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longislandcharm · 1 month ago

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PARTIES: Winter (@longislandcharm) and Oliver (@oliver--fox) TIMING: Current SUMMARY: Henry notices a familiar face in a shop window. Winter and Oliver are both suspicious and confused. WARNINGS: None

“Winter, what do you mean? The beak is not a beacon-” Henry cut off, stopping in his tracks which in turn caused Winter to do the same. She looked back at the ghost, eyebrow raised as she followed Henry’s line of sight to a shop window. There were a bunch of plants and a lone man working to rearrange them in a specific way but other than that she couldn’t see anything that would have caused Henry to stop the way he did. “What? Do you want me to get a ficus or something?” Instead of answering, Henry just moved forward towards the shop window, his eyes glued to the person standing just beyond. She was so confused that she didn’t even question the ghost she just followed.

Henry stood staring inside the shop. More specifically, he was staring at the man in the shop. Eyes wide, a small trace of desperation filling his pale features, his head suddenly turned in her direction which made Winter jump. “Dammit, Henry, what is going on? You look like you’re the one who’s seeing a ghost.”

“I think I am, actually.” Both of them looked back inside the store, Henry with a longing in his eyes and Winter more confused than ever. “He’s not dead.” She only said it after some hesitation, waiting until she was absolutely sure that the guy wasn’t a specter. Henry shook his head at her and started to move towards the front door of the shop. “No, he’s not, but I know him. Or my wife knew him at least.” Okay, that was new. She hadn’t gotten the story of his family out of him yet, the medium only certain of a few facts. Henry lost track of his family a few months after his death and he didn’t like to talk about them much. A wife and two daughters, that was the extent of her knowledge. “He and my wife were friends, Winter. Maybe he knows what happened to her and the girls.”

Well, this was going to be fun. The guy looked young, much younger than he should if he was friends with Henry’s wife back in the seventies. There was no telling what he was or if he could even see Henry or not but one look at Henry’s excited face and Winter knew she was a goner. He was pulling her into this and that was that. She rolled her eyes, yanked the front door open, and stomped inside before she could change her mind all while Henry yelled facts she could give this man. “Excuse me, Kevin? That’s right, right?” She looked back at her ghost, the man nodding at the question in her eyes, before she gave the shopkeeper a smile. “Do you believe in ghosts, Kevin?”

With the new school year starting and fall starting to creep into the air slowly; it meant that Wicked’s Rest would soon become home to not only the new college students coming through but also those who loved the spooky aesthetic that the town was known for. So, Oliver figured a sleepy afternoon was the best time to rearrange some of the store and get it prepped for whoever may be coming by. He was moving some of the flowers into a specific formation; a kind of ombre of colors. Penelope, one of his employees who had been a part of the store for the last year or so had suggested it, and he had to admit, it did look rather good. He was moving one of the larger pots when the door opened with what Oliver felt was perhaps a bit more force than needed.

Oliver set the pot down and made his way to the front. He had just opened his mouth to welcome the stranger and see how he could help when they asked if he was Kevin and it caused him to freeze. He hadn’t been Kevin since the 70s, when he was living in Brooklyn and attending NYU for a master's in…French? Or was that when he got his doctorate in English? Something along those lines. Needless to say, the person standing in front of him didn’t immediately look familiar and it was unlikely that Oliver had met them back then, so he decided to go with the safer option: deny deny deny. “Oh-” Oliver cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m who you’re looking for, my name is Oliver” He added an apologetic smile before tilting his head at their follow-up question.

“Ghosts?” Oliver asked, eyebrows crinkled for a moment before a possible explanation came to him. “Oh! Are you doing like, a ghost hunting video thing?” It wasn’t uncommon for these types to come through every once in a while; though summer wasn’t the typical season for them to come by. He supposed that the recent weirdness may have called some too early though. He didn’t see any cameras or microphones, but those always seemed to be getting smaller, so who knew? “To answer your question though, I think it is probably likely? I would rather not be on camera though…” Oliver trailed off. This didn’t seem like a TV show type of situation, but you could never be too careful.

“Oliver?” Her eyes went to the ghost who was now moving to stand beside the shop employee and shaking his head at that name. “No, this is him. I know it’s him. He used to be Kevin. He would come home with Becky and join us for dinner sometimes, mostly nights when she was going to school.” Becky…that must have been his wife’s name. Winter pressed her lips together before taking a breath to try this again. “I think we both know you used to be Kevin.” Ever so blunt as always, she tilted her head at him, the look in her eye challenging as if she were daring him to argue. She was doing all of this purely through faith in Henry. She trusted that he wouldn’t lead her astray.

She couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at her lips with his question. The irony of it all was too amusing. “God, I wish.” Winter briefly wondered if he had seen her show before but then shook the thought off. This wasn’t about her, it was about her ghost companion. “No cameras, you don’t have to worry about that.” Nor should he worry about the bitter tone she had when saying that. One day…one day she would have those cameras back in her own face and life would be right again.

“It’s not just likely, it’s a thing. There’s one next to you right now and he says he knew you in another life. I don’t think he’s lying.” She knew he wasn’t but that was a little bit too aggressive to say, right? Bringing a hand up to run her fingers over delicate petals, Winter shrugged a shoulder. “Did you know a Becky in the seventies? As well as her husband, Henry? They had two daughters, both younger I think.” She flicked her gaze to Henry, watching him nod but not take his eyes off of Oliver or Kevin or whoever he was. “They would have lived on Long Island. You went home and had dinner with them often.”

Oliver’s eyes widened a fraction at the other’s insistence that he was Kevin. It made him look at them closer. He hadn’t gotten the internal alarm that they were a fae; were they some other sort of long-living species he had dealings with in the 70s? As much as he tried not to make enemies, it was impossible to say that he hadn’t made a few along his journey. Her insistence that there were no cameras should have made him relax, but instead, it added even more tension to his body. If there were a camera, then it could be argued that she was just putting on this front, trying to get a reaction for clicks. Something seemed off about this whole interaction though, it almost felt like the other was reading off a teleprompter or something.

At the statement that there was a ghost next to him, Oliver fought against every single one of his urges to jump and turn around. It would have been easy, but he also knew that it was very, very unlikely that he would be able to see anything; even if this person was telling the truth. He figured that if he was able to see ghosts, he would have stumbled upon this skill previously. Especially with how often he hung out in cemeteries. Instead, he kept his gaze on the actual human (?) in front of him. The weird sense that he had been getting was clicked into focus, the ghost was probably feeding her the information. “Say I believe you.” Oliver started, eyes flicking to one of the plants near the door. He focused on it for a moment, watching as a root came out from the top of the soil and turned the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ before releasing it. This seemed like a conversation that was best handled in private. Even if he would likely be in for a headache later.

“Did Henry send you here for something specific?” Oliver asked, wracking his brain for whatever he possibly could have done to piss this ghost off. Hadn’t Henry died? Something to do with a factory accident? He could have sworn that he went to the funeral and everything. Oliver was pretty sure that he and the guy had been on pretty good terms. Oliver had been in some of his wife’s classes, and she seemed to sense that he was still grieving a previous loss and had invited him over for dinner a few times. “How did you even find me?” That was really what was setting him on edge; he was not looking to have others come slithering out of the shadows of his past to have a conversation.

There was a rustle of some kind coming from behind her, Winter turning her head just enough to keep him in her periphery but also take in what was going on behind her. The sign had flipped somehow causing that familiar taste of fear to seep in. How in the hell? What was this guy? Why would he close the shop like that? It was the most ominous thing to happen to her in weeks and she wasn’t too thrilled to now be stuck in a room with him when their only other companion was a ghost. At least she hadn’t heard the lock click. One look at Henry told her that he had seen something troubling, at least to him anyway. Probably because it was just confirmed that he’d had no clue who this guy was in the seventies.

‘Does he know what happened to Becky? To the girls?’ Her lips parted, something akin to grief squeezing at her heart. What if Henry didn’t like this answer? Winter could see the desperation in his eyes and she knew he’d pushed away his own curiosity and confusion about what was going on with Oliver or Kevin or whoever he was to know if his family was still around. She had to ask no matter how bad the consequences of it may be.

Before she could answer the first question that Kevin slung at her, she bristled at the second. “I live here.” The insinuation that he was important enough to Winter to go looking was enough to make her roll her eyes. She might have done so for Henry if he had even thought to contact people from his past but they’d literally gotten lucky. “I wasn’t seeking you out or anything. Henry just happened to see you through the window.” Of course, the man didn’t know that Henry was attached to her, that he went wherever she did, but he didn’t need to know that. He just needed to answer the next dreaded question. “He would like to know if you could tell him what happened to his family? Are his girls okay? Is Becky still alive?”

Oliver's eyebrows crinkled as she spoke. How would a ghost from Long Island have ended up in Wicked’s End with someone who lived here? This whole situation was a bit of a weird one. “How did Henry end up here? He died down in New York” Oliver asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. He had always figured that ghosts existed, even if he couldn’t see them, but he had never really known anything about how they worked. The thought that ghosts could just wander the world looking for answers was a bit of a sad one, though Oliver supposed that being stuck in a specific area would be just as sad. Were there any ghosts stalking him? That wasn’t something he wanted to linger on for too long.

At the question about Henry’s family, Oliver gave a gentle shrug. “I don’t know a ton, unfortunately. I moved away a year or two after he died. They were all ok at that point.” They had, obviously, been grieving, but Oliver had stopped by when he could to try and help out. It had consisted of mostly bringing meals over, occasionally babysitting, and being a shoulder for Becky to cry on when things got hard. “I think Becky had talked about moving too? After she graduated, it was hard to stay on top of things financially as a single earner and everything.” Oliver explained. He had offered her money several times but had been refuted every time. “I feel like there was also a potential lawsuit that she was doing against his job?” Oliver was pretty sure there had been some sketchy things about the safety protocol.

“I think she had talked about going to Michigan since I think her family was from around there? But we didn’t really keep in contact when I left.” There had been maybe a letter or two sent back and forth, but Oliver had basically perfected the essence of ghosting old friends at this point. It was easier than dealing with the questions that came with staying close. He hadn’t thought of Becky in a solid 20, maybe 25 years. It tended to just be easier to not linger too long on memories like that.

Winter tilted her head at his question, annoyance flaring in her eyes. “Okay, well if I answer that you have to answer a question of mine.” She was insanely curious about why he hadn’t seemed to age since the seventies, as was Henry, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t want to reveal that answer to her. If she could get out of sharing her own personal information by letting her curiosity fester than she would. “Such as, why do you still look exactly as you did in the past when Henry actually knew you?” An expectant look was sent his way, almost daring him to answer. “Whether or not we have an info dump session is your choice.”

Her face softened as Oliver spoke of Henry’s family, especially when she saw the ghost’s own face fall. He’d gotten so close to finding out and now it was being ripped away with every word. She should have realized this had been important to them. “Don’t worry, Henry, we’ll find out.” It was a promise. Oliver gave her a place to start at least and she had connections she could use if it came down to it. The medium was luckily very good at stuff like this. She would start with the lawsuit. There had to be articles or public records somewhere. It might even give Winter the push she needed to go back home.

Henry nodded his head but still looked so defeated. It broke her heart a little bit. ‘Can you tell him thank you? Or something along the lines of that. I know you’re not supposed to say that.’ Crossing her arms over her chest, she nodded softly before turning her gaze back to the shop owner. “He wants you to know how appreciative he is for the information you could give….I am too. If there was a lawsuit I can look into that and see if a forwarding address was provided.” Henry sighed which caught her attention again. ‘Also, tell him that I know he probably took care of them the best that he could. He was always nice like that.’ Well, now she felt bad for being rude earlier on. Her tongue came out to run awkwardly over her top lip before she repeated the words for Oliver, clearly uncomfortable.

Oliver hummed quietly. It was a fair question, one that he tried to avoid. There had only been a handful of times that he had run into someone a decade or two after he had seen them last. Most of the time, the person would look at him, eyebrows furrowed as they tried to figure out if he was truly the person they had been friends. Why they had aged into middle age but Oliver had stayed the same. Typically, Oliver’s next move would be to pull an accent out of a hat and act confused. He’d tell a story about how he had a second cousin somewhere in his family tree who could maybe be who they were talking about? Then he’d make a quick exit. It almost always worked. However, in this situation, he felt it wouldn’t stick the landing quite as nicely. “I have a long lifespan” Oliver landed on, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t even know the person in front of him’s name. He wasn’t keen on giving them any more information than needed.

He moved his gaze to the ground when she spoke to Henry. It felt rude, to be part of this conversation when he could only hear half of it. Oliver couldn’t imagine being a medium and having this be the norm. He glanced back up when she started addressing himself again. “Oh, uh, yeah tell him it’s no problem” Oliver said, scratching the back of his head. “I, um, I hope you are able to find him the answers that he needs.” Did it work where after Henry got this, he would move on? Had he just been wandering around NYC since the 70s looking for answers? Again, it made Oliver wonder how the hell he ended up in Maine of all places. Oliver felt his face heat up at the compliments that she was obviously repeating from Henry, and she was also obviously uncomfortable in doing so. “I just did what anyone would do.” Oliver offered with a small smile.

“Yea, I got that.” She rolled her eyes at his answer. Technically it had satisfied her question but it didn’t satisfy her in the least and therefore it didn’t count. Impatience laced her next question. “Are you undead or fae?” Those were the only two that could live that long, right? She wracked her brain to try and remember whether shapeshifters could or not but she couldn’t find the answer among her knowledge. That was the one she knew the least about. ‘Winter, be nice.’ Her gaze flicked to Henry as he scolded her like a child and her irritation only grew. But she supposed this was Henry’s friend and she supposed that she should be nicer to the person supplying information about the ghost’s family. Sighing, she continued. “Heny was at the warehouse when I was filming for a show. I accidentally somehow bound us together and now he goes where I go.”

She caught him looking towards the ground as she spoke with her friend and Winter had to wonder how weird this was for people who couldn’t see ghosts. She never really thought about how they could only see her talking to air. This also answered her question as Oliver would be able to see and hear Henry if he were undead, something she should have realized before. Fae then…if she wasn’t missing something. Suddenly, she was glad she hadn’t uttered that stupid ‘thank you’ even if it would have been on Henry’s behalf. Somehow she didn’t think the rules of a fae bind would care.

Shaking her head at his response, she crossed her arms over her chest, once again feeling uncomfortable. “No you didn’t. Too many people out there would have walked away without a second thought.” The sad part being that she wasn’t excluding herself from that either. It took a special person to have Winter care about those who cared for them. Mack was probably the only one, someone she would have checked on her family for if she hadn’t come back from the dead. “Give yourself some credit.”

Oliver’s eyebrow quirked up at her question. It was rare for him to run into someone bold enough to ask, and while he admired it; he also wasn’t keen to give out all his secrets. He supposed just giving his classification wasn’t too bad though, it wasn’t as if all fae were the same after all. “I’m fae.” He said simply. It seemed fair since he knew what she was as well. At her explanation, his eyes widened a fraction. “Huh, interesting. Guess you got a different wrap present than you were expecting.” He joked. While he had dabbled in research of ghosts and the like; it was always more fascinating to hear it from someone who dealt with it on a day-to-day basis.

“Ah, well, you know-” Oliver shrugged. “I saw someone struggling, and I’ve always had trouble not helping in those situations.” It had bit him in the ass on several occasions, but it was also a flaw that he didn’t have much interest in fixing. Like the woman had said, people often shyed away from hard situations; and sometimes you just had to suck it up and be the one to walk towards the chaos then away from it. His eyes drifted to the space to which the other had been directing her comments; where he could only assume Henry was. “I um, I hope that you can find the peace you need.” It was strange, talking to air and hoping that whoever was there could hear him.

“Anyway…” Oliver turned his attention back to the person he could actually see in the room. “Was there anything else you needed today?”

Surprised that he had actually answered, Winter eyed the fae curiously. Weren’t they all supposed to be tricky little bastards trying to goad people into some sort of bind? It didn’t seem like he had that motivation in him nor did it seem that he was cruel (not that all of them were). The medium had always had a high distrust for fae ever since she’d first learned about them. It came out of fear of her losing control over something in her life, of being controlled by something else, and she’d always tried to stay cautious around them. But for some reason this guy wasn’t giving off the impression that he did promise binds for fun. Anyone who befriended a family and then looked after the others after the patriarch had tragically passed had to be a little trustworthy, right?

It was only confirmed when he did his best to locate Henry to give his blessings. Her lips quirked just a little, the ghost of her amusement joining the ghost coming to stand at her side. He had only been a little off. “He says thank you…I do not, just so we’re clear.” Because he was still a fae and she wouldn’t be caught up in that business. A dismissal had her head tilting, her amusement building. Impressed by his sudden brashness, she shook her head at him. “If I find them, I’ll let you know.” Henry lingered by one of the tables that held pre-made arrangements as Winter made her way to the door and she turned her head to him expectantly. He hesitated for a second before he gave her a look. “Buy some flowers. We should support his business.” She understood what the ghost was saying. He supported Henry’s family so Henry wanted to support him. It didn’t mean she wasn’t annoyed by the demand. Softly rolling her eyes, she bought one of the arrangements before she made her way out the door of the shop. At least it would look good on her kitchen counter.

#Thread: Oliver #A Familiar Face #Threads

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myriadimagines · 4 years ago

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Hi Sam! I hope you're doing okay and the ship drabbles are not overwhelming! 95 for Brooklyn 99? She/her and guy or girl ship. I am sensitive and might take things personally. Although reserved, I am social and am friendly and warm. I care about what people think so that does cause me to be cautious and shy. I'm not really receptive to change. I find it hard to say no and feel if I'm not careful people can take advantage of my kindness or take credit for my work. 🍄

I work hard once I've committed and take responsibility seriously. I might overload myself by being too keen to help. I am meticulous to the point of perfectionism. I like connecting with people intimately and need comfortable and consistent contact to feel close with someone. I'm tiny at 5'0 and have lavender ombre hair. I have a strong imagination and often find myself daydreaming. In my spare time I like to cook or play video games. Thank you, Sam! 🍄

Characters: Reader x Amy Santiago

Warnings: —

Prompt: 95. “Did I make you jealous?”

Word Count: 498

A/N: i miss writing for b99 ajsdhasd but anyway i hope u like it!!! x

NOT TAKING ANYMORE REQUESTS!

“It’s official, everyone!” Jake loudly announces as the two of you walk into the bullpen, handing off your handcuffed perp to an officer as they lead them into the holding cell. You can’t help but laugh as you walk up to Jake, and he raises his hand for a triumphant high-five. Pointing at you with his other hand, Jake continues, “y/n and I are the best detectives here.”

Rosa scoffs as Amy raises an eyebrow from her desk. Getting up, she folds her arms across her chest as she walks over to the two of you, protesting, “Woah, woah, woah. Since when do you two deserve that title?”

“Since we just solved our latest case in a record breaking three hours.” Jake grins as he gestures towards the holding cell, where your perp flips the both of you off. You roll your eyes at him, turning back to Amy, and you frown slightly at you can’t help but notice her expression. She almost looks upset, not even a hint of a teasing smile on her face. It’s unlike her to be upset about a solved case, even if it isn’t hers — she’s always quick to compliment or congratulate you, no matter how small the case.

“May I remind you, Peralta,” Holt’s low voice startles everyone from his office. He stands in the doorway, eyebrows raised as he continues, “That the case isn’t done until you finish your paperwork.”

“Come on, Captain, let me have my moment.” Jake whines. “It was such a good solve! Even you have to admit that!”

“Paperwork, now.” Holt doesn’t budge, and Jake lets out a groan as he trudges towards his desk. As Jake sits down, a small smile cracks through Holt’s expression, and he adds, “But good work, Detectives.”

Jake grins before turning his attention to his computer. You look up to see Amy walk out the bullpen, and you pause before following her into the evidence room. You notice her busying herself with some of the boxes on the shelves, and you close the door behind her as you ask, “Hey, are you mad at me?”

“What?” Amy turns around, defensively looking at you. “I’m not mad. Why would I be mad?”

“You just... seemed upset about Jake and I solving the case.” you slowly explain, noticing Amy’s jaw clench ever so slightly at Jake’s name. You pause, eyebrows furrowing, before you exclaim, “Wait, did I make you jealous?”

“No!” Amy splutters, but from her flustered expression, you know you’ve done exactly that. “I’m not- I’m not jealous—”

“Look, I’ve got to go help Jake with the paperwork before he screws it up completely,” you interrupt, reaching out to place a hand on Amy’s arm. “But this conversation isn’t over. I will say this, though — you’ve got nothing to be jealous of, Ames.”

You playfully wink at her before darting out the evidence room, and Amy swears her heart has never beaten so fast in her entire life.

#b99 imagine #amy santiago imagine #b99 #b99 drabble #amy santiago #amy santiago drabble #imagine #imagines #reader insert #drabble #drabbles #9k celebration #anonymous #💜

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ontheline-ff · 6 years ago

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1 | wyd?

Whoever invented buzzers was a fucking asshole.

For the last two minutes, a non-stop staticy buzz rang through the loft that housed Venus Carter. It reverberated off of the brick walls into one long buzzing sound that wasn’t helping anything right now. It sounds too much like an alarm in the dark, blackout curtain assisted bedroom, and it makes her head spin a little as the little lines of sunshine that fight to fill more than just slices on the floor put everything into perspective for just a second.

It’s morning now. Last night, from the jibberish staring back at her as notifications on her phone as she pulled it from underneath her pillow, she was definitely more drunk than she usually allowed herself to be. The inquiries from her followers lets her know that she was definitely on one last night. She’d love to open her phone and try to figure out what was going on, but she can’t.

Not yet, anyway.

The buzzing is the only reason she’s up, really.

“Ughhhh…. Fuck, okay, I’m coming.” Venus whined pitifully as she pulled her body up from her bed, and jabbed her fingertips into her eye sockets.

She pressed her fingers there for only a second, but it’s enough to see dots of color when she pulled back. Small feet with black and blue glittery toes stuffed into Nike slides and her hands reflexively snatched down a purple and black ombre robe as she walked the long walk to the front door, all while cursing the fact that this loft had floor to ceiling windows that wouldn’t dare allow her to miss out on the sunlight.

Usually, she wouldn’t complain, but right now, it just needed to be dark. The darker, the better, actually. She felt like shit. She felt horrible, and promised herself that she would never fucking drink liquor again.

It was eleven AM in Brooklyn, and Venus had a hangover. Like, a bad ass hangover, one that not even a Postmates delivery of Gatorade and Chinese that she was still drunk when she yelled for Alexa to arrange could help with. She still shuffled across the floor and sighed softly as she finally opened the door, and winced at the sight of the sunlight that was determined to break in through the front door.

The guy standing in front of the door pulled his finger away from the buzzer and stared at her.

“Here’s your hangover cure.” She was still wincing as the bag was thrust into her hands without much else being said.

She silently thanks him for his patience. There was a look of understanding that passed, and a nod from the driver as he walked back to the sidewalk. He looked like he knew her, or understood her struggle. Most likely both, from the way it lingered. She just shrugged it off and served him her back.

Venus cursed softly as she closed the door behind her, shutting out the bright sunlight, and going back into the inescapable brightness of her living room. She slumped down on her couch and groaned before opening her bag, and pulling out a carton of chicken fried rice and a bag of egg rolls.

The grease probably wasn’t going to help her general overall feel, really. She would try to convince herself that it would, though. After a few minutes in cherished silence, she was killing her carton of rice with the occasional chew of the still hot egg roll without a care in the world. Everything was going good until she realized she hadn’t touched her phone since she got up.

She still had to put two and two together, still needed to recount how the fuck she ended up so drunk to where she was suffering from a massive hangover. Her phone buzzed across the living room table as she stared at it, and caught it before it fell.

215-667-8890: Wyd?

Her nostrils flared in annoyance as she glimpsed at the message on the lock screen, which came from an unsaved number with a 215 area code. Who did she know from Philly?

Her tongue rolled around her lips as she pulled herself up to sit up straight, and pressed her lips together as she unlocked the phone. It wasn't unlikely for someone to text her out of the blue; she’d had the same number since she was thirteen years old. But, she couldn’t recall giving anyone from Philly her number, or giving her number out at all, really.

She tried to think - was it work related? An internet friend, maybe? Someone from Plenty Of Fish, even though she’d deleted that app months ago? Did Juju give her number out again to some nigga she didn’t want to talk to? Curiosity was getting the best of her as no person in particular seemed to jump out at her. She decided to text back anyway.

Just woke up. Fighting a Hangover. Who is this?

The phone hiccuped as the message was sent, and the bubble was blue, which made her eyebrows raise. If she didn’t get an answer within the next couple of texts, she was definitely going to accidentally facetime the number to see who answered.

Venus wet her lips as she leaned over to the side of the couch and grabbed the forgotten, room temperature bottle of Glacier Cherry Gatorade and drank from it as if she had been lost in the desert. She nearly choked when the phone pinged back with a response.

215-667-8890: Nobody told you to do a waterfall of Don Julio like you're a big dog, V.

Oh, so this person knew her name? That made her head tilt a little as she switched away from the Messages app, and went straight to Snapchat. She immediately opened up the snapchat thread between her and her cousin, her best friend, and sent several eye emojis before she started to snap.

Vdotcarter: Juanita, who in the fuck did you give my number to?

“Fuck did I do last night?” She questioned the empty room as she looked around and tried to get any reminder of how last night went.

It was just as clean as she recalled working hard to pull off, with no trash around the room, no mess littering the table, or even her clothes or shoes lingering in the doorway, where she’d usually strip as soon as she got in the house. Juanita’s message of “GO HARD, OR TAKE YOUR ASS HOME!” from like three weekends ago was still up there on her dry erase board, and there hadn’t been any new pictures pinned up to the corkboard square of memories that stuck out to her either, so what the fuck did she do last night?

Her honey brown eyes scanned the room again as she wedged her tongue in her cheek, almost annoyed by her lack of memories. It had been that way after drinking since that night in Vegas, but, it never took this long to flood back into her head. If Juanita knew what had gone down, she definitely wasn’t fuckin’ helping, not telling her what was up.

She scanned the room again, past title momementos, old UFC promotions, newspaper clippings, and still, there was nothing that jumped out to her. She might have gotten drunk, but as she looked down at her fingers and hands, she knew she didn’t beat anyone’s ass, so, maybe that was a good thing.

Everything seemed the same, really. It didn’t smell any different, and there was nothing that really stuck out to her, until she took a look over at the ottoman she had arranged on the other side of the living room set up. There was a white, long sleeved thermal, with a little rip in the neck area. She tilted her head at it, and stood up, walking over to it. She picked it up and inhaled it, but knew it didn’t belong to her, yet smelled too familiar for her to admit as to who it did.

“Motherfucker…” She looked around, now looking for things that didn’t belong to her.

Masculine things. Little things. Like the sparring gloves hanging next to hers, bigger, red. Not her color. An extra water bottle, with an obnoxious, star spangled meshing around it. There was also a diamond link chain that hung almost ominously over one of the taller cat statues that rested over her TV that she knew didn’t belong to her.

“Fuck.” She sucked her teeth, not wanting it to be him, but knowing it was.

Now, it was just a matter of confirmation.

Her phone was still idle in her hand, and she tapped at the screen and glanced back down at her snapchat feed, and flicked through the stories. Instead of trying to tap on anything that stuck out to her, Venus opted back to her own story, and watched through slightly drawn eyes as she relived her entire night.

In the span of a few minutes, she saw herself going through the motions of locking up at the gym, or at least, the departure from her building to her car in the parking lot. There wasn’t much there, but she remembered the sparring session. She remembered kicking ass, and talking shit the entire time. She didn’t need that to be recorded to know that.

Then, she was driving, debating if she wanted to go out, ‘cause she hadn’t in a while, and then, she was home, pregaming with shots of tequila and doing lip-sync karaoke to songs from the early ‘00s. She was cursing out Juanita for not wanting to come out with her, and the rest of the snaps went like a quick, but familiar blur.

The phone buzzes again, and she doesn’t hesitate to switch screens to get back to her inbox.

215-667-8890: why didn’t you save my number?

Her response is immediate.

Because I don’t know who this is??

If she was being honest with herself, it was literally only two people. Maybe it was Tony, who came with Adonis when he made the move from Philly to Brooklyn. But, Adonis had been claimed, fucked her cousin on the regular before they broke up, and spent the majority of the time acting like he didn’t miss his shot, shooting for the wrong cousin. Tony was just there for the ride, interested in the girl who could fight, even determined enough to ensure that she still could after almost losing everything a year back.

Thinking emojis follow, and seconds later, a video pops up in response. She doesn’t hesitate to play it. Her eyebrows raised as she watched herself do exactly what she had been accused of earlier.

A large triangular bottle of Don Julio that she knew went for about $150 was being poured into her mouth with reckless abandon, and her eyes narrowed as she watched herself drink until she needed to pull away. After she threw her head back from the tequila stream, the phone shook with hoots and hollering, and the camera rotated to a smiling face, complete with bottom and top golds that made her curse softly.

She knew Adonis when she saw him, and she knew that this? Was no good.

“Oh Venus, you dumb bitch.” She cursed softly as she covered her mouth with her hands, tenting her hands as she groaned into them, but she couldn’t stifle the sound.

She went back to her snapstory with determination to figure something out. There was an appearance by Tony, who she sang loudly to, and took some shots with, and then later, Donnie was there, pipin’ it up for a second before slinging his arm around her, and pulling her into him. When the bottle of Don Julio was brought over by the bottle girl, V knew it went downhill after that shit.

Venus remembered some of this; she remembered getting dressed and leaving in an uber, heading to a club. She remembered saying, “fuck it,” and getting ready to go have some fun. After Donnie made that ignorant ass purchase though, shit got blurry after that. There was a lot of shots taken, captions that were incoherent, and a bunch of black screen requests, until they just stopped. She shook her head.

The phone hiccuped again. More video came from the unsaved number, this time, explicit at that. There was her hair wrapped around a fist, and her mouth was way too filled to do anything else than take what was being fed to her. She felt a familiar tug on her scalp and hissed. Shit.

Shit.

Donnie loved doing that shit, trying to get a rise out of her. He always had, since they first met, and he asked if it was real, ‘cause it was long, and stupid for her to have long hair, when all bitches knew how to do in a fight was go right for it. They flirted like that. For years.

But, all of that skirting around? It was a waste of time. She knew eventually they would stop bullshitting, but she wanted to fucking remember all of it. She sat her phone down and threw her head back against the couch cushions as she cursed again, in partial disbelief as to what she saw.

215-667-8890: We’re not going to fuck around with details just yet. It’ll come back to you.

215-667-8890: It might not jump right out to you, but, it will. Save my number, Venus.

She had no idea how she was going to explain how she slept with her cousin’s ex-boyfriend, but she knew she needed to figure something out. She flattened her body against the couch and cursed softly as the need for chinese and gatorade turned into a long desire to curl up, and sleep it off.

She saved the number with her tongue wedged in her cheek, and her eyes darting back across the room, trying to figure out all of the hows and whys, and if there was more video that didn’t make Snapchat...

Adonis: Since you’re acting like you don’t remember things, I promised you breakfast in the morning, and it’s not too late for french toast. Meet me at LB’s in twenty. Let’s talk about this.

#michael b jordan #adonis creed #creedverse au #creed x oc #chapters #michael b jordan fanfic #mbj fanfiction #michael b jordan fanfiction #creed fanfic

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teachingoutsidethebinary · 8 years ago

Text

Lonely

Summary: Loki spends his time hiding in New York City, the one place he knows the Avengers will never think to look for him. One day, he meets a teenager who causes him to question his very motives for trying to take over the world.

Characters: Loki, OFC teenage boy (unnamed for now)

Warnings: angst, cursing

A/N: So I might do a part 2 to this story if there’s interest. Let me know what you think, and as always, thanks for reading!

Oneshot Masterlist

Loki considered himself to be many things: smart, handsome, powerful...all qualities of a suitable ruler. The Battle of New York was merely a setback to his ultimate plan of control and glory. After escaping from Asgard, he hid in the one place the Avengers would never think to look.

New York City.

The city he once tried to destroy now became his temporary home as he bided time to build up power and resources for his next big plan. He laid low during the day and went to work at night scheming away. He would always end the night just before sunrise at the Brooklyn Bridge. He liked to watch the water change from a glassy black to an ombre of yellow, pink, and orange. It calmed him, and it almost reminded him of the Bifrost Bridge from home. Not that he was sentimental about home or family. He had no time for such trivial concerns.

He always thought he spent these early mornings on the bridge alone…

...But he was wrong.

Today was a particularly chilly morning, and Loki pulled his sweater up higher on his neck. The changing of the season was near, and he could feel it with every drop of dew in the air and every speck of green peeking out of the decaying trees.

He stared out at the East River and prepared for another sunrise. A shuffling noise drew his attention away from the glassy water. He looked behind but saw no one. Shrugging it off as a small animal, he turned back to his view.

Only this time he wasn’t alone.

A teenage boy stood directly to his left side. He wore a black beanie pulled low over his ears and a heavy metal t-shirt. His jeans were ripped at both knees, and his sneakers looked as if they had seen better days. Loki balked and tripped away from the boy, quickly changing his appearance into an innocuous city goer.

“Dude,” the boy said, barely glancing over, “did you really just try and shape shift? I already saw you.”

Loki’s eyes widened as the effect of his glamor dropped off. In his true form, he cautiously walked back over to the boy.

“You clearly know who I am,” Loki said. “But I do not know of you.”

“M’ not important,” the boy replied with a shrug.

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “No,” he scoffed.”Not at all.” The boy’s lips turned up in a small smile as he continued to invade Loki’s space. “Do you not fear me?” Loki asked, holding out his arms in a grandiose gesture.

The boy merely shrugged again. “You already tried to destroy the city once. If you wanted to kill me, I’m pretty sure you would have done it by now.”

The boy was right. Despite his weakened form, Loki could have easily taken him out with a snap of his fingers. But instead he was...intrigued. He was used to mortals fearing him, or at least being intimidated by him. However, here was a boy who stood not even three feet away, and yet, he was not afraid.

“Do you plan on destroying the city any time soon?” the boy asked.

Loki let out a sharp laugh. “I would not reveal my plans to a child,” he sneered.

The boy scoffed. “Sixteen is hardly a “child”,” he replied using air quotes. “And if you do plan on causing mayhem, can you do it in about three weeks? I really don’t wanna take my chemistry final.”

“My timetable is none of your concern,” Loki retorted.

They stood in silence for a few minutes and watched as the moon sunk further and further under the horizon. Life seemed to appear before their very eyes as the sun began to peek through the darkness.

“Why do you do it?” the boy asked, finally breaking the silence. “Why do you hurt people?”

Loki barely needed time to think of a response. “Power. And glory. The fear that emanates off mortals when they feel they’ve lost all hope is…” He took a deep breath and smiled, showing all his teeth. “...addicting.”

“I don’t believe you,” the boy grumbled.

Oh really?

In a flash, Loki had the boy by the collar of his shirt. He shoved him up onto the railing of the bridge so he was practically hanging off the edge. The boy’s eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed as he tried to breathe over Loki’s wrist crushing his windpipe. His left arm swung wildly in the air, trying to get some traction, while his right clung desperately to Loki’s hand. His eyes darted from the bottom of the bridge to Loki’s maniacal gaze.

“I have complete control over you right now,” Loki bragged, shoving the boy a little further out over the bridge. The boy whimpered in response. “With one simple push I can end your life. I can watch you fall, completely helpless, the light in your eyes going out before you even touch the water.” Loki leaned in closer until he was whispering in the boy’s ear. “I can smell your fear, your despair. It calls to me like nothing else on this godforsaken planet. You. Are. Mine.”

With a harsh shove, Loki pulled the boy off the railing and pushed him to the ground. The boy gasped for air as he shivered. It took him almost two minutes before he was able to stand on wavering legs. Loki, meanwhile, had gone back to simply staring at the sunrise.

Instead of running, however, the boy spoke. “B-b-bull-bullshit,” he stuttered.

Loki pursed his lips and turned around. “I beg your pardon?” he asked threateningly.

The boy still shook, but he stood up a little bit straighter. “I c-ca-call bullshit,” he repeated. “Those things you just t-talked about, that’s not about power. That’s about b-be-being noticed.”

“Are they not one in the same?” Loki asked.

The boy shook his head, gaining more confidence. “You had the entire world watching you, fearing you even. They saw you. For once, someone saw you.” Loki’s face lost its pale pallor, but the boy didn’t stop. “You just want someone to see you. I think you’re lonely.” He paused and shook his head. “And that’s just sad.”

Loki gritted his teeth and stalked closer to the boy. He flinched as Loki stood nose-to-nose with him. “Unless you want to find your heart ripped out of your feeble chest and in my crushing grip, I suggest you leave.” All light left Loki’s eyes, and his voice was laced with venom. The boy swallowed and knew it was time to call it quits.

“Fine,” he replied as he backed away. “But you’re not going to solve any of your problems with destruction and fear. And when you realize that, come find me.” He paused and stared Loki down. “Because I see you.”

Without another word, the boy turned and began to jog down the bridge. His gait did not suggest he was afraid, just finished with the morning’s adventures.

Loki scrunched his nose and slammed his palms against the hard, metal railing. His breathing turned ragged as he fought for control over his own emotions. The boy was stupid and had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

“Lonely?” Loki asked the empty air. “I am not…” His voice trailed off as drops of water created dark patches on the railing. He looked up at the sky expecting to see rain, but there was none. He lightly touched his fingertips to his cheeks, and when he pulled them away, he discovered they were wet. His heart sunk as the morning sun finally broke through, casting a brilliant glow across the entire city.

He was lonely.

TAGS: @buckyappreciationsociety @iamwarrenspeace @theassetseyeliner @melconnor2007 @yknott81 @snapplejuice @sammnipple @fuckkoffcourtney @capttainamericaa @gab-pas-arm

#loki fanfiction #loki feels #loki angst #loki fic #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #slight angst #loki

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