’t seem to mind it much as he sits on the small settee on her front porch. Tessa joins him, curious, and sees that he has the small axe that’s been sitting stuck in an old tree trunk in her backyard for who knows how long in his lap. Several stones he must have also pilfered from her backyard are laid out on the table in front of him, along with both of his swords. He has one stone in his hand and runs it over the edge of the axe blade, generating the unusual sound.

“You should not neglect your tools so, Tessa,” Pero says, instead of hello.

He’s been digging around in her garage and the old shed/greenhouse structure in her backyard lately, looking for ways to make himself useful. A week and a half of modern luxury and idleness are all that he can take, it seems. Several days of cold, late fall drizzle have impacted his plans to use some spare lumber sitting in the shed to patch up parts of the fence around Tessa’s backyard, despite her protests that he absolutely does not need to do anything other than help her wash dishes after dinner.

Today, he’s apparently focusing on sharpening her axe, and doing a little maintenance on his own weapons.

“Well you’re not giving me much incentive to do this myself when you seem so determined to do it for me, Pero,” Tessa teases him back.

“Yes, but I’m not always going to be here, am I?” He responds gruffly, and there’s an uncomfortable squeezing sensation around Tessa’s heart as she remembers that Pero’s seven weeks are down to five and a half. It’s strange and completely unexpected, how quickly she’s gotten used to him being here, and that the thought of him leaving already makes her a little sad.

She pushes the feeling aside and asks him about his weapons instead. He lets her hold his broadsword, showing her how to properly grip it. She can only swing it around for a minute or so before her arm starts to hurt, gaining a new level of respect for the strength Pero must have to wield not just one, but two swords competently in battle.

He guides her through the proper way to sharpen the axe, slowly filing the blade with each progressively smoother stone until the metal shines bright and sharp again. As they work he tells her stories of how he learned to use an axe, not just as a tool, but as a weapon, until he was as competent with one as he was with his swords.

“When you are a mercenary, it pays to be skilled with more than one type of weapon. Increases the chances you’ll survive the job.”

Tessa is in the middle of trying not to stare too obviously at the way one of Pero’s large, calloused hands grips the stone and confidently scraps it along the axe blade when a thought occurs to her.

“I’ve just had an idea,” she says excitedly, pulling out her phone to fire off texts to Henry and Amie. “One I think you’ll enjoy, Pero. This weekend, we’re going out.”

———

Tessa bills it as a night of food and drink out at a tavern with her siblings and their spouses. Pero’s hardly an eager social butterfly, but the promise of food and drink is enough for him. And if it’s important to Tessa that he get to know her family a little better, well, then, he’s happy to oblige.

Pero’s gotten a bit of a crash course in modern feminism and gender roles by sheer virtue of the fact that he lives with Tessa, but she’d also sat him down before they’d headed out to the bar to explain to him what it meant that her brother was gay, and if Pero couldn’t be, in her words, “cool and accepting as fuck” about it, he’d better be prepared to sleep in the backseat of her car until the solstice. But she’d been pleasantly surprised to find that apart from asking a few good-faith questions, he had, in fact, seemed pretty cool and accepting about it.

That Saturday night she drives him to a place about twenty minutes from home, located in the next, and much larger, town over from her own.

“I’m surprised you didn’t invite your aunt to join us,” Pero mutters with dark humor when he gets out of her car.

“Moira’s been banned from this establishment,” Tessa quips back without missing a beat, and Pero can’t decide if he wants to know the story there or not.

When they walk inside, a rumble of noise hits them. People talking and laughing, glasses and dishes clinking, music playing over the sound system, and -

Thunk.

The sound of sharp metal axes hitting wood.

Along one entire wall of the bar are brightly lit throwing lanes, most occupied by a group of people taking turns throwing, sure enough, small axes at wooden targets. The rest of the place has the darker, slightly grungy atmosphere of a classic dive bar, neon signs advertising Budweiser on the walls and a jukebox playing Springsteen.

“Is it common now to combine weapons training with drinking?” Pero asks.

Tessa shakes her head as she grins.

Not typically. But this is like a trendy thing now. Instead of going bowling or playing pool at a bar, you throw axes.” She looks up at him, her expression becoming a little bashful. “I thought you might like it. Henry, Amie and I have been here a few times and I thought it might be fun. And besides,” she nudges him towards the lane where her siblings and their husbands are waiting for them, “I refuse to believe this is the first time you’ve combined weapons training and drinking.”

———

They have the lane for an hour, and each lane is supervised by a trained staff member. Theirs introduces himself as Robby, who seems to enjoy the fact that five of the six of them have been here before, and therefore don’t need the standard skill and safety tutorial.

But nowhere near as much as Tessa enjoys watching Robby walk Pero through the basics of how to throw an axe, only to then have Pero take one of the instruments, square up to the throw line, and embed the axe so deeply in the dead center of the target it takes several tries to dislodge it again.

Robby lets them all go through a few practice throws before offering them the option to keep score. If any person in their group scores over one hundred points across ten total throws, their tab is on the house.

It’s a bet they readily take.

It’s clear from the jump that Pero knows exactly what he’s doing. Tessa wishes she could take video of his throws without being obvious about it. What she wouldn’t give for slow-motion evidence of the way the blue flannel shirt he’s wearing stretches across his shoulders as he raises the axe above his head, the muscles of his back and arms bunching beneath the fabric, a low noise of satisfaction leaving him every time the axe inevitably finds its target.

She isn’t half-bad herself, glad she at least hits the target consistently, if not always where she wants to. Halfway through the game, Tessa humphs in quiet frustration as her axe once again misses the center to lodge on the lower edge of the target.

“You’re releasing too late,” Pero says behind her. He hands her another axe. When she lifts it up, he moves to stand close enough beside her she can feel his breath in her ear. He places one hand on her back and another around her forearm. “You’re letting go of it here,” he says, guiding her arms forward to the point where she would typically release the axe, “when you should be letting go here.” He moves her arms several inches up and back.

“Try again,” he murmurs, his voice so gravelly and warm she has to suppress a shiver. He steps back, and Tessa throws. The axe doesn’t land dead center, but it does catch the edge of the bullseye.

Tessa whirls around with a gasp. Pero folds his arms in front of him, and Tessa feels like she could exist for days on the look of pride in his eyes. What she would not give, she thinks, to have him look at her like that again, to have him look at her like that all the time -

Far too soon, their hour is up, and Pero walks away with a score of one hundred and ten to roars of approval from Tessa’s family.

After all that a celebratory feast is in order, Henry declares, and they all take great joy in introducing Pero to the wonders of modern beer and greasy bar food. Pero is amazed at the contents of the brightly colored plastic baskets that soon cover their table, full of deep-fried onion rings, chips and salsa and guacamole, mozzarella sticks, golden pretzels studded with salt alongside cups of beer cheese for dipping, and chicken wings in several flavors accompanied by copious amounts of a white substance Tessa inexplicably calls “ranch.”

The lights are brighter, the noise level is louder, and the smell is (barely) better, but despite all that Pero is surprised to find that it feels much the same as a night of food and drink and revelry at a local tavern would when he and William were fresh off a job with coin to spare. Many things may have changed over the last millenia, but it is a bit of a comfort to know that some things, at least, had not.

He likes Tessa’s siblings and their spouses, he finds. Martin, Henry’s husband, is a doctor too. A pediatric oncologist, and though Pero doesn’t really understand what that means even after Martin attempts to explain it, it’s clear that the man is passionate about helping the sick children in his care. Amie’s husband Thom is relaxed and easygoing where his wife is energetic and quick to rile (a trait, Pero notes, that she and Tessa share). He’s a professor of literature at a local college, and looks at his wife like she hung the moon.

After the third round of beers her siblings head out, leaving Tessa and Pero to linger, determined to polish off the remaining food.

“So, did you have fun?” she asks him, swirling her fifth mozzarella stick in what’s left of a tub of marinara.

He frowns, like he actually has to think about it.

“I...did,” he answers slowly. “I did have fun.”

“Good.” The light from a vintage Coca-Cola sign on the wall behind her casts Pero in a reddish hue. It makes his scar look even fiercer and Tessa has to force herself to look away.

When they’re finally ready to leave, Pero makes a quick detour to the restroom while Tessa heads to the car.

The instant she leaves the building, dread shoots up her spine.

Her Gift. A warning.

Then she notices them. A group of four men standing near the entrance, having a quick smoke before heading into the bar.

Men she recognizes. Maybe if she just keeps walking -

“Tessa?”

Shit.

“Ryan,” she says, turning to face her ex-fiance. He takes a few steps towards her, wobbling slightly. She wonders if he’s already been drinking. Probably.

“Tessa,” he says again. He’s got a beard now, the neatly trimmed hair covering his face and neck. “Long time.”

“Yeah,” she replies. “What are - what are you doing here?”

He spreads his arms wide, the other three men coming up behind him.

“Just getting some air, you know. Just getting out of the city for the weekend.”

“Figured we’d let Ryan show us his neck of the woods,” chimes in one of the other men, a cruel edge to his voice. “See if there’s actually any fuckin’ culture out here in suburbia.”

“Daniel.” Tessa hopes that her clipped tone belies the anxiety thrumming through every vein. But even so, she can’t help her retort. “Finally got banned from every club in Chicago, did you? What indiscretion of yours is your daddy trying to keep out of the Tribune this week that he sent you and your buddies an hour and a half from the city to keep a low profile for a couple of days?”

Daniel’s face contorts in rage.

“You never did know when to quit runnin’ your mouth, did you, you little bi-”

“Everything alright, Tessa?”

Pero.

Relief floods her down to the tips of her toes.

He’s suddenly there, a solid, warm presence at her back. Tessa doesn’t take her eyes off the men in front of her, who are less cocky about encroaching on her space now that Pero is undoubtedly levelling them with his trademark scowl. There’s a firm pressure on her right hip and she knows without looking that Pero’s wrapped his hand around her there, a gesture of comfort to her and a further warning to the other men to back off.

“Everything’s fine, Pero,” she says, less confidently than she’d like. “Come on, let’s go home.”

She turns to go but he doesn’t move, glaring at Daniel and the others. She reaches back and takes hold of the hand that had been on her hip, giving it a tug.

“Pero, it’s okay. Please.”

Finally, he moves, allowing her to pull him towards where her car is parked. She doesn’t let go of his hand until she has to open her door.

“Tessa...” he starts, once they’re buckled in and Tessa’s cranked up the heater. “Who were those men?”

“No one, Pero. Just some people I know. It’s fine.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“No. No, they’re - they may talk big, but it’s harmless. It’s fine.”

“It is not fine.” Pero’s bluntness cuts right through her attempts to wave the situation away, startling her. “Tessa - “ He shifts in his seat to face her. “Those men made you afraid. That is not harmless. That is not fine.”

He actually sounds angry, the harsh rumble of his voice filling the small space in the car. It’s the first time she’s ever heard him raise his voice.

“Whether they tried to put a hand on you or not, they made you afraid. That is harm.” She grips the steering wheel as hard as she can, watching the skin on her knuckles stretch and distort. Then she sighs in defeat.

He doesn’t respond, like he doesn’t know what to do now with his frustration. He just turns back to face the windshield, letting his back fall against the seat.

Tessa puts the car in gear and silently drives them home.

———

When they arrive back at her house, she turns the car off, but doesn’t move to get out.

“Do you remember,” she says after a moment, “when I told you I’d almost been married once?”

She sees Pero nod out of the corner of her eye.

“Ryan, the man back there with the beard, is the person I almost called my husband.”

“We didn’t meet until law school, even though he grew up not far from here. We got engaged the day we graduated, and we thought we were so lucky that the same firm had hired us both.” She hasn’t let go of the gear lever, the stitched leather creaking under her grip.

“It was a hard, stressful work environment, but we expected that. We put in ungodly long hours, put up with difficult bosses, but we did it together. We were a team. Then, two years in, we were assigned a new case working for one of the name partners of the firm. One of the wealthiest, most powerful people in the city of Chicago. You met his son Daniel tonight. The one who called me a little bitch.”

Tendons stretch and release in Pero’s neck as he grinds his teeth.

“I won't bore you with the details of the case, but at one point Ryan and I came across evidence that would almost certainly lose us the case if the other side got to it. But we had to give it to them. We were legally obligated to give it to them. The partner instructed us to get rid of it instead, which is a crime in and of itself. Ryan was willing to do it.”

“And you?” Pero murmurs, already suspecting the answer.

“I leaked it to the opposing council. We lost the case. And we should have lost it. It’s good that we lost it. And my boss couldn’t outright discipline me for it, because then he’d have to admit that he’d directed us to break the law. I didn’t lose my job, but...” She takes a breath. “They made my life a living hell. The worst cases. The longest hours. I was set up to fail, assigned impossible tasks so that when I inevitably couldn’t complete them, they had a reason not to promote me. And Daniel, who worked at the firm by sheer virtue of his name, and who already got away with so much because of it, took it as an opportunity to target me with his sense of cruelty.”

“And Ryan?”

It’s been three years, and it’s still hard for her to talk about. It’s still hard for her to admit, still feels like maybe she did something wrong.

“He kept his head down. He’d be there for me in private, but was too scared of losing his own position to stand up for me in public. We were supposed to be a team. And instead - well, you saw him there tonight with Daniel. And I couldn’t just quit - as part of my contract with the firm, they were paying off the loans I’d taken out for law school. But in return, I had to work for them for at least five years, and if I left before then, I’d have to pay back the firm all the money they’d put towards the loans. I couldn’t afford it.”

She looks over at the house.

“And then Gran died. And in addition to the house, she left me just enough money that I could get out of there. I could pay the firm back. Suddenly, I was free. And I knew I couldn’t take Ryan with me. I didn’t want to take him with me. I left the firm, I left Chicago...I left him.”

Tessa Walsh, Pero thinks, is a remarkable woman.

“Such a man has no honor,” Pero growls. “Such a man is not worthy of you, Tessa.”

She gives him a slightly watery smile.

“I’m glad you were there tonight, Pero.”

“If any of them had so much as tried to lay a hand on you -”

“I know,” she says, reaching out to squeeze his hand again. “I know. Come on, let’s go inside, before we freeze out here.”

———

I’m glad you were there.

She’d been afraid of those men, and as he lies in bed that night, Pero still sees red when he thinks of how those men had made the bright, fierce woman that is Tessa tremble and retreat.

But then, he thinks, she’s never acted like that towards him.

She’s not afraid of him, Pero realizes, and it’s like a punch to the chest.

He glowers and grumbles and glares and is so much bigger than she is, but apart from the first time he woke up in her house, she’s never so much as flinched from him. In the face of his surliness she just smiles at him, a determined little ray of talkative, stubborn sunshine completely unfazed by any attempt of his to be intimidating.

It should annoy him. But instead, he thinks it might be wonderful.

He can’t remember the last time a woman looked at him without fear. He is a warrior, a mercenary, a hardened criminal. His demeanor is armor just as much as the leather and metal he wears. It protects him - with his lifestyle, it’s better if he never gets close, never lets anyone get too attached.

But Tessa...

Tessa doesn’t know Pero Tovar, sellsword, thief, murderer. Not really. She only knows the man who fell, literally, into her life one day who needed her help. Who doesn’t know how to navigate this strange new world, where so many of his skills have been obsolete for centuries.

Tessa, who is kind and giving and understanding when she has absolutely no reason to be. Who takes him out to a bar she picked because she thought he might like it. Who takes the time to explain things to him without making him feel stupid, to make him feel safe and comfortable in her life and her space, who makes him laugh and makes him feel like a different person. The sort of person who could let someone else in, who could be worthy of someone like her. The sort of person who could care for her, could protect her, could belong here -

He shakes himself out of it. It’s a dangerous road to wander down. His time here is limited, is finite. Better not to consider such fanciful possibilities at all.

———

The next morning, Pero finds Tessa up early, pouring over her planner that’s open on the countertop to a page dedicated to a series of lists and timelines color-coded in a frankly concerning number of hues.

“I need your help.” Her eyes burn with a renewed intensity, and Pero wonders if she’s going to just try and pretend like the encounter outside the bar last night never happened.

“I’ve been thinking; I wasn’t sure how much I’d be able to do this year given the additional workload of my book, but if you’d be willing to help me with the prep, I think we might be able to actually pull off everything typically involved in a Walsh Thanksgiving after all.”

A ridiculous sense of pride bubbles up inside Pero’s chest at the idea that Tessa might need him for something, even if he doesn’t understand for what yet. He shoves it aside, and instead asks the first question that comes to mind.

“What is a thanksgiving?”

———————————————————————a/n: For those of you familiar with London’s geography, I know Hampstead is a little out of the way of the major universities, tourist sites, etc., but the pub I refer to at the beginning is a real place there that’s really that old called The Spaniard’s Inn, and with a name like that it was too tempting not to use here.

Tagging interested parties (some of you have explicitly asked to be tagged, while others just indicated they’re interested in reading where this story goes, so if you would not like to be directly tagged, please let me know!): @littlemisspascal @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @whataperfectwasteoftime @toomanystoriessolittletime @oonajaeadira @bunniesofsteel @jazzelsaur @ezrasbirdie @Kiizhikehn-cedar @hopeamarsu @iamskyereads @thosewickedlovelies @theredwritingwitch @cannedsoupsucks @xoxabs88xox @gypsydjarin @girlofchaos @misslolasworld @becauseismellgood @donnaa @sherala007 @grogusmum @dihra-vesa @graphiteprincessa @luxmundee @missredherring @elinedjarin @gingersnappe-9 @tintinn16 @alpaca-swimsuit @fan-of-encouragement @i-love-movies @the-feckless-wonder @feralhotmess @radiowallet @green-socks @brandyllyn @starlightmornings @sergeantbannerbarnes @lavxndr-lilies @gallowsjoker @menshipsandthesea @knittingqueen13 @mostclevermiss @bison-writes @quietpainter @thirstworldproblemss @ktmadden86 @mstgsmy

If you asked to be tagged in this story and I missed you, apologies! Please shoot me a message and I’ll put you on the list.

#pero tovar x ofc #pero tovar fanfiction #Pero Tovar fanfic #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #the great wall fic #css1121 #pt1121 #csspt

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cannedsoupsucks · 4 years ago

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This makes my heart feel all melty and warm. I love sweet, soft Pero 🥰

Letters Unwritten

Flufftober Day 1 - Handwritten Letters

Prompt list here by @themand0lorian 💜 adapted from @ flufftober2021’s prompt list here

Pairing: Pero Tovar x GN!Reader

Themes: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, yearning

Warnings: none, but will update if anything is pointed out to me!

Word Count: ~1690

A/N: I’m way off track with Flufftober but better late than never! I have several ideas that I intend to complete. I’m pretty proud of this one. 🥰 Thank you @acrossthesestars for the beta reading and hype. ♥️

Song I had on loop while writing: “Maria Elena” by Los Indios Tabajaras

Pero gif by @ pedrohub (ugh he is so pretty I cry 😭)

Pero carefully wrapped the letters to protect them from the elements and any damage. He debated whether to place them in the saddlebag or closer to his chest. He chose the latter, his layers keeping the letters that much safer near his heart. And what better place than where they affected him most? His sturdy fingers had worn the paper thin in places from holding tightly as he pored over your script. The flow of your hand was staccatoed with dashes and harsh strokes, the occasional smudge of ink in the corner. Rough sketches of scenes he longed to have seen you create or witness with you in person. William had sent word of their intended return a couple days before their departure. If Pero had his way, they would not have left in the first place. But a job was a job, and they finished it.

You busied yourself with every task from cleaning to chopping firewood to preserving vegetables. You assumed hands occupied with chores meant your thoughts would be focused on the tasks as well. But that wasn’t the case. Sarah received a letter one morning from William and hurried to you to share the news. He and Pero were returning. You put on a pleasant face and delighted in the update, just like you had each time Sarah informed you about previous letters from William. Each time she brought a humble token for you: ribbon, seeds, a stone pendant that you threaded with leather to make a necklace, and others. Sarah was quick to reassure that Pero was thinking of you. Her attempts to comfort you were appreciated, but not enough to quell your doubts.

Inside your small cottage. no letters awaited you to dig into or reread in waiting for the next to arrive. No storied accounts from Pero of wild landscapes and the creatures that called them home. Had he thought about you? Missed you? Was he closer to the stars — longing for you as the moon went through her phases? There was no way of knowing. Your mind ruminated on these questions and their implications — turning them over and twisting them into assumptions— meanwhile your hands would be stilled mid twist over the washbasin, soapy water gone cold.

You had sent several letters to Pero in his absence, each contained a small momento. A sketch, a pressed flower, a lock of hair tied with a ribbon. The same ribbon Sarah had given you, in fact. In quieter moments, while Toby laid at your feet or the morning sun found you through the window, your hand would drift to the gap where that lock once was to run your thumb over the shortened strands. However, enough time passed for new growth to blend into the rest.

True to William’s word, he and Pero returned within the month. Pero turned his horse off the main road to trail along the path that wound its way to your home. He guessed correctly that you would be in your garden. Your back was turned to the road but stiffened at the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Toby only barked twice. He tended to incessantly bark at everyone. But never at Pero. Rather, you could have mistaken the big oaf for a puppy based on the eager whines and yips. Had it been years ago, Toby would have met Pero in the saddle, leaping up in a single bound for him to catch. Yet another sign of time’s continuous passing.

Wiping your hands on your breeches, you stood up to greet him. Just in time to see Toby plow over a dismounted Pero. Were the circumstances different, you would have laughed heartily before saving Pero from a slobbery demise. But at this point in time, you weren’t sure how to feel. Despite your uncertainties, you held out your hand to help him off the ground.

Pero’s grin faltered at your somber expression, concern clouded over the twinkle in his eyes. He looked at your hand and grasped, standing upright. He wanted to wrap you in his embrace well before he was in sight of you, but second guessed himself. He lead his horse to the pen and slung the tack onto the fence to be dealt with later. Toby looked up at you, tilting his head and raising those white, wiry eyebrows. Back when Toby was a pup who hadn’t grown into those eyebrows yet, Pero compared him to a crazed wizard and called him el mago when he didn’t think you could hear him.

“You must be tired after your journey,” you said quietly when Pero approached you again. You took a few strides to the cottage, then stopped abruptly when you didn’t hear him and Toby following. Pero stood firmly in place, eyeing you with mild caution, your implied invitation having the opposite effect — rendering him suddenly uncertain of his place with you.

Focusing on worrying a divot into the path with the toe of your boot, so you didn’t have to meet his gaze, you felt bold enough to broach the subject.

“I must confess, your return surprises me.”

You flicked your eyes up to see him shrug his shoulders, his expression unchanged. “It was a simple mission that paid well, a silly lord of no consequence who worried for his safety over nothing. We were in no danger. William sent word before we left.”

“I meant your return to me,” you looked down, repeating to the dirt, “to me.”

Pero’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Why-“ he started.

“You didn’t answer any of my letters,” you spoke up, gathering the courage to look him in the eye. “I sent you several.”

The hurt on his face seemingly matched the intensity of yours, but why he would feel hurt you couldn’t fathom.

Pero tentatively stepped forward to reach for the leather necklace that laid on your chest. You held your breath while he briefly rubbed his thumb over the small stone pendant. He returned it to its place then nodded towards the garden. “The seeds seem to have arrived safely.”

You grasped the stone, the sudden chill that started with your demeanor then traveled from your hands wicked away the warmth Pero and your time in the sun had given it. “What do you mean? Sarah gave these to me.”

“Because I sent them with William’s letters to send to you,” Pero defended himself then continued fondly, “They are hollyhocks. The lord’s garden was filled with them. But,” he grasped your other hand, “I am enjoying them much more knowing they grew under your care.”

Sarah’s visits rapidly replayed in your mind. The seeds, the ribbon, the pendant you held, and more. She had brought small items over the course of many visits but, you belatedly realized, only when she had news from William. And she had told you every time that Pero was thinking of you.

“I- I’m sorry I did not realize. Thank you for the lovely gifts, Pero. But why… why didn’t you tell me plainly? With no word from you, how was I to know they were from you or if you still…” you trailed off. Pero knew what you were implying because he frowned and refused to meet your pleading gaze. He took his turn shuffling his boot back and forth over the same spot in the path.

“I apologize that I made you feel ignored.I knew it would not be enough, but I never imagined I would hurt you. Please believe me, I thought of you every moment, day and night. I sent my love for you the only way I know how.”

The air stilled in silence. How many heartbeats passed, neither of you kept count. Ultimately, Pero took a deep breath and spoke.

“I cannot read or write in your language, and my skills in my mother tongue are not what they were when I was younger. William is a trusted friend, but I have kept this and your letters to myself. I kept them close to me always.”

You yearned to touch him to convey comfort and understanding. He shared himself openly and honestly with you for years, but never before was he so candid, so vulnerable. For fear of spooking him, you gestured for him to sit beside you up against the house, letting him decide how close he wanted to be. Toby waited for Pero to take his seat then curled up on his left side. His tail wagged as Pero gently stroked his bristly coat.

Pero reached between his layers, pulling out a bundle of letters you knew well. They looked a little worse for wear, but to a knowing heart it was clear they were well loved. He set them in his left hand and took yours with his right. You felt him place something in your palm.

The lock of hair you gifted him, tied with the ribbon he gifted you.

Pero leaned forward so he could look at you face to face.

“I have shown my love for you. Yet I return to find you feeling abandoned and uncertain of my intentions. I will not make you wonder ever again. I will not tell you I missed you.”

Your mouth opened, however he persisted.

“How could I miss you when you were always with me? I only have so many breaths left, I have more important things to say.”

He shifted towards you and rested his hand on your cheek, the affection was the long awaited break in the clouds.

“For every one of these letters,” he lifted them so they were in your sight, “I will show you - tell you - how I love you. My devotion to you runs deep and strong. Now, mi amor, read this letter to me. And then I will tell you how much I love you again. And again.”

“And when I have read all the letters?” You leaned into his touch, your gaze softened in clarity and relief as he looked upon you with fond reverence.

“Then I will tell you I love you once more. And always once more.”

~≈~

Thank you for reading! 🥰♥️

Spanish translations

El mago - wizard/magician

Mi amor - my love

Tagging: please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@acrossthesestars

@horton-hears-a-honk

@littlemisspascal

@mesmorales

@oonajaeadira

@sharkbait77

Line dividers by @ firefly-graphics

#pero tovar #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall fic #csspt #pt1021 #css1021

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cannedsoupsucks · 4 years ago

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I promised myself I wouldn't shed a tear. I broke my promise to myself. This was just lovely ❤

The Voice

Okay. So. This one is… This one is a lot of things. It’s a lot. I’m sure some people aren’t going to like it, but frankly, I don’t care. I’m going to post it anyway. This was a helluva journey for me, especially considering that it is my longest single chapter fic so far. You, uh, might wanna have some tissues handy for this one, folks.

I hope you trust me a little and take this leap with me, friends. I hope it will be worth it.

You didn’t expect to find an injured but still alive Pero Tovar on your land after a battle. And you certainly didn’t expect to fall in love with him. But you did. And you do. This is your story.

Pero Tovar x f!deity!reader

Word count: 8.2k

Warnings: Swearing, language, mentions of injuries and blood, aftermath of battle, generic dead bodies, talk of polytheism, talk of monotheism. Some spice but nothing explicit. CHARACTER DEATH.

You paused when you spotted the man. He was just at the edge of your land, collapsed in the dirt. He was not the first you’d found on your land, but he was the first you’d found alive. You stepped closer slowly, curious to get a better look at this man.

He was handsome, with dark hair and dark scruff across his chin and cheeks. He had a fearsome scar splitting his eyebrow and crossing down his cheek. Blood was spattered across his other cheek, across the front of his armor, and on the ground near him. A jagged wound split open his side, still bleeding sluggishly. He was still alive, but he wouldn’t be for long if he didn’t receive aid.

You knelt next to him, putting one hand over the wound. It took a little effort to encourage his body to begin to knit back together. It was harder than the last time you had done this, which made you frown. You had never been a great power, but this further weakening was… troubling.

Regardless. You had enough strength still for this. Beneath your fingers, his skin slowly knit itself back together. He would carry a scar for the rest of his days, but somehow you didn’t think he would mind so much.

After all, he was alive.

Keep reading

#pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x you #csspt #pt0122 #css0122

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cannedsoupsucks · 4 years ago

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Soft and sweet <3

Kiss the Rain

I wanted some Pero fluff so I made some Pero fluff. I wrote this with modern Pero in mind, but I guess this could also work for time-accurate Pero too? Also the ending could have been better but I've already spent an hour on this when it was meant to be a quick 30 min thing. Oops. 😅

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Neutral Reader

Words: 1.1k

Genre: just some sickly sweet fluff.

Warnings: None.

Song here

It had been dark for a summer afternoon. Rain clouds covering the sky in a black blanket, dripping onto the path, leaving the light smell of damp that reminded you more of spring.

The cafe had been quiet all day. Save for the elderly couple that visited every day at three to order their black coffee, two sugars, and a cupcake to share, it had been pretty boring. You had finished all the baking for the day, all the cleaning, and had been watching the group of children laughing as they ran by the window on their way home from school.

And then he walked in.

Pero had visited the cafe enough that you knew him by name at this point. It had surprised him the first time; the middle of a busy afternoon with a line of people nearly out the door as they waited for a fresh batch of triple chocolate cupcakes to come out the oven. He had only come in for a coffee during his lunch break, your little cafe on the corner being highly recommended by another blacksmith at the shop.

Call him cynical but he hadn't been expecting much. Cutesy, cottage-style aesthetics weren't really his vibe. He was wrong. Utterly, completely wrong. The moment he stepped inside and smelt the sweet aromas of chocolate and vanilla and the fresh coffee brewing, he could tell why the small town was so in love with the little bakery.

And when he saw you, a smile so sweet it could rival any baked good on your menu, he was scared to say, but that might have been the moment he had fallen in love with you.

Maybe that's why he kept coming back day after day? Yeah, the coffee was good and the warm bread was a bonus and he would die for your white chocolate and raspberry muffins. He could live without them, granted a sad, disappointing life, but a life nonetheless. You, on the other hand, your sweet smile and the light you seamlessly radiated, he hungered for it.

So when he walked in one rainy afternoon, months after arriving in the small town and countless daily visits to your little cafe, Pero found his usual order laid out on the front desk ready, name scribbled on a piece of card with a little doodle of two stick people holding an umbrella under a rain cloud, he finally realised how starved he had been most of his life.

Then it kept happening again and again, different doodles each day. Each day he'd slip them into his wallet, waiting for your eyes to catch his briefly as you spoke to another customer. And he would smile, something so foreign for him but felt so natural for some reason, and he would leave a tip where the coffee and cake once laid.

Somehow he didn't talk to you for three months. Not that you minded much, leaving doodles and the tiny, heart-warming smiles he left were always payment enough. But then there was a day he came earlier than expected, or maybe you had just lost track of time in the kitchen. He had been covered in rain, drops dripping from his hair and clothes and he asked why you were open so late at night only for you to realise it was gone ten and all light had gone from outside aside from the warm glow of your cafe's lights.

So you invited him to stay for a little while, there was a fresh batch of cakes in the oven anyway, some new flavour with pistachios you were trying out and you made a fresh pot of tea.

The two of you were there long into the early morning. Pero had told you where he was from, how he had left his old town after a relationship that turned sour. He traveled with his friend for a while, ended up in China, did some work there. His friend decided to head back after falling in love with a woman and Pero ended up here. He told you about his childhood in Spain, you told the story of your Grandfather, how he started the bakery after your Grandmother fell in love with his bread, and how you took over from him so he could retire a few years ago.

Pero kissed you as the sun began to rise, the rain had stopped but clung to the budding blossoms hanging from the trees.

That had been in late spring, just a couple of days before he had disappeared. For a while, no one in the town had known where he went or why until one day a letter randomly fell in your letterbox with a brief explanation, something about his friend needing help and that he wished to be back soon.

Four months went by until that quiet afternoon. The elderly couple happily nattering away in the corner when the bell above the door sounded and your heart skipped a thousand beats.

Pero was soaked through, hair shorter now but still dripping on the floor nevertheless. You made him a coffee and offered him a cupcake with a rose flavoured icing you were trying out and he offered you his hand.

China had been more or less what Pero expected, he explained. His friend had gotten himself in some trouble and ended up in jail after picking a fight he couldn't finish. He didn't have any family or many friends and so that left Pero to pick up the pieces...again. Not that he seemed to mind, or at least that's what the smile pricking at the corner of his lips told you. He had missed his friend during their time apart, it was nice to have reconnected with him again, although the timing could have been better.

Then Pero went quiet for a long while. There was a break in the clouds, just a small crack that allowed a sliver of golden sun rays to peek through. It shone on the patio, dancing on the reflection of the rain and the shimmering stone, the teardrops of water left on the potted plant leaves. The pink and yellow flowers watched over them, the little drops racing each other to see who will hit the ground first and who will survive a moment longer.

And when you turned back to him, golden rays highlighting the rosy tint to his cheeks, you noticed him staring at you with eyes so warm you don't think it was possible to fit any more love into them. And he smiled at you, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled napkin. He furled it with care. Two stick people hiding the umbrella as they kissed the rain.

#Pedro Pascal #Pero Tovar #Pero Tovar fanfiction #Pero Tovar x reader #Pero Tovar x you #csspt

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cannedsoupsucks · 4 years ago

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I'm so excited for this series! Now I'm off to read chapter 2!

(I imagine Pero's saying "I don't mean to be grumpy!" in this GIF)

Branded: Chapter 1: He Will Mark You Black and Blue

Fandom: The Great Wall

Pairing: Pero Tovar x f!reader (child of the universe/prognosticator. NAMED: Gabriella)

Rating: T for now. That will probably change.

Warnings: Aaaaaaangst. Mentions of hanging and burning. Being in a house fire. Mention of child death. Mention of past domestic hurt, both mental and physical. Mention of actual branding. Hunting and skinning a rabbit, preparing it for roasting. Acting badly and being a dick. Self-pity. Kissing. Love beyond understanding.

A/N: Oof. So many things. If you follow me, you might be aware that I’ve been wanting to write this for a while. I worried and wrote a bunch of stuff for the note, but that’s just me being a nervous ding dong. (Nervous is good, it means I’m taking risks.<3) Tell you what. I’m going to put it all AFTER the story and just trust you to enjoy or not enjoy this without my blathering. <3 Thank you for taking a chance on my little fic.

Summary: William and Pero save you from becoming the victim of rampant superstition. Pero succumbs to his own latent fear; he doesn’t understand what love is and blames you for it.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

YOUR PAST

You have never been afraid of fire.

But you’ve always been aware of what it can do. How it can destroy and transform, how it can carry away both life and death. It gives warmth and light when respected. Chaos when it is not.

This is the way of things.

Keep reading

#pero x reader #tovar x reader #pero tovar x reader #great wall fanfic #great wall fanfiction #soft tovar #soft pero #csspt #css1121 #pt1121

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cannedsoupsucks · 4 years ago

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I wish I had a better way with words because saying this is fantastic just doesn't do it justice. I can't wait for the next part!

Little Red’s Shadow Part 1

Pairing: Werewolf Pero Tovar x Female!Reader

Word Count: 8000+

Summary: I posted an idea about werewolf Pero and this fic grew from there. Hope you like it 💖

Warnings: no beta all mistakes are my own, language, werewolf/shapeshifter AU with little red riding hood elements, pining, angst, Reader has a crush and is oblivious to the obvious, Pero’s got a secret so he’s a bit grumpy, injury description with blood, death of a rabbit, setting and time period? who knows lol it is what it is

Author Note: First time writing Pero and there’s been a lot of interest in this fic so I’m nervous posting cuz this is super self-indulgent. Originally I wanted to post the fic from start to end, but this week hasn’t been a good one and posting fics always makes me feel better so yeah. Here’s Part 1 and Part 2 is a few scenes away from being done.

Keep reading

#pero tovar x you #pero tovar x reader #werewolf pero #pero tovar #the great wall fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #csspt #ptaugust

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cannedsoupsucks · 3 years ago

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Be a fool Pero! Be a fool!

Heaven on Earth, Part Four

Characters: Pero Tovar and F!Reader

WC: 3429

Other Pieces: This is part of a miniseries. Pero Tovar masterlist found here.

CW: The unrestrained medieval eroticism of a man touching a lady’s knee.

AN: Not beta’ed. Never beta’ed. Flung into the void unedited and rife with errors.

________________

Pero knew he had to repair his blunder with you. He could let it go, but one thought haunted him: that you perhaps had feelings for him too, and that he had scared you away with his rough, cruel words.

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#pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #The Great Wall #pt0122 #csspt #css0122

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cannedsoupsucks · 4 years ago

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I'm so sad for Snow. Hopefully Pero will say the right things so she'll allow him to be a source of comfort.

The Lonely Castle

Chapter 11 - Hallen

Chapter Summary: Pero struggles to understand his new abilities, while Ember is facing several battles on her own.

Author's Note: Much later than I'd intended, but here it is! And as promised, our idiots are reunited at last, but things are bad in many ways now.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 18+ONLY Warnings: cursing, violence, vengeful hatred, blood, descriptions of torture and wounds and death, murders, allusions to possible rape, angst, grief, loss, death of a secondary character. Word Count: 8479 Masterlist (this story) Author’s Masterlist

Scout was breathing fast and hard, his hooves hitting the ground forcefully with each stride, as he relentlessly pushed his body to the brink of what it could do, in order to outrun the beast that followed them through the shadows. Thankfully, both horses were equally fast and proficient runners, and Luna had no trouble keeping up. But they’d never be able to stick to such a punishing pace for several hours, so if the demon didn’t give up on them, they’d likely not manage to get away from it.

Pero had told her about his first ride with Ash, and how she’d been able to achieve tremendous speeds even through dense parts of the forest, so Ember had expected these beasts to be just as quick, since their physique didn’t seem to have been affected by their ‘deaths’. But this one didn’t appear to be gaining on them, despite its superior size and presumably also strength, so perhaps there was some magic involved in their movements as well. It kept off the road as much as it could, still favouring to keep hidden, even in the dark, which seemed odd, but worked to their advantage, as it further slowed the creature down. Rosa, having never managed to catch more than a glimpse of it since their hasty departure, only knew that something dark and unholy was pursuing them, and yet she was impressively unflinching. But the longer they ran, the more Ember started to feel like something was off about the entire situation. The creature couldn’t know who she was, her scent was still masked, so it wasn’t that surprising that it seemed less frenzied in its pursuit, than she’d previously witnessed. But it was as though it wasn’t even trying to attack them. And if so, the only other explanation for its behaviour, was that it must be herding them. Like a shepherd on the heels of his sheep, it was pushing them forwards along the road, driving them towards Hallen, meaning something must be waiting for them there. It was a risk, but she had to test her theory. She held Scout back, forcing him to a stop, and since they were in the lead, that forced Rosa and Luna to do the same. Both horses snorted and stomped, nervously prancing round on the road, unable to stay still with the knowledge that they were under threat.

“Snow, what are you doing?!”

“Just wait!”

“Wait for what?! Getting eaten?!”

The thing circled them once, and then stopped in the middle of the road, to the south of them, and as Luna turned, Rosa got her first real look at a demon, and she suddenly lost her bearings. Her eyes stayed locked on the thing, no matter what the horse did, as though she was enchanted with the horror she witnessed. This demon was different than the other two Ember had had the chance to study more closely, so its element must be something other than fire or whatever the wolf-thing’s had been. It was hard to tell what colour it might be, under the moonlight, but she would’ve guessed dark grey or possibly green, with strange bony… swords, maybe was the closest description, all over its back and down its tail. Perhaps three feet long, and roughly the width of her hand at their widest, although they were wider at the base and narrowing towards the top, but they didn’t appear to be sharp. And it was bigger than the wolf-thing had been. Almost as big as Ash, but then the things on its back made it appear even bigger. It growled at them, and paced back and forth on the road, and when they still didn’t keep going, it started lounging at them, but never closely enough to actually reach them. It was trying to scare them into moving. It might have had the intended effect on the horses, making them rear up and strike out, before backing away a few steps, but Ember knew that it was all for show. She’d seen how they looked when they were really going after an intended prey, and this was a bleak imitation at best.

“Fuck…!”

The spat-out word made Rosa wake up from her trance, and she was immediately panicking.

“What, what’s happening!? What’s going on? Snow, we gotta go!! What are you waiting for?!”

She screamed the questions in rapid succession, all while trying to keep her horse from bolting, but only just succeeding. Most likely because she herself wanted to go, and the animal could sense it. Whereas Scout did turn nervously, but remained much calmer overall.

“Its trying to push us towards Hallen. Which means that whatever’s waiting for us there, is worse than just one demon on our tail.”

“Worse?? How does it get worse than that!?”

“It doesn’t matter right now. We can’t elbow our way past this thing, so our only choice is to keep going. But we’ll keep it slow, so the horses might still have the strength to fight when we get there.”

“Fight?! I can’t fight, I can’t even swing a sword!”

“Doesn’t matter. Swords don’t hurt these things.”

Rosa tried to argue further, but Ember just spurred Scout into a gallop, and worked on trying to get him to take it slow and save his strength. The sun had begun to make the sky shift colour, ever so slightly, to the west, so if they could keep a lower pace, it would be up before they got to the town, meaning the beast would be forced to remain in the woods until nightfall. With a bit of luck, that might be just enough time for her to free her mother and get out of town before dark. Assuming her mother was even there, and not in Crown Hill. If the others were gathering in Hallen, then the woods would be safer than the streets after dusk.

It was somewhat maddening, trying to keep something as fickle as the wind, tamed enough to hold his course steady, as Pero made his way across the sky. The slightest shift in his focus, and he was hurled to the side, or even backwards, or dropped a hundred feet in no time at all. He surmised that it was probably easier having wings that one could actually manoeuvre and feel as they worked with the air, rather than just being pushed around by it. But it was better than walking, at least. It got dark quicker than he would’ve guessed, and the full moon was the only thing that allowed him to keep going. Navigating wasn’t the issue, as he knew which stars to look for, the problem was seeing how high up he was, so that he could avoid mountains, or even just treetops, that would turn all but invisible without the moon’s light. Eventually, some time after midnight, he was forced to give up and rest, as he was in danger of falling asleep mid-air. Landing turned out to be harder than it might seem too, especially when he was barely even aware of what he was doing, and he managed to get himself stuck in the crown of some kind of giant tree, instead of floating to the ground as intended. He wasn’t harmed in the crash, though, and since he wasn’t bothered enough to try and get down, he just found a spot that would hold him secure, in the event that he moved, and fell asleep up there. In the morning, he woke to the very first rays of sunshine, and quickly got up to get going again, but found himself unable to ignore the rumble in his stomach which was trying to remind him that he hadn’t eaten in two days. The satchel Snow had given him still hung in his belt, and he decided to take the time to eat, remembering that without food he’d soon be rendered useless from weakness. He’d made that mistake in the past, and it had cost him more than one bounty. She’d thrown in pieces of bread with the dried meat and fruit, and the smell brought back that memory by the fire, when he’d tried and failed to express how much she meant to him already. He ate it almost reverently, wondering if he’d ever get the chance to taste it again, or if she’d refuse to be with him anymore, once he found her. If she did, he couldn’t deny her that freedom, as he was the cause for her pain. He’d have to let her go, no matter how impossible it would feel. Though not without a fight. Now more than ever, he regretted the months he’d had by her side, without daring to confess his love for her. The time wasted… Scores of leaves were torn from the tree as he conjured the wind once more, and somehow, it was as though he hadn’t learned anything the day before. It seemed just as hard, despite an entire day of practice. And even with the sun to guide him, the terrain confused him, and he kept second guessing himself about his heading. Additionally, he found that it was hard to recognise anything from above. The woods all looked the same, the hills were impossible to judge the height or shape of, and the rivers and lakes could’ve been any one of a thousand he’d seen in his travels. Therefor he wasn’t overly surprised, but seriously annoyed, to see that he’d veered off course at some point, and found himself looking down on his own castle, all of a sudden.

“Ay, hijo de puta…!”

He was about to turn north, when his eyes registered the state of the building, and something compelled him to drop closer. Ash had said that he’d find Snow in Hallen, but… what if? His head said to keep going, but his heart had to know that she hadn’t perished with the ruins. However irrational, he needed the confirmation that he wasn’t lying to himself, even though he’d trusted Ash not to lie to him. He dropped all the way down to the ground, in front of what had been the stairs leading to the main door, but was now merely rubble. The door had already been broken open by Ash when she’d barged in two days before, and the creatures had apparently not been able to undo the sturdy nine-foot-deep walls, but it seemed they’d wrecked everything else. There was debris scattered all over the surrounding snow-covered lawns. He headed for the basement. The last place he’d known his wife to be. The door had been reduced to splinters, and inside there was an assorted mess of wood, stone, broken items made of leather or steel, that had been stored down there, now turned to distorted or torn junk, barely recognisable for what it had once been. They had paid no mind to the food, since these monsters had no need to eat, but they’d managed to ruin most of it anyway. He found some more bread that was still good, and pieces of meat that the cold had kept fresh, so he wrapped it and put it in his satchel, just in case he’d find himself in need of it. Happily, there was no blood or bodies anywhere, and the staircase to the main hall was still intact, so he went upstairs. The dining room and kitchen had been completely destroyed. Nothing had survived the creatures rampage, not a single window or piece of wood, not even the ceiling. But still no sign of Snow. The staircase to the upper floors was filled with rubble, so he stepped through the main door, and let the wind catch him to lift him up into the pathway between the towers, because all three of them had been wrecked, along with the roof of the castle. He could see straight into the bedroom, and what had once been the beds in which he’d had the best night of his life, now half buried and crushed under rubble and snow. Somehow, it felt as though those memories were being picked apart. As though some unknown entity was trying to erase their union, as if it was ugly or unnatural or sinful in some way, when in truth, it had been only beautiful. And that feeling, even though it existed only in his own heart and mind, made him absolutely furious. The ground shook underneath the castle, making the ice on the lake crack open, and water cascade into the air, where a suddenly whipping wind caught it and turned it into snow, and through those simple and natural reactions, Pero could finally feel how he was connected to it all. How his body knew the earth beneath him like the veins of his own blood, how his soul was connected to the water, as though his reflection in its mirroring surface, was actually inside of it somehow. His mind was the wind, trying to go everywhere as quickly as the other elements would allow, and kicking up a storm every time it met resistance. And the fire most assuredly lived within his heart, a quiet glow whenever the remaining elements were still, but a roaring flame as soon as they weren’t. They weren’t powers so much as extensions of his being, that had been linked to the forces of the earth by some unseen string, and now that he understood that, he also realised that managing them wasn’t about controlling them, but about understanding himself. And the one thing he knew most clearly about himself in that moment; was that his heart was in Hallen. He took to the skies again, this time flying straight as an arrow, due northwest, faster even than Ash had been able to push her wings to take her.

Ember and Rosa reached the trading town without being attacked, despite keeping a controlled pace, that saw them enter the settlement well after sunrise, forcing the beast into the shadows long before they reached their destination. Neither woman spoke again for the duration of their journey, taking turns keeping a watchful eye on their pursuer, as they advanced on the town. The horses had settled down once the monster was no longer behind them, and trotted calmly through the streets. But their fur was curly with dried sweat after their sprint in the night, and they’d need to be cleaned to avoid getting chafes or terrible itches that would distract them. Fortunately, Rosa really did have a favourable eye from most everyone in town, it seemed. They were still in the outskirts of the settlement, when people started calling out greetings, using only her first name with no Miss, Mrs, or other designation, even though her status would ordinarily have made such a thing improper. So, when they stopped at an unassuming house about halfway along the streets into the center of town, Ember wasn’t surprised to see her hug the woman that emerged from the cosy-looking structure.

“Hello, Katerina.”

“So good to see you again, Rosa. Is it time?”

“Yes. Will you tend to the horses for us?”

“Of course, my son will be delighted to care for them. He loves horses, but so rarely gets the chance to actually tend to them.”

“Thank you. They belong to Miss Ember now, so make sure they’re fit for sale if she so desires.”

“Certainly.”

Katerina nodded at Ember, who was a bit surprised to hear someone from her old life refer to her by her given name, but quickly smiled and nodded in return, to the kind woman. Rosa was eager to get going though, especially now, when she was even beginning to question her own sanity, after meeting a creature of the dark.

“Are the boats still ready?”

“Everything’s been kept prepared, just as you asked.”

“Good. Then this is goodbye.”

The women hugged once more, holding on to each other for a good long moment.

“Safe travels, my friend. May the winds be kind to you.”

“Thank you for everything, Katerina.”

They parted, and the woman called for her son, a teenage boy who came and took the horses with practiced hands, even though he’d apparently been denied such company with any regularity. Suggesting he was likely the kind of boy that would sneak into stables to pet and groom the animals he so clearly cherished. His smile was radiant at the mere prospect of caring for two such prime specimens. But once he was out of earshot, Ember stepped closer to the woman.

“Listen to me carefully; you need to take the horses and go. Leave Hallen, today. Pack only what provisions you’ll need to survive on the road, and head south. As far as you can, don’t stop at the nearest village or town, keep going until the road ends, do you understand?”

The woman looked befuddled, eyes darting from Ember’s dark and serious ones, to Rosa’s confused but also terrified expression.

“But… why?”

“Because something horrible comes this way. A darkness that will destroy everything in its path, and there’s no stopping it. I know how this sounds, but please believe me. These horses weren’t pushed into such a state by our heels, they were fleeing for their lives. And what was chasing them is already here. It will attack by nightfall. Please… go!”

Katerina looked at Rosa once more, and when she saw that her friend’s expression had shifted from fear to desperation, she realised that something really was wrong, and nodded at Ember, before running back inside her house. Ember didn’t wait to find out if she really was going to pack, she had troubles of her own to tend to.

“Will you be alright now, Rosa? You do seem to have everything figured out.”

“Everything except… Snow… I have so many friends here, and most of them wouldn’t just up and leave their lives for my asking, even if I had the time to go round and warn them. Not that they’d even believe me if I tried to tell them we were chased by… Gods above, what was that thing, anyway?”

“I’m not really sure. I just know it’s evil, and that their kind have their eye set on Hallen right now, for reasons I don’t even dare to speculate. This place is doomed, there’s no saving it, no matter how many doors you might knock on, so just get yourself as far from here as possible.”

The woman sighed unhappily, and looked at her own feet for a few beats.

“Are you still going after your mother?”

“What else can I do? She’s quite possibly all I have. What should I live for, if not her?”

Rosa looked up again, and tilted her head to the side, a peculiar look crossing her face, as though Ember was missing something obvious, but then it was gone as soon as it had appeared.

“Well then, unless they took her up to the fortress at Crown Hill, they’ll be keeping her in the brig in the Constable’s office. Do you know where it is?”

“Yeah, I remember father pointing it out to me when I was here as a kid. He said I should always endeavour to avoid setting foot in there.”

“Wise man indeed.”

“Indeed. Take care of yourself, Rosa.”

“And you, Snow. Thank you for getting me here.”

She darted off towards the harbour, hopefully to never be seen in these parts of the land again, and Ember set off for the heart of the town; the marketplace at the central square, where the Constable’s office would be on full display where it stood, towering over all other buildings surrounding the open area. Thankfully, her cloak was big and heavy enough to effectively conceal her bow and quiver, provided she carried them in her hand, and not on her back, but on the other hand, it was fine enough to also draw unhelpful attention. The streets were fairly lively, courtesy of the mild and sunny weather, and the market was still largely busy during winter, because even though there were no crops to be sold, meat was still a valued commodity, so hunters from all around came to sell or barter their spoils. Pelts too, were highly sought-after goods in the colder months, and the trading of livestock never seized, regardless of season, as animals often fell ill, or just unexpectedly died, needing to be replaced. She wasn’t concerned with the larger population possibly recognising her, as her face wouldn’t be familiar to people there. Also, these traders tended to see the benefit of not being a tell-tale, which was generally bad business. She hadn’t set foot there in a very long time, and it was unlikely that she’d happen to run in to someone from Boden on random. She assumed that her name had been spread far and wide, undoubtedly accompanied by some horrifying tale of deception against the Crown and conspiracies a plenty. But should she need to identify herself, her other name was likely to keep her rather anonymous, as it was something only her own towns-folk had taken to calling her. And she could always use Pero’s last name, since it was technically now hers too, provided he was alive and that they were still together, neither of which she could say with any confidence. What she did worry about was turning a corner and running head-first into Guardsmen. They’d used her father’s services enough times that she’d met scores of them at this point, meaning that if she was unlucky, she might find herself staring at a familiar face, which would surely get her arrested. Something to consider, should she not be able to locate her mother. Because there was every chance whatever jail they’d take Ember to, her mother might be there as well. She made her way through the streets, trying not to rush or draw attention to herself. Until she reached the square, where she perused around, feigning interest in the odd market-stand, fending off admirers of her cloak while stealing unassuming glances at the Constable’s office, now and then. It wasn’t guarded on the outside, and the bottom floor windows were covered with drapes. The Constable himself worked on the second floor, the only building in town to have more than one, and his windows were clear enough that she could detect movement up there, meaning he was likely working today. Slowly moving closer, she examined her options. She could simply barge in, and attempt to rush through the structure in a heedless search that might very well not amount to anything, other than getting herself arrested. She knew nothing of the internal layout of the house, nor where the guards might be. On the other hand, if she waited to try and learn about their routines, or happen to see the majority of them leave for some reason, it might turn out to be too late, as she felt absolutely certain that the demons would attack the town by nightfall. There was no other choice; she’d have to just walk in, and hope that not every single one of them was currently mulling about in there. She moved up close to the north corner of the house, trying to look like she was just resting, leaned against the wall. But just as she’d made up her mind, and started closing in on the front door from the side, someone yelled from across the square.

“Fire! There’s a fire in the harbour!”

A smile spread across her face, as she listened to the town react, and the warning spread through the market, getting louder as it went. Because she knew that it was Rosa, bidding farewell to this part of the world, and probably figuring that Ember could use a distraction of some sort, regardless of what she was up to. She spared a thought of well wishes for the woman, now and forever-more cemented in her heart as a friend, rather than a meaningless childhood relationship. And then the door to the Constables office flew open, and two dozen soldiers poured out into the square, running towards the harbour without so much as a sideways glance, closely followed by the somewhat rotund, and thus much slower, Constable himself. She breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t merely charged the building the moment she got to it, as that many Guardsmen would’ve made for an impenetrable wall between her and any prisoner they might be keeping. As soon as she was certain that all attention was aimed elsewhere, she snuck inside and quickly closed the door behind her. Inside it was warm, and stuffy in that way that many people in a small space usually feels. There was a long hallway, with three doors on either side, and one straight ahead on the very end. Most of the doors along the hall stood open, where the men had rushed out, and she could see trays of food, and fireplaces alight in some of them. But she only needed one glance to know that the furthest door was where she needed to go, because there was a lock on that one, unlike all the others. It was just a wooden bar, placed in holders against the door, which opened outwards into the hall, which was lucky. Had it been a steel lock, she might not have been able to get in quickly, or silently. She lifted the heavy bar out of the way, and opened the door, finding herself in a larger room, with four cells, two on each side. And these were steel, with proper locks too. But she only registered that secondarily, because the first thing that came to her mind, was that one of the cells was occupied, and that it was a woman. That was as much as she could make out initially, as the woman was curled up in a corner, her head resting on her knees, and her arms hidden behind them for warmth. This room was furthest from all the fireplaces, and right up against the backwall of the house, where the cold winter air seeped in through the cracks. There was no bed, or even a blanket in any of the cells, just a bucket for collecting bodily excretions, and that was it. She kneeled outside the bars of the occupied cell, right in front of the woman, letting her weapon down on the floor beside her.

“Ethedred? Is that you?”

The woman moved, slowly lifting her head, and Ember nearly screamed out in pain as she barely even recognised her mother, she was so badly beaten. Bruises as black as dead flesh covered the entire left side of her face, and she was swollen and cut over the cheek and forehead. Her arms came into view as she reached towards Ember’s outstretched hands, scarcely believing her eyes, and needing the confirmation of her touch to know that her daughter really was there. Tears streamed freely down Ember’s cheeks as she saw the angry red marks of whiplashes on her arms, having cut through her clothes with how hard they’d been delivered, and she knew without seeing it, that her back would be covered in them as well. She tried not to consider what the tears in her skirts could mean, but her mind went there anyway.

“Oh, mother… what have they done to you?”

She didn’t reply at first, she just kept stroking Ember’s arms and hands, leaning her head against the cold bars, straining her eyes, as if she struggled to see and needed to be close to make her out.

“My baby, you made it. I’ve prayed to the stars every day for you.”

Her voice was frail and broken from screaming, but despite the damage to her face, no doubt full of broken bones, the older woman still managed to smile, and it broke Ember’s heart to see that kind of warmth from her in that situation.

“I’m here to set you free, mama. I just need to figure out this lock…”

She tried to hold back the sobs that pushed at the back of her throat, but didn’t quite succeed, as she attempted to reach for the steel padlock, but her mother wouldn’t let go of her hands.

“No, my darling. You need to go.”

“Absolutely not! I’m not leaving you with these barbarians!”

She tried to break out of her mother’s grasp, but the woman had her in a vice, and she was unwilling to risk further harm to the woman’s starved and frail body.

“Listen to me now, child; I told you the night you left, never to come back, and you shouldn’t have. They only keep me alive to bait you…”

“I know that, and I don’t care! You can’t ask me to abandon you again, not after he-…”

She cut herself off when the pain suddenly, impossibly, doubled inside her chest, and she had to let her head fall, though she was unsure if it was defeat or sorrow that made it so unbearably heavy.

“Pero? Does he still care for you? Has he kept his promise?”

It took more effort than it should, simply to shake her head.

“He… left me…”

Ember lifted her gaze, only now finding her mother in tears, as she tried to put the pieces together.

“I thought he was a good man… I looked into his eyes and I saw a man that was broken, but looking to be made whole. And he already had a favourable eye for you. I thought he would move heaven and earth…”

“He did, mama. He is a good man. What’s happened to us… it’s not his fault, although I tell myself it is, so that I might be able to hate him one day, should he never return.”

“What do you mean by that, Em? What’s happened to you?”

That reminded her that there were two threats bearing down on them.

“There isn’t time, we have to go…”

“In all your years on this earth, I have never seen you frightened to the bone. Not even when I sent you away. You’ve always kept your head, always known how to keep your heart free from the weight of true fear, as well as love. Yet, here you are, trembling. Tell me what haunts you.”

She wanted to tell her mother everything. Every thought, every memory, every moment from the past four months, but most of all, she just wanted to be a little girl again, so that she could once more pull on her mother’s skirts and ask for a hug. Just one more time. But those days were gone and lost, and everything she’d once been able to lean on, was no longer there. Ember was haunted. But not just by darkness; by loneliness as well. All her life she’d been an outcast in her own society, loved and cared for only by three people in all the world, all of whom had been lost. And in her heart, she knew that even though she had her mother’s hands in her own right now, she wouldn’t get to keep them. She willed the tears to stop, and the trembling faded away. A softness found its way to her eyes, as she looked upon her mother, choosing not to see the bruises anymore, but the radiant and stoic and clever woman whom she had been raised by.

“Nothing powerful enough to destroy me. Now, I’m gonna pry this lock open, and you’re gonna let me get you out of here, do you hear me?”

The older woman sighed lightly, lowering her head and shaking it slowly, while Ember pried her hands free and got up to start looking around for something to use to release the spring inside the lock.

“No, sweetheart. My purpose is already fulfilled, and while I am eternally grateful to have been given the chance to see you again, our time together ended that night. My time is passed, and I won’t allow you to perish trying to save what is already lost.”

The way she spoke, with such resolution and conviction, made Ember feel as though she’d missed something. That her mother knew something she didn’t.

“W-what do you mean?”

She returned to the bars, sitting back down on her knees and reaching for Ethedred’s hands once more. But the older woman only took her right one with her left. With the other, she reached into Ember’s coat, and the younger woman realised too late what it was that she was after.

“Mama, no…!”

Her mother found the dagger she’d concealed there and snatched it from her daughter, as quickly as a striking serpent, before letting her go and shuffling herself backwards, out of Ember’s reach.

“No, what are you doing?? Mama… mama, don’t… please.”

“Whatever it is that has you so frightened, know that I will always believe in you. And thank you, my darling, for letting me know that you survived. It gives me the closure I need… so that I can finally let go.”

Without a hint of hesitation, she plunged the blade into the middle of her own stomach, burying it all the way to the hilt.

“No!! Wha-… why…? No, no, no, please…”

The older woman slowly lowered herself onto her side on the floor, showing no trace of pain in her features. Only peace. And there was a small part of Ember which hated her for that.

“Don’t leave me… not you too… please, mother…”

Her breaths slowed, getting increasingly strained, as life drained from her body with every ounce of the blood which poured so effortlessly from around the blade.

“…go… fight… live……… love…”

Her eyes stilled, staring right at her daughter as the light left them. Ember held on to the steel bars as though they could somehow hold her together, a strange desperation keeping her frozen to that spot, and those eyes, already so unnatural. So cold. She was now truly alone, and a darkness of her own was trying to fill her mind with the most horrendous thoughts, even now, only seconds after her mother had left this life. Why even try to hold herself together? What for? There was nothing more to fight for, no reason to do anything at all. Even her own mother had chosen to die rather than take a risk, and have a chance to be with her. She was unwanted, unlovable and horrible, a freak and a monster. This was her fault. Her own lies and deceit had led to all the tragedies of late, and she had none other to blame. When the door to the house suddenly fell open, and soldiers began to walk inside, stopping just inside the threshold as they registered that the door which was supposed to be barred shut, stood open and that there was a trespasser behind it, the darkness inside of her seemed to flip, and suddenly it wasn’t directed at herself anymore. In a single heartbeat, she’d unclasped the cloak, picked up her bow and swung the quiver to her back. Her arrows flew without mercy, burying themselves in brains, necks, lungs and hearts, while she got to her feet and started advancing through the hall, towards the front door. She wanted all of them to die at the skills of her father’s craft, the skills men had decided was only theirs to know, for no reason beyond their own egos, but which had cost her family everything. She wanted to honour Alard Fletcher’s faith in his one and only daughter, by not letting these men get away with their barbaric treatment of his beloved wife. When they gave up trying to get in, she drew her arrows from the five already fallen bodies inside the hall, and stole a sword which she strapped to her belt, while she listened to the remaining forces as they closed ranks in the small open area between the office and the now quiet market. She crossed the threshold and stopped at the top of the two stone steps that led to the door. There were another three bodies strewn around the ground closest to the steps. She couldn’t care less. There were another twenty men staring at her from the half-ass ranks they’d scraped together. It didn’t matter. These men had expended their time upon this earth, the moment they laid hands on her mother. It made no difference if all of them had, or only a few, they’d all known what had been done to the Fletcher’s wife, and therefor they were all equally guilty. There were no bowmen staring back at her. Their mistake. Her arrows felled another eight men before anyone got close enough to pose a threat, at which point she dropped the bow, drew the sword, and despite having no previous training, managed to both evade their strikes, and land several of her own. Perhaps because she wasn’t trying to hit them. At least, not the way that swordsmen usually did. Instead, she danced her way through them, letting the memories of her mother’s lessons flood her mind as she twirled and stepped, swung her arms and twisted her body like a snake, guided by nothing but her own blinding rage and pure instincts. But it only worked for a while, and when there were still five men left to bring down, they finally managed to disarm her. A deep cut to her lower arm made her drop the weapon, and within moments, they had her on her knees in the snow. Loud voices screamed and barked, but if they spoke with words, she never heard a single one. She was waiting. Preparing. How peculiar that the rage could make it so simple to stay calm, and school herself to regain focus and strength. Two men held her by the arms, keeping them stretched out from her sides, while they stood close, so that they could each keep a hand on her shoulder, and because she was on her knees, that put her elbows in the perfect position. She waited until the

remaining three were in front of her, and then she shoved her elbows backwards, as hard as she could, hitting their sensitive groins, prompting them to involuntarily release their grip on her. Once free, she instantly reached for the nearest sword on the ground, swinging it upwards blindly as she felt, more than saw, one of the three in front coming at her. She managed to lodge the sword between his ribs on his right side, and he fell down slowly, staring at her as though she was a witch. Perhaps she actually was. It wouldn’t have surprised her to learn as much, at this point. The remaining four seemed to agree with that assessment, as they nervously glanced at each other, holding their swords out towards her but backing away, while she slowly advanced on them. But eventually they stopped; challenging her. So, she stopped too; inviting them. All four charged as one, but she only managed to bring down three, before the last of them, probably the smallest of them all, shorter even than Ember herself, suddenly had his blade at her throat. Had he been behind her, she could’ve mortally wounded him before he could slice her throat open, but he was in front of her, well out of her reach. Fury burned her stomach and lungs, because against all odds, she’d defeated the entire garrison, only to have one small man stand in the way of her vengeance. His previously uncertain and even frightened expression was replaced by smugness the moment he knew that he’d beaten her, and it only enraged her further.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill you. We burn witches in this town.”

His smile grew as he clearly enjoyed his own wittiness, but it quickly vanished when a powerful gust of wind seemed to fall just over Ember’s shoulder, pushing her a step to the right, while it hit the soldier with tremendous force, sending him hurtling backwards into a market-stand. As though he weighed little more than a leaf, Pero was suddenly floating down from the sky, landing softly in a flurry of snow kicked up by the strange wind, with his back to the mayhem she’d caused, and his eyes firmly holding hers. Her heart swelled at the mere sight of him, and her already heated blood, turned into an excited fire in her abdomen.

“Mi Sueño…”

Oh, god… how had she already forgotten the power of that voice? But then the fury returned as the memories of their last encounter did, and she felt her face harden and something corrosive take hold of her insides. She shifted her focus back to the soldier, whom was just crawling out of the remnants of the stand, no longer armed, or smug. Realising that he was well out of his league now, he took off running across the square, while Ember calmly retrieved her bow, snatched an arrow from a nearby corpse, set it against the string and waited for her target to emerge where she knew he would, in a narrow space between a small tent and a large cart. The arrow landed exactly as she’d envisioned, burying itself behind his right ear, and he was dead even before he crashed to the ground, around two-hundred paces away. Some of the rage settled down, knowing that vengeance had been achieved, but an altogether different anger had awoken at the sight of her partner, and that one wouldn’t be quite so easily quelled.

Pero didn’t know how anything could ever offer greater relief, than seeing his beloved again. Even in her rage she was glorious, formidable and almost unstoppable as she relentlessly pursued her targets, even after they’d thought her defeated. He’d arrived in Hallen just as the blood-curdling screams had erupted at the marketplace, and when he’d carefully landed on the roof of the Constable’s office, he’d been just in time to see Snow as she’d danced her way through the charging garrison, and he’d been too mesmerised to intervene. Even when she was brought to her knees, and he’d been about to break the very ground underneath her enemies, she’d found a way to keep fighting. He had no idea why these Guardsmen had become her quarry, but he didn’t care. He was a trained and experienced killer, and even though he’d opted to pursue a different life after losing William, that was still the person he was. And if he’d been largely indifferent to the lives that had fallen at his blades before, he was entirely unbothered by those that fell in the service of protecting the only thing in the whole world that was dear to him. But he also knew that anyone so consumed with rage wouldn’t take kindly to someone meddling with their fight, even if it was someone that they (hopefully) cared for, so he’d only intervened when she’d already been bested. He’d imagined a dozen different reactions from her, upon seeing him again, but somehow it was still nothing like anything he’d managed to conjure in his mind. More than anything, he was surprised by her silence. Once the last man had been rendered lifeless, she turned her attention to the Constable, whom had been standing pressed against the outside wall of his own office, during the entire altercation, staring in absolute shock at the mayhem which had befallen his vibrant town. And while her movements as she approached him, may have been deceptively calm and controlled, her eyes betrayed the depth of her anger, and her voice even more so.

“Where’s the key?”

The man stared at her as though she was the devil walking among them, but was otherwise completely paralysed, even to the point of speechlessness. Having no patience at the time, Snow punched him hard in the abdomen, and he doubled over before hitting the ground heavily, laying on his side and gasping for air, squirming against the pain, while she rummaged through his pockets until she found what she was looking for. But while she was still leaned over him, Pero could hear her low and dark voice spit a few words into his ear, between gritted teeth.

“Did you lay a hand on her?”

The Constable vehemently shook his head, closing his eyes tightly, and keeping his face turned away from her, as if he thought that he could pretend she wasn’t there if he just couldn’t see her. For whatever reason, she decided to spare the man, and walked into his office instead. Pero followed, drawing her arrows out of the bodies he passed, each one having landed in perfect killing positions, instantly rendering her foes unable to fight, so that she needn’t waste any extra time or energy on making sure they were dead, before proceeding to the next target. She was a frighteningly efficient killer, and he wondered if this perhaps wasn’t the first time that she’d turned her skills against men. He found her in the room furthest from the door, cradling a lifeless body that took him too long to recognise, considering she was the one that had set Snow on the path which had led to their relationship. One of his own daggers sat buried in Ethedred’s chest, and from the overall state of the woman, he could guess the rest, and his heart sank. This brave mother, sacrificing herself to keep her daughter safe, only to end up tortured and used as bait, for the same daughter to be snared and imprisoned and likely tortured too, had chosen to end her life as perhaps the only way to keep Snow from getting herself captured. But her actions had set a fire to her daughter’s heart that would not be lessened, even with vengeance served. Snow would forever feel responsible for this outcome, and it broke Pero’s heart to know that there was nothing he could do to ease her suffering.

“I can carry her for you, Nieve.”

He knew better than to approach her without invitation, so he remained by the door to the cell while he waited for her reply. But it didn’t come. She stayed there, holding her mother to her chest, and huddling herself protectively over the body.

“I’m sorry, my love, but we can’t remain here. The sun is setting, and reinforcements will be here by morning.”

“It’s too late, either way.”

The rage was still there, but layered with grief and longing now too. Her words didn’t make sense to him, though.

“What do you mean by that?”

“The others are gathering here. They’ve been herding people towards town. There won’t be anything left of Hallen by morning.”

Heaps of questions gathered in his thoughts upon hearing that, but he had to ignore them all for now. If her prediction was accurate, they were in danger, and time was running out. He stepped inside, and picked up Ethedred, ignoring Snow’s furious protests as he turned towards the back wall, and used a combination of wind and earth, to shake and blow the wall out of the house. She fell silent with the sheer incredibility of what her eyes were seeing, particularly when he stepped outside and didn’t hit the ground, three feet lower down, but hovered at the same level as the floor, when the wind picked him up at his direction. He let go of Ethedred, and she too remained suspended in the air. He held a hand out to Snow.

“The wind will carry us to safety. Just step out, and I’ll catch you.”

She hesitated, but then people appeared further down the alley behind the house, starting to scream and cause a racket when they saw a man hanging in mid-air. She snatched the cloak from the floor before taking his hand, and stepped outside, gasping involuntarily at the strange sensation, before he wrapped his arms around her, and took all three of them high into the sky, heading out of the city. Perhaps he rightly should care what might happen to Hallen in his absence that night, but he didn’t yet know how to fight an entire army of demons by himself. Not to mention that Snow might chose to ignore any danger and join the fight, even though she couldn’t defeat demons, and he wasn’t willing to risk that by bringing her along, any more than he was prepared to leave her side when he was finally with her again. There was a lot that needed to be cleared up between them, and even though the destruction of an entire town might take place while they did that, it had to be done. Because he’d never be able to focus on fighting with powers he’d only just learned how to tap in to, if his heart was in turmoil. He needed to know, either way, if she was still his. If she was, her love would carry him through any battle, and if she wasn’t, his pain would make him deadlier than ever before. He brought them to a cliff on Dreamer’s Peak, carefully setting Ethedred’s body down on her back, before letting Snow land softly right next to her, while he set himself down some ten paces away. Snow kneeled next to her mother, kissing her forehead and mumbling something to her, before she got up, turned, and came at Pero with eyes turned black with anger, hurt and sadness.

“You have until the full moon rises. One evening to explain what the fuck is going on, and to convince me that you’re still worthy of my heart and my life.”

He didn’t doubt her sincerity for a moment. And he welcomed it, because her words told him that she still loved him, and that she might be able to forgive him. Taking a deep breath, and bracing himself for what he was certain would be a tumultuous conversation, he identified three paths to take, to kick things off, and quickly chose the one he felt was most relevant in that moment.

“Ash is dead. And the last thing she did before she died, was give me control over all four elements, which is why I can fly, shake the very ground you walk on, flood any river or lake I please, and walk through fire without getting burned.”

Her expression didn’t change at all, for a long moment, while she presumably weighed his words and tried to decide if she believed him at all. Pero could hardly breathe as he tensely awaited her judgement. And she made him wait for it alright, but eventually she crossed her arms over her waist, and nodded sharply.

“I’m listening.”

*************** Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful day/night!

@sarahjkl82-blog @marydjarin @idreamofboobear @agingerindenial @tiffanyleen @hounding-around @tobealostwanderer @deadhumourist @toomanystoriessolittletime @tintinn16 @nolanell @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @dihra-vesa @feminist-violinist @lowlights

#the lonely castle fic #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #pero tovar x ofc #pero tovar x female character #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall #fantasy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #csspt #pt1121 #css1121

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cannedsoupsucks · 4 years ago

Text

The Lonely Castle

Chapter 6 - Idiots

Chapter Summary: Ember and Pero are idiots, but they might be about to realise that about themselves, as their bickering reaches a turning point.

Author's Note: My week has not been great, my loves, which is why this chapter is short. Hopefully sweet, though.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Cursing, idiots in love, angst, historical errors (probably something more, I'm too tired to think, sorry) Word Count: 4264 Masterlist (this story) Author’s Masterlist

“You expect me to believe that…?”

“It’s just a feeling, Snow, I’m not suggesting we ignore the threat and start running around outside all exposed.”

“Well, good, because I wasn’t planning on it. And you better not be either.”

“Since when am I the one of us most prone to taking risks?”

“What are you implying? I have never deliberately exposed myself to any serious risks.”

“No? You mean to say it wasn’t your choice to defy all expectations, learn crafts and skills not suited for your sex, run from the Royal Guard, or become companion with the likes of me?”

She wanted to tell him that those weren’t risks, and that she hadn’t really had a choice for some of it. But that would be lies. She had done all of those things, and more, knowing that they were inappropriate or even illegal, and that she might face dire consequences for them, but she still hated the implication that she was a person who sought risks, or simply ignored them.

“If you’re going to use the torments and trials of my life as food for your mockery, then don’t expect me to share any more of them.”

“I’m not trying to mock you; you asked a question which I then questioned. You haven’t heard me snap at you for implying that I would be foolish enough to take a stroll outside, on a mere hunch that I might not be attacked.”

“I am not snapping at you.”

He just raised his thick eyebrows and kept staring at her, and it infuriated her that she couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed.

“Fine, maybe I am, but maybe you deserve it.”

His eyebrows came back down, but not into a scowl as she’d assumed. Instead, he just looked… accepting. As though he thought himself deserving of any and all amount of snapping she might decide to rain over him. And suddenly her anger was unbiddenly replaced with sadness and regret. He nodded once, briefly, and then went over to the fireplace to add some more wood, wincing as he lowered himself down to his knees to poke the coals. Damn the man, couldn’t he ever just be like normal men, and bark and yell at her so that she could do the same, and finally release some tension out of her frame? Why did he have to be so incomprehensible and unpredictable all the time?

“Just like that?”

Confused, he turned to look at her from his crouched position in front of the fire, but didn’t say anything.

“I make one remark about you deserving to be snapped at, and you simply accept that as truth?”

He looked back into the flames before he replied, as if there was something in his eyes he didn’t want her to see, which only further vexed her, because she truly did want to understand him better, but he kept robbing her of so many opportunities to.

“Would you prefer I argue with you?”

Well… yes, actually.

“I would prefer that something about you made sense! You’re impossible! On the one hand you can be so kind and careful, and then you’re suddenly disgruntled and evasive, and there’s just no logic to it. What must I do for you to dare show me who you really are?”

“Snow…”

“No, Pero, just tell me. Two months we’ve been trapped with each other now. I’ve hunted for you, fought for you, literally carried you and protected you with my life. I’ve allowed you to touch me and forgiven you when you have without my consent, but whether I treat you with kindness or anger, it never changes anything. I still know almost nothing more about you now than I did when we first met. Why won’t you let me know you?”

He sighed, and it was as though the action made him shrink a little.

“I am not someone you actually want to know. Not like that. Trust me.”

“That’s a cowardly answer.”

She saw him attempt to stand up, only to halt the movement when his upper back complained enough to make him close his eyes and sink back down the few inches he’d begun to rise. The pain made him clamp his jaws down on whatever it was he’d been about to say, but after a few moments of attempting to loosen them, he tried again.

“I’m not going to tell you about the things in my life that can only frighten you. There is nothing to be gained by such a conversation. If that makes me a coward to your eyes… so be it.”

“I don’t scare that easily.”

He sighed again, rubbing his hand over his face before lightly shaking his head towards the flames.

“Does it even occur to you that you shouldn’t have to know terrible things, only because you might be able to stomach them better than others?”

You made an effort to sound less irritated, so that he might truly hear you.

“Pero… I recognise that I have very limited options if I wish to live a long life, and I truly consider myself fortunate to have stumbled upon a man such as you, willing to shoulder the burden that I carry. But if I am to spend the rest of my life with you, however lengthy or brief it might end up, I wish to at least attempt to make it a good one, and I can’t fathom how any life filled with secrets could ever be a happy one.”

He looked at her again, and there was something so deeply hurt in the depth of his eyes that tears formed in her own, just at the sight of him.

“I don’t know how to live happily, mi sueño.”

With that, he grabbed the top of the fireplace opening and heaved himself up with only his right arm, ignoring the pain that so clearly shot through his entire back, and she felt her hands twitch towards him, wanting to help, but knowing that she wouldn’t be welcome to. Then he slowly made his way back to the stairs and walked up to the next floor. Hopefully to rest, and not sit in the flag tower out in the cold, keeping watch. Going after him would only anger him, and he was too weak for outbursts like that still. She’d been wrong to pick a fight with him today, but he was just so frustrating, she couldn’t help but bark at him at times, and besides; it wasn’t like the past several days had been relaxing. With a great deal of sleep and nutrition to catch up on, as well as the lingering threat of an actual fucking monster outside the door, Ember was somewhat on edge, still ready to react and guard and fight. But her companion seemed only drained. As though the monster no longer had any residence in his mind, replaced by what seemed to be old ghosts that haunted the man relentlessly and without mercy. If only she knew what those spirits were tormenting him for, perhaps she could’ve helped him. If only he’d given her the chance. With nothing on hand to busy her restless mind, still expecting to see monsters in every shadow, and unable to go out hunting and let her body release some tension, she went to the kitchen instead, and started making bread. At least the kneading would allow her to work some muscles, and perhaps let her relax a little with the sense that she was actually doing something.

Pero wasn’t angry. He was sad and disappointed with himself, but he wasn’t angry. He knew that it had seemed as though he was, and he regretted that, because it meant that she would think that she’d upset him, when in fact it was own past, his own choices and mistakes that had made him react as he had. If only he’d known how to tell her that. If only he’d dared to tell her the truth. But he was injured and weak and no matter how much he tried to control himself, the emotions sat closer to the surface of his soul than usual, and he couldn’t stop them from coming over him with full force. He had been cowardly at times, not just concerning his heart. At the strange big wall, he’d chosen to steal and flee, rather than fight, even though it had meant leaving his only friend behind, and that was far from the only time he’d made selfish decisions like that, which was why her words had affected him so deeply. He needed rest, and he needed to keep himself calm. The pelts were all still on the floor downstairs, so his bed was reduced to just the pine padding, but it would have to do. He laid down carefully on his right side, falling asleep almost instantly.

He woke after what felt like a long time, and it took him a moment to realise what had roused him, despite what seemed like a dreadful fatigue plaguing him still, until he became aware that something smelled heavenly. He knew that smell, and he’d know it anywhere, even though he’d only felt it a handful of times in all his years in this world. The life he’d led hadn’t given him many opportunities to buy bread, nor sufficient coin to waste on such a thing, but occasionally, he’d stolen a piece if the chance presented itself. His body was stiff and uncooperative, but he willed it to move all the same, grimacing badly as he made his way back downstairs, where the scent was truly everywhere and overwhelming his senses until he could almost taste it. It made his mouth water with anticipation. Snow was seated on the pelts in front of the fireplace, poking at the fresh wood she must’ve recently added to the flames, after using the coals to bake the pieces of bread which now sat to cool on a clean cloth beside her. There was a braided basket on her other side, and even though they were wrapped in another cloth, he knew it was filled with the pieces which had already cooled sufficiently. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t yet noticed his presence, and she seemed so sad that for a moment he hesitated to approach her. Perhaps she’d only grow angry again if he disturbed her, and he was too tired to argue any more right then. But before he could decide whether he should leave her be, she suddenly turned her head, and an unexpected smile came into her features, when she saw him standing there. It was small, but warm, and it seemed to chase away the sadness from her heart, which made him unreasonably happy.

“They’re best while they’re warm. I was going to come and get you once I finished.”

While she spoke, she picked up one of the pieces that was cooling and held it out to him.

“You don’t have to sit with me if you don’t want to, but you should definitely eat, you look terrible.”

He made his way over to her, and without taking the offered bread, started working his way down to the bedding to join her, and once she realised what he was doing, she reached out to help steady him as he lowered himself. She did it reflexively, her desire to help so ingrained in her person after so many years of assisting her father, that it was natural to her, but he wondered if she knew how few the occasions were, that she’d reached out to him voluntarily before.

“Thank you. The smell woke me.”

“I’m glad you got some rest.”

Again, she offered him the bread, but even though his mouth was still watering, he didn’t take it yet.

“I’m sorry, Snow. I was obtuse before.”

“So was I. You’re a mystery to me, and I don’t like that. But I think I finally understand why. I think it’s because I’ve always been in control of my own life, and always made the decisions that impacted my circumstances, by myself, and now that’s all gone. I have no control anymore, over much of anything, really, and it makes me feel trapped. But none of that is your fault, and I’m wrong to blame you or demand answers from you for no greater cause than my own flaws.”

Once more, she offered the fruits of her labour, and this time he took it, but merely held the warm delicacy in his cold hands, staring at it while he tried to find the right words.

“I do want you to know me. The problem is, that I also don’t, because of the darkness that has followed me ever since I was a boy, running from my home. I fear that it will stain you, make you harder, colder, and I so profoundly enjoy your light and warmth. I’m not proud of the man I am, or many of the things I’ve done, and thus, I refrain from speaking of them, but not because of any ill will or desire to keep you fumbling in the dark. I wish only to shield you.”

“A creature actually born of darkness hunts us, and yet you think you are the thing I need shielding from? You compare yourself to the beast? Do you really think your darkness could rival a creature that sinister?”

He lifted his eyes to meet hers, so that she would know that his answer, however unexpected or unbelievable, was what he truly thought.

“You call it sinister, and you may very well be correct. It did bite me. But the creature also had many opportunities to harm you, yet elected only to follow and observe. We understand nothing of its intentions, meaning we can say nothing of the depth of its darkness. And thus, for all we know, mine might be even worse than the beasts.”

She stared back into his dark orbs, looking mostly confused, which was understandable, but there was something else there as well, not so easily deciphered. Not the fear he might have expected, but rather a frustration of some sort. However, she chose not to answer him, which he found odd.

“I think there are many kinds of monsters, and that there are an infinite number of ways to harm someone, even without leaving a mark on their skin, and I would rather suffer eternal loneliness, than harm you.”

She still only stared back at him with that strange look in her eyes, until she suddenly nodded towards his hands.

“I didn’t bake the bread merely to be stared at.”

Her tone made it clear that she would give no further reply to the subject of monsters and darkness, and he knew better than to try and push her. So, instead he lifted the bread to his mouth and took a bite, savouring the soft, moist texture, and the somehow both sweet and savoury taste. It was utterly delicious, and if not for the ache within his heart, craving to taste so much more than just her culinary productions, he would’ve found that moment quite enjoyable.

The snow had settled in around the castle by the time they felt it was safe to start venturing outside again, several weeks after Pero’s last sighting of the creature. His wounds had healed well, and he was back to form by then. But Ember had noticed that he sporadically seemed troubled by the scars, as though they still stung him sometimes, and she wondered if the poison they believed the creature might have infected him with, was somehow still not fully expelled or burned out of his body. It worried her. She’d never seen a poison that could have such a lasting effect. At least, not one that any man could survive. He had set about clearing the stairs to the basement as soon as he could move freely again, and within a week had opened the path, but the route was still unpassable as there were no steps remaining. So, while they were still trapped indoors, he’d made new ones, meaning they could now reach their food-supply without leaving the castle. The few times they did require stepping out for something, it was water, which the snow simplified for them, more wood for the fire, or fresh branches for their bedding. They remained careful, though. Only ever going out together, so that one of them could always keep watch on their surroundings, and never going further than within sight of the castle, in case they might need to run back there. Five weeks after they last saw the monster, they had no choice but to bring home more wood, to make sure it would have time to dry before their current supply would run out, so they set out at dawn, together, and got to work. They brought down two trees, cut them into manageable pieces, and hauled them back to the castle, and the shelter of the stables, to chop them up and stack them. All without a single word being exchanged between them. That had become their routine somehow, ever since that evening with the bread, and Pero’s thoughts about his own darkness. Ember had been unable to find words to describe how preposterous that had sounded to her, but also felt that merely calling his thoughts preposterous would’ve been exceedingly rude and disrespectful, when he seemed so convinced of the truth within them himself. But how could any human, no matter how degenerate, possibly rival the darkness of an actual demon? Somehow, this question, despite never having been asked, now sat like a dagger between them. Because she knew that if she were to ask it, he would not respond in any favourable manner, more likely he would be angered by her disagreement of his self-assessment, and since she was incapable of leaving well enough alone, they would undoubtedly only end up arguing again. Thus; almost complete silence reigned over them both. Until that day.

“How does it work? Your logic.”

He stopped working and straightened up to meet her eyes with a furrowed brow.

“Regarding what?”

“Yourself, me, monsters… take your pick.”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking?”

She took a breath, trying to keep herself calm. It didn’t really work.

“I’m asking, yet again, how you can be so caring and protective of me, and at the same time, so impossibly indifferent to my pain?”

He flinched, and then dropped his axe on the chopping block, before stepping closer to her, his brow now creased in concern.

“What pain? Are you injured, did you cut yourself?”

“No! That’s not what I mean.”

The frown became a scowl, but she could see him try not to get irritated with her for once again bringing up what appeared to him to be impossible questions.

“Then to what pain are you referring?”

“All of it. All of it, Pero. The pain of not understanding my own life, my own circumstance. The pain of a loss so profound it still hurts me in every breath. But most of all; the pain of not understanding why I am exiled, not from Boden or any society… but from you.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion, and a fire seemed to spark somewhere within him. Still, he remained annoyingly calm.

“It has never been my intent to make you feel this way.”

“But you do! You make me feel like more of an outsider here, than I ever did in my home town, and they all hated me!”

For a brief moment, she saw hurt in his eyes, before he concealed it by letting his anger lose. Still, his voice was calm. It was only his eyes that betrayed the fire within.

“So, because someone else made you feel this way, logically I must hate you too?”

“Do you? I ask because I honestly can’t tell. I can never tell how you truly feel, or what you might decide to react to, or what those reactions might be.”

“I don’t hate you. But if you no longer trust me, then what good are my words?”

“Just, please, stop hiding from me and let me see you! Let me know what’s in your heart…”

He wanted to. She could see it. Something strong fighting within him, wanting to break free, but remaining chained up and locked away, and she hated it. She hated that he did that to himself. She hated that a part of her knew that he always would.

“What is the point of protecting me, keeping me here, just so we can both be miserable for the rest of our days? If this uncertain volatility is to be my life, then I would rather see you end me.”

Something inside of him reached its limit at her words, and a fury unlike anything she’d seen or heard tales of before, suddenly scorched the very air around them both, as he rapidly approached her. She couldn’t help but back away, as her instincts reacted, but he kept coming closer.

“If it was your wish to escape me, you had plenty of chances to try, and if you were truly indifferent to living, you wouldn’t have fought so hard to save us both. Stop being dramatic and just tell me what you’re really after, Snow?”

Something that hurt in a very different way than any pain she’d previously known, carved its way through her heart as she realised what this was truly about. Why she kept feeling compelled to know what was in his heart. Tears filled her eyes as they continued to stare into his, hoping to see something that would never be there. No matter how much she wished it, the tenderness and warmth that she sought from him, would never be hers, and perhaps confessing that, to her own heart as much as his mind, was the only way to be free of it.

“…Love.”

The tears accompanied the word as it tentatively fell from her lips, and she watched his face turn blank and unreadable in response. She waited. Surely a word that carried that much power, that much significance, would be enough to earn an honest reply, but he remained silent and unyielding. And suddenly the pain morphed into anger, yet again, because this time she needed a response. A real, earnest one, even if it was a rejection.

“What use is there to say anything at all to you? You’re right, you are cold, and dark and cruel, and you wouldn’t know love if it punched you in the face!”

Knowing he wouldn’t grace her with an answer of any kind, she left the stables and trudged through the snow towards the stairs. They barricaded the door down to the basement from the main hall, every time they left the castle, just in case the beast tried to crawl inside through the much wider, damaged stairwell, while they were out. Otherwise, that would’ve been her closest entry. But she hadn’t even passed that door, when she heard him behind her. Not following, just stepping out from the stables so she’d hear him.

“Only because I’ve never met someone like you before.”

She stopped, scarcely believing her own ears. She turned to find him standing there, in the doorway, no longer able to cling to the blank expression, instead seemingly on the verge of drowning in fear, now that he’d finally unchained his heart. For her. It was fear of his own affection for her that had made him so distant, so unwilling to bare his soul, terrified that she wouldn’t like what she saw, not because he feared her judgement, but because he simply wanted her to like him. All of him. And he didn’t believe anyone could. Her heart sung with joy, and a lightness she hadn’t felt for a very long time, perhaps ever, spread like a grass-fire through her body, sparkling to the surface and forming the brightest smile she’d ever felt before. So bright that it blinded her to everything else. The smile hadn’t even reached her lips when the darkness took him. It appeared from above. The thick, muscular tail wrapped around him so tightly, and then he was gone. Lifted off the ground and snatched away in the bright light of the midday sun, so quickly it was as if lightning had reached for him. It seemed all the more unreal in daylight, somehow. Monsters belonged in the shadows, that’s what all the stories always said. That the day chased them away, that light conquered dark, that people were safe under the sun. The brightness vanished, replaced by the ice and fire of fear, drawing desperate screams up her throat as she ran to the other side of the castle, hoping to see where the creature would take him. But there was nothing there. She circled the structure, looking for traces, tracks, claw marks, anything at all. Fresh snow, a foot deep, covered everything. And yet, not one footprint could be found. Not one trace. They were just gone. Hopelessness descended upon her shoulders, with the realisation that she couldn’t follow him, that there was nothing to track, meaning that… she was alone. She fell to her knees, and it was as though an impossibly heavy weight had been placed on top of her, trying to crush her. Body, mind and soul. He was all she had left. And he was gone.

***************

Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful day/night!

#oh no!#the lonely castle fic #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #pero tovar x ofc #pero tovar x female character #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters #css1021 #pt1021 #csspt

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cannedsoupsucks · 4 years ago

Text

Sweet comfort story that I needed today too ❤

Christmas Special

A standalone Pero Tovar story, because I'm feeling down and he's my comfort character. I missed my family's Christmas celebration this weekend, the only time in December that everyone was available, and now this year's Christmas spirit has kind of died, for me. So, this is completely self-indulgent romantic crap that somehow isn't sappy. I don't know what happened, it was supposed to be. Anyway - Enjoy!

(I'm copying the DMT taglist for this, cause I love you guys!)

Description: You and Pero both work in the same office, and he's an enigma to absolutely everyone, including you. But when you're having your worst day of the year, he's oddly enough the one that gets you through it.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Christmas themes, cursing, angst, loneliness, family dispute. Modern!pero, pero tovar x reader. No use of y/n. Dual perspectives. Word Count: 8060 (???)

Author’s Masterlist

You hated office parties, and Christmas parties most of all, for two primary reasons. Firstly, because you hated spending the holidays without your family. You’d grown up in a small town in a poor family, where good food and loving company was what that day had come to mean to you. Secondly, because office nerds that spent the entire year cooped up in little booths all day, tended to go apeshit crazy whenever they were handed free booze. Now that might only be true of these particular office nerds, but the last four years could attest to it. Regardless, you did not in any conceivable way look forward to the event and had planned no to attend at all. But, as seemed to be your lot in life, everything you didn’t want to do, ended up being crammed down your throat anyway.

And this festive season was no exception, because of course your boss had decided that you would be receiving a special commendation on that very night, effectively forcing you to be there. You’d let out a string of curses that would’ve made your nanna cringe, had she been alive to hear it, when you’d left your boss’s office after she’d told you. You just wanted to sit at home in your pyjamas and eat pizza and watch sappy Christmas movies so you could get a good fucking cry out of your system at the reminder of just how damn lonely you were, and then fall asleep hugging every pillow you owned. Was that too much to ask for a single woman on Christmas Day?? Apparently so!

******

Pero Tovar wasn’t the happiest of men. He didn’t know specifically why that was, beyond the fact that he disliked most every other human being that crossed his path, and that usually his co-workers managed to top that list. He’d had a good career in the military, but black ops weren’t something one did into old age, and it wasn’t exactly something he could put on his resumé. In fact, none of the work he’d done for the military could be specified on anything, ever. Which meant that finding work was… tricky. He’d mostly worked in private security in the five years since he’d left his previous life, but that often meant baby-sitting rich assholes, which he neither had the patience or delicacy of tongue for. Whenever he did speak, which he avoided as much as possible, he wasn’t one to mince words, and it had gotten him fired about half a dozen times by now. Rich assholes were also sensitive assholes, it seemed. So, he’d decided to try to do something different, which was why he was now staring at a surveillance feed of an office, five floors above his head, where technicians were working on developing new software for… something. They had to be monitored at all times, to ensure that no one attempted to copy or steal any data, even though there were other security measures in place for that. Pero considered it a waste of time to try and protect numbers in computers, but no matter how tedious he might find the work, he was not one to shrug off his duties. He’d do the job, no matter how boring, if a contract had been signed. Just as long as no one asked or expected him to smile or be polite while doing so. With fifteen minutes left on his shift, his replacement showed up. They all rotated positions within the building, taking turns to stand guard at the main and secondary entrance, patrol the floors, screen visitors and occasionally escort an analyst or technician to the company headquarters on the other side of the city, when sensitive data was involved. For some reason that was the one task that the other ten guards working there, hated the most. But for Pero it was the exact opposite. He liked getting out of the office and spending a few hours in a quiet car with just a driver and a techie to worry about. Especially now, when he’d been there over six months and everyone had learned that he did not engage in small-talk, and generally let him be. Well, almost everyone.

“Hey, Tovar! What’s cookin’?”

Ben Tyler was one of those people that just hated when it got too quiet and would fill the silence with their own voice if no one else did. The man would whistle and sing, play air-guitar and use his own thighs as drums, just to not have to endure one minute of total silence, and in the beginning it had nearly driven Pero to rip out his colleague’s tongue. But to his own surprise, Tyler had grown on him. Simply because as much as he talked and made noise, it had never once bothered him that Pero didn’t respond, and now that they’d worked together for a time, the kid didn’t seem to expect him to, either. He seemed perfectly fine with carrying on a completely one-sided conversation all day long. And he somehow managed to still do a good job, something that Pero always respected.

“All good.”

It was as much of a response as he ever gave when there was nothing to report, and the kid just smiled and took a seat next to him.

“Hey, you’re coming right? To the x-mas thing!”

Pero just gave him a steely look in return. Tyler knew more than well that he never attended anything that wasn’t contractually forced upon him.

“Aw, come on, man! It’s the one time we get to just hang with everybody else, and be regular people, not ‘those security guys’ that no one ever speaks to.”

He just kept staring at the kid.

“Yeah, yeah, I know – you prefer it that way, but has it ever crossed your mind that maybe I’d like to have a friend there?”

That made him lower his eyebrows in confusion.

“So, bring a friend.”

The kid huffed at him with a somewhat annoyed smile in his face.

“I’m trying to, dim-wit. You’re my friend.”

His eyebrows climbed back up again at that. If Tyler considered the likes of him a friend, then he must not have anyone else. But that wasn’t Pero’s problem. He got up to leave, and the kid turned his swivelling chair to follow his movements.

“An hour? Half an hour? Please…”

He sighed, and turned back, while he opened the door.

“Sorry.”

*****

The thingwas always held between the 20th and the 24th and this year it was going to take place on December the 23rd, a regular Tuesday to most people. You wanted to be most people. That date seemed to come flying at you the more you dreaded it, and suddenly it was Monday, and you hadn’t prepared. You had no dress, no shoes, no fucking speech… Why did you have to give a speech? Wasn’t it enough torture to just make you stand in a spotlight while a stupid plaque was handed to you? As had been your method for the past three weeks, and the reason why you weren’t at all prepared, you refused to think about it and just worked. Your fingers were quick and sure on the keys, and you felt confident when you wrote code. It almost made you forget the stressful crap you’d be forced to deal with tomorrow. You could get completely lost in the virtual world that in some ways made so much more sense to you than reality. Not in terms of games or social media, but the actual code. You felt like there was so much in this world that was just incomprehensible but writing code you understood perfectly. It was your safe place. Which was why you were terribly disappointed when your assistant came to tap you on the shoulder, disrupting your flow.

“Hey, you’re late!”

For a moment you thought that an entire day had already passed, and that you were expected at the party right then.

“The transfer ring any bells?”

“Oh, shit…”

It did. You were scheduled to take important datasets to HQ that day, and while you had prepared the data, you hadn’t unlocked it for transfer yet, which took at least ten minutes, meaning the schedule was going to be interrupted as you only had five minutes until the car was supposed to exit the garage. And that meant calling down to security to make them change the schedule, which they hated doing, especially with short notice. But there was no other way, so you picked up the phone.

“Sec-desk, Gaby speaking.”

“Hey, Gaby, it’s me. Listen I’m so sorry, but I forgot to unlock the transfer, can you push the schedule 10 minutes?”

“Oh, Genie… you just had to, didn’t you?”

“Don’t tell me it’s Tovar’s rotation? I can’t be that unlucky!”

“I’m afraid you are. So, you know… run.”

“Fuck!”

Of all the guards, Pero Tovar was the one guy no one wanted to screw with. He was the newest hire, but even in his first week he’d already made everyone else move out of his way when they met him. They hadn’t even dared to try and prank him, which was the usual rite of passage for new employees. He wasn’t mean exactly, he was just… unreadable. Unaffected by anything and everything. Nobody knew of a single thing he liked, or what he did in his spare time, or even where he lived. But you all knew what he disliked. And anything that jeopardised his ability to fulfil his duties, was met by a scowl so deep that it made him look freaking deadly. He was broad as a doorway and tall enough to tower over most people, and his hands were huge and calloused, and you were mostly convinced that he really could and would kill people, if need be. So, you ran. You couldn’t do anything about the elevator, but you ran every other bit of the way to get to the sub-basement and the servers, where Mr. Tovar himself waited by the door. Security always accompanied you inside, to make sure that everything was done in accordance with all established procedures, and you literally shivered at the thought of being alone in a small space with this man right now. He was not happy, and you didn’t need that on top of your already peaking stress-levels.

“I know, I’m late, and I’m sorry.”

It was somehow so much worse that he never responded. In the six months that he’d been there, you’d never heard him say a single word. Not that it was needed, really, when he was so adept at showing his malcontent in expressions alone. There was a step-by-step procedure that had to be followed to the letter in order to unlock a dataset, and it was a process that simply couldn’t be rushed, no matter how much you cursed at the system in your head. But once you were in the armoured Mercedes sedan, almost exactly seven minutes late, there was nothing else to do for the ninety-minute drive, and that was even worse. He sat next to you in the backseat, rather than in the front passenger seat, like all the other guards did, for reasons you had no clue about. And his eyes continually scanned the surroundings, which meant that he regularly turned his head towards you, but not to speak to you or even acknowledge your presence, which made you feel awkward. You could always speak to the driver, but with where your head was at that day, you couldn’t think of anything to talk about, other than the damn party, and you were not in the mood to talk about that. When you got there, safe and sound as always, the silent wall of a man had to accompany you inside, and even though he’d only set foot in HQ four times prior to that occasion, even the people there knew to step aside when he approached. The transfer consisted of just literally handing the datasets over to another techie, made slightly trickier by the fact that they were in a bulletproof briefcase handcuffed to your wrist, to which only the receiving technician and their security guard, had the correct key. But it went smoothly, and within ten minutes you were back in the car and looking forward to another ninety minutes of awkward silence before you’d finally be free to return to your coding. When you eventually got back, Tovar was meant only to escort you to the elevator, but he broke protocol by stepping inside with you. He pressed the button for the seventh floor, for you, but none for himself, despite not being scheduled for office patrol that afternoon. The transfer guard always returned to the main security desk after the ride-along was complete.

“Uhm… something you need on my floor?”

Why did you expect him to answer? Whatever he was going up there for, it was highly probable that it was none of your business, so why would he indulge your curiosity? Unless he was going up there to complain about your tardiness to your nearest superior, and that thought just brought you down so far that you wanted to fall through the floor.

“Listen, I’m sorry about being late, it wasn’t intentional. I’m having a really crappy day, alright, and tomorrow’s gonna be even worse, so could you just cut me a break this time?”

He turned to actually look at you for once. At you, not past or through you, and you found yourself fighting the urge to take a step away from him. But you felt small and fragile and your response to that was always to try and stand taller, so you refused to turn your eyes away, as you always had the few times he’d looked at you before, just because of the frightening intensity in his dark orbs. However, now that you really met his eyes for the first time, you found an unexpected amount of emotion in there, and suddenly he seemed less of a brute and more like a bear. Tough and stronger than most when needed, but perhaps somewhat cuddly in between, if the circumstances allowed. Or maybe you were just seeing what you wanted to see. Wait, what? Why would you want to see that? The ding just before the doors rolled open startled you, and you turned your head back towards them, staring out onto your floor, but finding yourself hesitant to enter. He hadn’t moved, and it made you uncertain. You stood there, waiting to see what he’d do before you dared to move, which was just stupid, because even if he was going to complain about you, there was fuck all you could about it. But then the doors began to close again, and he reached forwards to hold them open.

“You seem distracted. Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally go to the roof and fall off.”

You merely gaped at him for a few seconds. He spoke. Two whole sentences, no less. How did you not know that he was Spanish? And that voice, holy crap! And… was he really saying that he was concerned about you? No. He was a security guard, it was quite literally his job to keep you safe. Although, that didn’t ordinarily mean breaking protocol just to see you safely to your floor.

“Oh… that’s…… that.”

What? The hell kind of answer was that?

“Uh, I mean, tempting.”

Did you just say…?

“THOUGHTFUL! I meant to say thoughtful, that’s very thoughtful of you, thank you so much and good day.”

Suddenly you couldn’t leave the damn elevator fast enough, and you could’ve sworn you heard him chuckle under his breath right after you darted away, which was impossible because everyone knew that Tovar was incapable of laughing. It had to be one of the analysts in the cubicles closest to the elevator, that might’ve overheard your exchange. Had you bothered to go back and check, though, instead of charging through the floor to your office, you’d have seen that they both wore headphones at the time.

*****

The entire office closed over the holidays, starting on the 23rd, and wouldn’t open again until January, so that morning, Pero slept in and had a lazy morning to start off his vacation. He didn’t normally do much on his days off since he wasn’t a man of many interests, but he did like to read. Thrillers and crime-novels mostly, but also good drama, and by good he meant engaging. Not just romance and intrigue but struggles and hardships and that kind of stuff. He liked reading about people who overcame adversity, which was why his rather impressive collection included more than one autobiography as well. Currently, he was working on an old Tom Clancy book that he’d enjoyed as a younger man and was revisiting for the first time since then. He didn’t enjoy it quite as much now, when he had personal experience to compare with, but it was still a good story. The one-bedroom apartment where he lived was relatively large and could probably be made really cosy by someone better at decorating than him. All he had there was a small kitchen table and chairs, a couch with a coffee-table, two giant bookcases and a bed. The closets came with the apartment. There were no cushions or blankets, pictures or paintings, or even curtains anywhere and the few lamps he owned were simple and practical. He had no personal items at all beyond his clothes and books, not even a tv. He did have a cell phone so his employer could reach him, but he would’ve preferred not to have one. Particularly that morning, when it suddenly decided to ring. The office were the only people that had the number, so he knew that it was someone from there calling, and he seriously contemplated just ignoring it. Because the only thing happening at the office that day was the party, which he refused to attend. Still. Something might’ve happened.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Tovar, this is Gregory Peck.”

That was his supervisor, and it was never a good sign when he called.

“Yes?”

”Uh, well, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to order you back in tonight.”

Exactly as he’d expected.

“I’m on vacation.”

“You’ll be well compensated for your troubles, but this really isn’t a request. We’ve received a threat concerning the event, and it’s credible enough that we feel the need to have a full security detail in place.”

That made him shift gears immediately. It was one thing to be called in for regular work, but a threat to the innocent office workers that he and the rest of the building’s security force were specifically charged with protecting, was something else entirely.

“Any details?”

“You’ll be briefed upon arrival. I’ll need you here at 17:00 hours.”

“Yes, sir.”

*****

You were still unprepared, even as you stood in the elevator on your way to the penthouse of the office, which was basically just an empty venue that could be turned into anything from conference rooms to a gaming hub to a nightclub. All it took was the right equipment. Even though the dress and the make-up were on, and some kind of speech was jotted down on a post-it note that now sat at the bottom of your clutch purse, you felt like everything was somehow unfinished. This wasn’t your thing, it really wasn’t. You might be considered a bit of a hotshot within the company, but at heart you were a person that moved best in shadows and was quite happy with that. Fame and glory weren’t things you’d ever craved, and you never would. You weren’t opposed to the odd party, but this was a fucking Ball, and that came with certain expectations. Everyone was meant to dress and act in certain ways, and you just didn’t know the rules, no one had ever taught you about etiquette. Which would be fine if you could hide in your precious shadows, but that wasn’t gonna work tonight. The entirety of the senior staff would be there, so screwing up wasn’t an option. Especially since you were their best senior technician, meaning they held you as a standard for all the junior techies and analysts, something you were normally okay with, but not when it came to situations like these. What you wouldn’t give to get to hold a presentation to two thousand people about how to write encrypted programming, or something, instead. But you were too damn honest to call in sick, and you had too much respect for your boss to disappoint her by just ducking out. So, you checked yourself in the elevator mirror one last time. Red wasn’t your colour, so you’d opted for a white dress with embroidered snowflakes in gold, over the body and lower skirt of the full-length gown. The cut was simple and classic, but still showed off more cleavage than you’d ever wear ordinarily. It was flattering to your figure, but you still knew that you were really gonna hate it by the end of the night, just because of how unaccustomed you were to wear that sort of thing. You hadn’t had the foresight of ordering a cab, so you’d driven yourself there and just hoped that you wouldn’t feel the need to dip into the eggnog. You took off your coat and slung it over your arm just as the doors opened, and what you had to admit was an impressive décor, met your eyes. There were five giant and fully decked out trees, crystal snowflakes and stars hanging from the ceiling, an entire set of Santa’s reindeer, fake of course, but complete with sleigh and Father Christmas himself. In any other setting, you would’ve liked it, but because you knew that you weren’t gonna enjoy this evening, the magic just wasn’t there. It was already too loud and too crowded, even though you’d only just set foot on the floor. You gave your coat to a guy by a tent that stood in as a closet, and he hung it up for you, handing you a keychain with a number on it in return, so that you’d get the correct one back later. Then Alice, your boss, spotted you, and the circus began. As you’d expected, the little ceremony for your commendation was awkward and even though you did your best to smile and try and be appreciative, you were sure that everyone could see how much you hated being there. And of course, you forgot the note in your purse and didn’t wanna start digging for it while you stood there on the stage, so you just fumbled out some mediocre thanks and tried to hurry off the stage. But since the other three people up there with you were closer to the one little staircase, you had to wait until last. So, when you finally got to it, of course you had to misjudge the first step, in your exaggerated hurry, and fall on your face. Or rather, you would have, if Tovar hadn’t appeared out of the blue and caught you as gracefully as if he was just dancing with you, sweeping you off to the side and setting you down on your feet ever so softly. He was the last person you

would’ve expected to even see there, much less save your ass.

“Oh… Thank you.”

True to form, he said nothing, and only briefly glanced at you while he offered a short nod, before his eyes went to roam the crowd, and he slowly walked away. He was wearing an ordinary suit rather than his uniform, but you knew that look. He was definitely there on the clock, not to party, although you were fairly certain that the man didn’t even know how to party. Which was a shame, really, because he was seriously attractive. That is, if he’d ever smile. The whole broody seriousness wasn’t for you. You had meant to leave as soon as the ceremony was done, but a junior analyst asked you a work-question and you ended up having a long conversation with her. But after a while another friend of hers came up and asked her to dance, and she darted off, and suddenly you remembered where you were. And how alone you were. You’d had friends at the office before, but one had moved away and the other had left the company to go into the family business instead, and by then you’d already become senior technician. Which, for some reason, seemed to make you very intimidating to everyone else. Or maybe that was down to your reputation. You’d earned your nickname, Genius or Genie, by constantly coming up with solutions that no one else managed, and writing clever programs, some of which were in use in various types of equipment worldwide. Everyone expected you to rise through the ranks like a shooting star, but you were happy where you were, just writing and creating and challenging yourself and your coding- and programming skills. Which was why you’d already turned down further advancement. You were just another techie, and you wished that they could see that and feel comfortable talking to you, like they did with each other. You sat there in a corner, watching the room and wondering if this was what your entire life was always gonna be.

*****

“Look, I’m glad nothing happened, but I’m just saying it would’ve felt less like a waste of time if it had. I couldn’t even try the eggnog! And I’ve been dying for an opportunity to cosy up to Marie, you know, the Costa Rican girl on the second floor? Have you seen her desk, man? It’s like filled with Star Wars stuff, and she knows like all the lore and stuff, and I’ve been trying to send her hints, you know, but I don’t think she gets it. She was here tonight, and not one guy asked her to dance, which means I could’ve had my moment! Damn threats and shit, ruining everything…”

Pero stopped listening somewhere around ‘look’, knowing full well that Tyler was just gonna keep going whether he participated or not. The Ball was over and only the last few stragglers were still there, but as long as they were, security had to stay too. It wasn’t required for both of them to stay when there were less than ten people in the venue, but Tyler obviously wasn’t tired and in no mood to go home yet, even though Pero was technically the only one that needed to be there still. The kid followed him around and assisted, as he helped some severely intoxicated people into the elevator, hoping they’d be able to get themselves home, and preferably without leaving any bodily fluids about the building. Not that he’d have to clean it, but the cleaners shouldn’t have to, either. There were still three people sitting on the stage, playing some card game and apparently having a lot of fun, not looking like they were in any hurry to leave yet, when Pero spotted someone outside on the balcony. There were thin silk curtains covering the full-length glass doors, and it was the draft of the just barely open doors making them sway that caught his attention, or he might not have noticed it. He turned to Tyler, interrupting something about swans.

“Stay here.”

Without waiting for a reply, knowing the kid would do what he said, he went to the doors, pulling them open and stepping outside onto the large balcony, to find you. You had no coat on, and just stood there staring out over the city, even though you were shivering. He was about to tell you to come inside, when he heard you snivel. He’d never before seen you allow yourself to be emotional like that. Even when you were unsure or uncomfortable, like with the speech earlier, you always soldiered on, refusing to be broken down or bested, even by yourself. That was why he’d been so surprised when you’d fumbled over your own words the other day. You had a reputation for being hard-working, honest, generous with expletives and more or less unstoppable where your work was concerned. As far as he knew, no one had ever seen you be anything but driven and determined and very confident. But you were none of those things now. Even from behind, he could see the defeat in your shoulders, and he didn’t find that a very suitable look on you. The dress, on the other hand… He’d had to look away from you quickly after he caught you when you’d fallen off the stage, or he would’ve forgotten why he was really there. In what little time he’d been working at this office, he’d found your appearance to stick out from the rest, and in all the best ways. You dressed well, but not like most businesswomen who effectively wore suits. You kept to jeans and colourful blouses or shirts, and over the summer, you’d appeared in some fifty different dresses and skirts. All lively in some way, either in colours or with interesting cuts, but always just enough to still be tasteful, rather than tip over into ostentatious. You avoided too much make-up and kept your hair out of your face either with a simple braid or a ponytail. You were practical and unassuming, and he liked that about you. In all honesty, there were a great many things he liked about you, not that he had any clue how to tell you that. And as he shrugged off his suit-jacket and stepped closer to you, it wasn’t the dress or the make-up or the elaborate hairstyle that made him look more closely at you. You flinched just a little when the warm jacket fell over your shoulders, but you didn’t turn, probably just to try and hide your tears from him.

“What’s wrong?”

You snivelled again, and then chuckled humourlessly.

“Who cares?”

Your voice was colder than the chill in the air, but after you’d said that you let your head fall forwards as your sorrow seemed to deepen. He didn’t know what he could possibly do for you, but he wasn’t about to leave you out there. There were plexiglass shields in place above the ordinary railing, to prevent anyone from falling or jumping, and he didn’t think that that was why you were there. But you could still die of exposure, even in relatively mild temperatures.

“I realised tonight that… I don’t have anyone. No family, no friends, not even co-workers anymore. I mean, they’re still there, and I still work with them, but we’re not… close. They won’t let me get to know them, no matter how much I try. Am I that terrible to be around?”

He wanted to object, but his skills in conversation were limited and he worried that he’d say something you might misinterpret. It made no difference, though, because you didn’t give him a chance.

“Ugh, why am I pouring my heart out to you, of all people? You couldn’t care less.”

That comment stung somewhere in his chest.

“You don’t know me.”

You huffed entirely without mirth and turned to meet his eyes, and he found himself wanting so dearly to make the hurt and loneliness and pain in your face disappear. You’d never seemed to be a person with any deeper pains to speak of. Unlike him, there always seemed to be happiness within the frame of your body, even when you were annoyed. Not now, though. He couldn’t see a single trace of it and that worried him.

“We spent three hours in a car together yesterday, and you didn’t even look at me. Which is fine, you have a job to do, I get that. But you don’t say hello or goodbye, you never wish anyone a good day, you never even offer a smile. Are you telling me that that’s you caring?”

He turned his gaze to the side, looking out over the city while he tried to think. You were right, of course. No one could possibly know the things that went on inside his head when he was so used to blocking everyone out. A hazard of losing one too many brothers to violence and cruelty. And even though he really did want to look at you, all the time, he always schooled himself not to, to avoid temptation. To stop himself from favouring you above everyone else, or from starting to consider himself as having any kind of claim on you, even if it was just in the name of protecting you. Such things could so easily escalate into possessiveness, and he refused to do something like that to you. However, that also meant that all you ever saw from him was the same stoneface that everyone else did, so how could he suddenly claim to care about you with any hope of you believing him? While he kept trying to think of some way to explain, you seemed to give up, making him realise that you’d been trying to coax a reaction out of him. He couldn’t guess at what you might’ve wanted to get out of that, but he still wanted to give it to you. If only he knew what the hell it was. You sighed heavily and your shoulders fell even further. Your head was once again bowed, and he could only just see the slight glimmer of the tears that spilled down your cheeks.

“You know, I really didn’t wanna be here at all. But of course, they had to decide that this would be the perfect occasion to hand out a special commendation for my ‘excellent work’. As if that even means anything.”

Your voice was low and weak, and he got the feeling that you were continuing to speak even though you didn’t believe that he cared, simply because you needed to say this out loud. He wanted you to keep talking, no matter what you talked about, so he said the first thing that came to mind.

“You don’t think your work is excellent?”

“That’s beside the point. No one cares how many plaques or diplomas I have, it’s all just for show, it’s meaningless. But they make such a big deal out of it. Handing me a piece of wood and metal that they spent a hundred bucks on so they can pretend that it proves how good my work is. All just to entice the others to work harder so that they can get a damn plaque too. It’s all bullshit.”

He knew a little about commendations and the largely meaningless rituals that came with them, so he understood your point, but he also knew that it wasn’t what you were really upset about.

“That’s not why you’re sad.”

You lifted your head and met his eyes, letting a forced smile plant itself in your face, which together with your tear-streaked cheeks made you look even sadder somehow.

“I’m sad because it’s Christmas and I’m alone. I’m always alone, and for the most part it’s fine, I’m used to it. But these few days of the year… to me, they’re about family. About togetherness and making time for one another. About love.”

Your fake smile had faded by the time you finished, and you looked away from him again, pulling his jacket closed over your front as the shivers had started up again.

“Where is your family?”

You closed your eyes tightly, and a deep breath left through your slightly parted lips. Not in a huff or a sigh, but more like a piece of your soul had broken off and flown away.

“There was a fight. A long time ago. I wasn’t even a part of it, but… we never found our way back to each other after that. I haven’t seen them, at all, in more than eight years.”

Suddenly you seemed to decide that this entire situation was ridiculous, and quickly wiped your tears away before shrugging his jacket off to hand it back to him.

“I don’t even know why I’m still here. And I have no idea why I’m still talking to you. I’m sorry for taking up your time with my drama.”

You rattled the few sentences off quickly and stepped past him to the door, heading back inside and over to the closet-tent.

*****

Of course, your coat was gone. Why wouldn’t it be? Everything else had gone to shit. Why the hell hadn’t you gone home when you’d first meant to? And what on earth had possessed you to pour your heart out to fucking Tovar?!

“Hey, Genie! I didn’t think you were still here. Congrats on the prize, or whatever you call it.”

Ben Tyler. The happiest 22-year-old you’d ever met. Nothing ever brought him down.

“Hi. Uh, yeah, thanks. I’m leaving now, but you have a good night.”

“Sure. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ll see you after the holidays.”

You knew that he could tell that you’d cried, he was a sweet kid, but you hoped that he wouldn’t ask anything else about it. You just wanted to get home and peel off the damn dress and go to bed. The elevator was quick to arrive, and you stepped inside, suddenly grateful to be alone with your emotionally messed up self. But before the doors closed, there he was again. Seriously, was this the national ‘Being stuck with Pero Tovar’ holiday, or something? You watched him step inside, not pressing any button of his own, meaning he’d be heading for the garage too, and you scowled. Was this his idea of solving your loneliness problem? Well, that wasn’t gonna happen. And what did he care about your loneliness, anyway? You scolded yourself for being so self-centred, as it dawned on you that he was probably just leaving too, now that almost everyone had gone, and that the timing was likely just a coincidence. But when the elevator pinged as you reached the garage floor and the doors opened, he waited for you to step out before he followed, and even that was enough to set you off on him again.

“I’m not some helpless damsel, so you can stop with the chivalry, okay. I don’t need you to protect me.”

You walked down the short hall to the garage door, and then flinched when he stopped you from punching in the code that unlocked it, by taking your hand and holding it gently. And as you turned your head to find out what the heck he was up to; he was suddenly so much closer than you’d anticipated.

“I know.”

His voice had dropped, and you were abruptly aware of a very nice smell that wafted off him. Your eyes were trapped in his, that appeared to have turned into liquid brown pools, like a dark scotch or brandy. Suddenly you felt hot and sort of itchy, wondering what his hands might be good at. Not to mention his lips… and hips. Shit. You’d never even contemplated him in any romantic or erotic light, he was way too cold to make you think of him like that. Even now, when your own body was abruptly reacting to him as though he was trying to seduce you, you still had no idea if that was what he was actually doing. He was completely impossible to read. You hadn’t been around him enough to be able to properly judge his behaviour, especially since tonight was the first time you’d ever seen him outside of his professional character, and the first time you’d had a real conversation with him. Not that he’d said much, but it was still 100% more than he normally did. Closing your eyes and taking a slow breath made your mind clear, and you remembered that you weren’t a one-night-stand-person, so even if he was coming on to you, which you were by no means sure of, nothing would happen. You’d been hurt too many times to count, by thinking that guys were genuinely interested in you, only to wake up alone, and you were sick of it. God, why where you even thinking like that? He had literally just said two words to you and suddenly you were thinking about sex? What the fuck… You took another breath. To avoid meeting his intense eyes when you opened yours, you leaned your head back against the wall, and instead opened them to a familiar sight, up under the ceiling. Some joker had put a mistletoe up there, in between a lamp and a warm-air fan that kicked in automatically if cold air came flowing inside at the opening of the door. He had just let go of your hand again, when you started giggling because it was just too ridiculous. Things like this didn’t happen. There was no such thing as a God-wink, and you’d never believed in fate. But… he was incredibly hot, even if you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge that before. So, why not? The entire evening had been a disaster anyway, what difference would it make if you woke up with one more regret tomorrow? You grabbed his shoulders and hugged yourself to him while pressing your lips to his, having to rise onto your toes as you’d picked flat shoes for comfort. His arms came around you and steadied you against his chest, while his lips eagerly followed your lead, and that emboldened you as you really hadn’t expected him to kiss you back at all. You opened your mouth, trailing your tongue along his upper lip, and he opened for you, letting his tongue dance with yours while his hands dropped to your hips, and your back suddenly connected to the cool wall. You moved your hands, as he pressed himself against you, letting one tangle in his hair and the other snake around his waist, tugging him closer. Damn, he felt good. The way he responded, the eager passion that he somehow managed to show without becoming demanding, was something you’d never come across in a guy before, and it made you want him. Badly. But with you, that was always a bad sign. You broke the kiss, and he pulled back, giving you your space even though he clearly wanted to continue claiming it. And now you felt stupid.

“I’m sorry, I… shit.”

He just stood there, only his hands still in contact with you, softly holding your hips, waiting while you tried again.

“I didn’t mean to start something I can’t finish… I just saw the mistletoe, and with the night I’ve had… I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to feel something good.”

He looked up and saw the plant hanging there, and then let go of you completely.

“Okay.”

It wasn’t a ‘that’s okay, I was just playing’ kind of okay. It was way more disappointed than that. He looked… hurt, and that really bothered you. Why did that bother you? You didn’t even like him…

“I don’t mean to say that I didn’t enjoy that, I did! A lot. But I have a terrible track record with men and I’m just not up for another night of being meaninglessly fucked and left. Especially not tonight.”

He seemed frozen for a few seconds, just staring at you, making you feel self-conscious and strangely exposed.

“It wouldn’t be meaningless. Not for me.”

That threw you for a loop which had your stomach churning. He couldn’t mean that. You must be misinterpreting, because why would he care?

“I’ve liked you from the start, Genie. I’m just not very good at… dating. I never have, at least not as an adult. But I’ve wanted to ask you out every time we’ve been trapped in that car together.”

Your mouth had gone dry, and something seemed to be beating the inside of your chest with a sledgehammer, making it hard to breathe. Firstly, he’d just spoken for real. For the first time he’d offered more than a short and emotionally detached reply to a question. He’d given you a real explanation and even… a declaration. And because he’d never spoken that much before, every sentence told you so much more about him. His voice was sure, but his words suggested that he expected rejection. Maybe all the time. He wasn’t shy exactly, nor insecure. But more likely damaged, just like you. With the difference that where you’d tried to use positivity and laughter and enjoyment as a way of keeping yourself grounded and sane and at least moderately happy, he’d chosen to shut the world out.

“Then why haven’t you?”

He took a moment to consider that, and you found yourself hanging on every micro-expression in his features, trying to understand more about him.

“I’m a military man. I respond to orders, commands, I don’t understand small-talk and I don’t really want to. But I also felt like I couldn’t just say ‘will you date me?’ because people don’t do that. They give… hints? And then the other person is just supposed to know, like it’s some kind of magic.”

He shrugged unhappily, and turned his gaze to the floor, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and he suddenly looked so adorable to you. How was that possible? You didn’t even like him…

“There are a lot of things I’m not good at, as you’ve already noticed, but I can fix almost anything, and I rarely complain. I’m loyal, reliable and I try to be kind, and yes, I’m also very protective. And… I really… really like you.”

Wow. Just… wow. Suddenly there was so much to process. Too much. He was offering himself to you, highlighting his strengths so that you’d know what you were getting if you accepted. And you were pretty sure you already knew what his major weaknesses were. But, what about you? You kept telling yourself that you didn’t like him, but… damn it if he wasn’t growing on you by the second. You had to close your eyes again, to try and get that sledgehammer to ease up so that you could answer him. But you still had to clear your throat a few times before your voice came back.

“Tovar… I don’t know you. At all.”

His head came back up and his eyes sought yours again. If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. In fact, he looked mostly mildly confused.

“And still you kissed me like that. With meaning.”

Oh, shit. He was right. Had a hurricane passed over your life in the past few minutes? It sure as hell felt like it and you were getting increasingly frustrated for a lot of reasons.

“I have no idea what I feel right now! Except-…”

Now it was his turn to hang on your every expression, even holding his breath in anticipation. But you took too long, and he got impatient enough to try and hurry your answer a little.

“What?”

And suddenly you hated the distance between you. Suddenly you wanted him to make you forget every other lover you’d ever had, every lonely night when the pain in your gut, the pain of not having a person, someone that was always there for you, had made you wanna scream.

“Except that I really want you to make me feel good. Any kind of good, even if it is just for one night. Even just an hour.”

Something soft filled his eyes at your words, and he stepped closer, putting his hands on your cheeks and you loved how warm he felt.

“All night. I promise.”

This time, he was the one that kissed you, and even though it was a shorter one, it was still full of meaning. Had he told you that he’d take you home, tell you to take a long and warm shower and then crawl under covers with you and just hold you close all night long, you wouldn’t have believed him. But that’s exactly what he did. And it was the best night of your life. Well. Up until then, at least.

THE END

#pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x fem!reader #pero x reader #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x female reader #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall modern au #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #csspt #pt1221 #css1221

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