#my fucked up daughters Salt and Pepper Diamond
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â until we meet again, preciosa
PAIRING || bishop losa x black!ofc, miguel galindo x black!ofc (mentioned)
SUMMARY || Sheâs not his, and she wonât ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. âUntil we meet again, preciosa.â
TAGS || angst, unresolved feelings, not a hea, mentions of toxic relationships, sex (referenced).
WORD COUNT || 1.6k

Shadowy clouds hang overhead, blocking out the warming glow of the Sun. Raindrops pelt the roof above, drumming a beat of their own before pooling down to the concrete paved streets below. Isis watches stray droplets gather on the tall windows for several moments before stepping out onto the covered balcony. It felt colder than usual inside the three-story, Spanish-style shophouse, but outside itâs the opposite-- balmy, earthy. The air is heavy with humidity, so she has to take deep breaths, but she doesnât enjoy it any less. Invigoration comes with the rain, brings hope for new beginnings, renews faith for the hopeless.
Down below, people dart between vendors to continue their shopping as the rain lightens. Colorful rays spring from puddles up towards the sky. A pair of young siblings splash each other while their mother sells delicious smelling tamales wrapped in banana leaves. Another young woman peddles gold necklaces, praying candles, and other little knick-knacks to the tourists of Sonora. Everybody has to make a living, including Isis.
She spends her days stroking the strings of a guitar or the keys of her piano, helping patrons of the music shop in between. The ground floor of the shophouse boasts string instruments and an extensive collection of vinyl records. After hours, she makes money hosting private piano lessons. She performs at the Discoteca down the street on weekends, fueling her passion for music almost 24/7 except when Preciosa is closed for âmaintenanceâ.
Overstock merchandise and whatever else the Mayansâ Motorcycle Clubs needs to store clutters the second floor. Donât ask, donât tell is her motto, so whenever they come to the shop, she simply flips the sign to closed. Thereâs no point in fighting it. Besides, El Presidente always makes it a bearable, if not pleasant, experience. Bishop had called ahead to warn her that he was bringing Hank, Angel, and the new prospect, Angelâs baby brother, along. She could hear them bumping around, a noisy reminder that her shop only thrived because of the illegal deals happening in the back.
âWhy donât you put all that time and energy into something thatâll get you somewhere?â Being a musician wasnât an acceptable career in her motherâs eyes, so the woman took every chance she could to crush her daughterâs dreams. âNobody wants to hear all that noise!â Staring out into the street, she canât help but wonder where she wouldâve ended up if her mother had been supportive. Maybe she could have been a star rising to the top of Billboard charts or someone who worked behind the scenes, writing songs, singing demos. She had the skill set. Yes, her path would have been much different.
Isis had stood front and center, crooning out an old school blues song at a hole-in-the-wall spot when Miguel Galindo first laid eyes on her. It was a chance meeting, one that felt like fate at the time because dive bars werenât his scene. The owner was a business associate who decided to try his hand at being a restaurateur; Miguel had been kind enough to come out and support. When he caught sight of her shapely frame in a slinky, satin number, he insisted on being introduced.
Miguel stood out in a crowd, wearing a tailored button-down, dark dress pants, and an expensive pair of Italian leather shoes. His salt and pepper beard groomed to perfection, hair gelled so that no strand was out of place. The moment sheâd looked into his eyes, she was caught in his web. His masculine scent drew her in like honey to a bee. His charisma held her attention. Miguel sweet-talked her all night, insisting Isis sit next to him, eat hâorderves, and drink overpriced champagne. She obliged. Who could say no to that face? He used their close proximity to reel her in like a fish on a hook, leaning down to whisper in her ear. Youâre beautiful. He told her. You have such a smooth, seductive tone. You should be performing for bigger crowds. Have you ever thought about branching out? He told her everything her mother never had, so she was a lamb to the slaughter.
For months, Miguel had treated her like his very own LifeSize doll to play with. He took her on shopping sprees, kept her draped in silk and lace. Isis didnât think of herself as materialistic, but she couldnât deny being showered in gifts felt splendid. He was always so tender, handling her delicately as his newest prized possession. As time went on, she became more like an ornament. Something for him to marvel at when he felt like it and then hide away the rest of the time. But nothing was worse than him leaving her to harden after he was finished molding her like clay. She asked for moreâtime, commitment, only for him to do the opposite.
Thus, Preciosa was born. A way for him to placate her and later make it easier for the M.C. to make him money.
âJust a few more minutes, and weâll be out your way.â Isis jumped at the sound, turning away from the street to see Bishop. She hadnât heard him come outside; didnât expect him to venture up into her personal space.
Isisâ smile rarely reached her eyes, Bishop noticed. He stepped forward, holding a velvet box that felt heavier than it was. Her fingertips tickled him as he passed it over. Diamonds surrounded in white gold gleamed as the clouds cleared away for the Sun. Even Bishop could admit the set was gorgeous, but she didnât look impressed. He hated being Galindoâs delivery boy, watching the way her face fell when the gifts she received became increasingly impersonal with each week. Not long ago, heâd also been tasked with passing along handwritten love notes or antique music sheets that she caressed like she would a loverâs skin.
âThank you.â
She couldnât hide her disappointment from him. Not for lack of trying-- Miguel always reminded her, appearances were everything. Smile. Donât make me look bad. But Bishop watched her closely, knew her tells. Despite every nerve in his brain urging him to walk away, he steps forward to stand next to her. His calloused hands rest on the balconyâs edge next to her delicate pair, brown in varying tones of sepia and mahogany contrasting against the white paint.
Bishop feels the heat of her eyes on his frame, but he doesnât let himself respond. Sharing this moment, a quick breath of fresh air will have to be enough. But sheâs all around him, smelling of florals and sweet spices. He canât think. He fumbles with his pockets in search of a cigarette. âYou mind?â She shakes her head but is otherwise silent. Still watching him as he smokes; the way he takes long, steady pulls, cradling the stick between his full lips and then between his strong, veined fingers. She would bet her last dollar that he was an expert at other things involving his fingers and mouth.
When his hand drops again, she links her pinky with his, hesitant but exploratory.
Bishop looks at her, really looks at her like he sees her. Itâs nice to be seen, especially when youâre the princess locked up far, far away from everyone youâve ever known. Sheâs a black girl from Texas living in Sonora for goodnessâ sake. This is no life, and she knows it. Several moments pass where neither can look away, both weighing their desires with the potential consequences.
With a deep breath in, she musters up the courage to ask Bishop what sheâs been wanting to for months.
âStay?â
Her heart feels like it might just explode while she waits for a response.
Bishop drops his head to his chest, cursing under his breath. âFuck.â If Miguel ever found out⊠But he already knew what his answer would be. Heâd been waiting for the invitation. The heated looks they exchanged, the way her fingers lingered on his when he passed her something. That damned pout she wore when Miguel forgot to send a flower arrangement-- she had no idea Bishop had been the one buying the flowers for some time now. No matter what mood she was in, fresh flowers always brightened her day. He loved watching that lonely look transform into something more lively, curious as she marveled over his choice for the week. He went for variety, slowly learning what she loved and what she just liked; her favorite color, favorite scent.
The subtle tension between them, he wasnât even certain she noticed. The cash and the bling couldâve blinded her to all other men. But it didnât.
When the Sun had gone down several hours later, and the guys were gone, Bishop redressed. Belt buckling with a clink, leather sliding over his shoulders easily. He let himself take one last look at her wrapped up in a poofy comforter set. The mustard-yellow velvet complimented her skin in the best way, bringing out a gold undertone. Her eyes seem to have brightened as well. He couldnât resist leaning over to stroke her sweaty skin. Dark coils stuck to her beautiful face, frizzy in some parts from when she rode him, sweat escaping from her pores, flat in the others from when he laid her on her back and hooked her legs over her shoulders.
He wants to stay, to prop himself up against the intricately carved wood headboard and hold her in his lap while they whisper sweet nothing to each other, but he canât.
Sheâs not his, and she wonât ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. âUntil we meet again, preciosa.â

NOTES || This fic and the collage above was inspired by @isisafrofairyâs gorgeous moodboard! Also, the wonderful âUntil we meet again, preciosaâ line is hers as well. This is my thank you for the moodboard you made for me. I really leaned on the pictures you used for inspiration and I think I managed to capture/include each element. It was so hard not to ruin the surprise, but I was able to shut tf up for once đ Iâm really proud of how this turned out, and hopefully you enjoy it just as much! Also, I realize the moodboard had nothing to do with Miguel but he lives in my head rent-free apparently đ„Ž

GENERAL TAGLIST || @woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903 @thesandbeneathmytoesâ @amorestevensâ
MAYANS M.C. TAGLIST || @cant-decide-at-this-moment
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Request Friday: I think youâve done similar stories but my mind was thinking arranged marriage + Pirate King Luke with a glorious beard. Maybe Mama Shaw wants to smuggle her goods via the pirate kingâs fleet and to broker a relationship between them she offers her eldest?
Iâve just got the mental image of Luke dripping in gold and jewels, sitting fiercely on his throne cutting quite the figure when Deckard is escorted into the room to help sway negotiations and Luke is captivatedâwants nothing more than to wrap him in silks and jewels, spoil him utterly rotten. Owen isnât happy about their mumâs plans for Deck but is distracted by Pirate Captain Roman (Iâm sure an absurd nickname)!cutting quite the figure.
Hattie decked out in swashbuckling gear, threatening idiots with her sword/daggers/gun when they try to hit on her. (A deadlier Elizabeth Swan)
I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS FRIEND!
I have such a weak spot for Luke beard, especially when it's salt and pepper. And omg, Deckard given up as a sacrifice is hilarious
And Hattie as Elizabeth Swan??? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP
~~~
Looking over several papers, Queenie Shaw narrowed her eyes at them. The numbers weren't adding up to what she had been hoping for
She would have to go with her backup plan
Sighing, she waved on of her servants out front the corner she had been quietly embroidering in. The woman lifted her skirts in a curtsey as she bowed
"Please bring my daughter to me." Queenie said in a clipped tone
"Right away, madam." The woman scurried out of the room, barely making any noise
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Queenie knew what she need to do, but it all relied on what she could convince of her children
Glancing out of the large windows, Queenie could hear the laughter of the servants' children. Looking at the clock, Queenie knew it was the normal time Deckard would sit them down for a lesson
She never really understood his want to teach them how to read. Even their parents didn't know
After a few minutes of listening to the soft murmur of voices outside in the gardens, the door to her office finally opened to reveal the servant gesturing Hattie inside
Queenie couldn't help the prideful smile that spread across her face as she took her daughter in
Hattie looked like a right pirate
"Something the matter, mum?" She asked, throwing herself into a seat and leaning back provocatively. Any other lady would have yelled at her scandalous behavior. Queenie simply raised an eyebrow
"I wanted your opinion on a matter." Queenie said slowly. "What are your thoughts on the pirate king?"
"Hobbs?"
"Yes."
"He's an alright bastard." Hattie said thoughtfully. "Looks after his people and keeps them in line when need be. He's cutthroat but fair. Why are you asking about him?"
"Because I want to strike up a deal with him."
"What kind of deal?" Hattie asked slowly, eyed narrowed in suspicion
"Trade has been going down recently. Too many imperial arseholes sticking their noses in my trade routes recently, causing them to dry up. I need new routes and the only ones I can find are through Hobbs' territory."
"Thats a lot of risk for him to take, he won't do that for cheap." Hattie looked over her mother carefully. "What are you planning on giving him? He'll need more than money."
"I know." Queenie nodded. Leaning back, she crossed her arms and fixed her daughter with a careful look
"What?"
"Hobbs is a widower, correct?"
"Yes? Mum, if you think I would ever-"
"Not you." Queenie cut her off quickly with a sharp gesture. "Deckard."
"Mum!" Hattie yelped. "You can't just sell him like some kind of mare!"
"I'm not!" Queenie hissed
"Then what are you doing?" Hattie snapped. "Because if you think Hobbs will let him leave, you're dead wrong! Pirates are selfish mum!"
"I'm assuming you know from experience?" Queenie drawled, purposely looking her daughter up and down
"Yes." Hattie met her eyes and glared. "Yoi are not shoving my brother into some arranged marriage."
Queenie met her gaze evenly
"And what if I told you that if we don't get those trade routes, all that I have built will crumb?"
"What?" Hattie blinked at her
Queenie didn't look happy to reveal what she said next
"We need to keep our illegal dealings going, but the empire and the king's men have started to notice. If they do, they'll come after our whole family. I can't let that happen, Hatts."
"But, Deck-"
"Can slit Hobbs' throat in a few years if it comes to that."
Hattie's face twisted in discomfort
"I don't want to send him into that, mum."
"I know dear." Queenie sighed. "And that's why I want you and Oh to escort Deckard there yourselves."
Hattie looked out the window, where Queenie had been looking out earlier
"Think we could convince Deck to wear his favorite dress to meet Hobbs?"
"Doubtful. He only wears them in our presence." Queenie chuckled, but felt her heart clench
Their family's business might thrive, but would her son?
---
Sitting on his throne, Luke played with a gold coin as he listened to the squabbles of lower ranked pirates. Head rested in his other hand, Luke couldn't wait for the pirate court to be called to a stop
Just another reason he wished Jonah had become the pirate king. Luke would rather he be the one sailing across the seas every day with his crew and daughter
But no, he was trapped helping other pirates deal with their own shit
Deciding to just take one pirate's side for no particular reason, Luke was interrupted by a party of three people walking into the hall
Luke peered at them closely
He only really recognized one of them
Hattie Shaw was one of the cruelest and efficient pirates Luke has seen in over a decade. She ran a tight ship and was fear by every sailor that came across her. Too bad she still held ties to her family, or else Luke would have asked her to join his fleet a long time ago
Standing next to her were two men. Neither really screamed pirate like Hattie did, instead they were in plain clothes. But it didn't hide the weapons on the taller man, who was practically hovering over the smaller man protective
But it was that smaller man Luke couldn't take his eyes off
He was absolutely gorgeous
The candlelight seemed to soften his harsh expression and enhanced how sharp his cheekbones were. He held himself with a sense of dignity, even when wearing a plain white shirt and black trousers
No. The man deserved to be covered in gold and jewels. He should be wrapped in the finest silk and laid on the softest sheets
Luke mentally went through the many pieces of stolen jewelry he had that he could drape over the man. He had a large diamond necklace, almost collar like, that would suit the man perfectly
Lost to his fantasies, Luke felt someone poke his shoulder. Looking up, Luke sheepishly met the harsh glare Letty was sending him
"What's your decree, King Luke?" She said through clenched teeth. Luke had a feeling she'd been trying to get his attention for a while
"You." Luke pointed at random between the two feuding pirates. "You were in the right. Whatever it is, you get it."
With a wave of his hand, Luke dismissed them and didn't care if he had been right or not
"You three!" Luke called out, staring at Hattie and the two men. "Come forward and speak your piece."
Luke could hear the irritated hiss Letty let out. Probably upset that he let people cut the line
Too bad, he was a pirate and would do what he wanted
With her chin held high, Hattie led the two men towards them. As they enter more of the candlelight, Luke couldn't keep his eyes off the smaller man
If it was possible, he looked even more attractive closer up
Luke already knew which golden bracelets would adorn the man's arms
"What brings you here, Shaw?" Luke asked curiously. "Usually you don't need anything from me."
"Not usually, no." Hattie said, her face serious. "But, my mother has a proposal for you."
"Go on."
"You allow her transport ships through your waters."
"And for me?"
"My brother's hand in marriage."
Luke sat up eagerly
And felt like the luckiest man on earth when the smaller man pushed past the other man and closer to Luke
He held his head up as he met Luke's eyes in a challenge
Luke smiled, showing all of his teeth
"I accept."
---
The words seemed to ring out in the large hall
And echoed inside of Deckard's head, making his ears ring
What?
With wide eyes, Deckard stared up at the pirate king who simply leaned back into his throne
He didn't want to admit it, but the image had Deckard salivating
Luke Hobbs was a large man with muscles bigger than Deckard's head, and they shown beautifully in the candlelight, along with the gold that hung off his body
His powerful arms were free of cloth and had gold arm bands with blue rocks embedded in them. Deckard couldn't help but stare at the sight
"You may wait in my chambers while I discuss the details with your sister." Hobbs told him, breaking Deckard out of his staring
Blinking, Deckard wanted to glare at the man for dismissing him so easily, but he held his tongue
Especially when he saw the heated look the king was sending him
Deckard felt himself blush heavily. It was as if the man was undressing him simply by staring at him
A woman broke away from the crowd watching the proceedings
"I'll take him there, Luke." She said, bowing her head slightly
"Thank you, Ramsey."
Looking over at the woman, Deckard found himself relaxing slightly at her smile
Maybe being married off to a pirate wouldn't be the worst thing in the world
---
Owen frowned as he watched Deckard be escorted away from them. He wanted to follow after them, but the firm grip Hattie had on his arm told him not to
Grinding his teeth, Owen stayed put as Hattie dragged them towards a corner of the hall
Hobbs would discuss their contract further once he was done with the court
"I don't like this. It shouldn't be this easy." Owen hissed
"Maybe it can be." Hattie whispered back. "Now quiet."
Leaning against the wall, Owen watched the court carefully to gain any information
And soon found his attention on one pirate specifically
And can you really blame him, when the pirate's name was Roman 'Barnacle Whisperer' Pearce?
That was a story Owen wanted to get his hands on. And maybe the man himself
---
Stepping into a huge, lavish room, Deckard swallowed thickly. Was this really where Hobbs slept? Even Deckard's rooms at home weren't this big!
He heard the door close as Ramsey left him alone to admire everything. Sitting on a lavish couch, Deckard took a deep breath
No doubt in a few days Deckard would be married to the man who owned all this
It was a little overwhelming
Lost in thought, Deckard jumped when he heard the door open again. And revealed a small girl
Deckard met her curious gaze
"Who are you?" She asked
"Deckard."
"Are you a friend of my dad?"
"Kind of." Deckard coughed. He could only assume she meant Hobbs
"What're you doing here?"
"Waiting for him."
"Want to wait together?"
"I'd love the company." Deckard smile and was pleased to see the girl smile back. "And what's your name?"
"Sam." She skipped over to him and looked him over. "You look really plain."
Deckard blinked at her. And looked over the jewels and gold she was wearing. Definitely Hobbs' daughter
"Dad wouldn't mind if you wore a few things of his." Sam smiled at him and grabbed his hand. "Come on."
Frowning, Deckard let Sam pull him further into the rooms
---
Entering his chambers, Luke let out a sigh
He hated haggling deals. Especially when it came to two overly protective siblings. At least Owen Shaw had been distracted by Roman
Looking around the front room, Luke frowned. Where was the third Shaw, Deckard?
For a moment, Luke was scared Ramsey had taken him for herself. But as he listened closely, he could hear laughter from his bedroom
Quietly walking towards the room, Luke could hear Sam's voice
"You look so pretty!"
"Thank you, as do you." A man's voice responded
Luke could clearly hear the joy in both of their voices. Poking his head into the room, Luke felt his heart skip a beat
Sam was kneeling on a chair as she rummaged through his chest of jewels, while Deckard Shaw stood next to her and allowed her to dress him any jewelry she didn't wear herself
Luke's eyes immediately zeroed in on the diamond collar around Deckard's neck
Looked like Sam had had the same idea
Deckard Shaw would be theirs
Leaning against the doorway, Luke stayed quiet as he watched his future husband and daughter
~~~
I hope you enjoyed friend!!
#shobbs#deckard shaw#luke hobbs#owen shaw#hattie shaw#hobbs and shaw#pirate au#asks#omni answers#omni writes
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I Pretend Youâre Mine (5)
A/N: Back with the promised continuation chapter!Â
Not sure if youâre interested, but when I was writing, in my head I pictured:
Betty White as Grandma Rose
Richard Madden as Levi
Peter Gallagher as Jason Martin
Scott Eastwood as Drew
Masterlist
Tags: @empath-bunny
@ityagirljay
@wolfarrowepzâ
@supernatural-crazed-girl
Five: You Were Romeo (I Was a Scarlet Letter)
Day 1: Thursday, June 13th
7:00 pm- Welcome Cocktails in the Stardust Lounge, Deck 6
âChampagne, miss?â The formally dressed waiter offered a flute of sparkling wine, a raspberry garnish floating in the glass. Rosalie took it from his hands with no hesitation, sending the attendant a silent smile of thanks. She put the glass to her lips, then paused and looked up at Derek.
âWill people judge me if I chug this whole thing right now?â she voiced, loving the amused smile that lit up her partnerâs face at the innocent question.
âI thought we didnât care anymore what people thought of us,â Derek reminded her, though she knew that when he was referring to âweâ, he really meant her. Derek never was one to care what people thought of him.
Rosalie weighed her options, then decided that her family judged her anyways so why not have a good time?
In order to get through this hellish night, sheâd have to be tipsy. Best start now.
Without a word of affirmation, she forewent her instilled manners and chugged the glass down in one long sip. Rosalie wasnât normally a fan of champagne, unless it was Dom Perignon, which she realized made her sound like a total snob. It was the one thing that sheâd inherited from her father, her expensive taste in food and drink. It seemed by the familiar, rich, and delicious taste of the bubbly that the cruise ship staff had only provided the very best for their VIP guests.
Rosalie searched for a place to set her glass, finding a nearby unoccupied table and gently depositing it there. She, quite literally, couldnât afford to even chip one of the crystal goblets. Â She stumbled back to Derek, who was waiting for her with an open arm.
âYou ready for this?â he whispered in her ear, his breath hot on her neck. It caused unvoluntary goosebumps to crawl up her arms, which she prayed he didnât notice.
Was she ready?
A part of her never would be. Sheâd purposely left this part of her life behind, knowing all too well how toxic it was for her mental health. But Rosalie knew if she backed out now, then the family would know that they finally got to her. They would think that she was still strung up and heartbroken about Drew, or jealous of her stepsister for getting the diamond that was meant for Rosalie.
And sure, she had been⊠once upon a time.
Moving back to Beacon Hills, reconnecting with normal people, people she loved more than her own blood relatives⊠it had put everything into perspective for her again.
Rosalie could once again be herself, be that strong woman that Talia Hale had raised to be when Rosalieâs own mother had fallen short. The strong, kind, generous, goofy, compassionate, empathetic woman with a mind of her own and a head on her shoulders. Not the ice queen, the submissive and serious woman that her father had tried to warp her into.
And for that, Rose was forever thankful.
She was different now, but exactly the same. And this version of her, with her closest confidantes by her side, wouldnât cower in a corner.
Rosalie held her head high, meeting Derekâs gaze with a confident look in her blue eyes.
âYes,â she declared, feeling her confidence rise.
âGood.â
âLead the way, Prince Charming.â
Derek snorted and shook his head at the nickname, but complied and escorted Rosalie further into the room. She searched for a friendly face among the crowd. Normally, sheâd be able to find Lydia by her head of bright red hair, but nearly half of the people in the room had some shade of red hair.
Thankfully, Rosalie didnât have to look all that hard, as Charlotte came bounding up to her aunt, screaming, âAuntie Rosie! Uncle Derek!â
And suddenly, as the child wrapped her arms around one of Derekâs legs and one of Rosalieâs, all of the attention in the room shifted to the couple.
âIs that Rosalie?â her cousin Noah commented to the man next to him.
âWho the hell is that with her? Because dayum, Iâd like to tap that ass,â Noahâs twin, Nick, said back.
âThat has to be her friend,â Uncle Alex said to his wife, his lips around a glass of Scotch.
âNot with the way heâs holding her. Besides, did you hear her niece call him Uncle? How she managed that is beyond me,â Aunt Sarah replied, looking Roseâs companion up and down with hungry eyes.
Rosalie ignored all the talk, even though it seemed as if the crowd wasnât even attempting to be discreet in their conversations.
She reached down to pat Charlotteâs blonde head. âHey, honey! I missed you!â
Derek ruffled Charlotteâs curls playfully, to which the little girl pretended to be angry with him. But Rosalie could see the smile that she was hiding as Charlotte clutched the adultsâ legs even harder.
âAll right, all right, Charlie. Letâs let Auntie Rosalie and Uncle Derek breathe, yeah?â Rosalieâs brother, Levi, broke through the crowd, detaching his daughter from the couple and telling her to go on and play with her cousins.
As soon as the little girl was out of sight, Levi enveloping his sister in a hug. Derek held out his hand for a friendly shake, but Levi pulled him into an embrace as well, the two men patting each other fondly on the back.
âIâm digging the beard,â Derek approved, gesturing to Leviâs newly grown beard while rubbing his own.
âWhat can I say? I was inspired by yours. Although I have to say, mine looks a little better. Yâknow, because itâs still all one color,â Levi joked, comparing his solid red scruff to Derekâs salt-and-pepper look.
Rosalie elbowed Derek in the side teasingly. âYeah, you old man!â
Derek raised one brow and stepped away from Rosalie, crossing his arms. âOh sure, call me old man one more time.â
Rosalie beamed up at him, wagging her own brows. âWhat would you rather me call you? Sugar daddy?â
With one fell swoop, Derek was pressed against her, fingers tickling the small expanse of visible skin on her waist. Rose squealed with laughter, trying in vain to pull away from him and begging for mercy.
Levi cleared his throat loudly, causing the couple to separate. Rosalieâs cheeks burned red at the embarrassing scene that she had been a part of. Surely her brother would tease her about it.
Instead, Levi looked a bit pissed.
âSo, I guess my daughter didnât dream up your engagement, then. This,â Levi gestured to Rosalie and Derek, âis really happening?â
Derek shifted his weight on both feet. Rosalie bit her lip and looked to the floor guiltily. She loved her brother. She really did. But she knew that Levi had loose lips, and heâd surely have one too many and (unintentionally) let slip the whole ruse. That, and Rose couldnât take the disappointment from him.
âItâs about fucking time,â Levi added, sounding a lot more jovial. Rosalieâs and Derekâs heads shot up instantly, shocked at his comment.
Levi slapped Derek on the shoulder. âBro, I am so glad you didnât listen to me.â
âWhatâs he talking about?â Rosalie interrogated Derek.
Derek scratched the back of his neck and turned his head towards the large window next to them. Before he could explain, Jess, Leviâs wife, snaked her arms around her husbandâs waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. âLee was telling me all about how heâd threatened Derek with his guns if he even put his hands on you.â
Rosalieâs jaw dropped. Derek stayed unusually silent. âYou gave Der the boyfriend talk?! When was this, big brother?â
Levi raised both hands in surrender. âIn my defense, Derek was a horny college kid back then, and I was only trying to protect my little sister. You know the, um, milestones that come with prom night.â
The tapping of a mic interrupted their conversation, which Rosalie was thankful for since she was at a loss for words.
Sheâd remembered that night in question, fondly. It was the night that sheâd realized that sheâd had feelings for Derek. Rosalieâs then-boyfriend, Ryan, had dumped her a week before prom for another, more sexy, more experienced, girl. Rosalie was heartbroken, and had sworn off prom, until Derek had shown up on her doorstep in a suit with a pink corsage and a sparkling silver tiara.
Sheâd laughed, of course, at the reference to the childhood nickname. Then, sheâd excitedly rushed upstairs to ready herself, leaving Derek at the mercy of one Levi Martin. Levi Martin, who had, apparently, threatened to cut off Derekâs balls and feed them to the family dog if he had even touched his baby sister in an inappropriate way.
(Levi was always⊠poetic when it came to his threats.)
Rosalie had hoped, prayed, that as Derek had driven her home in his black Camaro, that he would kiss her, to put a fairytale ending on a perfect night. Sure, heâd kissed her when he dropped her off at her front door⊠on the cheek, like a brother, or a best friend, might.
Rosalie had dreamt about that night for years afterwards, of what it would be like if he had actually kissed her.
_______________
âIâm sorry, Grandma Rose. I have to go rescue my fiancĂ© from your dear grandson.â
Rosalie stood from the table, feeling a rush in her head for a few seconds. She was definitely tipsier than she thought.
Once Rose got her bearings, she strutted, barefoot, to Derek, who looked highly uncomfortable. With every inch that Nick advanced on Derek, the man backed a considerable distance away.
âHas anyone ever told you that you have an amazing ass?â Rosalie heard Nick flirt from paces away. The way that Nick was looking at Derek, the way that he was blatantly hitting on the man when Nick knew that Derek was taken, it unsettled something in Rosalie. Her vision turned red as she approached the two from behind, wrapping an arm around Derekâs waist.
âHi Nick. Sorry, this amazing ass is mine.â Rosalie didnât know what she was saying, didnât really think through what she was doing. All she knew was that she was grabbing Derekâs right butt cheek with her hand, smiling smugly as Nickâs eyes widened.
Derek waited until Roseâs cousin scurried away before stiffly asking, âRosalie, why are you grabbing my ass?â
Rosalie let go of Derek immediately, feeling as if sheâd spontaneously combust in mortification. âI am, so, so sorry. I just kind of⊠he was ogling you and it made me mad. Like youâre gorgeous but youâre more than just a pretty face and an incredible ass.â Rosalieâs eyes widened at her word vomit, and now she definitely wanted to throw herself from the nearest balcony and test her drunken theory that she was secretly a mermaid.
âI⊠I need a drink.â
Derek turned to face her, a hint of a forming chuckle on his lips. âI think youâve had enough of those, babe.â
Rosalie wished that she could slink away. She wished that someone would hit her in the head, and sheâd wake up with amnesia. Maybe she could change her name and move to Antarctica? Yeah, that would be good.
Derek rolled his eyes, grabbing his best friend by the elbow and latching her hand back onto his arm. âIâm not mad at you, Rosalie. Feel free to grab my ass anytime if it makes you feel better.â
Rosalie tried to scowl, but the frown was turning upward with every second. âI hate you so much.â
Derek escorted the two back to Rosalieâs table, where Grandma Rose looked completely unimpressed with the whole shindig. Before they sat, he pulled Rose close and whispered, âIâll let you grab my ass as long as I can grab yours.â
At that, he pulled out Rosalieâs chair and plopped her down, taking the one next to her. Rose was speechless. Did that actually come out of his mouth? Wait, did he actually want to grab her behind? Yep. Those were his words. Exactly.
Roseâs cheeks flushed a healthy shade of pink. Derek laughed at her slowly coloring face, to which she smacked him on the thigh under the table. Before she could remove her hand, Derek grabbed it and held it between the two of them.
âI always knew the two of you would end up together.â Grandma Rose said wistfully, looking at the couple with soft eyes.
You and everyone else, apparently. Everyone but Derek, Rosalie thought sadly, and tried to shove the painful pang in her heart.
âYou know how I knew, Rosalie?â Grandma Rose shakily reached for her flute of champagne, taking a long sip. âI knew it when this one, this big, strong, handsome man,â the old woman reached for Derekâs free hand and patted it kindly, âpunched my idiot son in the face at that party, after you got your masterâs degree.â
Rosalie snickered at the memory. Jason and Derek had never gotten along. Jason thought Derek was âsome jock who was too concerned with an unlikely career in basketball instead of his studiesâ. Derek thought Jason was a âpompous, cheating, scumbag, son of a bitchâ. (Both quotes were their words exactly)
All of the building tension exploded when Jason had chosen to make a below-the-belt comparison between Rose and Ashleighâs accomplishments. As if they werenât celebrating Rosalie graduating from Columbia University, an ivy league, with a masterâs degree, with the highest honors.
Derek had broken Jasonâs nose. Jason had gotten a restraining order (his favorite defense tactic; it expired last year).
âIâm so sorry,â Derek told Rosalieâs grandmother, though he didnât sound the least bit remorseful.
âOh, sweetheart. It wasnât like every sane person at that party wasnât thinking the same thing. You were the only one brave enough to do it. Roseâs knight in shining armor.â
Derekâs face flushed red, a rare sight for a man with so much confidence.
âRosalie, dear. I do have to warn you, Drew and Ashleigh are here.â
Rosalie sighed. She knew that they would be here. The pair had done a very good job at avoiding them; Rose wondered when theyâd finally make it around her and Derekâs way. If Rose were lucky, maybe theyâd just avoid her the whole trip. Only in her dreamsâŠ
âI know, Grandma. Iâhave you seen them yet?â
âYes, I had the misfortune of running into both of them while yelling at your father for dragging his ninety-two-year-old mother on an extravagant trip. Do you know how long the plane flight was? Anyways, Drew called me âgrandmaâ. You know what I told him, loves?â
Derek and Rosalie looked to each other, both knowing that it was probably something rude. Grandma Rose was Rosalieâs favorite relative, outside of her brother and Lydia. She was the most real of all of them. She spoke her mind and wasnât afraid to let anyone know how she felt.
âI told him to go fuck himself.â
Derek choked on his glass of white wine. Rosalie smacked him on the back a few times, unable to hold in her shaking laughter.
âYes, I told dear old Drew to go fuck himself. The only man thatâs allowed to call me that is Derek. He doesnât have his head up his ass. He sees how beautiful, wonderful, and deserving of love my real granddaughter is.â
All jokes aside, Grandma Roseâs words warmed Rosalieâs heart. At least one of the extended family members didnât think she was a disgrace.
âWell, kids. Would you look at that? The pompous son of a bitch wants to go blab about himself. Someone should go tell him to shut up.â
Rosalie looked to the small stage at the front of the lounge. Sure enough, there was her father, Jason, dressed to the nines in a likely customized Hugo Boss suit, a pink Hibiscus sticking out of his breast pocket. Jason looked around at the crowd, clearing his throat to get the attention of his guests.
âWelcome, everyone! Iâm so glad that youâre here and could join me on this fantastic excursionâŠâ
Jason continued his schpeal and Rosalie tuned him out. He was likely talking about how great he was for paying for everyoneâs accommodations, or how lucky they were to be spending time with him on this 1K-a-night cruise. Rosalie had heard it all before, multiple times, and she was sick of it, frankly.
What was it about rich peopleâs money that made them think that they were gods and should be treated as such?
Derek squeezed Rosalieâs hand hard, his nails digging into the back of her hand.
She looked to him in explanation, but he only nodded his head towards the stage.
Where Drew was shepherding Ashleigh up the steps, his hand resting on her backside.
âYes, as I said, we have two exciting announcements that Evelyn and I could not wait to share with you tonight.â
 Jason looked fondly towards Ashleigh and Drew, who were now hobbling towards him. There were resounding gasps and excited squeals, but Rosalie could only focus on Drew.
Drew was still as handsome as the day that she had first met him. His blue eyes sparkled with confidence and charm. Heâd grown a beard since Rosalie had seen him last, wafts of brown hair covering his strong jaw. He stood behind Ashleigh, his hands moving to rest on her stomach, and thatâs when time stood still.
Because, under Drewâs lithe fingers, was a protruding bump. Rosalie, despite herself, couldnât help the gasp that formed around her lips, nor the shaking of her hands.
Drew, when he was with her, had told Rosalie that he didnât want kids. Heâd had daddy issues too and didnât want his offspring to grow up with a messed-up dad. Even though Rosalie desperately wanted a family, she was so in love with Drew that sheâd put those dreams aside, for him.
Now, Drew stood proudly cradling his pregnant fiancĂ©eâs stomach as he spoke sweet nothings into her ear, looking thrilled to become a dad.
Derek squeezed Rosalieâs hand tightly, then removed it to wrap around her shoulders instead, nestling her into him. Derekâs lips brushed the top of Roseâs head, then her forehead.
âFuck, Rosie. Iâm so sorry. I⊠he didnât deserve you. Youâre better off without him. Do you want to go?â Derek whispered huskily in Rosalieâs ear, breaths coming out shallowly.
Rosalie didnât need to feel the tenseness of his arm around her to know that he was pissed. She could tell just by the tone of his voice that he wanted to kill Drew.
Rosalie turned her head so that now her lips would be close to his ear. âI⊠I should have known. IâNo, we need to stay. If I leave now, then Ashleigh and Evelyn will know that theyâve won, and I canât let that happen.â
Rosalie rested her head on Derekâs shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace.
Someone kicked her leg under the table. Rosalie raised her head to look at Derek questioningly. His expression matched her own.
âRosalie? Dear, are you here?â Jason called from the stage, his snake-like grey eyes checking the crowd for his daughter.
âSheâs here, you pompous prick!â Grandma Rose yelled to her son, shoving Rosalie gently with a hand to her back. From a distance, Rosalie heard Stiles guffaw. She imagined that Lydia smacked him in the head while trying to control her own laughter.
Jason scowled, but ignored his mother, watching with a forced smile as his daughter and her âfiancĂ©â ascended the stairs. Derek had a tight hold around Rosalie, who had forgone her shoes in the shock of the moment. She leaned on him, both physically and metaphorically, for strength.
âSome more good news for my daughters. Somehow, someone managed to put a ring on my dear little Rosalie. Yes, it shocked us, too. Good on you, Derek!â Jason looked to Rosalieâs bare feet. âAnd it seems he doesnât mind her habit for walking around barefoot. Welcome to the family, Derek Hale!â
Most of the crowd laughed, Evelyn and Ashleighâs shrill merriment sticking out the most. Derek held Rosalie tighter. She bit the inside of her lip in an attempt to stay strong.
From Jasonâs other side, Drew asked, âWait. Isnât that the guy who broke your nose?â
Derek rested his forehead on the side of Roseâs head, huffing into her ear âYes. That was me. And if you donât shut up, Iâll break your nose, too, you doucheâ.
That made her chuckle, and with his arms securely around her, Rose knew that sheâd be alright as long as Derek was by her side.
#teen wolf#derek hale#derek hale fic#derek hale fanfiction#derek hale x oc#tyler hoechlin#derek hale au#derek hale fluff
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Kili x reader

Summary: imagine telling kili about your scars , after the battle of the five armies , in which fili , kili and thorin live as you are awesome.
Word count:1635
warning :the reader has a thing for potatoes. So if you do not like potatoes this isnât for you. Uh
A/n sorry I mention potatoes a lot in fanfics , or quotes.
âSon of a bitch!â You shout out in pain, you were in the kitchen in Thorinâs palace.
You were human , but being apart of the company , Thorin grew to like you. He would protect you like you were his daughter. You might aswell have been.
FLash back to some point in te journey to reclaiming erebor.
It had been raining heavy for hours , the mud on the ground was like yogurt. The mud tracked up all your trousers, you had almost fell multiple times due the slippy mud.
You were about to take another step, placing it down, only for it to slip making you fall head first. Leading you to cut your knees on the rocks , and covering yourself with mud. Only just saving your face from going into the mud with your hands.
You had let out a groan of pain, the throbbing of your knees aching.
âY/n! â shouted thorin grabbing you up , looking for injuries.
âAre you okay?â He asks , wiping the mud from your face, concern written on his face.
âYeah I am fine dad-Thorin, thank you:â your eyes going wide , trying to covering up what you had almost called a king.
You look up at Thorin red faced, only to see him smiling at you,pulling you along to catch up with the others.
It was weird you called Thorin dad, when you liked one of his nephews , but thorin didnât seem to mind.
You had been making mash potatoes , you had to peel them first. However as you arenât careful and hungry you were rushing. This led you to cut your hand again with a potato peeler.
Now blood pouring out of your middle finger,you grab a cloth , that was once white was now blood red. Feeling like you had just had your fingers bitten off like in the interview and were trying to solve that problem with a cloth. You tied it around it and carried on making your potatoes.
Feeling very Dean Winchester , as he gets randomly stabbed and heâs like whoa man, I need my bacon. You start cooking your bacon.
Just shake it off. Yeah shake it off.
âI heard you sho-â you turn around shifty when you hear a familiar voice, you grab the nearest knife,holding it up.
Only to see the Thorins nephew ,Prince Kili.
âI didnât mean to frighten you, I swear.â He panics.
âIdjit, I was cooking why sneak up on me princess?â You reply rather angrily.
âI was just coming to see if you was oka-which you clearly arenât.â He speaks eyeing your finger , thatâs what she said.
âI was making mash, had an accident but I am fine now.â You tried to reassuring him.
âCan I at least look?â
âDo you have to princess?â
âYes, â
âFine let me get the bacon .â You spoke putting the bacon onto a plate while your potatoes boiled. You place the plate on the counter side and sit up on the counter. You give Kili your injured hand , which he took gently , while you used your right hand to grab a piece of bacon.
Kili unties the cloth from your finger, you feel the air hit the cut, you hold in your urge to wince. He eyes it throughly.
âIt has stopped bleeding, luckily.â What the fuck is he talking about itâs just a small cut.
Kili grabs another cloth , soaking it in water then rings it out, walking back to you standing between your legs.. You pick up a slice of bacon , holding it up to the princes mouth, which he happily opens, taking the bacon into his mouth eating it. He smiles at you, then goes back to your finger, uses the cloth to clean the dried blood.
âThank you.â You whisper., looking down at kili, he grins placing a kiss on the cut and then covers it with a clean piece of cloth securely.
âWhat are all these other scars from?â He questions eyeing the scars.
You point to the too close together scars on your hand.
âWell that one is from burning my hand on the oven roof when putting pizza in the oven.â He nods , then points to another scar , which you tell him is from a potato peeler, in which you have a lot from the potato peeler.
âYou have a lot of potato peeler cuts, maybe I should peel the potatoes from now on.â He grins.
âI love potatoes what can I say, no I wouldnât want you getting cut from it.â
âWell I rather I got hurt than you.â
âNo I rather get hurt princess.â
âWhatâs with the princess thing?â
âAre you not a princess? â
âNo I am a princeâ he replies Sighing.
âWell I think you are princess, you have pretty hairâ you reach to feel his hair , surprisingly he lets you. His hair very soft like silk.
Then you continue,â you have pretty eyes , pretty face , probably bigger tits than me. You are a princess.â
âYou must have no breasts then, which I can hardly believe thatâs true Okay you are my prince then.â He smirks at you
âWhy am I your prince , princess?â You think he is hinting at something , but you couldnât get your hopes up.
âWell I thought when I allowed you to touch my hair that revealed my feelings.â Oh . Oh.
âMY POTATOES.â You Jump down from the counter past kili to the cooker turning the stove off. You sigh in relief , emptying the water from the pan putting it on the side , adding milk , salt and pepper. You grab the potato masher and go to mash the potato, but kill takes it from you and mashes it.
His arms in this tunic flexing, infecting his strength seeing his muscles. He was indeed hot. You face beet red , you mutter thank you when he had finished. He grins at you red cheeks. You grabbed the cheese and butter adding it to the mash , mixing it. You dish it into a bowl , putting the pan In The sink to soak. Cutting the bacon and mixing it into.
âSo what are your feelings ,sunshine?â You ask stuffing your mouth with a spoon full of mash. Spooning another you hand it kili who takes it , tasting it. He smiles at you, he has mash above his lip.
â well y/n , you have captured my heart in a cell of diamond.â Blush covers his face, he were nervous , yet still had a cocky smile on his face.
You gasp, muttering son of a bitch, In which his smile drops. âI hope this isnât another prank.â You spoke but remembering you just walked the prank thereâs a camera over there and over there. You subconsciously look around.
He grabs your hands, â I promise , it isnât.â You smile widely , you pull your hands from his and put them around his neck,pulling him close to your face. He has his hands wrapped around your waist, leaning towards you as do you. Closing your eyes ,his lips press against yours , they are soft and taste like the bacon you fed him. You smile.
Then you pull away slightly and kiss the mash that lay above his lip on his stubble. You eat it. âYou had mash on you.â You speak seriously he laughs pressing his against yours again, then resting his forehead against yours
. âDo you think Thorin will be happy?â You ask.
âYou mean dad.â He smirks.
âShut up, assbutt.â Then you quickly move your arms to his ass squeezing It slightly, earning a gasp from him.
âNice ass.â You spoke , but then quickly gasp , when he does the same.
âNo you have a nice ass. But seriously I think Thorin will be more than happy.â He laughs, you smile at him.
âUhh do you want eat the rest of the mash with me?â
âYes, as long as you are dessert.â
âOi mate , no funny business you arenât even my boyfriend yet.â This face drops then goes back into a smirk.
He drops to his knees holding your hand ,placing a kiss on it. âWill you allow me to court you kiss y/n y/l , and become my girlfriend?â
âYes ,savvy, indeed I will.â You smirk.
You pull kili up, so heâs face to face to you, and press another kiss to his lips. He grABS the mash, and your hand, taking you out of the kitchen to somewhere.
After a few minutes of walking you hear a voice.
âWhat are you too doing?â You look up to see Thorin standing before you two.
âUhh going to eat mash potatoes.â You gesture to mash in kiliâs hand. Then suddenly Fili pops up, âhey brother oh hey y/n ,OHâ he notices your joined hands , you are now red embarrassed stood in front of your father figure.
âI am courting y/n Thorin, I was going to braid her hair.â He spoke confidently, squeezing your hand.
âI am glad you finally decided to court y/n , now me and fili meeting to get to.â He smiles at you two before leaving. You smile up at kili.
In the end you and kili have a small wedding. . In which Thorin walks you down the aisle.
A/n do you think at this point the reader is in love with potatoes, not kili , fili, eomer or legolas. Please send in requests, or they will end up having potatoes in them
#the hobbit imagine#the hobbit x you#the hobbit x reader#kili x reader#the hobbit kili#kili imagine#kili x you#kili x y/n
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Whole Again - Chapter 2
Whole Again on AO3
Time was a blur. His legs ached by the time he thought to stop. He was still on the coast, still in town. He couldnât have been running more than forty minutes. An hour at most. He was old. Even at a slow speed, running longer than it took to get from a hit to his car was tiring. And he was. His body felt loose and disjointed. His sides throbbed, punctuated with the occasional sharp pinch. His toes were numb, result of piss poor circulation. His head pulsed in time with his too rapid heartbeat. He felt dry. Dry and heated to the point of cracking. His mouth thought he had woken up from one hell of a bender.
What the HELL!? What the fuck is wrong with me!? Stan panted, hunching over to regain his balance. God damn. What was that? Stanâs mind reeled. Where had it come from? This sudden urge to maim and torture and fucking play with someone just to see what would happen was not an urge he was used to having anymore. Besides, he knew what would happen. He knew what the screams would sound like, how the organs would feel and how warm the blood would be. He knew, damn it! He didnât need to do it. He didnât want to. Fuck!
Had he always been like that? Had he been that violent as Stan? He wasnât sure if he was ready to hear that answer.
He ran his free hand over his face, shoulders slumped and feet unsteady. His other hand loose and hanging onto the bag of steaks as an afterthought. It was too easy to slip into agenizing, hopeless despair. He had spent decades lost in that void, both figuratively and literally. Years lost on the road or stumbling through the forest looking for those damn journals. Centuries lost in a slowly collapsing dimension, wavering in and out of delight and regret at having killed his entire family and everyone he loved. Â
His body went ridged, muscles wound tight with agitation. No. He wasnât going to do that. He wasnât going to let this affect him. It was just an impulse. He had those, everyone did. The only difference now was he had different impulses. More violent ones. He shuddered and gritted his teeth, dentures pinching at his gums.
He should head back. He needed to pack up all the stuff he had delivered to the ship. He needed to make sure no one passed by and lifted anything. Â Where was he? He had gone in a straight line, right? He didnât remember making any turns.
He was in some residential area near the coast. The road had pulled away from the waterâs edge and he could just faintly hear the splashing of the waves. He was on a bridge (a low one, barely ten feet) going over a gully leading down to the beach. The cement guard posts, made for stopping cars more than pedestrians, provided some semblance of reprieve. Everything hurt. He just needed a few minutes. He took off his red beanie and stuffed it in the pocket of his trench coat, running a hand through his hair. His hands felt tight, like the skin was too small. Thatâs when he realized he wasnât sweating.
He needed to find some water.
Stan squinted at the buildings up the road from where he came, wishing not for the first time that he had been brave enough to get that cataract surgery. Anything not within two feet of his face was blurry and anything in the distance was just color. His glasses helped, but not much.
There is a bakery, 400 yards down the road, left side.
What? O Pan e Manteiga. Simple. Run by a Guy named Viktor. Makes great pita bread, oddly.
How did he know that? How do I know that?
He squeezed his eyes closed and started the slow trek to the storefront. He passed by a clothing store and a pawn shop on the way, a twang of nostalgia passing through his core.
It was there. O Pan e Manteiga. The Bread and Butter. Maybe heâd seen it and his subconscious took notice of it. I know lots of things! He shuddered. He wasnât omnipotent. Not anymore. And not knowing everything kept things interesting.
Stan pushed the door open and winced at the tinging of the bell. A slender man about forty years old with salt and pepper hair greeted him in Gaelic. Stan didnât respond, instead shuffling over to the counter clutching at his side that had started hurting again. Â
He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. He opened his mouth to speak, stopped and tried again.
âAuga?â He asked tentatively. Stanâs voice was weak and he realized how out of breath he was.
Viktor smiled faintly and pulled a bottle of water from a sliding door cooler behind the counter.
âDouscentos trinta e cincoâ Viktor spoke slowly, realizing that Stan was a foreigner.
Stan squinted and shook his head in confusion. He understood, kind of, but his mind was foggy. âWhat?â Viktor sighed and mimed the numbers 235. Stan pulled out the envelope of bills Ford had handed him after leaving the bank earlier. He flipped through the bills numbly and handed over far too much than Viktor had asked for but he didnât care. The guy needed it if his daughter wanted that yearbook. Damnit! Stop that!
He gulped down the water, draining the bottle in a few short seconds. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead and nose as his body adjusted to having necessary moisture. Bodily necessities sucked. Sweating was weird, even if he had done it for sixty years, it was still weird. All that water just in his body and eking out through tiny holes in his skin. Skin itself was kinda weird too. It was mushy and soft and was fun to poke at, especially Ford. Ford had always seemed bemused whenever Stan Bill took over his body and sat poking and prodding at his various appendages.
He finished the bottle with a final gulp. Panting, he turned his gaze back to Viktor who was holding out a plastic bag with another bottle of water and some sort of wrapped pastry.
âI donâtâŠwhat?â God his voice was rough. He must have really needed that water.
Viktor sighed again, shaking the bag slightly at Stan. âKleina. You like.â
Stan took the bag slowly, dropping the empty bottle in the bag too. The Kleina was warm and appeared to be diamond shaped donut with a hole in the middle.
âThank youâ Stan was still a little breathless and his words came out as a harsh gasp. He felt his cheeks coloring. He reached for the envelope again, but Viktor waved him off as he turned to help another customer that had walked in behind Stan. Stan pulled the second bottle out and began drinking it much less desperately and left an extra bill on the counter on his way out. That should cover part of the yearbook cost at leastâŠ.aw, fuck it!
Storefront would look better yellow. Or pink. Guyâd look better with pink hair too. Stanâs fingers itched to snap, but he resisted. This is stupid! Iâm human now! Been human for damn near sixty years. No more powers. Think Iâd be used to it by now. Heâd never wanted them before, so why now? Â He was just feeling nostalgic, that was all. Being on the ocean with Ford had brought up a shit ton of nostalgia and it brought this too. Thatâs all it was. He sipped his water and made his way back to the docks.
*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
His back ached by the time he had gotten the supplies loaded. Thankfully nothing had gone missing. He suspected the Harbor Master had been keeping an eye on things; the man had been walking back and forth in front of the Stan OâWar often enough to catch Stanâs attention. Nice as it was it was still annoying because it meant he had to carry everything by hand rather than shrinking everything down and making one trip that didnât throw his back out.
He was lounging on the galley booth nursing a Pitt Cola when he heard voices out front. Ford and some other male, both speaking Gaelic. He wanted to play dumb and pretend he didnât understand. Let the syllables roll over him without their meaning sticking. But curiosity and the cat and all that. Actually, curiosity didnât kill the cat, curiosity brought the cat people of Dimension Al/26 to his realm and he killed them. After he dressed them up in adorable little outfits and made them dance. Captain Puratrick the Fourth had cursed him with his last breath. Maybe that was why Lazy Susanâs cats hated him. He was cursed. Worked for him. Her voice reminded him of his aunt anyway. Creepy old trapezoid that she was.
Stan lifted himself off the seat of the booth and grumbled about being old. He let his mind shift and began listening to the conversation above.
âIâm still sure I can get a better range if I modify the receivers with reflective sheeting to concentrate the signal, but I need to know if you can supply the metal.â That would be Ford. Tongue flapping and voice rapid fire as he prattled on about improving their antenna. Stan knew it wouldnât work. All it would do is scatter the signal even more with several receivers on their current antenna. Be better if he just ripped the whole thing out and put in a proper dish, but that would take weeks and more money than they both were comfortable spending.
Stan heard a low whistle and a regional exclamation of awe he didnât quite understand. The hell did âcoddingâ mean?
âJesus, anâ you came from America? You really are slagginâ me. Thatâs ships pretty small ainât it? Not even a sail. You got anyone else to keep you company?â Guy sounded more Irish than anything. Ford didnât seem to take note of the flirtatious tone. Â
âJust my twin Stanley.â
âOH, Twins, eh? Is âe as clean on as you are?â Nope, this was not happening.
âUmmâŠâŠI donât, I meanâŠthe, um, the mainframe is in the top cabin if you wanted to take a look.â Great, Ford had finally caught on to this guyâs intent.  Â
Stan had been on his way up at the mystery manâs first comment. He exited the main cabinâs door in time to catch Ford blushing bright magenta holding his hands in front of him in defense.
âAh, sorry, had you pegged for queer. Too bad, youâre just my type.â The Icelandic man (Irish, Stan was sure now) seemed to back down when he saw Stan hovering behind Ford. Stan put on a neutral to slightly annoyed expression and addressed Ford in English.
âHey, back so soon? You missed putting supplies away. Whoâs this clown?â He gestured to the new guy with an uptick of his chin.
Because the man really was dressed rather absurdly. Low cut white v-neck showing off his chest hair, cardigan thrown over his shoulders (he wasnât even wearing it properly), chunky gold chain, green paperboy cap balanced on his head, 70âs porn âstache andâŠdid this guy really have a fucking gold tooth?
His appearance ran like pins down Stanâs back; he instantly disliked the man, even without the knowledge that he was putting moves on Ford.
Damn kid was stealing his look! And flirting with his brother! AND getting a reaction. Time to nip this one in the bud.
âBy the by, I picked up a package âo yer nappies. Expensive as hell out here, but if itâll keep the mattresses clean.â
Fordâs face seemed to get even redder, deepening into near purple with humiliation. His eyes narrowed and he turned a scowl towards Stan that would have withered him some years ago.
âSTANLEY!â Oh, he was pissed. âWhat are you on about now, you knucklehead?â Stan shifted his attention back and forth between Ford and porno guy, internally cheering when he saw a look of surprised disgust curl up and find a home under that poor excuse for a mustache. While an unfortunate fact of life, he figured incontinence was a major turn off if this guy was lookinâ to ride a silver fox.
The guy switched to English and Stan felt damn proud of himself pegging the Irish heritage when a thick accent came out. âOy, sorry mate. Takinâ a look at yer set up, I donât think thereâs anything I can do. âLess you wanna get yerself a whole new rig. Yeâ best jusâ stick with what ya got. Sorry, other places ta be. Good luck, ya?â And with that, Irish prono âstache was hopping off the deck and hightailing it to the main dock.
Stan couldnât help but grin; cat and proverbial canary and such, but the guy practically left trail of fire with how fast he ran. HA! He braved a glance back at Ford, who had been lackadaisically trying to call out to the guy, hand outstretched to stop him. He turned to Stan, lips pursed. Â
âDamnit, Stanley, what the hell was that for?â Fordâs hands gesturing between them.
Stan frowned. Ford was naive when it came to social interactions, but he wasnât that dense.
âSaving you from having to fend off potentially wandering hands later.â Heâd thought it had been obvious. Ford apparently hadnât gotten that.
âBy implying that Iâm incontinent? If anyone needs extra absorbency itâs you. And he was going to help me modify the antenna. Now where am I going to get highly polished sheet metal?â Stan decided to ignore Fordâs comment and simply address the main issue, which was that this guy was moving in on his terr, NO! Not going there. He was just looking out for Ford.
âPolishinâ sheet metal wasnât what he was lookinâ to do.â And he did know. The guy wanted to do a heck of a lot more than just work on their antenna. He could see the guyâs fantasies of being dominated by Ford as clear as if heâd been watching a film. He would have been disappointed. Â
âI could have handled it.â Sheepish and mild annoyance made Ford adorable. I need a lamb costume. Wonder if he would do the âLambie, Lambie danceâ for me.
âYeah, like you werenât trippinâ over yer words and backinâ down like you were avoidinâ a fight.â Even in high school Ford had been all hands and confused tongue when talking to people he liked. Cathy Crenshaw being a prime example. Â
âStanley, Iâve been traveling the multiverse for thirty years, I can handle one guy. And whoâs to say I wasnât interested. You donât know what Iâm into?â Stan snorted. Yeah, he would have never expected Ford to be attracted to a yellow triangle, but there you go. Come to think of it, Ford had stammered and flushed when he had flirted with him, too. Not that he had intended to, he was just praising Ford on his calculations. And maybe implying that big brains were evidence of other big things. At the time, he had meant big heads, but Fordâs wide-eyed expression was funny, so he had let Ford think otherwise.Â
âNo, I donât know, but I could see you were lookinâ fer a way out. I gave you one. âSides, the guy was right. Itâd only scatter the signal more.â Stan was done with this conversation, and he could tell Ford was on the last bit of his patience too. Ford arched an eyebrow incredulously, nose wrinkling in disbelief. Â
âHow would you know? I donât remember you knowing anything about radio signals.â
Stan baulked. ShitâŠShit. Fuck. Shit.
âI donât tell you everything, Poindexter. âSides, I had ta learn a lilâ somin somin âbout it. In the middle âo winter, havinâ a radio to let people know whatâs up was damn useful. Iâm gonna head down and start moving things. Got some steaks for dinner tonight. Picked up a donut at a shop down the way. Left it for you. Not sweet enough for me.â Stan waved a hand dismissively and started back down to the galley. He fully intended to spend the rest of the night avoiding any continuation of this conversation if he could help it. If that meant re-arranging stock, cooking dinner, and washing dishes, then he was glad to do it. Â
He grumbled obscenities about where Irish Porn Star could shove it and about brothers who were too smart for their own good as he stomped down to the galley, back pain be damned. He snagged the bag of toffee peanuts from the table, tearing into the bag without thinking. Â
âI thought they stopped making those God-awful things?â Ford had obviously followed him down and was emptying his pockets into a drawer by the stairwell. Stan glanced down at the bag in his hands, mouth open in mid-bite. Ummmm. Â
âOh, uh, found a store in town that sold them. Guy wouldnât let me buy their whole stock. Same place I got you that donut.â He pushed the bag with the Kleina towards the other side of the table where Ford would undoubtedly sit. Â Â
They had been in the bag that Viktor gave him,âŠright? Yeah, heâd asked for them. There had been a whole display. And if a bag of jellybeans appeared in the cupboard the next morning for Ford to find, well, those had been in the bag too.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The steaks had been exceptional (though he was sure they had been mutton rather than beef, but hey, good either way) and he and Ford had set up on the deck with folding chairs and a pack of beer between them. It was some domestic (Icelandic) beer that sat meaty and heavy in his mouth. But it had been cheap and tasted okay cold. Ford didnât seem to mind it either, and he had never been much of a drinker.
âThere are positives and negatives to being near civilization.â Fordâs voice was light and Stan hummed in curiosity. âThis is the first night that we havenât been able to see the stars clearly.â Ford took a sip from his bottle and leaned further back in his chair. Ford had always liked looking at the stars. Constellations and planets and the occasional light distortion of a distant galaxy. The telescope mounted on the roof of the cabin was proof enough, although that was mainly used for navigation. Â
Stan grinned, âYou want stars Poindexter, all you gotta do is look out on the water.â It was true. The various lights from the ships coming in and out of port twinkled and danced as their light reflected and refracted off the moisture in the air and the waterâs surface. It reminded him of the clouds of fireflies that would creep out of the forest at night back in Gravity Falls.
Ford let out a soft chuckle and drained his beer before snagging another. They sat in silence and just took in the world around them. Quiet slaps of the water against the hull of the boat, gentle breath of the wind bringing in the smells of the ocean. He could almost feel the sand between his toes and the press of a wooden seat of a swing set. They used to do this, sit for hours, and not talk, watching the swirls of the mindscape float by, carrying pages of information and memories with them. Comfortable. Stan had always taken comfort in Fordâs presence. Even when he had annoyed the heck out of him and Ford was purposefully ignoring him, he still liked being near Ford. Making a point to sit next to him or float just beyond his peripheries.
At first it had just been a way to use Stanford. Get close and chummy to gain his trust and have the portal built. It was kind of pathetic how quickly he grew to enjoy Fordâs company. He used to find really stupid excuses to possess Fordâs body; he need to write something down, he missed a button, he was gonna slip in the shower, he hadnât eaten that day, heâd been trying toâŠstay awake.Â
Stan hated himself. All of himself. He had driven Ford to the brink of insanity, tormenting and teasing. Messing with his mind and memories in an effort to goad him into pleading, begging him to stop. It pleased him when Ford begged. He had wanted to pull Ford taut, pull him apart before giving him what he wanted. Eventually, Ford had stopped eating, stopped sleeping and he was losing control of his body. Stan remembered forcefully taking over just to get Ford to bathe and shove a sandwich down his throat before downing some sleeping pills. Yeah, Ford was a puppet. But he was Stanâs favorite puppet.Â
He sighed. That was a long, long time ago. As much as he lamented it now, he couldnât deny that he had enjoyed it at the time. Things were different now. He was a new man, a different man and as much as memories from back then nagged at his mind, this was what he wanted. This, right here. On a boat with his brother, looking for scientific and magical anomalies and finding treasure. And babes! Speaking of, Stanford had been turning something over in his mind. Stan wished heâd just spit it out already, he was ready for some action. He pointedly ignored that he knew what Ford was going to ask. Â Â Â Â
Ford cleared his throat. âIâve been keeping an eye on the scanner. I think there might be another anomaly up the coast a ways.â Stan harrumphed and chugged the last of his beer. âI heard today that Lokinhamradalur Valley up in the western fjords has had some issues with ghosts for several hundred years. The farmers up there have been complaining about spooked livestock, wilting crops and sand in the water pumps.â Ford scratched at his side of his face, glancing at Stan from the corner of his eye, desperately trying not so sound like Dipper discovering something new. Stan could feel his eyes rolling before he even thought to do so, and shook his head. What kind of brother would he be to deny Ford who seemed all but vibrating out of his seat with excitement.
âAlright, Nerd. We can go lookinâ for your spookums and ghosts and shit. But youâre cookinâ dinner tomarraâ and I get to decide what treasure we keep.â There really wasnât any malice behind his words, but one had to keep up appearances.
The grin on Fordâs face could have lit up a room. His eyes practically glittering. What was a little side trip to check out some local folklore? Â
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#stancest#whole again#Stanley Pines#Stanford pines#sea grunks#bill is stan#stan is bill#same coin theory
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