KNOT SKILLS: The “Bowline”

— THE SURVIVOR Vol. 1; pg 455 <Copyright 1976 by Kurt Saxon>

i think people with outdoor cats should have to have a contraption attached to their window that will play a Shockingly loud screaching noise at random times while they are trying to sleep. It is only fair. given they have elected to enact the acustic version of that on all their neighbors.

San Francisco Vinyl

Reuse Leftover Stone

 When a design project using natural stone is complete, there are often leftover stones, or remnants, for many reasons. A client may have decided to change the design, the architect or interior designer may not have needed as much as initially thought, or they needed extra material to cut into specific sizes to accommodate the project. In other cases, natural stone might be affected in…

View On WordPress

You've always been an outdoor person. You're a camper, a hiker, an explorer. You feel at home in this forest; miles upon miles of trees in every direction, the only hints of civilization a handful of campgrounds and the odd ranger station. Years of experience have made you comfortable here, in the cool, quiet air.

Maybe too comfortable.

It's late morning when you first notice someone behind you on the trail. You don't see them when you look back. You just their footsteps, the sound of cracking twigs and crunching leaves. You expect them to pass you, as you're taking a pretty leisurely pace, but the footsteps always seem to be about 20 feet behind you. You start to get annoyed. This person's thousand-pound feet are ruining your nice, quiet walk. You step to the side of the trail and wait the person to pass.

And so do they.

That makes you nervous. You start walking again, and they walk with you. You stop, they stop. You begin to think you might be in trouble. Careful to keep the noise at you front, you take the folded trail map out of your pocket and begin to scan it. There's a ranger station not far ahead; if you can just make it that far, you might be safe.

You break into a brisk walk, and your pursuer keeps pace. This trail was made intentionally with a lot bends in it, so each hiker or group of hikers could feel like the wilderness was their own, without running into many other people. It means your pursuer can stay relatively close to you without ever entering your line of sight. You're close now, you recognize the little footbridge over this creek, so you break into a run, skidding on mud and dried leaves as you make a mad dash for safety. The footsteps crash through the forest behind you, and you're too afraid to turn around but you're sure they're gaining on you. You see the ranger station up ahead, a little log cabin with a green door, and you practically fly up the front steps, through the unlocked door. You slam it shut behind you and throw the deadbolt, sliding down the door in a mess of exhaustion and nerves.

The ranger station consists of a single room, with a ladder up to a small loft space where the ranger sleeps. You were hoping to find help, but the ranger isn't here at the moment. That's okay. Just the locked door on its own makes you feel a lot better. You listen intently for any sound outside, but all you hear is birdsong, and wind through the trees.

Then someone is trying to turn the door handle. The sound makes you jump, but you try to stay brave. You're still safe. They can't get in.

You hear a man's voice on the other side of the door. "Hello?"

You summon your courage and call back. "Leave me alone! What do you want from me?"

The voice sounds surprised. "I...I don't want anything from you ma'am. It's just...well, you're kind of in my office." You get to your hands and knees and crawl to the front window, just peeking over the sill. Outside is a flustered looking man in a ranger uniform. Relief floods your body. You let him in.

"Thank god," he says. "I'm not supposed to leave the station unlocked, I thought at first some teenagers had gotten in here and...hey, what's wrong?" He's seen the look in your eyes, the way you're still panting, the state of your hair. You explain to him about the footsteps, the chase through the woods, how you hid here for safety. His eyes grow wider with your every word. "Shit, that's terrible. Drink some water, get yourself hydrated while I check around out there." He offers you his canteen. You begin to tell him you have your own water, but he waves you off. "No, no, I can't let you use your own rations. I've got extra water reserves here just for unprepared hikers, I won't run out. Please."

You take the canteen and drink, sitting on a hard folding chair while the ranger goes back outside. Now that you think about it, you're actually incredibly thirsty. You finish off the ranger's canteen, and feel a little bad about it, but he seemed insistent that you should have it.

You're exhausted. It had already been a long day of hiking, and then you went and spent the rest of your energy running through the forest. You were probably overreacting, you think as your eyelids begin to droop. Maybe it was just an illusion, your own footsteps somehow echoed back to you by the forest. In the warmth and safety of the ranger station, the fear you felt before seems almost silly.

Your limbs feel sluggish and disconnected. Your head seems to be full of rocks. Your eyelids fall closed, and you're out before you hit the floor.

You come to little by little, slowly becoming aware of several odd sensation at once. The first thing you notice is that you feel good. Incredible, actually. You're having trouble wrapping your head around why exactly—you're having trouble putting thoughts together, connecting raw sensation to ideas or meanings. But you like how you're feeling, you know that much.

There's more to it though, because you also hurt, which you don't like. There's something rough pressing up against your back, and your arms and legs are sore. You're cold, too, colder than you've been in a long time, and a cool wind stings your bare skin. Why is your skin bare?

You open your eyes. You're in a forest clearing, a place you recognize. It's a popular camping spot, secluded but not far from the trail. You're on a tree—tied to it, you realize, that's the rough thing on your back, and the reason you're so sore. Coils of rope around your wrists are pulling your arms up and behind you, like you're giving the tree a backwards hug. Something similar is happening with your legs, and a rope across your throat is keeping you from pointing your head down.

You are naked.

The ranger is there, leaning into you, and for a confused moment you think he's trying to untie you, but then the whole picture suddenly falls into place. He is raping you, slowly and indulgently, moaning openly as he slides cock up and down, in and out of your pussy. Fear jolts you awake, your fight-or-flight response taking control, but you you have no way to fight and now means of fleeing. You begin to scream, thrashing against your bonds, but they're solid and secure. You're not going anywhere.

"Oh good you're...oh!...awake," says the ranger, still inside you. "I have to tell you, I thought you looked cute when I decided to follow you, but I had no idea you'd be this...o...oh, fuck...this good. I think you've got the tightest little cunt I've ever fucked."

Just because that pleasurable feeling isn't wanted anymore doesn't mean it's going away. With every thrust of the ranger's cock, the feeling builds inside you, threatening to spill over. "Please," you whimper. You can't cum, not here, not to this. "Please stop, let me go."

The ranger grins and looks at you. He gives you an extra deep thrust and you moan in spite of yourself, your muscles contracting and your pussy tightening around him. "Why would I...oh, fuck that's good...why would I stop when you're clearly enjoying this just as much as I am?"

Tears stream down your face. You can't control it now. Waves of tension wash your body, each one making you seize tighter, arching your back, straining your bonds. As the final wave crashes over you the ranger gives one last moan and buries his face in your neck, his cum seeming to warm your shivering body from the inside. You go limp, wobbly, all the tension draining from your body with the cum that spills forth as he withdraws his cock.

The ranger buckles up his pants and leans over, hands on his knees, panting. "Fuck, girl. I can't just keep that cunt to myself. People need to know!" He goes behind you somewhere, and you can hear leaves rustle. When he comes back he holds a stake in his hand: a signpost, with a printed metal sign attached. He shows it to you:

Elk Trail Cum Dump

The park thanks you for your patronage. Feel free to use this receptacle as you see fit.

"I had this made up a few years back." Says the ranger as he hammers it into the ground in front of you. "We've had a handful of cum dumps, but I'll tell you what, you're definitely the best." He looks you up and down, then steps forward and sticks his middle and index fingers up inside you. You tighten reflexively, and he whistles. "Fuuuck me that's good! Alright, I'll probably be back tonight with some friends. New cum dump always attracts some attention. Stay tight, honey." He gives your cheek a little slap and walks away.

It hurts for a while. The bark against your skin. The ropes digging into you. Your shoulders, supporting your weight for so long. But after your sixth hour or so it all just fades into a general, dispassionate numbness.

People walk by sometimes. You hear them on the trail and call out for help. They come, usually but they don't help. A pair of young women laugh and take selfies with their fingers in your pussy. And old man rapes you breathlessly while is wife rolls her eyes and laughs good-naturedly. A middle aged woman with a big backpack says she's going to help you out, which turns out to mean producing a vibrator and giving you the most mind-melting, earth-shattering orgasm of your life, before saying a polite goodbye and leaving you tied up.

When your bladder gets full you just piss right there. It's not a bad way to do it, really; with your legs pulled back like this, you manage not to get much on you. You're a little more concerned about what happens when you need to shit, but you suppose there's a chance you can hold it until you die of hunger or thirst.

A man with a bushy beard gives you a long look before leaving and coming back with a long branch, one end whittled barkless and smooth. He inserts the smooth end into your pussy and sets the other end on the ground, held up only by your natural grip. He instructs you to bounce up and down on it while he masturbates. It's a little thick for you, but it actually feels pretty good, and you try to put on a good show for him as thanks. He lets you keep in there when he leaves, as a way to pass the hours.

You fall asleep just as the sun is setting. You find if you rest your head against the tree just so, you can relax without it falling forward and choking you on the rope across your neck. When you wake again it's full night, and someone has built a little fire in a circle of stones. A dozen or so men are lounging around, laughing, chatting, drinking beers out of a cooler. And raping you of course, but you barely even notice that now. All it really means to you is that someone took away your nice stick.

The ranger is among the men, though he's out of uniform. He raises a beer to you when he sees you're awake. "Welcome back to the land of the living! My buddies here are loving that little pussy of yours."

"You shouldn't have open flames out here," you croak, your throat dry. "You could start a...a...ah! Forest fire." Your sentence is interrupted when the man currently inside you does a strange sort of twisting thing you don't quite understand, and the jolt of pleasure takes you by surprise.

"Ah, fuck you," says the ranger. "Which of us here is the park ranger and which is the cum dump? I know my way around a fire."

"If you say so," you say as the man adds another load of cum to your collection.

He's drunk, you can tell. They're all a little drunk, their words a little slurred, their movements a little wobbly. As the next guy slides into you, you nod at the bottle in his hand. "Hey, let me get a little of that." He holds the bottle up to your lips obligingly, and while most of it splashes down your chin and across your breasts, you get a few good swigs in. It's a party, after all.

When everyone's had their turn on you the boys decide to play a game called "Hide the Herring," which turns out to consist of everyone scattering to find objects, and then taking turns trying to fit them inside you, the winner being the one with the largest object that manages to fit completely inside you. You get several different rocks, some sticks, big chunk of frozen together ice cubes, One guy tries to fit a full, unopened bottle of beer in you, fat end first. It stretches you almost to your limit but he manages, with a bit of clitoral stimulation, to get it all the way up to the neck. He says, "if you can hold on to it for ten seconds you can drink the whole thing," and you agree gamely to give it a try. He takes his hand away and the whole crowd counts down as you clench around this bottle, harder to do when you can't close your legs. You can feel it slipping, little by little, but when the count reaches zero it's still there, and you let it slip out into its owner's waiting hands. He cracks it open and holds it to your mouth, and you close your lips around it. You don't want to lost any like last time. The group is so impressed by the way you open your throat and let it drain into you that they give you another, and another after that. By the end of your fourth beer you're definitely feeling the alcohol, and the last of the fear and misery of the situation falls away like the last remnants of a lizard's skin. Being the Elk Trail Cum Dump, you guess, isn't so bad after all.

The winner of Hide the Herring ends up being a full ten pack of hot dogs. The entrant opens it up, uses two of the hot dogs to pack the wrapping into your pussy, and then spends about fifteen minutes cutting the other eight into pieces and popping them, one at a time, into your asshole. There's a lot of arguing about whether using your ass is allowed, or if it still counts as one object once the package is open, but it doesn't matter to you. Being filled this full feels amazing, and you manage to convince one of the guys to fuck you with your ass stuffed like this. Chunks of hot dog pop out of your ass, two and three at a time as you cum, and he leaves you dripping, feeling warm and gooey.

You get fucked a few more times as they set up camp for the night. Everyone's cum at least once by now, so the loads are getting a little thin, but that's okay. You feel as though you are melting into the tree, becoming a part of it. When you wake tomorrow, you imagine your arms and legs will have grown into its bark, your hair becoming leaves, your heart and lungs and mind becoming wood. Nothing more than a handful of tight wet holes for hikers and campers to enjoy. With this image glowing in your mind's eye, you drift off into a contented sleep.

Curufin for @feanorianweek.

Inspired by a scene from my fic, What Fades Away.

Excerpt:

Maitimo shook his head, smiling softly as he approached Tyelkormo’s room. He himself was dressed and ready to depart, though he knew it would be some time before his younger brothers were wrangled into their best robes and made presentable.

Maitimo paused with his hand on the door handle, glancing up briefly at the colorful spider hovering above him on the carefully wrought filaments of its web. He was not overly fond of spiders himself, so he understood Makalaurë’s aversion, though he had to admit that it was a magnificent specimen.

Atar had described to Tyelkormo all he knew of the species, remarking on the artistry with which it wove its web, his voice carrying some of the same admiration he expressed when describing the creations of some of the Noldor’s most renowned craftsmen. His appreciation had infected Tyelkormo, who had loudly let it be known that he would not have anyone disturb his guest.

Maitimo pushed the door open and entered the room, and he was immediately struck by the difference in the quality of the air here.

Tyelkormo’s windows were always open, and smells both earthy and airy drifted in along with the singing of birds and the trilling of the insects outside.

His room was what Amil affectionately called an ‘organized mess.’ Tyelkormo seemed determined to bring the outdoors in, having scattered about neatly presented collections of minerals, gemstones, and other natural things that caught his fancy. Charts of pressed flowers and leaves adorned the walls, and scattered around a plant that had long since began to overflow its pot were life-like marble sculptures of forest creatures that Amil had made for him.

Maitimo ducked beneath a wooden bird that hung from the ceiling, its wings slowly flapping so that it bobbed up and down, and he moved deeper into the room. He stopped when a live bird let out a shrill twitter from the window sill and flapped its glossy black wings.

“Good morning,” Maitimo said politely to the bird. Let his brother not accuse him of being rude to his guests.

The bird cocked its head to the side as it watched him, a beady pale yellow eye unblinking.

“Nelyo?” Tyelkormo called out.

Maitimo walked to the bed and pulled back the gauzy netting that surrounded it. The little bells sewn into fabric chimed delicately, and Curufinwë sat back on his heels, his grey eyes going wide as though he had been caught misbehaving. 

In each hand he clutched the carved wooden figure of an animal, and there were several more scattered around him on the bed. Though he had reached the age where he proudly proclaimed to anyone who would listen that he was no longer a baby, he did not mind at all when Tyelkormo coddled him and made him toys. Tyelkormo sat cross-legged next to him, whittling away at a chunk of wood that was beginning to take on the likeness of a bear. Wood shavings littered his lap and the bed, and Maitimo shook his head before tying back the netting and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Amil won’t like you doing that on the bed.”

“Then don’t tell her,” Tyelkormo said curtly, though his gaze darted to the open door.

“Amil wants Curvo to have a bath, and you should be getting ready, too.”

“Turko doesn’t want to go to the celebration. Why must he go?” Curufinwë asked, giving Maitimo a guileless look that might very well have worked on Amil, or even Atar.

Maitimo turned to Tyelkormo. “Tyelkormo, what have you been telling him?”

“I was just talking.” Tyelkormo kept his eyes lowered, continuing to whittle at the chunk of wood. “And anyway, I don’t see why I should have to go.”

“Because we’re all going.”

“It’s a minor celebration. No one will miss me.”

Maitimo sighed. Tyelkormo had been invited to the house of Oromë and was eager to join the Vala for a hunt. Though the invitation did not stipulate that he should arrive by any certain time, his excitement over the prospect of spending time with the great hunter made him impatient. The celebration they were to attend seemed to be even more of a chore to him than it normally would be.

When Tyelkormo had expressed his desire to be left behind, though, their father had said that if the rest of them had to suffer through such a tedious gathering then so would Tyelkormo.

Creator Spotlight: @fourbrickstall​

I’m a photographer who likes to shoot portraits,  acro, and toys. My favorite themes are medieval fantasy, steampunk, and apocalypse. I manage a fan community about LEGO photography called BrickCentral, and I am its LEGO ambassador.

Check out our full interview below!

How did you get your start in photography?

I think I have always really liked looking at things through a lens—I had plenty of microscopes and telescopes growing up—so photography was a natural progression. I started out taking photos of nature, architecture, and travel but really became a photographer in my mind when I learned studio photography. I love creating interesting light on people in particular.

What inspired you to work with LEGO specifically?

Several years ago, a couple of photography blogs I followed featured a 365-day phone photography project by Andrew Whyte about a miniature traveling LEGO photographer. It was the first time I had ever seen toy photography. And LEGO! It had been years since I had ever even looked at LEGO, but it brought back memories of smiley-faced space explorers on lunar bases. I was surprised by how modern LEGO minifigures had become: this LEGO photographer was so urban with a beanie hat on its head and a cute camera in its hand. I immediately wanted to create a little LEGO version of myself, too (called a “sigfig” or signature figure, I later learned.) Around that time, I had my hands full with a toddler and was looking for a way to keep shooting creatively. But I only had space for one bag at a time—a diaper bag or a camera bag—so a phone and a minifig seemed like a fantastic way to keep taking photos.

Once I got my LEGO minifigure in the mail, I started shooting and became instantly hooked. Not only on the photography but on the collecting aspect too. I now have hundreds of minifigures and even more LEGO minifigure parts to create custom characters with. So it was the LEGO that caught my attention right away, but the photography workflow is what sealed the deal for me.

What is your favorite piece of all time? Why?

I really love this photo for lots of reasons. It’s the kind of photographer I want to be: someone who doesn’t let weather or terrain or whatever become an excuse for not doing what they love. I also like that this shot looks like I found this great location in the forest, but the reality is that I shot this on my window sill with just some bark, twigs, and moss that I collected from around Brooklyn. It doesn’t get more metropolitan than NYC, but with just an idea and a few materials, I created a completely different environment. Atmospheric effects are another thing I like to add to my photos, so the “rain” hits the spot. It’s just spray from a water bottle.

From idea to final piece, how long does it take for you to create something?

The great thing about shooting LEGO is that it can be as easy or as complex as you want it to be: from subject to gear, to lighting, to location. As a portrait photographer, shooting an unusual or interesting character is part of the thrill, so I spend about an hour creating one custom minifig from my hundreds of loose parts.

Sometimes I use official LEGO models as a subject or as a background, and these take some time to build, depending on the size of the set. I build my own models and scenes, too—known as My Own Creations (MOCs) in LEGO lingo. These take me forever because I’m not a great MOC builder, and I don’t have thousands of LEGO parts at my disposal. It’s not unusual for MOCs to take days or weeks for me to finish. 

This tiny red house on wheels took me about 5 days to build:

This Japanese alley took me a month:

When shooting outdoors, I look for locations that scale well to LEGO minifigs and models and also have beautiful light. I seek out pockets of light through trees to put my subjects in, but I also make sure to have patches of shadow throughout the scene to give it some depth.

I already have some favorite locations, so it’s really just a matter of getting to them or waiting for the right time of day. Indoors, I can get shooting rather quickly at any time of day in my studio nook, which is an alcove I’ve set up with lighting and supports just for my LEGO photography. Having that dedicated space and grip really accelerates getting into a flow state. Negentropy is my friend.

A custom minifig in a MOC photographed in my studio nook is my favorite kind of work to do, but that also takes the longest because of the build time and more complex lighting.

What are 3 things you can’t live without as a creator?

My camera, my lenses, and Lightroom are three things I can’t live without as a creator. I love the whole process of shooting—seeing how different settings and gear change an image—and then taking that image and making it truer to what I feel in post.

What do you wish you knew when you first started out creating content that you know now?

I wish I knew that it’s easier to find your tribe when you figure out who you are as an artist first. I think it’s tempting to try to belong immediately because it’s exciting to find other people who share the same interests as you. But doing that too quickly and investing too deeply can influence your art or trap you in a style that isn’t really you.

What are your file name conventions?

FBT-desc-of-lego-subject.jpg I’m not as organized as I would like to be, but I have my folders set up descriptively and by date in Lightroom. It’s great for managing thousands of photos.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

I love the DnD artists on Tumblr! I’m so inspired by their beautiful illustrations, character creations, and storytelling. I played a few campaigns with my Dungeon Master brother as a teenager, so I know and love that world. I guess my affinity for custom LEGO characters is rooted in the character creation part of DnD.

My favorite characters these days are artificers and tieflings, so I follow those tags on Tumblr to see all the stunning artwork by the community.

Check out more amazing LEGO photography over at @fourbrickstall​!

i heard you're looking for some tf scenarios so im throwin my paw in the ring! inspired by me eating a whole pie today (half done atm :3)

you're traveling out of town at a farmhouse air bnb. is gorgeous and spacious, and the crowning jewel is the pumpkin field filled with huge pumpkins, all being grown for state fair records.

as you walk into the house, the warm smell of spices fill your nose. you drop your luggage off into the mudroom and follow the scent, spotting a still warm pumpkin pie on the window sill. next to it is the note that reads "thank you for staying at my farm. as a sign of my gratitude i baked you a pie with some of my prize winning pumpkin. please enjoy while it's still hot!"

you're sure you weren't especially full when you arrived, but as you set the note down and pick up the pie, you can feel your stomach growling. you search the nearby cabinets for a knife or a plate to serve yourself a slice, but you can't seem to find one anywhere.

you grumble to yourself, annoyed that the host seemingly forgot to provide any silverware except the fork left out next to the pie. pumpkin pie and fork in hand you step outside onto the porch, settling down onto a rather large wicker bench.

you dive the fork into the pie, bringing the bite up to your lips. it smells amazing, warm fall spices and even some almond filling your nose. you take a bite and are immediately shocked at how decadent and tasty it is. you can't help but taking another bite. and another. and another...

you don't even notice how fast you're eating, practically shoveling bite after bite into your mouth. it feels like its wrapping you up into a nice warm blanket, keeping you cozy in the outdoor fall weather. you absentmindedly undo your now too-tight pants, giving your round growing stomach more room. it feels heavy and warm but not full yet, so you keep eating.

you only stop when your fork can't even scrape up another bit. the pie pan empty and your stomach now full, you set it down and lay back, leaning against the backrest, rubbing your bloated heavy gut.

its not an unpleasant fullness, but a comforting one. you feel drowsy and at peace, staring out at the pumpkin fields. you don't even realize that your stomach is still growing, your shirt looking more like a crop top now, barely covering your chest at this point. the seems of your clothes creak but you aren't really bothered, finding your clothing now restrictive and uncomfortable.

you try to remove your pants, but find you can no longer stand up, so you simply let yourself grow even more, figuring you'd burst out of them eventually. as your clothes rip and fall away from your body you can feel something fuzzy around your legs, and as you look down you see vines crawling and winding up your legs and towards your still growing stomach and arms.

you can't even be bothered to fight it as the vines hold you down in place, some even slipping up from in between the wooden planks of the porch to wrap around you and hold you down. some even snake towards your tcock, sucking and pumping it, making you moan and writhe. as your mouth hangs open a vine takes its chance and dives in, pumping what tastes like even more of that delicious pie into your mouth.

the combination of the pleasure and the vines making you even fatter cause the bench below you to creak and groan, eventually crushing under your weight. you land with a thud onto the porch, beached on your back, letting the vines take care of you. you begin to close your eyes, so sleepy from all the pie in your stomach.

as you wake up in the morning you cannot even believe how large you are. a hand pats your huge belly, rubbing it comfortingly. the farmer, a plump attractive person with long scruffy hair coos as they pet you, peering down at you. "Good morning pumpkin! So how was the pie?" they ask with a southern twang. "Delicious im sure! its a recipe i developed myself to guarantee i'd have the biggest pumpkin for the state fair this season", they say with a chuckle, patting your taught pumpkin of a stomach. "So what'ya say pumpkin? you ready to win me that blue ribbon?"

you groan, head foggy and swimming with pleasure. you could get used to being a huge pampered pumpkin.

-🐶❤️

(sorry if i wrote too much i got a lil carried away !!)

God I've been reading and re-reading this ask and getting off to it over and over since I got it 🥵

This is absolutely incredible, I don't even know what to say other than how extremely hot I think this is and how much I could get used to being a huge pampered pumpkin with vines wrapping me up and taking care of me, toying with my tdick and making sure I always have something delicious in my mouth when I need to... also god I don't know if it's what you had in mind but the idea of my skin firming up and taking on a proper pumpkin texture/hue is really really hot to me too... literally obsessed with this

(also congrats on the pie stuffing! and to you and anyone else worried about sending long asks, please don't, it's really amazing and flattering to receive something this detailed and great!)

Entering and Breaking

(tw: gun, break-in, kidnapping, chain, zip-ties, chains, gore mention, cat scratch) [Drabble Masterpost]

Shoutout to @hidden-dreamland for this idea - I just had to write it <3

Too remote.

The burglar knew that. 

They knew that they shouldn’t be going somewhere quite this remote - people who live out in the middle of nowhere like this tend to do their own hunting. Which means guns.

But.

It’s an old house. Older car. Well unkempt.

And most importantly no cameras.

Since the burglar had been living large, jumping house to house in the town, not only had people started installing their own security systems, but the fucking city started putting up cameras, too.

It just wasn’t safe anymore. They couldn’t afford to go to jail - they just couldn’t. Too much was at risk.

So. That meant driving. That means rural homes. That meant rural homes that weren’t estates that weren’t crawling with security systems. That means places like this. 

Ugh.

The burglar stood in the treeline, watching the owner of the home as they came home - unlucky break, that. Should have gone in while they weren’t there. Of course, the burglar didn’t know they weren’t there at that time. 

They watched as the owner moved around a warm-lit kitchen, singing along to music that barely tickled at the air through the windows. Watched as they cooked. Watched them fold laundry and throw a penpoint laser around the room, kitten chasing it. 

Strange thing, that kitten.

The burglar could swear it saw them when it sat in the windowsill, wide yellow eyes dilated out into the night. All-knowing, overly saturated whole moons that someone shoved and pushed into the little thing’s skull until it was able to see some desperate little creature sitting in the treetops of a darkened timber, shrouded in leaves with a deflated duffle bag strapped to their back.

Unsettling, that kitten. 

Stripes that blended into the blinds until the burglar wasn’t even sure if the cat was there at all. Maybe they were just staring too long into windows.

Regardless, the lights were out for hours before the burglar finally worked up the courage to shimmy down their little pine tree, sap screaming across the front of their black hoodie and catching at their long hair, before their feet hit the ground, greeted by damp, muggy leaves. 

They moved to the house as swiftly and simply as they could, sliding a thin, metal ruler into the gap between the window and sill, persuading the latch to oonch a little more little more littttttle more to the right with tiny nudges and taps until it finally popped free. 

Carefully, they pressed the window up, careful to touch only the pane, not the glass. It creaked and shuddered as wood ground against wood, but they kept the ascent as smooth as possible.

In a moment, they were able to curl upward, heaving themself over the edge and setting one soft foot onto the hardwood of the living room.

Their eyes skittered around the room, immediately searching for any sign of threat or notice. A flick shocked through their silent body as eyes flashed in the darkness - kitten perched on the piano with those haunting yellow eyes shining at them. Just watching. Uncaring and all knowing. 

The burglar swallowed, snugging the window back down to avoid outdoor noises that might alert their victim of their presence.

Carefully and silently, the burglar began to shift through the house. Checking. Stashing. Silver spoons, identified by the tarnish. A slightly outdated but still valuable console. An ipad that they tucked under their arm - not wanting it broken by the other contents of the bag. They needed to wipe it before they left anyway in case there was a tracking option on it. 

They moved carefully, plucking up small electronics and…..stepping around the damn kitten that insisted on weaving between their legs as they moved. “Shoo- shoo, I need to nodontgothere-” the burglar groaned as the kitten started climbing up their leg. 

They stumbled as a tiny claw dug into their leg, hissing at the pain as they clattered to the ground. Evidently their main priority was cradling the ipad like a baby- keeping it perfectly safe while the burglar landed on a bag full of sharp, cold, and hard. They managed to keep their yell to a minimum as corners and edges bruised into their back and side, pinching the kitten by the scruff and setting them aside. 

Floorboards creaked above them, the owner of the house shifting out of bed. 

“Fuck-” that was a lot of noise- shiiiiiiiit- they pushed up to standing and slipped into the closest closet they could find, pushing the kitten out after them as the staircase groaned and shuddered under the oncoming footsteps of doom. 

The burglar’s breath slammed so hard against their ribs as they stood behind the door they didn’t dare close completely - it would make too much noise to latch, focusing instead on the -fucking KITTEN TRYING TO CLAW IN AFTER THEM - SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHI- 

Without thinking much, they found a random, jingly cat toy at their feet and flicked it through the crack between door and pane, holding painful breath in tight lungs as the sound echoed through the moonlit house.

The kitten followed, skittering and pouncing on the fuzzy thing.

The burglar heard a sigh - footsteps wandering up to the kitten. They could barely see a hand reaching into frame, scritching behind the kitten’s ears. The little terror, in turn, rolled over, grabbing and biting playfully at the hand in a viciously harmless attack. 

“Precious thing, you need to learn to be quiet at night..” the voice was soft. Groggy from sleep. Clearly a little relieved it was ‘just a kitten’ they heard. 

The burglar took a small step back, away from the crack in the door lest the owner glance up and see the streak of light glinting off a wide brown eye through the crack.

Panic snapped through them and their breath caught as their heel dropped into nothing. In a flash, all the burglar could see was them tumbling - stumbling and flailing through the darkness into a cool, cavernous pit of nothing - bones crunching against stone as they hit the bottom. 

But they didn’t fall.

Their hand slipped to the side, gripping a wooden rail their instincts must have deemed there. 

They turned, eyes wide in the darkness now illuminated by that strip of light. 

….not a closet.

Basement stairs. A landing.

The burglar took a deep, shuddering breath.

They were too loud. Breathing too loud. They could swear the owner of the house could hear their heartbeat slamming- echoing off the walls.

They had to get further away.

So..down the stairs they went.

Carefully - so carefully - they stood on the crosses of wood, walking only where they could see nails.

The wood was new. Unfinished. Barely sanded. Handmade.

But strong. Strong and sturdy.

It, blessedly, didn’t creak under their weight as they slowly descended into the darkness. 

Foot tapping blindly out at the air on each step, they clutched the duffle bag and ipad close, terrified of dropping either of them and making a clatter. Terrified of hitting the ground before they realized it was there. Terrified of…everything, really.

Their breaths came a little more freely the further they got from the door, quiet, wet pants all but echoing off stone walls. Close. Telling them at least that the space was small. Fairly bare. Mostly for storage, then.

….maybe there would be things there? Family heirlooms or even a safe? People keep shit like that in basements, right?

They could bide their time here while they waited for the owner to fall back asleep - which meant waiting a couple more hours to make sure they were dead enough up there that they could sneak back out the window without the hell kitten waking them up again.

Then they’d get out and it would be fine and no one could call the police and everything would be fine. 

Breath choked against their throat as their foot hit a little too hard against concrete - the bottom of the stairs now.

The little colden slit of light didn’t extend nearly far enough. Eyes still adjusting, the burglar reached blindly out in front of them, hand moving through cool, musty air. Touching nothing as they blindly shuffled forward with eyes plastered open - wide with the desperation to see.

They didn’t dare turn on a light - maybe they would if it were one on a dimmer - just to get a little glo- OH-!

They stopped, turning around the ipad in their hands. They pulled the cover around to block the flashlight, at least mostly, then opened it, swiping and flicking on the flashlight option.

A spit of light swarmed out from the area in a small arch, and the burglar clamped their hand down over it.

They just needed a glow. Just enough to know they weren’t going to hit someth-

Their heart stopped dead and painful at the sound of footsteps groaning against the floorboards above their head.

They were breathing so hard it came in a round, muffled panting breaths coming so sporadically and echoing that it almost sounded like there were two of them here. 

Eyes wide and plastered to the ceiling, they kept their breath dead still and the light clutched and covered against their chest as they blindly tracked the steps across the room. Through the kitchen. Up the stairs again. A soft cooing and chittering as they did.

They were bringing the damn cat with them.

Good.

The burglar took a deep breath, peeling back the cover of the ipad again and squinting against the fresh wash of white light as it turned around the room.

Shelves. Desk. Oddly…clean - no storage? Closet an-

The burglar’s breath clattered to a stop as the ipad slipped from their fingers at the flash of eyes staring back at them - haunted face outlined only briefly until the light fell and flickered away. 

They stumbled back against the floor, fear and panic tangling up their stomach and squeezing at their lungs in an icy, branching fire. They choked on it, breaths harsh and desperate. New threat located.

Their fingers scrabbled for the ipad again, hand raking across the broken screen to force the light back on again. Hitting the side of it with the heel of their hand as they shoved themself back - dufflebag forgotten on the ground in the middle of the room - until their back hit the wall.

When the light finally did turn back on, it was flickering - sporadic. They shoved the light at the face they saw, begging the universe to let it just be a trick of the light. A strange marking in the store or an old coat hanging strangely on a chair like the ‘monster in their closet’ when they were a kid. That they’d see the creature’s face and it wouldn’t be real at all. Please please please-

But that didn’t happen.

They saw bloodied, dirty hands and elbows, forearms crossed up over a face they couldn’t see anymore. 

Torn clothes..

On the wrists…zipties..

The burglar’s breaths were coming so fast now they were starting to get dizzy. Then softly sob - no - no that wasn’t them - no, that was the creature. The person. The person who was chained up in a fucking basement.

The burglar took several deep, shuddering breaths, keeping the ipad pointed at them.

A small, hoarse voice cracked across the room, not even amounting to a whisper. “pl-ease-”

The burglar stared, beam of light trembling over the wall - shaking like a projector with far too aggressive a fan rattling the image during a grade school movie day. 

The burglar couldn’t think of a response. Couldn’t think of..anything. But they did point the light away.

They set the ipad down on the ground, light pointed up so it scattered a gray haze over the entire room. 

Tear-sparked eyes peeked out from behind shaking hands as they light moved away from the poor creature. 

They were small. Frail. Littered in bruises. Tear-tracks slid down their cheeks, cutting through the dirt, blood, and grime.

“Wh-hho a-re you-??” they dared to ask..

The burglar..didn’t know how to answer that either. “I…n..I’m not anyone- I j….wh-ats going on??”

The little human scrubbed at their eyes. “Y-oure not with him?”

The burglar shook their head in small twitches. “No- just…I….I was..no I don’t know him.”

They seemed to breathe a little easier now - eyes flicking swiftly up to the ceiling - then descending to the burglar again. “C-ccan y-ou get me o-ut-?”

The burglar swallowed down the knot in their throat. It caught on dryness and fear, but they forced it down anyway. 

“Yeah- y-yeah I can …do that-” they glanced around the room, whisper growing in pitch as they moved up to a crouch, looking around for..a key..? “..how?”

The human stood carefully, chain around their ankle chafing and rattling slightly - it echoed through the room. “Th-eres bolt cutters i-n the cabinet-??”

The burglar did not want to think about what the fuck this sicko needed bolt cutters in their torture basement.

Their mind filled in the answer to that question anyway.

Bile rose to the back of their throat, but they nodded, standing and tugging it open. They felt around in the darkness for the thick, heavy metal, and dragged it out with a grumbling scrape and a small clatter. They winced at the sound, but heaved it up against them - fuck it was heavy-

They carried it across the room to the captive, anyway. 

“..wrists first-?”

The captive nodded desperately, holding out their wrists. 

The burglar took a moment of heaving to get the teeth of the bolt cutters properly in place where they wouldn’t bite through skin, but snapped them together fairly easily. 

The captive shuddered a soft sob, relief dripping from their eyes as they rubbed at their wrists. 

The burglar didn’t wait for further instruction, they needed to move.

They knelt down to the captive’s feet, slotting one link of the chain between the thick metal teeth, then braced one handle against their thigh as their hands pulled back.

It bruised and dug into the flesh of their leg, but they didn’t stop.

The metal didn’t relent, but they didn’t stop.

Teeth grit, fueled by fear and desperation, the burglar pulled harder and harder, feeling the bruise work against the bone and listening to their back crackle at the strain. 

They shifted, readjusting - maybe just one half of the link?? It was dented- that was a good sign - but not nearly enough. 

They had to break it.

The captive rested both hands on the burglar’s shoulders, steadying both of them as the burglar groaned under the effort. They flinched hard as a hand pressed over their mouth, indicating quiet. They were making too much noise. 

They were so stupid.

Silencing their voice with a small nod, the burglar moved back to the agonizing pull, jerking the handle to and fro, desperately trying to force the iron link to submit to iron teeth, crumbling to the ground.

They almost cursed as a little body brushed soft against their leg. “Not the time-” they scooted the kitten away from their leg with their foot, resuming their posi-

…

..how did you get..h..-

The burglar straightened immediately, terrified eyes turning to the stairs.

The owner sat there, crouched in the shadows.

The softest glint shone off the barrel of the pistol that was lazily pointed at the pair of them. Footsteps moved all but silently down the stairs - heavy all the same. The burglar flinched at every muffled step.

Silence clattered away as the owner’s shoe crunched against the discarded ipad, sending the world dark.

A ‘click’ and the room flickered into blinding, garish, rotting light from the dusty orange of a dangling bulb. 

“Ohhh honey, did you pick the wrong house..”

[Drabble Masterpost]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wibbly-wobbly-whump @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbows-and-whumperflies @a-galactic-fox @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @hold-back-on-the-comfort @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun @suffering-and-misery @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @whump-queen @uvanuva @a-whumped-tea) 

As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

Snowflakes on the Windowpane

Alfie Solomons x girlfriend reader

Summary: As you watch the snow fall lightly on the windowpane, Alfie can tell you want to venture outside to enjoy the beauty of the season. However, he does not share your enthusiasm for cold weather and tries without success to keep you and Cyril indoors. Will you be able to lure your grumpy bear of a man out to play in the snow?  

Author’s Note: Written for @raincoffeeandfandoms Secret Santa Event. Request was for Alfie fluff with no cheating. I decided to write about winter rather than Christmas since Alfie is Jewish. 

Warnings: language, reference to sex but nothing explicit, mention of injury (third party), fluff, tiny threat at the end (I promise it's playful and no harm intended)

The first snow of winter began during dinner and you squealed with delight when you saw it. Your mind instantly conjured fond childhood memories of snowball fights and sledding with your brothers. Even as an adult you could spend hours in the cold weather without feeling a chill.

You found the effect of the air invigorating and couldn’t help but chat animatedly about it’s benefits all throughout dinner much to Alfie’s chagrin. He nodded politely as you spoke, but you could tell he relished his warm meal and crackling fire. When he took you to bed that night, he found a way to steer your mind away from outdoor activities, ensuring all you desired was time in bed with him. As you fell asleep skin to skin, your thoughts remained on Alfie.

However, the next morning you couldn’t keep your eyes from the windows. A light snow was still falling outside, a bright white blanket covering everything as far as your eye could see. The beautiful pinks and oranges of the morning light were just dawning over the horizon, tiny crystals of snow catching the light and sparkling back at you. The quiet beauty of it beckoned to you as though you would be the first to discover it’s secrets.

Carefully opening the window next to the sofa, you lazily drew a small heart on the window sill and breathed in the fresh, crisp air. 

“What are you doing with the windows open? You’ll catch cold, dove,” Alfie said, coming to cover you with a blanket. 

“Alfie, look how beautiful it is! Have you ever seen anything like it?”

“Mmm, yes, I have. Even more breathtaking if you ask me,” he said, nuzzling his nose in your hair. You turned to kiss him, appreciative of the compliment. However, you knew he was trying to distract you from going outside. Alfie hated cold weather and would do anything to avoid it. His ideal winter day was staying curled up by the fire with a cup of tea and a good book. The problem was he wanted you right by his side.

“Alf, we always stay indoors when it snows. Please let’s go out while it’s lovely and fresh,” you begged him. 

Alfie furrowed his brow in disapproval. “Pet, you’re worse than Cyril! If we go out there, you won’t want to come back until I’ve got frostbite!”

“You’re exaggerating. One walk through the neighborhood won’t kill you!” you said and before he could protest further, you picked yourself up from the sofa and ran for the door. As you began layering on your coat and hat, you watched Alfie shuffle toward you dramatically holding his back.

“What is it now, darling?” you asked unsympathetically. 

“No, don’t worry. It’s just me sciatica playing up. You go on without me,” he said, waving his hand at you to leave him.

“That’s no excuse, old man!” you teased. “Here take your cane,” you offered, unwilling to let him get away so easily. 

“I know when you’re lying to me,” you reminded him. “You didn’t seem to have any problems last night in the bedroom,” you reminded him with a cheeky smile. 

“Well, that’s different innit?” he replied as he reluctantly grabbed his overcoat. “That was someplace I wanted to go,” he muttered.

You smacked him on his shoulder, “I heard that Alfie!”

Stepping outside you marveled at the dagger like icicles hanging from the roof. Your inner child was urging you to snap them off and you couldn’t resist, a gloved hand reaching for one overhead as the melting ice glistened in the morning sunlight. No sooner had your hand brushed it, Alfie called out to you. 

“No, no….leave it where it fucking is!” he scolded, smacking your hand away with his cane. “You go messin’ about with one and down they all go. I knew a lad at school who had a butchers at one of them bloody things and lost an eye.”

“Are you serious?” you gulped. He nodded at you solemnly.

You backed away slowly so as not to disturb the icicles or your boyfriend further. Opening the door for Cyril, you whistled for him to join you, anxious for more light hearted company. The pup came bounding down the front steps running to you and jumping with excitement. “At least someone appreciates the snow,” you remarked. 

As you watched Cyril take laps around you, you knew what was needed to brighten the mood. You reached down as though you were going to pet Cryil and stealthily made a few snowballs. Then as soon as Alfie’s back was turned, you pelted him between the shoulder blades with your expertly made weapon. As he spun around to find you, he cursed, “Fuckin’ hell!”

You snickered behind your gloved hand as he pointed a finger in your direction, “Y/n, you’re behaving like a child!”

“And you’re acting like my gran. Would you please relax and have a little fun?” you asked hitting him in the stomach with another snowball.

“Y/n, stop it!” he said, putting up a hand to defend himself against another snowball headed straight for his face. 

“I will not!” you squealed, dodging his grasp as he clutched at you. Pelting him once more with your final snowball you yelled, “Come on, defend yourself, Solomons!” as you broke out in a sprint, Alfie giving chase behind you.

You ducked behind a bush, quickly replenishing your supply. Then you carefully peeked out from your hiding spot long enough to see Alfie had found refuge squeezed behind a tree. He was fumbling to make a decent snowball as Cyril pawed at him excitedly thinking his owner was concealing a treat. Obscenities fell from his lips as he worked and you stifled more laughter.

With Alfie distracted, you advanced your position, tip toeing to the next bush before standing to launch another round. Catching sight of you suddenly, Alfie charged, throwing an enormous snowball at your shoulder. However, he tripped in the deep snow in the process, landing with a soft thud. A growl escaped his mouth as he pounded the earth with his fist and you rushed to him to be sure he was alright.

He took the opportunity to grab your lower legs. “Alfieeeee!” you cried as you felt yourself falling toward the ground. He cushioned your fall perfectly, letting out a slight wheeze as you landed on his torso, taking the breath from him. As you craned your neck to look up, you noticed a smirk playing on his lips and realized he was not only fine, but very pleased with himself having ended the game prematurely. You couldn’t be upset though, not when he smiled like that.

You sat up slowly, beginning to laugh at his antics. Alfie came to a sitting position and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, placing a kiss to the top of your head as you watched the snow fall around you. As the flurries increased several large snowflakes caught in your lashes and you attempted to blink them away.

The sight of them gave you an idea and you couldn’t resist standing to hold out your tongue and catch a few flakes.

“What's all this?” Alfie asked, coming to stand by your side with a puzzled look on his face.

“I’m tasting the delicious snow,” you replied happily.

Catching some in his hand to study it, Alfie watched it melt, replying, “It's only water, treacle."

“That’s where you’re wrong. Each snowfall tastes different,” you corrected him.

“And why is that?” he inquired.

“It’s different because of where you are and who you’re with. For example, right now I’m with you and I’m very very happy so the snow tastes exceptionally sweet today,” you said with a smile. You caught some on your tongue as you approached him, lacing a hand around his neck.

“Would you like to try some?” you asked softly. You watched the corners of his eyes crinkle in a knowing smile as he nodded, removing his hat so he could receive a kiss. You leaned in and pressed your frozen lips to his, feeling a tingle of warmth the moment his mouth gave way to your tongue. It didn’t matter how many times you kissed Alfie, the effect was always the same, your heart pounded with excitement and your limbs melted at his touch. You felt lightheaded with the euphoria of being close enough to feel his pulse and breath his scent. Being held in his arms was the closest feeling to heaven on earth you could possibly imagine. 

As you pulled away, you brushed your nose against his playfully, keeping the cloak of his body heat around yourself a moment longer. You glanced down to see snowflakes melting in his beard and reached up to touch them gently. 

He ran his large hands beneath your coat, squeezing your waist and massaging your hip bones with his thumbs suggestively. You wondered what he might say in the moment. It felt so utterly romantic. Watching his green eyes drink you in adoringly he whispered, “I can't feel my toes.” 

You rolled your eyes before huffing out, “Alfie, that was such a lovely moment and you ruined it. I’m going to fucking shoot you.” 

“Well could you take mercy on me and do it before I freeze to death?” he asked with a laugh. 

-------------------------------

Tag list:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@wandawiccan60   

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@peakyrogers

@christinasyellowflowers

@notyour-valentine

@theshelbyclan

@books-livre

@solomons-finest-rum

@vir-tual

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@margaret-morriss-secrethideout

@moral-terpitude

@dreamlandcreations

@cillmequick

@l1-l4

@potter-solomons

@hecatemoon87

@inkwolvesandcoffee

@buttercup32sstuff

@there-goes-thefighter

Sassenach and the Spaniard - ch 14

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger

SatS: @canadianmaebe @badassbaker @od-ends @amneris21 @padbrookcottage @chaoticfestninja @xdaddysprincessxx @mostclevermiss @im-sylien @wherethewildfanlives @ficsbynight @djarinsimp @ellenmunn @jediknight122 @under-the-seas @wellaintthatsumthin @sarahbellesaurus @roxypeanut @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @bruxasolta @kaylay2187 @freshlemontea @humanransome-note @virtualanchortimetravel @leoisme @do-not-go-gently-42 @catsandgeekyandnerd @happypalaceroadpie @ghoulpatroul @lizzystorm48 @imoutoid @rainbeaubrightchild @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @dudelorian @thirddeadlysin @piratesangel @jazzieomega @iceclaw101 @strangegirl32 @lights-on-the-ridge @godofbadass8909 @pann-malii @littleone65 @notyouraveragemochii @shawdowolf993 @rebel-fanfare @rav3n-pascal22 @love93sstuff @choppedmugjudgeplaid @aurelac-heart @we-could-have-been @bilibiche @prettydull180 @dinoflower @my-life-as-a-bird @tuquoquebrute @damnitjaskier @fishingforpike @sherlock221b114679797 @sainteredhood @nekodemon73 @missredherring @middlemichi @moonflower91 @rachelle-on-the-run @miscellaneousfangirling @danamercury @hyacinthsatdawn @i-am-amora-the-enchantress @milkandoil @generalplaidhorseherring @raptorclaw24 @mrsparknuts

My Masterlist!

Red Bird

Credit : Denver Public Library Special Collections

Date : 1911-1926

Three-quarters standing outdoor portrait of Red Bird, a elderly Native American Comanche woman wearing a buckskin dress with fringe, a feather headdress with buffalo horns, and holding a staff, probably Fort Sill, Oklahoma.

Comanche Indians--Oklahoma--Fort Sill; Indians of North America--Oklahoma--Fort Sill; Fort Sill (Okla.); Headdresses--Oklahoma--Fort Sill; Clothing & dress--Oklahoma--Fort Sill; Women--Oklahoma--Fort Sill; Red Bird ...

what’s up, danger?

>:3 this is a fun little gift with the spidey au for the lovely @itsdaifuku​!!

redacted asmr: asher/babe, rated G for Goodness (of B for Bugboy?)

And there, on the sill, is their idiotic boyfriend, still dressed in his spidersuit, mask off, his grin wide and bright as he catches sight of them. He hops down to the floor with a muffled thump.

“Baaabe! You’re looking good… very good in fact. Is that for me?”

--

what’s up, danger?

It’s cold when they wake up, the icy breeze winding through the apartment enough to make them shiver. It’s the middle of winter, and that means one of two things: that they left a window open, which they certainly did not do, or someone else did.

Considering they chose this apartment for the rent, not the neighborhood…

They scramble for their phone, hitting the number in their speed dial - ‘Asher 🕷’ which maybe wasn’t the most subtle contact name for their friendly neighborhood spider-man, but he was always faster than the police.

The call connects almost instantly, and their grip tightens on the phone as they hear a scuffle from the other room.

“Hey, babe! You’re awake!”

And that’s his voice, coming from the apartment. “Ash, that’s- that’s you?”

“Yeah? Oh shit, the window-”

They don’t know whether to laugh or scream. Instead, they hang up the call, scrambling out of bed and tying a silk robe around them before they make their way into the other room.

And there, on the sill, is their idiotic boyfriend, still dressed in his spidersuit, mask off, his grin wide and bright as he catches sight of them. He hops down to the floor with a muffled thump.

“Baaabe! You’re looking good… very good in fact. Is that for me?”

They roll their eyes, although they can’t help the smile that makes its way onto their features. “Didn’t you think to call ahead?”

“I did, but you didn’t pick up. I figured you were sleeping, but then… ya know. I worry.”

It’s sweet. It shouldn’t be so sweet. “You have a key.”

“I didn’t have time to change, and didn’t want to scare your neighbors.”

“And climbing in my window like that was so much better.”

His grin widens as he gives a hapless shrug of his shoulders. “You do what you can. Come ‘ere. I missed you.”

And damn him, they missed him too. It doesn’t take much to cross the distance between them and let him envelope them in his arms, his suit chilled from the outdoors but quick to warm.

He buries his face into their hair, nuzzling in until he can press kisses to their neck, humming happily, and it’s certainly the cold that makes them shiver, not the vibrations against their skin.

Pulling back, he meets their gaze with another wide grin, his eyes bright in the light from the streetlamps outside. “Let me make it up to you. Want to come out with me for a bit?”

“It’s-” they check the clock above their mantle - “three o’clock in the morning. Nothing’s open at this time of night, you goof.”

“I meant something more private. Intimate.” His eyes sparkle, even as he wiggles his eyebrows, and they roll their eyes, cupping his cheeks and pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“You’re a dork. Doesn’t change the fact it’s three in the morning.”

“We’ll just go for a little swing.”

“Swing? You mean…”

He nods, wiggling his hands. “It’s a beautiful night for it. You’ll be safe. I promise.”

“I’ll have to change…”

“Just a little. Wear that cute hat and scarf from our date last week. Maybe a matching pair of gloves, and that jacket. The rest of what you’re wearing will be fine.”

His eyes glance down their body, taking in their sweatpants and oversized shirt they’re wearing - decidedly not the dating outfit they would have chosen, if they knew he was gonna visit. “You’re pretty goddamn cute, you know that?”

“Keep it in your pants, bug boy.” They’re grinning as they say it, even as they push to their feet, making their way back towards their bedroom to change. “Sit tight, I won’t be long.”

–

Ten minutes later, they’re regretting every choice they made in life that led them to this moment as they wrap their arms tightly around Asher’s neck, gripping for dear life. They’re warm at least, bundled in their warmest coat, and two sets of gloves for good measure.

Asher doesn’t mind their death grip. In fact, by the way his shoulders are shaking, they think he’s laughing. “Hold on tight to me, babe. We’re going… up.”

They bite down on their lip as he climbs out the window and onto the fire escape, grabbing onto the wall and just… pulling himself up, no handholds anywhere in sight.

They can’t keep the breathless shock from their voice. “How- how are you managing this?”

Ash laughs again, audibly this time, twisting his head, until they can see his grin. “Part of the spider gig. Sticky hands.”

He takes one off the wall to demonstrate, flexing his fingers beneath the gloves, and they let out a sharp breath, gripping him tight as they press closer against him.

“Ash!”

“Aww, don’t stress, babe. We won’t fall.” He replaces his hand, and as if on cue, the brick beneath his palm crumbles a little, sending a sprinkle of mortar falling to the pavement below. “...and if we did, I’d be sure to catch you.”

“If we weren’t twenty feet off the ground right now, I’d hit you.”

He laughs as he pulls them up onto the roof, turning to face the city. Their apartment block isn’t the tallest one by far, but it does offer a pretty view of the skyline, the dark glass and metal shimmering in the distance.

The moon is as beautiful as he said it would be, wide and bright, gilding the city in silver. There’s a smile on his face as he places them on their feet and waits for them to face him.

“Alright. You ready for this?”

They have a feeling that no amount of time could ever prepare them for this. But still. This is Ash. Silly, devoted, too-kind-for-his-own-good Ash.

They trust him. And so they take the hand he offers them, squeezing to match his grip.

“As I’ll ever be.”

He grins again, closing the distance, a hand raising to cup their cheek as his gaze flickers between theirs. His eyes are soft, the pad of his thumb warm against their skin as he runs it along their cheekbone. “I promise, I won’t let you fall.”

“I know, Ash. I trust you.”

He releases a quiet breath, before he leans in, bridging the gap between them to kiss them, soft and sweet. He’s slow to pull away, the rush of his breath warm against their cheek.

“Then let's do this. Hold onto me, babe.”

–

By the time they get back to their apartment, they’ve lost their hat and one of their pairs of gloves, warm cheeked, their hair a mess, but it’s worth it.

Some notes on keeping a witch friendly house.

A red candle on your stove stands in for the hearth.

A lime cut and put in a bowl of salt water for a few hours will absorb negative energies.

Sweep 2 inches off the ground, from the furthest point from your door, to the door and out.

Blow cinnamon through your front door the first of every month.

Witch's bells on your exterior doors, witch's balls over your windows. They can be used not just to keep out the bad but invite in the good. Add some rose petals and orange rind there, some mint and basil. Bring in what you want to live in your home.

Macrame is excellent for complex knot spells and you can hang it as decoration. Add crystal beads aligned with the intent of the spell for extra juice.

Get river rocks (the flat ones.) Draw sigils or runes on them for protection or to invite blessing. (I use baneful runes on the back of them in case anything disregards it.) If you have kids it can be camouflaged by painting on the rock anywhere the rune is not visible.

Ward your windows. Protective oils, draw on a sigil or rune just like the stones.

Line your window sill (between the glass and screen) with a mix of black salt, red brick dust, and ground black tourmaline.

Place that same mix under a mat at your doors -- do NOT us a "Welcome" mat, you never know what will take that as an invitation.

In your entryway, have a pretty bowl with onyx, obsidian, black tourmaline, red jasper, and smoky quartz. Also a plant -- jade plants are very nice for that -- and a white candle. Light the candle before you open the door. It'll keep people from tracking their negative energies in.

Bedroom, similar bowl with a favorite of love stone, passion stones, and heart chakra stones. There are so many that you can take your pick. Make sure there's at least a bit of green, a bit of pink, a bit of red, and a bit of white in your room, even if it's just a painting. I also go with some blue for calming sleep. You can use a bit of purple if you're looking for prophetic dreams as well.

I know everyone recommends a sea theme for your bathroom because there's water, but honestly, the element is already there so only use it if you like it. Do however have water safe crystals and a good eucalyptus arrangement on your shower head, and sigil your hair and body products for the effect you want.

If, like me, you live where nature is trying to kill you 350 days a year, bring nature indoors. Yes it does lack the chaos and wild energy of the outdoors, but plants all over, desktop fountains, crystals or rocks, celining fans, candles galore.... those elements will help you find balance and keep you connected.

Outdoor Pool

Rhett Abbott x reader

Summary: You’re in love with Rhett. But he’s only loved you after midnight in an outdoor pool.

Warnings: Angst/Cliche/Usage of y/n/sort of unrequited love/trespassing/awkward situation/no smut but slight nudity/confused Rhett/

Based off of Outdoor Pool by Maisie Peters. The pool belongs to someone important, can you guess who? I also might make this a series based off of Maisie songs. Maybe 3 parts?

I was in my room reading a book when the tapping at my window started. At first I ignored it, the taps were few in between. But once I realized that it was someone throwing rocks at my window, I angrily stomped over to my window, pushing the grayish blue curtains to the side and pushed the window wide open. The warm summer night air hitting me right away and the look on the culprits face was enough to extinguish the flames. There Rhett was. In all his glory, grinning like my dad couldn’t walk out the front door any minute now. His face looked so pretty in the moonlight. He puts the rest of the stones down and asks “you should come with me” I smile lightly “I can’t Rhett. My pa is sleepin”. He rolled his eyes “you’re an adult, y/n. What’s he gonna do? Ground you?” I sighed lightly “I’ll be right there. No more rocks and quiet down!” I quickly got dressed and put on a pair of slippers, waking back over to the window I stuck my head out “Rhett! Catch me” I threw my legs over the window sill just as he turned his head, shock marred his face and he rushed underneath my window. I let out a loud laugh as I fell, landing in his arms and fell down. He laughed along with me as we laid on the ground. When we got to his truck, he held the door open for me before going to the other side and getting in and drove off. I began rolling down the window “where are we goin cowboy?” He chuckled “that’s a surprise”. I rolled my eyes and smiled while turning towards the window.

It was a beautiful night. Wyoming was a sight to see. Even though it was lonely and quiet, the stars were always visible at night and you could hear the crickets even in the city. The air smelt like dirt and horses and the air was warm and breezy. I was pulled out of my thoughts by Rhett lightly tapping my leg “we’re here” I looked to the front of the truck and scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. A large house sat in front of us. I looked at Rhett and it’s as if he knew “the people who live here are gone on vacation. They have a pool in the back” my jaw dropped as he got out of the truck and came around the side and opened the door for me “Rhett we can’t do that… I didn’t even bring a swimsuit” “swim in your underwear” he replies already walking off towards the gate and walking into the yard. I sat there in shock for a few seconds before getting out of the truck and shutting the door before following him.

My cheeks immediately heated up when I noticed Rhett is already shirtless, his tattoo on display and his hands working at his pants, pulling them down. Once his pants were down he looked over at me “you gonna get undressed or are you just gonna sit and stare?” I shook my head and quickly worked my jeans off “I wasn’t staring” he smirks “sure” once my pants and shirt are off I look at him but he’s already looking at me and now it’s hard to focus because of the way he’s biting his lip. I walk over to the pool and slip in quickly to cover myself and say out loud “now who’s staring?” He chuckles before following me. I waddle around the shallow end until my chin is just poking out of the water, staring at the sky for a moment. Rhett does the opposite and in his own charming way, he canon balls into the water, the after shock smacking me in the face making me laugh loudly for the second time tonight.

When he emerges, his hair is stuck to his cheeks and It reminds me of tree branches and it makes him that much more beautiful to look at. I didn’t want to be caught staring again so I quickly asked him “How did you find out about this place?” His eyes looked like they were glowing, the pool lights and the moon making his eyes seem otherworldly “friends dad. They’re back in town. Had to go and pick them up in Cody from the airport and shouldn’t be back until the morning.” I nodded. I swam around a little bit before hopping up on the edge and watched him swim around. “Do you ever wonder if you’d do better somewhere other than Wyoming? Like there something more out there for you?”. He hums in acknowledgement, nodding “all the time” I tilted my head “what’s stopping you from leaving then?”

My eyes lit up and I smiled innocently at him before I raised my hand right next to him and slapped the surface of the water, causing it to splash up into his face. He playfully yelled and looked back at me with predatory eyes “No! That’s payback!” “Well it would make sense to get payback for your payback” I laughed while trying to turn around “that’s not how it works!!” Before I even had any hope of getting away, he grabbed my ankle as I lifted it to swim away and wrapped his arms around my waist before falling backwards into the water, and as my head went under I held my breath, and my head tried to find something to compare this feeling to but before I could, we resurfaced and I laughed loudly, kicking my feet to get away but he held on tight and began swinging me around “say you give up!” I laughed loudly and shouted in protest and he dunked me under the water again.

When I resurfaced, water burning my throat and nose, filling my lungs and bleeding out my nose and lips as I cough it out my lungs “ok! I’m sorry! I give up!” He laughed and let me down. I turned to look at him and he smiled down at me. We were silent for a few minutes. The only sound was the buzzing of the filter and the crickets singing their song. He started to lean in, his lips brushing against mine and his breath fighting mine “Rhett..” I whisper and he hums before leaning in and kissing me. I sat there stunned, and when he pulled away I quickly chased after his lips and kissed him back, teeth clacking together from the clumsiness that was me and the waves didn’t help though. He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me up, my legs instinctively going around his waist.

We stayed like that for a few seconds before he pulled away and stared at my face. He looked confused. He then sat me down “that shouldn’t have happened” he said. There was that feeling again. I scoffed “well it did.” “I know and it shouldn’t have…” I sucked my lips in “and why’s that, huh Rhett? You don’t just do what you did!” To be fair I had reciprocated. But he was still a douche bag. He sighed “because. You’re my friend… Maria” it finally clicked in my head “You are such a douche Rhett!!” I was already halfway out of the pool, him following close behind me. It was his turn to scoff “ you kissed back” I laughed in disbelief “yeah! I did! I wish I didn’t!” I quickly grabbed my clothes and began walking to the gate. Rhett looked taken back “Wipe that look off your face. You don’t get to act shocked or like you’re the one who got hurt” I grabbed my clothes off of the lounge chair before heading towards the gate. Rhett was following “where are you going?” I ignored him “y/n I asked where you were going!” I turned towards him and pointed in his face “I’m getting changed Rhett!” I shook my head “and then you’re going to take me home and me and you” I pointed between us “are never speaking again”. I angrily shut the gate in his face before going behind a bush and stripping my bra and underwear off and throwing my dry clothes from earlier on.

It felt like I was getting dunked into the pool all over again. My lungs felt heavy and my eyes burnt. But I didn’t have time to let myself cry because Rhett walked out of the gates area and before he could see my red face, I turned towards the truck; slapping his hand away as he reached to open the door for me. He sighed and walked over to the driver side, jumping in. It was silent before he spoke up “I’m sorry. I just didn’t think” I rolled my eyes “I’m not talking to you” he looked at me “well you just did and earlier you said I have to take you home and then you wouldn’t talk to me anymore” i ignored him. He sighed “please say something” my head whipped to him “you want me to say something? Well fuck you. Normal people don’t do what you did! Normal people don’t kiss their bestfriend and then say it was a mistake and proceed to mention the girl they’ve been in love with since high school! Now take me home! And from now on, in this moment and in this truck, I’m no longer speaking to you. Now take me home. Please” I said, no longer bothering to hide the tears. He stared at me for a few minutes “I’m sorry” he said starting the truck and drove me home.

When I arrived i ignored his attempt to speak to me and slammed the truck door. I didn’t even bother to go through the window again, opting to walk over to the locked door and knocked, the sound of Rhett’s truck driving away. It took a few minutes but it eventually opened and my dad sat there, bleary eyed and confused “what are you doing outside this early?” He asked sternly. I looked up at him and couldn’t hold it back anymore “dad..” I said letting all the tears falling and snot running down my nose. How ironic. My fathers shoulders dropped and he quickly pulled me inside the house “what’s wrong? What happened?” He worriedly asked. I shook my head “Rhett” and it was like he knew. He pulled me in and hugged me tightly and cursed under his breath “damn abbots”. After some much needed pep talk, a short episode of my favorite show, my dad wished me goodnight before heading to his bed.

Once I reached my room, I threw my blankets over my head and flopped onto my blanket, looking at my phone screen seeing the few messages Rhett had sent. Apologies and him asking if I was ok and was my dad mad. I rolled my eyes before tossing my phone across the room. My wall, an ugly Pantone color that i had never gotten a chance to paint, the hazy pink color cans sitting by the door. Rhett was supposed to help but I guess I was going to have to have my busy father help. My face scrunched as I tried to hold the tears in, I flipped to the window and closed my eyes. The sound of crickets and the wind blowing through my open window, brushing the curtains had lulled me to sleep, dreams repeating todays events. And before I fell completely asleep I reminded myself I’d have to get new curtains.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

I ALMOST FORGOT! It’s still Fanfic Friday and here’s my fic! Haven, Ajak, Makkari, Darkstar, Scorpion, Asp, Mantis, Lightwave. All the dress designs I did or plan to do. Plus Essex and Bennet as cameos, and Selene in the role as the villan. requested by @catboy-sinister Shaw is mentioned in passing but does not appear. This is all about Haven being a damsel in distress who gets saved by multiple beautiful women, because I really really really like Haven getting rescued like she never did in canon. Basically, self-indulgent slosh as always! Complete with my attempt at classic comic-book dialogue style!

The third Hellfire Gala was in full swing, held outdoors, for the glory of Krakoa itself surpassed the beauty of any structure’s interior. There were sheltered areas, of course, but these were open, and they were not concrete and cement and glass and rebar, but natural structures formed by Krakoa itself. Caves and tunnels of stone that had sprung up overnight like giant mushrooms, with natural holes to serve as windows and crystals that jutted from the ‘sills’ to cast colored light on the opposite walls, twisting overheads of massive tree roots risen from the ground ensnared by whole forests worth of vines and flowers, spiraling fungi steps leading up to second ‘floors’ made of branches so wide and flat on top they served easily as walkways for multiple people to mingle upon. And as the sun set, genetically engineered insects, flowers, lichens, and more fungi lit up the dusk with their natural glow. Well, natural-ish. Mantis found it all very interesting. She’d always had an inborn empathy with nature, and her connection to plant life in particular had only been enhanced by her union with the Prime Cotati as the Celestial Madonna. Therefore, she’d been keen to communicate not simply with Krakoa itself, but all the organisms upon it—and no, she didn’t mean mutants. She wanted to know how these flowers and lichens and so on felt about their modification and utilization as decor for these invasive meat-creatures. Their responses varied, as with any population, but most seemed content enough with the situation. She’d also found it quite interesting to communicate with a fellow guest, Radha “Haven” Dastoor. A human philanthropist with a long history of supporting all those downtrodden or oppressed, she was the only current human member of Krakoa’s Inner Circle of the Hellfire Trading Company. Appointed its Black Queen, she was a liaison to both the human world, and invaluable as someone who knew where the miracle drugs of the famous island flora were needed most, and how to distribute them. What was of interest to Mantis though, was the woman’s. . .vibes, might be the most accurate word in English. Again, Mantis was a keenly sensitive individual even before her link to vegetation formed, and that extended to people. It seemed Haven, though she possessed no superpowers, was the same. The older woman had seen her off by herself—well, seemingly by herself, if you didn’t count non-animal life forms!---and how she appeared entranced with the plants before her, touching them with her antenna, for Mantis spoke to them without words, in their own language. She’d approached, and inquired most politely about it. Sensing her sincerity, Mantis explained, and she felt the most exquisite reaction of wonder and joy from this Haven! Haven found this a fantastic thing, and she told Mantis so, setting off their conversation. And through that conversation, Mantis could feel a bond growing between them rapidly, and what was more, she could feel Haven feeling it as well! Emotions and words flowed rapidly and naturally between the women like two rivers mixing their waters, and in minutes it was if they’d been lifelong friends. These two were not the only ones finding common ground. Two agents of S.H.I.E.L.D, Carmilla “Scorpion” Black and Aurora “Lightwave” Dante, were also hitting it off. Despite both being employed with the same organization, and both superpowered women of similar youth, they’d actually never met before til now, when they were sent in attendance together after receiving their mutual invites. “I wasn’t sure I even counted as a mutant, to be honest,” Scorpion was telling Lightwave, “I mean, my powers came at sixteen, yeah, and it happened on its own, no radioactive scorpions involved, but I thought that was all due to my bio-monster’s genetic engineering.” “I guess maybe it could be a little of both?” Lightwave suggested, “Maybe you always had the X-gene, and your mom just played around with how it manifested.” “Well, given how it ended up actually SAVING me from her brainwashing chemicals, that would make a lot of sense. There’s no way she’d have arranged for THAT deliberately.” “That’s the old unpredictable x-factor!” Lightwave quipped, “You never know what it’s gonna do or how it’s gonna do it! I think that’s actually why it’s named that.” “Really? I always figured it was after that Professor X guy, didn’t he discover it?” “He did, and he named it, but I heard it wasn’t after himself, it was—oh, hi, can we help you?” “I apologize so much for interrupting,” said the dark-skinned woman who had approached them. She was beautiful, older than the pair of them but surely not out of her 30s, maybe not even into them, her sleek black hair in a chin-length bob and her black-and-gold gown in an Egyptian-inspired design. “But you, in the fetching green number. . .you are the one they call Stinger?” “I’m Scorpion. This is Stinger,” Scorpion lifted her left arm and pointed to it with her right one. The latter was covered in a long ruched sleeve that matched the skirt of her dress, but the former was bare save for a metal armlet from which metal fringes and small spikes, matching her earrings, dangled, and a metal bracelet linked to a ring, with a dazzling green gem between them set on the back of her hand. This ring-bracelet was a modified version of the gauntlet specially constructed by S.H.I.E.L.D to help her better control the discharges from Stinger, as she called her left arm. Normally, the gauntlet contracted into a much plainer little bracelet for her civilian-wear, but the good folks in the SHIELD labs had crafted her a bauble more befitting this occasion. “I see,” said the woman sweetly, and the smile at her lips was looking less polite and more.  . .intrigued? Pleased? Anticipatory? “Why do you ask?” Lightwave said, feeling a bit odd about all this, and a bit left out of the conversation. “I’m Asp, of the Serpent Society,” the woman replied, “And while I’ve yet to take up residence on this lovely island, I’m a mutant myself—one of the few among my cohorts whose powers are all-natural. All-natural and—very similar to yours.” She darted her eyes towards Scorpion, and continued, “I can fire blasts of energy from my hands—both hands—that has an effect on the body like that of a venomous snake. You call yours a sting; I liken mine to a bite.” “Uh huh, cool,” Scorpion was somehow both bored and suspicious, and placed her hands on her waist, “So our powers are vaguely alike. Anything else you wanted to tell me?” Unresponsive to the rise of rudeness in the younger woman’s tone, Asp continued in her own polite one, though there was a persuasive silkiness to it now, “I’ve been propositioned by a few residents of Krakoa to partake in a game of chance. They want to take bets on which of us has a better venom-blast. And the winner gets a cut of the pot.” Scorpion looked at her hard. Lightwave tensed, unsure of what the outcome would be. “Nah,” said Scorpion, “My powers aren’t a game for me, lady. I don’t play with them like one.” “Oh, what a pity,” said Asp primly, “I did so hope you’d be a willing participant.” “What’s that supposed to mea–” Scorpion was cut off as Asp fired a venom blast towards her; Scorpion’s quick reflexes allowed her to jump out of the way, but it still would have grazed her calf if not for Lightwave’s equally quick force shield. Asp readied another blast, but was caught from behind by tendrils of darkness that bound her arms to the sides and lifted her off her feet. Behind her, controlling the solid shadows, hovered a slender blonde woman, dressed in Gala regalia was well. Darkstar, aka Laynia Petrovna, a recently arrived resident on Krakoa who had defected from service to the Russian government. “No fighting is allowed here! You know the rules!” Darkstar commanded. “We’re not…ungh…fighting. . .we’re competing!” Asp gasped, straining against her umbrous bonds. Darkstar looked to Scorpion and Lightwave for confirmation.  . .or lack thereof. “Yeah,” Scorpion said after a moment, “We were just testing our powers against each other. They’re pretty similar so we wanted to see who packed more poison.” Lightwave looked at her comrade in surprise, but didn’t contradict her. “Hmm,” Darkstar evaluated the situation. She’d wanted to be useful to the nation of Krakoa, as they had shown her great mercy by allowing her here, and she was consuming resources of the island, and she wished to give back to its people, protect them, as she had protected those of Mother Russia. To this end, she’d been appointed a reserve X-Man, and in the meantime given a great many menial tasks. For instance, Gala security. She lowered herself down, and released Asp, stating, “Games of skill are permitted as part of the Gala’s activities, but please, use an area designated for such. I will guide you to one and supervise.” Asp looked irritated, but all she said was, “Thank you so much.” As Darkstar lead the way, Lightwave whispered to Scorpion, “Why did you say that?” “Because I can handle myself,” Scorpion whispered back, “I don’t need KG-Blondie coming to my rescue. This lady really wants a fight? Fine.” Meanwhile, Asp was calling some friends on her little snake-themed cell phone, and by the time the trio arrived with Darkstar to the clearing, there was already a little crowd of interested parties waiting. “This better be a good show and a good pot, love,” Pyro quipped at Asp, “I left a bonzer card game for this!” “You were losing,” Phantazia pointed out. “Not for long I wasn’t gonna be!” Scorpion and Lightwave weren’t the only guests experiencing some. . .conflict. “Oh dear me, Ajak, you may be divine these days, but that dress surely is not!” Sinister crowed at the Eternal, “Oh my, wait, no—Dante did write the Divine Comedy, did he not? That must be what he meant!” Ajak had come to the Gala not as Ajak Celestia, but as herself. Somehow. Yet she had allegedly not unfused with the Progenitor. According to her, this was but a tangible aspect of herself, continuing to experience the world as an individual while her whole remained at her post, watching the world and waiting for the right time to pass the final judgement upon it all. Right now though, she was being judged, quite harshly, by Sinister. Or rather, her sartorial choices were. And while Ajak was not one who took pride in fashion, pride she did have, much too much so to be mocked by this obscenity before her that called itself Sinister. “You were gagged and shackled by me before,” Ajak warned coolly, “Do not tempt me to do so again.” “Oh, you’re not the one I’d want doing that,” Sinister assured, “But Bennett, dear, have you seen Shaw around? He might be into it.” Exodus and Ajak both looked confused, but Makkari, who had been doing her best to diffuse things, looked disgusted. Unlike the other two, she’d spent a long time in the modern world, after all. But she needn’t have worried. No one had seen Shaw for quite some time this evening. How very odd. Very, very odd. Wherever Shaw was, though, he wasn’t with Haven. Nor was Exodus. Nor was Ajak. Save for Mantis, she was alone. And Mantis, she said, suddenly had an engagement. So scratch that. Haven was alone when a column of darkness solidified before her into none other than Selene, Black Priestess! Priestess to what? The ultimate goddess—-herself of course! “You wretched little creature!” the sorcerous mutant spat as tendrils of her darkness reached out and wrapped around Haven, flexible as vines and strong as chains, “You truly thought you could usurp my place?! You thought it was yours to take and Shaw’s to give?! He’s been dealt with and now so shall y–” Selene was cut off by a kick to the back of her head that would have decapitated a mere mortal. . .or a mutant who wasn’t smart enough to have protectively enchanted her body since that little upstart snipe(r) Hope had shot her. “This one thinks not!” Mantis cried, having used the kick to push herself away from Selene once more and land dramatically near Haven, whose bonds had momentarily loosened due to Selene’s distraction. Loosened. . .but, Mantis found when she tried to free her new friend, not enough. “This one sensed something was afoot!” she explained, in her customary third-person speaking style. It was not due to lack of understanding so-called “proper” English, but a very deliberate way of distancing herself from the ego of the words “I” and “me” as the Pama Priests had taught her. “So you hid in the shadows til I emerged,” Selene emerged, looming over her new opponent, “Very clever—but you’d have been far more clever to avoid the Black Queen!” As she spoke, the rocks and stones around them levitating and hurled down towards Mantis like comets. She leaped into the air once more, using them as stepping stones, trying to get back to Selene. The rocks, meanwhile, avoided Haven; Selene had far more personal plans in store for her attempted replacement. Selene’s telekinesis could only affect inanimate objects. Plants, though perhaps not as mobile as their meaty counterparts, were not inanimate. They were beyond her control. But they answered to another mistress—Mantis, the Celestial Madonna! As she bounded from rock to rock while avoiding being hit by the same projectiles she climbed, she still managed to direct a portion of her mental energy towards summoning the aid of the surrounding flora—something Krakoa was plentiful in! Flowers, ferns, and moss, they all came to her aid, the trees themselves bending to swing their mighty branches at the black-clad witch, as though nature itself were trying to banish her unnatural presence. But Selene just cackled, and the foliage before her burst into flames. For pyrokinesis was on her list of myriad talents mutant and magical. Still, even this defeat served its purpose for Mantis, who used the Black Priestess’s moment of triumph as a distraction to lunge at her! But Selene met this too with laughter, welcoming Mantis into her arms—arms whose skin instantly began to drain the life itself from the Celestial Madonna’s flesh! “My what truly potent energy you have!” Selene crowed, “So unique! Those senses of yours didn’t tell you what MY true gift is, did they? To drain your life and make it my own! Don’t fret though, you won’t die—you will live for eternity in ME!” “The only place of eternity for you is the PIT!” Darkstar had joined the fray. Like Mantis, she too had sensed a disturbance in the force—the Darkforce, specifically, which Selene was calling upon for her shadow manipulation. She couldn’t commandeer the shadows that were holding Haven, but she could at least summon her own to save Mantis, engulfing the former Avenger in a Darkforce teleportation portal, sending her somewhere safer. Alas, that also meant that Mantis was out of the fight, especially since those unused to traveling through the Darkforce dimension were often drained by it, physically and mentally. Even now, mere prolonged contact with it was probably harming Haven on both fronts. Darkstar knew she had to end this fast. Selene, however, had no intention of cooperating with that notion. The two Darkforce wielders went at it, firing their obsidian elemental energies at each other. But while Darkstar’s power was the Darkforce alone, Selene had many other abilities at her disposal, and Darkstar was fading fast against them. Finally, she fell from the sky, her fancy feathered Gala dress in a heap around her, giving her the likeness of a bird that had crashed into a windowpane. There was a roar of fire around her as a ring of enchanted flame encircled her, then formed a dome above her. She tried to teleport, but could not even call upon that much. The Darkforce has closed its doors to you, my dear, Selene’s voice spoke in her head, You are but its friend—I am its QUEEN! Don’t fret though; you won’t be burned unless you try to escape. After all, if Darkstar died, she might remember what happened to Haven the human when she woke up. Selene would need to make some modifications to her memory first. Not normally within Selene’s telepathic abilities, which were in fact relatively minor ones, but sorcery was always a boost. And the enlisted aid of mutants too afraid to say no, of course. Selene sauntered now to the still-imprisoned Haven, who seemed to be awaiting her fate impassively. “No begging? No pleading? I’m almost disappointed by your dignity. Or are you just so purely petrified? I know it can’t be that you’re actually RESPECTFUL enough to hold your tongue in the presence of a goddess,” Selene crooned, “After all, you had no respect when you accepted MY place and title!” “I do beg you not to do this,” Haven said, her brown eyes indeed imploring, “For your sake. You will harm yourself, horribly, if you try to–” “HA!” Selene cut her off with a derisive laugh, tossing her elegant head back so her elaborate necklace jewels gleamed in the fire’s light, “You think those FOOLS on the Quiet Council can imprison ME? They couldn’t even keep me dead!” “We’ll do better,” said a new voice. For the third time, a new player had entered Selene’s scene to save Haven. Or rather, two new players. Haven had been physically silent through the whole ordeal, but she’d been mentally calling out to Ajak and Exodus the entire time. Alas, Exodus and Ajak had become. . .engaged. . .with Sinister in a psychic. . .dispute. . .and Makkari was as telepathically Deaf as she was physically. It was only now that Exodus had things, er, handled, that he and Ajak got the message. Exodus was required to stay behind to keep Sinister contained, but Ajak and Makkari were now free to handle matters for their friend. “Oh, the so-called gods arrive,” Selene seemed unimpressed, “Truth me told, I’m rather pleased to see you. I’ve long wanted to test your mettle against–” She was cut off by a massive energy blast by Ajak. At the same time, Makkari rushed behind Selene as she was blasted backwards, pummeling her rapidly in the back with such strength and speed that even her magically enhanced body buckled. The ebony prison around Haven did the same, slackening and then dissipating entirely, and Haven fell to her knees, drained by the contact with the Darkforce. At the same time, the fire imprisoning Darkstar disappeared, though the Russian could not yet use her powers again. Selene put up a valiant fight; she was no pushover. But the Eternals could manipulate cosmic energy, move at high speeds, lift over 15 tons, and, most importantly, never tire. For all her power, Selene could be worn down. Ajak and Makkari could not. And when the former was spent, by coincidence, she had collapsed right next to Haven. Still conscious, her body now rapidly withering into a crone from the expenditure of energy, she knew she could not win. . .but she could at least do what she had set out to, and to replenish her youth in the process. “No!” Haven cried out as Selene reached for her, “Selene, don’t! It’s dang–” She was silenced as Selene began to sap her energy, and Makkari and Ajak both rushed to intervene. Makkari’s speed was more than adequate to get there before Selene’s skin even made contact with Haven, and yet her incredible strength could not separate them. But it was not Selene who was keeping Haven trapped; it was vice versa. Haven and Selene were both howling, Selene in pain, Haven in sympathy as she tried to free the other woman from her own body. Yet even as Haven successfully pushed her away, Selene’s body continued draining the energy from Haven. Makkari and Ajak could SEE it crackling in the air, linking the women’s bodies. “Help her!” Haven cried out to the confused Eternals, “The demonic energy—it’s too much, it’s going to destroy her from inside–” Ajak and Makkari didn’t exactly understand, and frankly neither of them were inclined to help Selene at all, but Haven’s distress was a motivator if nothing else for Ajak in particular. But. . .what could they do? Not knowing what else to do, Ajak ran to Haven and grabbed her, preparing to get her out of there, away from having to watch whatever was going to happen to Selene. And this turned out to be the correct move. Ajak’s body had moved between the energy streams that had linked the women, and in doing so, had severed them. . .no, not severed them. Ajak’s cosmic energy that fueled her nigh-indestructible body flowed now along the current into Selene just before it disappeared. Even this tiny transfer was a life-saving boost, saving the sorceress and restoring her youth in the bargain. But she was still powerless, on her hands and knees, her head down, unable to even speak, panting in pain on the grass. What was that? Makkari signed, and Ajak relayed it to Haven as always. “I’ll.  ..explain,” said Haven, hesitantly, as if she didn’t wish to, “But first. . .” She knelt beside Selene, placing a steadying hand on her. Selene tried to shrink from her instinctively, like a scared animal, and only ended up collapsing into the lap of her would-be prey. Haven held her gently, trying to comfort her while also keeping the woman’s pride and dignity in mind, “I’m sorry. It’s very unjust to you, isn’t it?” Because Haven knew that, from Selene’s point of view, it likely was. She had never met the former Black Queen before, but Shaw had told her about her extensively, and she’d also been able to garner Selene’s perspective quite well from the things she’d said to her in this encounter. And what she had garnered was that Selene was as locked into her own perspective as Haven had once been in. For which Haven could not blame her; changing one’s mind was hard enough, and Selene had held hers for thousands of years. And it must be such a comforting one; she never questioned her own worth or place in the universe, her reason for being here or the purpose of her long life or the morality of taking the lives of others to sustain it. To step away from that belief.  . .why, it might literally kill her. She was what she was, and Haven loved her. She loved everyone. Which was why she asked the others not to tell the Council about this. Darkstar could not agree. She was dutiful to Krakoa’s laws. But Haven’s request for mercy would also be relayed, she promised. Mantis was fine, as were, of course, Ajak and Makkari. Haven was weakened, but wished to remain at the Gala after Selene was taken away by Exodus. And she did give that explanation to the Eternals. “The thing that lived in me once. . .is gone,” she said, each word a labor, “But some remnants of its power. . .” The Eternals both nodded grimly. She did not continue and they did not urge her to. As for Scorpion and Asp’s contest, the moment Darkstar left, it no longer had a referee, and the spectators swiftly decided they wanted to be PARTICIPANTS instead. It was an absolute disaster and a good time was had by all involved! Oh, and Shaw was er. . .fine. If you care. END