#i still think it's funny how i drew him for engage's release date

[mawguai]

May today be wonderful for you!

#fire emblem #fire emblem engage #fe engage #fe #fe17 #rosado #fe rosado #if you play feh please vote for him in CYL 8! #i still think it's funny how i drew him for engage's release date #and then learning his bday was right before it #i laughed and was somewhat anguished that i had to wait a whole year to give him a birthday gift in the game #I still love him so muchhhh #he's still awesome #he'll always be special to me #my art

[descendantofthesparrow]

2 part Commission Work - Harry Hook x Reader - part 2 - the masked princess

commissioned by @musicarose​

=

You sat sluggishly at your desk, the weekend had been harsh, your sister barging into your room constantly to rant about…well about you, but she didn’t know that.

And now apparently, Harry Hook was on the look for the masked girl who had run off before the reveal. And it hurt to hear your sister spit insults about you.

You thought Audrey had gotten better, but she still had work to do.

You stiffened as harry sat next to you, doing your best to not look at him, in fear of blushing heavily or blurting out the truth.

you wished you could tell him, but you were scared he wouldn’t like the girl under the mask and avoid you like everyone else did.

“good morning class! Today, we are going to start on a team project!” the class, including you groaned. “now, now it’s a simple research paper, im sure you can handle that, now I will be assigning you groups because SOME of you- “ the teacher eyed the students, who shrunk in their seats “like to exclude others so!”

The teacher took out the attendance sheet and went down the list, marking off as she grouped teams of two and three.

You looked to harry in the corner of your eye, he was just doodling on the edge of his paper. and as you looked closer, you saw your mask from the ball, on top of your hidden face.

‘hes drawing…me?’ you thought, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.

“mister hook and miss (whatever last name), you two will be partners” you jumped, yelping out as you hit your knee on the desk.

The class turned to you, laughter in their eyes, you blushed and looked away. You didn’t see harry glare back and knock his fist harshly against his desk, the class flinched and turned back to the front.

You zoned out the rest of the class, your foot tapping on the ground constantly.

Someone poked your shoulder, making you squeak and turn to them. “uh-uh hi?” Harry chuckled and gave you a soft smile and an eyebrow raise.

“hi luve, im harry, Harry Hook, and yeh are?” he held out his hand, you gently grasped it, mind flashing back to when he kissed the back of your hand.

You shook hands, a blush clear on your face “im-im (y/n)” harry nodded, releasing your hand and leaning back in his chair.

“I've seen yeh before, but I don’t know where?” you sighed, shoulders slagging down.

“im-im audreys little sister” harry nodded slowly, then shook his head.

“no I think I've seen yeh somewhere else…” you froze, hands clenched in your lap.  He snapped his fingers and pointed at you “oh, at the engagement party!” you breathed a sigh of relief, then paused.

“wait, I was only there for like- five minutes, and then I left?” Harry shrugged.

“im good at remembering faces” he laughed, it was odd, just like the night of the ball, you had become easily comfortable with him.

“well, I kinda zoned out on the topic?” you gave a vague gesture to him, he snorted and shook his head.

“no specific topic, we just gotta research somethin’” you hummed and tapped your desk.

“how bout…pirates? Since that would be something we're both interested in?” Harry sat up straight and looked at you surprised.

“yer interested in pirates?” you nodded eagerly and tapped your hands on your thighs.

“yeah! When I was a kid I would sneak off to the library and look for stories and books with pirates in them, my dad and grandparents didn’t really like it but my mom always encouraged me to keep learning, no matter what topic it was- sorry im rambling”

You shyly ended, rubbing the back of your neck, harry frowned, reaching out and cupping your cheek "someones told yeh that yeh talk too much, who?”

Oyu paused, looking at his wrist “u-uh-aud-aud-“ Harry let out a low sigh.

“yer sister, she's a nasty one, any tips ta get ‘er ta leave me alone?” you blinked surprised, leaning away from his hand.

“you-you want her to leave you alone?” harry swallowed harshly and rubbed his arm.

“she- shes not really…personally aware? And she makes me uncomfortable and its obvious that she only likes my face n crap”

You locked your jaw and furrowed your brows “and here I thought she learned from ben, ill see what I can do”

Harry softly smiled and nodded “thanks lass” the bell finally rang, the teacher calling the end of the team quite time and dismissing the class.

“the paper is due next month on the second! Have a good rest of your day!”

You stood from your desk, stuffing all your books and notes in your bag.

“So lass, well meet up at lunch alright?” you whipped around to look at Harry, who was smiling at you. “is tha’ okay” he frowned slightly, realizing he might have made you uncomfortable.

“no, no! it's okay, just didn’t expect that….no one usually willingly hangs out with me after…audreys stunt” harry looked offended and wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“well, im changing that today, yer gonna met meh friends uma n gil alright? You’ll love em, after all” he grinned down at you “we’re pirates” he teased.

You blushed and looked away, though you didn’t remove his arm.

“Hey by the way” you looked back at him “do yeh know that masked girl from the masquerade ball? The one that was in that blue ombre dress?” you slowly shook your head.

“no, i-I didn’t go” Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Alright…”

You did your best to ignore his face and the tone of his voice.

=

Well…uma knew who you were, she had immediately reconsigned your voice and had pulled you into a corner and told you.

She didn’t tell Harry thankfully or force you to tell him, she took one look at you and knew you were scared of what would happen.

So she left that alone and became a friend.

So as the date of the research paper drew closer, you and harry were around each other more often than not. And honestly? Even if you didn’t like him all to hell and back you would have been very happy to have a friend like him.

He had legit swore at a group of kids who were whispering about you and trying to tell him to avoid you.

You were invited to crew nights at Umas dorm, eating breakfast lunch and dinner with Harry, Uma, and Gil.

You were finally breaking out of your little shell, and beginning to not care about what all the other students thought.

You still couldn’t bear the thought of telling harry you were the masked girl, you knew he would be disappointed.

Though one day, when you had to study for the paper in your private dorm room because of the rain outside and the library being closed.

Harry was bored and starting doing….Harry things and poking around your room as he waited for you to return with the books you left in your locker.

As he looked under your bed, his eyes locked with a large blue box. He tilted his head, and pulled it out, sitting back on his heels and slowly opening the box.

His breath stopped as his eyes connected with the elegant mask of the girl from the masquerade ball.

“all this time” he muttered, gently picking it up and brushing his thumb against the nose “it was yeh”

“How did you find that” harry turned, eyes widening as he locked eyes with you.

You looked terrified, clutching the books to your chest “you weren't-I wasn’t- I didn’t!” harry stood, quickly waking over to you and grabbing the books and tossing them on your bed. then grabbing your shoulders, instructing you to breathe with him.

“Hey hey hey! Im not mad, yer fine, yer fine! Its okay, breath with me love breathe~” you grabbed his arms and tried to breathe, feeling tears burn at your eyes.

“you-you're not disappointed?” you whimpered, a look of sadness and….love? came over his face.

“disappointed? Love im happy! Who knew the girl I've been fallin’ for was the same as the girl who stole meh heart at the ball”

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped “you-you- falling for?”

“aye” he lifted his hand from your shoulder, cupping your cheek and gently stroking your cheek with his thumb “im falling for yeh…my princess”

You could feel the intense blush rise to your face, so you lunged forward and buried your face in his chest. You felt his laughter rumble in his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“can I kiss yeh?” he whispered, your head shot up, looking into his bright ocean blue eyes. You nodded slowly, fluttering your eyes closed as Harry leaned in.

And pressed the softest, purest kiss to your lips.

As he pulled away, you couldn’t open your eyes, “yer smiling” you heard him chuckle. You opened your eyes biting your lip.

“That was my first kiss” you whispered, harry hummed in surprise, then gave you his classic flirty grin.

“How bout I give yeh a second one?”

“yes please,” Harry leaned back in, pressing a slightly more passionate kiss to your lips, though he kept it soft as not to scare you.

It was funny when your sister walked in, about to rant once more about harry being obsessed with the masked girl, when she saw harry on top of you on your bed.

Harry just looked at her, gave her his middle finger, and resumed in his quest of giving you the best kiss of your life.

“(Y/N)!!!”

---end~---

taglist

@amorathegamingkitsune​

permtaglist

@queer-cosette​

@sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​

@random-thoughts-003​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​

#descendants #Descendents #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #commission work #now onto encore!

[moononmyfloor]

Review: The Tyrant's Tomb by Rick Riordan

Thoughts on The Cover

Well, if you've seen my previous posts by now you'd know that I'm not a big fan of loud and action-packed covers. I prefer classy, if not always subtle. But you might like it! See, Reyna is owning the bigger portion of it, which is a nice change. :-)

Ok to Low Points

Halfway through the book, I was STILL unable to "get" into the story

Literally, not much was going on for 2/3 of the whole book, which is very surprising considering:

The time between the release dates of The Tyrant's Tomb and The Burning Maze is the longest as of yet. Whereas other books within a series have come out within twelve months of each other, these two books will be released within eighteen months of each other.

.....and that even the most boring books by Uncle Rick had some silver linings here and there to keep you engaged. Even The Dark Prophecy had the gang arrive and settle in Indianapolis, visit the zoo and free Griffins and REVISIT the emperor. Here? Apollo and Co. escorted Jason's hearse into Camp Jupiter in a frankly insulting manner(more about that later), Apollo got sick, we see that the noble prophecies are being tattooed on Tyson's back, Apollo and Co. went on a lil' trial quest and returned, Apollo got more sick.🤷‍♀️ I was so confused I opened the previous books to see how far those stories had progressed by midpoint.

It got slightly better later on, but it doesn't change the fact throughout the 1st half of the book I just kept on turning pages SIMPLY because I wanted it to get it on with and finish the story. Sad.

2. The so-called Tyrant

I didn't see much tyranny, like...only 3 pages were spent in the Tyrant's Tomb and his company, bad old Commodus and Caligula had more appearances than Tarquin who re-appeared in the very last chapters only to get immediately vanquished courtesy of Diana.....yeah. That's that.

3. How Jason's final voyage was depicted

Uncle Rick doesn't write emotional crying scenes well.

People talk about peeing and pop chewing gum bubbles while delivering the hearses of valued, honored characters.

And I seriously wonder in what position and condition poor Jason's body was after all the drama his coffin underwent.

And based on the spoilery lines(which sadly turned out to be not spoilers at all) we saw in the Magnus Chase series I thought we'd at least get a Percy-Annabeth cameo in this, that Jason will have more of his closest comrades mourning and sending him off. Nah. Nada. Not even a mention of Annabeth. Then why did Uncle Rick mention things like Annabeth and Percy being at California and even Magnus joining them at their time of crisis? Utter puzzlement. And we were also robbed of Nico's reaction to Jason's demise, considering how much Nico valued Jason as a brother-in-arms and a friend. Let's not even talk about Thalia. Why, Uncle Rick? :-(

Which brings us to...

4. Plot Inconsistencies

Why do I have to talk about this in each and every book? :-( Seriously, why would you write about Percy and Annabeth going to New Rome to attend college and being broken hearted over Jason DURING the period of Demigod communication malfunction, only to have us know they have YET to travel across the country and when we meet them again it would still be at New York? And now the communication is working, proving that Uncle Rick conveniently forgot about the clues he conveniently dropped.

AT LEAST I'm glad one thing is consistent in the Trials of Apollo series, that when Zeus decided they'll stop meddling too much in demigod affairs at the end of Heroes of Olympus, he meant it and now it's super duper hard to seek a god even for dire needs, no matter how wonderfully (ill)timed that decision was, costing lives of valued heroes.

5. The Haiku-titles weren't amusing at all this time.

I found one fun haiku .

O, blood moon rising

Take a rain check on doomsday

I’m stuck in traffic

6. The whole Apollo-Reyna debacle.

I would say Uncle Rick pulled a clever twist by turning fan theories on their heads here, but it too way more plot space than needed and when he got to the "Gotcha!" part, I was not feeling it. For YEARS now, we heard abut this no-mortal-no-demigod thing over and over, and fans predicted it might mean Apollo's the one for Reyna. And when it initially seemed like it was the route that Uncle Rick was indeed taking, the only thought that circulated inside my head was; "Reyna doesn't need this completely random and unwanted baggage! Give the girl a dam break!!" But then he was like; "Lol nooo. You kids are wrong", but STILL I was not happy...well, for obvious reasons.

What's the point of this whole plotline? So unnecessary. I mean, the fans always wondered WHY exactly would Reyna think she needs a partner in her life, but now I see Reyna might not have had time to contemplate her personal life logically like WE had what's with her dramatic life. Of course the shallow gods would think her heart was something to be "cured" and Reyna never stopped to think that it's quite the opposite till Apollo provided her with a breather and reason. And to answer why din't she choose to join Amazons instead of Hunters is probably that she wanted to be her own person and not be under her sis the Queen once again. She'd indeed have the freedom, calm and few friends so she wouldn't feel lonely and bored with the Hunt. She might even choose to leave Hunters after she found herself in her own time. I get it. But the way it was dragged and executed was meh.

If Uncle Rick intended this plotline of Reyna to be empowering for female readers, in my opinion it was not. Yes, even a badass girl could have weaknesses, not enough self-confidence and wobbly life choices, but Reyna took too much time with her "Eureka!" moment.

It was funny while it lasted, at least.

“Lester.” Reyna sighed. “What in Tartarus are you saying? I’m not in the mood for riddles.”

“That maybe I’m the answer,” I blurted. “To healing your heart. I could…you know, be your boyfriend. As Lester. If you wanted. You and me. You know, like…yeah.”

HAHAHAHA. That Totally came from the left field Lester, even for you.

“Your girlfriend was pregnant when you had her killed?” Reyna launched another kick at my face. I managed to dodge it, since I’d had a lot of practice cowering, but it hurt to know that this time she hadn’t been aiming at an incoming raven. Oh, no. She wanted to knock my teeth in.

“You suck,” Meg agreed.

I mean, if THIS is not the ultimate deal breaker then what is? Apollo might have changed for better by now, but it doesn't mean we can overlook what he did. I for one certainly don't need a loveline for him in this series. I'm glad Uncle Rick drew(or at least seemed to have) a clear line here.

High Points

It took half the page count even for Uncle Rick's special brand of snark to return. Nonetheless I managed to find some good ones. Which is what matters, right?

1.

“So,” I said, making a second attempt at nonchalance, “are you and Thalia, er…?”

Reyna raised an eyebrow. “Involved romantically?”

“Well, I just…I mean…Um…”

Oh, very smooth, Apollo. Have I mentioned I was once the god of poetry?

Reyna rolled her eyes. “If I had a denarius for every time I got that question…Aside from the fact that Thalia is in the Hunters, and thus sworn to celibacy…Why does a strong friendship always have to progress to romance?"

Preach, sister. But then again I would have to ask did YOU have to swear to celibacy to prove your independence....which is sort of the point🙄..

2.

Even when I was a god and could speak any language I wanted, I’d never sung well in Italian. I kept mixing it up with Latin, so I came off sounding like Julius Caesar with a head cold.

LOL

3.

It was time to be helpful. I needed to be repulsive for my friends!

Which you're most of the time...the latter sentence I mean.

4. Don't we all relate? 😂

“O protector of Rome!” I read aloud. “O insert name here!”

5. And one more.

I bet Gregorix was wishing he’d pursued that business degree his mom always wanted him to get. Being a barbarian bodyguard was mentally exhausting.

.

Heartrending quotes.

1.

This was the source of all our communications troubles—one sad, angry, forgotten little god.

2. This was the wisest quote I saw in the book. The simple indescribable deepness of letting go.

“Good-bye, Apollo,” said the Sibyl’s voice, clearer now. “I forgive you. Not because you deserve it. Not for your sake at all. But because I will not go into oblivion carrying hate when I can carry love.”

Even if I could’ve spoken, I wouldn’t have known what to say. I was in shock. Her tone asked for no reply, no apology. She didn’t need or want anything from me. It was almost as if I were the one being erased.

3. I was saddened to learn about Julia's untimely loss, but I'm sure everybody had a meltdown moment at the following scene.

The old god’s face hardened a bit more, which shouldn’t have been possible for stone. “I see. Well. I’ve concentrated the last bits of my power here, around Julia. They may destroy New Rome, but they will not harm this girl!”

“Or this statue!” said Julia.

4. Honestly? I too forgot until Apollo pointed it out and then I had *shivers*! They're one immediate family, grieving over one loss that affects all of them in various ways, and having mixed reactions about each others the members who survived!

I shivered. How easy it was to forget that this young woman was also my sister. And Jason was my brother. At one time, I would have discounted that connection. They’re just demigods, I would have said. Not really family.

Overall Conclusion

This is the most bored-outta-my-mind I felt after reading a PJO universe book. Am I finally growing out of the Percy Jackson and the Heroes of Olympus fandom? Oh dear, I hope not. I can't imagine living without it and I'm SO not happy with this new development. Just as I feared, Uncle Rick couldn't keep it up after the excellent Burning Maze and now.....please, for your fans' sake who had been loyal for years, I hope at least the final book delivers. Just so we could at least part ways/go dormant with pleasant sentiments and a content heart.🙆‍♀️

#rick riordan #trials of apollo #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #the tyrants tomb #book reviews. #reviews #pjo

[everlarkchristmasgifts]

A/N I had a super hard time with this one and any sort of fluidity, so sorry if it’s come out garbled: It felt like trying to untangle my hair after a night of tossing and turning, and I didn’t want to ask anyone to beta read on Christmas Eve so I finally just gave up and hit submit.

Part Two for the Pasty White Raisin Follow Up Christmas Drabbles done for @everlarkchristmasgifts. Part One is here.

Rating: T

_______________

Eleven Days to Christmas - Secret Santa Exchange

The clang of the bell over the door brought Peeta out from the back of the bakery.  The customer already had his face glued to the case with the day’s remaining cinnamon rolls.  They were each the size of plates, and covered with syrup glaze and walnut halves.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. You can tell me whether it’s possible to have an sugar crash that’s existential, or if it’s just a thought in my head.”

“Sorry?”

The guy laughed at his own joke and came over to the counter. He looked friendly, but also exuded a confidence that made Peeta, run down as he was, feel less so.

“Are there walnuts inside those? Or just on the top?”

“Walnuts throughout.”

“Walnuts throughout,” the man parroted with an appreciative nod. “I like you. Walnuts throughout.”

When he didn’t say or do anything else, Peeta cleared his throat and suggested, “Do you want me to box one up for you?”

“Maybe. I’m looking for Peter.”

“You mean Peeta.”

“Ah, Peet-ah. He’s got the Boston thing going on!”

Peeta tried to smile, but smiling was hard. Too many orders, too many hours. Too old of a story. Rue usually worked part time, but had needed two extra days off that week because of finals. Thom was still technically full time, but he’d been out sick on and off for the last two months because his mother was ill. Cashmere had quit right before Thanksgiving. And Katniss…

Well, he’d run Katniss off.

The last two days the operation had been a solo show.

“Actually, it is ‘Peeta,’ not Peter. And that’s me. I know, blame my parents.” He needed to get back to work. “What can I do for you?”

The man gave him an appraising once over that bordered on invasive, followed by a nod of approval. “So you’re the one.  I can see it. I can totally see it.”

Peeta cleared his throat and shifted a little on his feet.

“Uh… The one what?”

“Katniss’ ‘There can be only One.’ Aside from me, of course.”

Peeta’s back stiffened.

“And you are?”

The man didn’t notice, or wasn’t phased, by Peeta’s abrupt gruffness.

“Handsome. Funny. Amazingly talented. I go by many names. In previous times, I was referred to as ‘God’s gift to women.’ But alas, now that I’m on the road to a lifetime of sweet monogamy, I go by the unassuming alter-ego Finnick Odair.” He held his hand out over the counter, joking grin giving way to an earnest smile and a lower-key manner. “Hi, good to meet you. I work with Katniss at the brewery. I’m the one she always gets your everything bagels for.”

“She’s mentioned you.”

Peeta crossed his arms but Finnick kept his hand extended until it was rude to not shake it, so he used a stronger grip than necessary.

“Road to monogamy with…Ann?” Peeta didn’t look away from Finnick for a millisecond, squeezing his hand tighter. “Or was it Annie?”

“Wow, ice, ice, baby. You sure there isn’t a Peter back there?” Finnick squeezed back, hard. “‘Cause to hear Katniss, you’re, and I quote, ‘warm and amazing,’ not Mr. I-Might-Murder-You-Where-You-Stand. And yes, it’s Annie, definitely not Katniss, if that’s what your grip is asking, so,” Finnick stared pointedly at their hands then back up, “release the hostage; it comes in peace.”

Peeta held on for an extra few beats, then released.

“Thanks.” Finnick cracked his knuckles. “Not that I don’t enjoy holding your hand, but really, I don’t enjoy holding your hand.”

Peeta smiled apologetically. “Sorry. Christmas season makes for long baking days and grumpy bakers.  Did Katniss send you to talk to me?”

“About what?”

When Peeta didn’t respond, Finnick studied him, eyes narrowing.

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“You thought I might be making a move on Katniss. Katniss hasn’t been bringing me my bagels. You think Katniss might have sent an emissary.”  He stared until Peeta reddened. “You two have had a fight that she hasn’t let on about, haven’t you?”

Peeta stared down at the worn linoleum tiles. They muttered at him about unionizing if they didn’t get better mop and wax benefits.

Finnick hmmm’d.

“So that’s why she’s been ultra reclusive lately. And here I assumed she was just having her traditional end-of-year wigout about breakage losses.”

Peeta forced himself to look back up.

“So does that mean she didn’t send you?”

“No, she didn’t.” Finnick was still analyzing him. “You know, I’d say it’s none of my business, but she’s Annie’s best friend and the closest thing I have to a sister, so really it is. What’d she do?”

“Excuse me?”

“What did she do? Shut down on you? Annie and I were worried that might happen. She avoids relationships like a golfer avoids water traps, and with how happy she’s been, we’ve both been worried she might try a runner.”

“A runner?”

“She might seem like she’s got the emotional stuntage of coal, but behind the scowl and the lasso of bookkeeping truth, she’s actually really nice… and also terrified of losing people.”

Peeta cleared his throat. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but it’s my business and hers.”

“Hang on…” Finnick’s staring was approaching full on x-ray power.  

Peeta found a rag and started wiping at the counter nervously to avoid it.

“It wasn’t her, it was you. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. And it’s a private.”

“Nope, you don’t get to do that. Not where it concerns Katniss. You’ll have the entire Tribute Brewery Suicide Squad coming down on you if you break her. And trust me, you don’t want to face Mason’s interrogation techniques.”

“Mason?”

“Johanna.”

“Is that ‘Jo,’ the assistant brewmaster?”

“Yeah.”

Peeta stopped wiping the counter, and looked up.

“Shaved head, leather collar, and a tattoo of Wile E. Coyote holding a stick of dynamite that’s about to go off?”

Finnick cocked an eyebrow. “You two’ve met?”

Peeta shook his head and took a few extra wipes with his rag before standing upright and tossing it onto the counter. He crossed his arms and relaxed enough to laugh a little.

“Naw. But Katniss showed me a picture once of Jo pretending to mount one of the vats.”

Finnick cracked a laugh. “Christmas party last year. We all remember, unfortunately. And she almost got fired for it.”

“Does that mean it was a tamer Christmas Party this year?”

Finnick laughed. “If you think the threat of being fired would tame Jo, you’ve definitely never actually met her.” After a few seconds, he leaned forward on the counter, tone lowered to something more serious, but also more open, “Look, we know about you and obviously you know about us. Even Haymitch calls you ‘The Boy,’ which means you have the official seal of approval. But even though we keep expecting an engagement announcement, every time we try to goad her into bringing you by, Kat claims you’re too busy.  So what’s the real reason you’re afraid of meeting us?”

Peeta stared down again at the linoleum.

“I’m not. I haven’t been. I just work crazy hours, and my schedule doesn’t fit with a normal person’s.”

“Baloney. She thinks you’re the greatest thing since— What’s that guy she likes on t.v.?”

“Which one?”

“She’s always yakking about with Annie after a new episode airs. He saves businesses or something.”

“Marcus? I think?”

“Yeah.” Finnick picked a half donut hole from a sample plate by the register and popped it in his mouth. “She thinks you’re the greatest thing since Mr. Marcus, and if that’s true, then over the course of a year, you’d have found time to meet us at least once. What’s really the hangup?”

“Listen, I appreciate that you’re trying to help—”

“Man, I’m proposing to Annie Christmas Eve. If there’s a blind date program for grooms to find best men, you and I have already been enrolled, so we might as well accept the arranged bro-marriage Annie and Katniss have negotiated for us and move on to the deep stuff.”

Peeta hesitated.

“Look, just looking at you it’s clear you need a break, a shave, and a good roll in the sack. Which,” he took another half donut hole, “Katniss needs, too, if for no other reason than it might get her off my back about that over-order of glassware I made last week. But more than that, you look like you need a pep talk. Katniss wouldn’t fall for a loser, so tell Mr. Odair what you did, and he’ll help you figure out how to smooth things over.”

“There’s no ‘smoothing things over.’”

“Kat still has a selfie of you two as her desktop background at work. Trust me, we can get you back in the clear.”

Peeta sighed and slumped his shoulders.

“If you didn’t come here because of Katniss and me to begin with, why are you here?”

“I miss my everything bagel. And Annie likes the sea salt ones.”

Peeta frowned. “Aside from the baked good.”

“Ah, well, see… I’m a man in need of advice. I drew Katniss’ name in the Secret Santa bag today.”

“And?”

“Annie said I’m on my own, and the only thing that comes to mind when I think of Katniss and gifts is a run to the office supply store for a stack of ledger books and fine-point Sharpies.”

“You want help buying her a gift.” Peeta wasn’t convinced.

“Yes. She doesn’t hardly drink, doesn’t go out, doesn’t have any hobbies that I’m aware of except for stalking Bambi in the woods with her bow and watching CNBC. And pretty much as far as we can tell, the only social things she does outside of work or her time with Haymitch is what we force her to do, or,” he added with meaning, “the time she spends in the company of ‘Pee-tah,’ her favorite, local, friendly neighborhood baker-man.” Finnick’s grin went wide enough to give Peeta’s own dimples a run for their money. “My real talent lies in buying lingerie. But I’m pretty sure if I bought Katniss a naughty Mrs. Claus nightie, none of us would be comfortable at Christmas ever again. Well, except for maybe Johanna. So,” he rubbed his hands together, “throw a man a life line.”

Peeta glared a little, then pulled a box flat from under the counter, folded it up, and went to retrieve one of the cinnamon rolls, then got a paper bag, went back to the baskets along the back wall and put in two everything and two sea salt bagels.  

“Have you heard of Sweet Pete’s,” he asked, after he slid the box and bag across the counter to Finnick.

“That high-end candy place over on 4th?”

“Yeah. Katniss always seems to like going there. Maybe a gift card.”

Finnick nodded. “Thanks. What else? It’s a twenty dollar limit, but she went above and beyond yesterday  helping me get the perfect present for Annie. And, she dug into her own wallet to make it happen, so I’d like to go a bit extra.”

“There’s that archery store there in the mall she loves.  Maybe they’d have something to suggest. Like some sort of bow wax or something.”

“What are you getting her for Christmas?”

Peeta ducked his head over the register to ring up the order, not offering an answer.

“A ring would be a good idea.  Speaking of,” Finnick pulled his wallet out and put a twenty down to cover the bill, “when are you and Katniss finally gonna do it?”

“Uh…” Peeta took the twenty and keyed in the cash. The drawer popped open.

“Well?”

Peeta cleared his throat, made change, then closed the register’s drawer with quiet push. “I’m not exactly in the habit of discussing bedroom matters with people I barely know.”

“Well, getting married is a lot more than…”

They stared at each other, Peeta looking uncomfortable.

Finnick’s mouth slowly twisted into a grin.

Peeta went red.

“You mean to tell me that you two haven’t even…” Finnick laughed so hard he could barely talk, his words eventually came out bookended with wheezes, “And yet somehow she’s always contented and glowing when she talks about you. Man, you need to tell me what you put in your baked goods, ‘cause it took me two years just to get Annie to trust me enough to go out on a date.”

“Anyway,” Peeta cleared his throat and handed Finnick his change, “I need to get back to cleaning up in the back. I hope you find something good for Katniss.”

“Wow. Andy Stitzer.” Finnick was still trying to catch his breath from laughing. “You really are her ‘There can be only One,’ aren’t you?”

Once he managed to fight down his amusement, he gave Peeta a nod of genuine admiration.

“Look, you talk to Katniss, I’ll talk to Katniss. Trust me when I say she’s not the kind of woman who keeps a guy in bad graces just for the drama of it. We’ll work it out.”

Peeta hesitated.

“I’m the one who ended it.”

Finnick’s smile faded.

“What do you mean ‘ended it?’”

__________

When he finally came to the end of his very long day, Peeta found a second present waiting at his apartment door.

#everlarkchristmasgifts #day two: secret santa exchanges #part 2 #by dandeliononfire #2018 #fan fic #submission

[bella-ca]

An Unexpected Love- A Mobster TRR AU Crossover

Summary: Bella, the daughter of murdered King of New York Adrian Raines, wants revenge. They killed her parents to take the throne. Now she will stop at nothing until she get her revenge.

A/N: okay so as you can tell this is my first TRR AU fic. This is a love story eventually but It does get dark. I was inspired by @katurrade by her Mobster Liam AU and decided to try my hand at writing. I hope you enjoy. Also thanks to @bobasheebaby for helping me with comments on this. Please leave comments, suggestions. It will inspire me to keep writing!

Warnings: violence, jealousy, mentions of murder, revenge, an assassination. I think that’s it for now. By reading you are acknowledging you are at least 18 years of age.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to choices by Pixelberry. I’m just borrowing them. Same with the pics. I borrowed those too.

Word count: 1064

Chapter 4

Bella boards the jet in a disguise. A short black wig, black tank top, jeans, hoodie, ball cap, and brown contacts. It was the middle of the night and she knew sunglasses would only draw attention. She sees Kamilah in her favorite lounge chair and gives her a hug. Kamilah hands her another file to read with new info on her mark. She sits down buckling her seatbelt waiting for the plane to take off. She looks over the new information.

Apparently her mark was one of Kamila’s moles in the Rhys family. He had turned on Kamilah and gave information to Constantine thinking Constantine would protect him. He was wrong. Dead wrong. Normally she would not get involved in anything related to the Rhys family. Kamilah had forbid that until she knew Bella was ready. The Phoenix was ready, but Bella’s emotions were all over the place. Today was the anniversary of the parents death and her attempted murder. She sat on the plane looking out the window lost in her thoughts.

“Phoenix, you okay?” Kamilah asks getting up from her seat to sit next to Bella.

They never used their real names. It was one of the rules. Kamilah knew how hard it was this time of year for Bella. She also knew that Bella was ready. The anniversary of her parents death would not defer Bella from the mission, in fact it would make sure she succeeded. She drew on her pain, her need for revenge. It kept her cold, focused on the job ahead.

“I’m ready.” Bella says taking another sip from her drink.

“That’s not what I asked.” she says looking at Bella.”

Bella looks her dead in the eye. “I’m ready. I have been waiting for this for years. I want nothing more than for them to pay. This is the first step to bringing them down. Once it’s done and over and I’m in my rightful place. Then ask me.”

Kamilah sighs pulling Bella into a hug. I know the timing of this is unfortunate. I just want to make sure your good.”

Bella hugs her back. “Thanks Raven. I’m good, I got this.”

“That I have no doubt of.” Kamilah says with a smirk releasing her and taking a drink from her glass of vodka.

Kamilah gets up to make a call. Leaving Bella to her own thoughts. She closed her eyes sipping on her whiskey. Preventing the tears from falling. NO. She will keep her emotions in check until after her mission. Emotions can be deadly. She had seen that a lot in her line of work. She even used it to her advantage. She knew she would get alot of attention from men growing up. She just never saw herself as beautiful. Not until she saw how easy it was to get men to do what she wanted. She used their feelings for her to her advantage. Drawing them in to get information or whatever else was needed and then she would kill them. She took another drink with a smirk remembering the power she felt when she killed. Oh yes, she would definitely be ok.

New York

After kicking Madeleine out, Liam gets up takes a quick shower and gets dressed. His mind on her. How he misses her. Bella. His Bella. The ache in his heart still there. He looks at his phone at the last picture they took together. He is smiling at the camera as Bella was kissing his cheek. The Statue of Liberty behind them. There is a knock at his door. Liam wipes the tears from his face putting the phone in his pocket as takes a deep breath. He opens it to see Drake looking at him with a smirk.

“I saw Madeline in the hall leaving your room….rough night?

“Not another word Drake.”

Drake raises his hands in surrender. “Hey I’m not judging, but seriously Madeline?” Liam just glares at him.

“Is there a reason your here Drake?” Liam asks clearly annoyed. Drake was lucky he was his best friend. Before he can answer, there’s another knock at the door.

“Sir your father is asking for you”

“Thank you Bastien.” Liam grabs his jacket putting it on and walking out of his room. Drake following.

“So what did you want to speak to me about? he asks Drake as they walk down the hall to Constantine’s study.

“I asked Olivia to be my date for the fundraiser tomorrow.”

“Finally admitting you have feelings for her?” Liam asks him chuckling.

“Funny Rhys”

“No really, I’m happy for you.”

Drake looks at him surprised. “Really? no joke?”

Liam gives a small smile. “No Drake. I’m happy for you.” One of us deserves to be happy. Liam thinks to himself.

“Thanks Li.” But that’s not all. Olivia called me this morning. Madeline told her and is telling everyone that she’s your date for the fundraiser.” When Olivia told me, I laughed.”but after I saw her walk out of your room…...”

Liam groans. He already knows what Drake is insinuating. “Remind me to never drink that much again.”

Drake laughs “Yeah...good luck with that.”

Liam was never a big drinker but after Bella’s death, He found himself drinking more and more. It helped him escape the pain and hole in his heart. They both knew Madeline was a crown chaser all she wanted was the power. She was engaged to Leo but he broke off the engagement. He didn't want to be in the lifestyle anymore. He decided to go back to Cordonia. Once Leo left, Madeleine just moved on to Liam. He always rejected her advances but with the anniversary of Bella’s death. The pain was too much. He drank until he was numb.

He remembered seeing Madeline visiting her Aunt Regina in the great room, then nothing. He had been with plenty of women since Bella. They threw themselves at him. He just took what he needed and got rid of them. When he wasn’t drinking he was out doing his father’s bidding.

They get to the door of Constantine’s study.

“Well I just wanted to give you a heads up Rhys.”

“Thanks Drake, I appreciate it.” Drake walks away. Liam knocks on the study door. “Father?”

“Liam, come in.”

“You wanted to see me?

“Yes. It seems someone in our family has betrayed us. I need you to take take them out.”

Chapter 5

Thank you for reading reblogs and comments are appreciated. It will keep me motivated to write 💜💜

If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know.

An unexpected love tag list:

@katurrade @bobasheebaby @sinclairesdesire @furiousherringoperatortoad @hopefulmoonobject @kinkykingliam

#choices trr #trr #trr liam #trr fanfic #trr mc #trr au #royalromance choices pb kidnapped #choices #bloodbound #fan fic bloodbound #fan fic royal blood bound #the royal romance #king liam royal romance #series #kamilah sayeed #adrian raines

[raywritesthings]

Wrong Road to the Right Place 7/?

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Quentin Lance, John Diggle, Thea Queen, Moira Queen, Joanna de la Vega Pairings: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: Laurel finds herself curious about the marks Oliver showed her that night in his bedroom - and the tattoo on his left shoulder stands out in particular. When she discovers its meaning, she finds herself questioning everything she knows about the man she doesn’t want to admit she still loves. AO3 link

John was pretty sure this plan had about fifty different ways it could blow up in Oliver’s face. But it wasn’t easy to reason with a man in love.

Laurel was worried about Oliver, so Oliver was trying to do what he could to keep her from worrying. That part, John didn’t so much have a problem with. Truthfully, Oliver’s concern and care for the people he loved was one of the few things that convinced him he hadn’t totally cracked on that island.

The problem was he was going about it all wrong.

Where before, Oliver might have seen Laurel once a week or so, now he was scheduling regular meetups. Lunch, coffee. No dinners yet though that probably had more to do with Oliver’s standing nighttime engagement than anything else.

The first time he’d swung by CNRI to make one of those offers John had tagged along, curious to see how Laurel was going to react.

It didn’t disappoint.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Oliver had asked as he drew up to her desk. Before Laurel had had time to turn around let alone reply, he’d plunked a tall paper cup down onto the surface. “I brought coffee.”

Laurel had blinked at it. “You brought coffee to talk for a minute?”

“Well, I thought we could walk around a little bit,” Oliver continued on blithely. “They let you have breaks here, right?”

“Yes, though typically they like more than a second’s notice.” She’d lifted the lid of the cup and peered inside. “Is this an americano?”

“Yeah, four shots with hazelnut. That’s how you drink it, right?”

“I drank those in college when I had to cram for an exam,” Laurel had told him. “I’ll be up until two a.m. if I have this.”

Oliver had looked down at the floor. “Oh.”

Laurel had sent a look John’s way as if trying to ask what this all was about. He hadn’t really been able to answer.

Eventually she’d sighed and looked back to Oliver. “I can probably take a short walk. There’s a coffee place on the next street over.”

Oliver had looked back up, positive energy seemingly restored. “Great. I’ll buy you a new one. Whatever you like now.”

“I have my own wallet,” Laurel had said as she’d gathered up her purse.

Oliver hadn’t pursued the issue. He couldn’t, not without defining whatever this was — a friendly gesture or a date, he had a feeling the man hadn’t really known. Somehow the short walk there hadn’t been awkward. Laurel had asked about the club renovations, and Oliver had asked about the de la Vegas. They’d touched briefly on Thea’s upcoming birthday party and what she was planning to do as an official adult.

“Honestly, I don’t think she has any plans, even for college. That’s probably my fault,” Oliver had said. “I’m not exactly the best role model in that regard.”

“College isn’t for everyone,” Laurel had replied. “Thea just needs to find something she’s passionate about. She’s already got all the connections she could possibly need.”

“Thea’s passions seem to extend to partying and illegal substances,” Oliver had stated bluntly.

“That’s not the only thing she’s been doing while you were gone. You know she was on the archery team for a little bit? Got kicked off for playing hooky too many times, but she was pretty good. And hey,” Laurel had added as Oliver had held the door of the cafe open for her. “I know a guy.”

“That’s not funny,” Oliver had said as John had struggled to disguise his snort as a cough. That had garnered a wink from Laurel and a frown from Oliver, respectively. John had even gotten free coffee out of it when Laurel had looked to him after she’d ordered.

“Just a black coffee for me. Thank you, Miss Lance.”

“It’s Laurel. And it’s the least I could do, really. I never actually thanked you for your help when the Triad broke into my apartment. I got really lucky you and Oliver were there,” she’d added with sidelong glance at Oliver as she sipped her drink. Oliver hadn’t chosen to comment.

John had tailed their walk back at a respectable distance, not trying to listen in. He didn’t know how they had so much to talk about, what with Oliver concealing whole parts of his life and activities. But they seemed to be making do as they’d been out another five times since.

There wasn’t exactly a good way to tell if Laurel had grown less concerned about Oliver in the meantime, though she did send him the occasional questioning look whenever Oliver’s back was turned. If anything, he wondered if Oliver’s sudden increased presence around her was only making her more suspicious.

Any time John tried to bring Oliver around to the idea of just telling Laurel what was really going on, the man found some excuse to head upstairs to the club and talk to Tommy. So John made sure to follow and hover just in Oliver’s line of sight, a silent reminder that he couldn’t run from this for very long.

Today was one of those times. As a discussion about the restoration process wound down, Oliver glanced at his watch.

“I have to go meet Laurel for lunch. Let me know if there’s anything urgent. Oh, Digg,” Oliver added, like he’d only just had the thought. “Feel free to take a lunch break or something. I should be alright for an hour.”

John didn’t dignify it with a response, and Oliver turned and left the club.

“So are they dating now or what?” Tommy Merlyn asked in his direction without actually looking at him. The laugh in his voice was sharp and discordant.

“It’s not really my business, Mr. Merlyn,” John answered. He went downstairs to avoid continuing that talk.

The one thing puzzling him was what had led Laurel to think Oliver was in a bad spot. She clearly didn’t believe he was the Hood. And other than Walter going missing, there wasn’t too much to raise an eyebrow at on the surface.

So the Walter angle. Did she have some kind of information about his disappearance they weren’t privy to? Or was it a wild guess on her part borne of Oliver’s odd behavior the last few months?

Then there was her mentioning a bad crowd her friend had fallen in with. The only person Oliver had been hanging around recently who fit that description was Helena. But it had been a good month and a half since Helena had been in town, so who had Laurel really meant?

She’d been more affected by Oliver’s hospitalization than even his own family. Yet she couldn’t know why he’d really been hospitalized. Or could she? There was obviously something she wasn’t telling Oliver or the Hood, just as Oliver wasn’t telling her the whole truth. They were both just watching the other and waiting.

Whenever that wait was over, John hoped Oliver wouldn’t find he’d ruined a good thing he could’ve had.

—-

She wasn’t really sure what to make of it. Oliver’s seemingly random insistence on spending so much time together might have been a welcome change, if Laurel didn’t know what she did. Since she did, however, she couldn’t help wondering if there was some kind of ulterior motive at play.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a good time with him; they’d always been close even before they’d dated, and truthfully she was always going to like being around Oliver. She certainly didn’t feel as though she was in danger in his company.

And the more he was around her, the less time he had for any sort of Bratva business, so really it was a win-win. Even if she still didn’t know what his status regarding the organization was. Or why they’d taken Mr. Steele and what sort of ultimatum they might have given Oliver to get him back.

Maybe Oliver was seeking her out because he was conflicted. Making that sort of decision, she couldn’t imagine what it had to be like. If her presence gave him some sort of comfort, she wouldn’t begrudge him that. She just wished he’d open up to her, let her actually help him. Not that she had a specific plan in mind.

If she went to her father now, Oliver would be in Iron Heights faster than she could blink. He wouldn’t want to hear any of her arguments about the island and the coercion Oliver must have faced. And that wasn’t even touching on what might happen to Mr. Steele as a result.

Perhaps Oliver’s family was a better option. If Laurel could convince him to talk to his mother, Mrs. Queen might have some idea of how to make a deal with the Bratva to release both Mr. Steele and Oliver. It might cost quite a sum, but if it meant they’d be safe she couldn’t imagine Mrs. Queen wouldn’t do it.

These thoughts loomed large in her mind the night of Thea’s birthday party, but, as seemed to constantly be the case, Laurel was forced to set them aside when disaster struck the Queens again; Thea left her own party while drunk and under the influence of Vertigo and was picked up by the cops after a car accident.

No one had been hurt, but that was where Thea’s luck ran out. Her case was being heard by Judge Brackett, and he was currently running a re-election campaign with a hardline stance on crime. Laurel went to the initial hearing to support Oliver’s family, but she couldn’t see an easy way out of this for Thea.

So she was surprised when Oliver showed up unexpectedly the next morning at her apartment, asking her to see if her dad could pull some strings.

“Laurel, I am working on something on my end, but...if it doesn't work out, this is my best chance to help my sister. Please.”

She did her best to conceal the spike of fear that went through her. Something on his end? What exactly did that entail?

If she knew Oliver at all, she knew he would be willing to do anything for his family, including embroiling himself even deeper in the mafia just to use their resources.

He was waiting on her answer. “I’ll see what I can do,” was the best she could offer. She wanted it to be more, wanted to tell him that it would all be fine and she would take care of it, that he didn’t need to throw himself in harm's way.

“Thank you.” Oliver left her apartment soon after that, and there was something about the set of his shoulders that threw her worrying into hyperdrive. She had to know what he was doing.

Laurel threw on the first clothes she could find overtop of her pajamas and returned to watch through the peephole as the elevator doors shut down the hall, then rushed out of her apartment to the fire door and down the steps. If she could get to her car quick enough…

The door banged against the wall as she raced out of the stairwell and to her parking spot. Laurel started the engine and pulled out of the garage, rounding the building just as Oliver climbed in and shut the passenger door. Mr. Diggle started out into traffic and Laurel followed, making sure to memorize the look and license number of the car in case she needed to put some space between them.

This was crazy. For all she knew, Oliver was going right back home or to the club. She couldn’t follow him and Mr. Diggle around all day. But the further they went the less it looked as if they were headed back to Queen Manor or even the Glades. They were driving towards the warehouse district.

Without taking her eyes off the road, Laurel got her phone out of her purse and dialed.

It was picked up on the third ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Tommy, I need you to do something for me,” she began.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a simple favor?”

“It’s simple on your end. All I’m asking is if I don’t call you back in—” she paused to think it over. They were driving out pretty far by the looks of it. “Two hours, call my dad.”

“Wait, what? Laurel, what are you doing? Where are you?” Tommy demanded.

“I’m meeting a client, and the neighborhood isn’t exactly the safest,” she lied. “It should be fine.”

“Should be? Why couldn’t your client meet you at CNRI?”

“She has young kids and couldn’t get a babysitter. I have to go.”

“Laurel—”

“Two hours. Wait two hours.” With that, she hung up and refocused her efforts on the car three ahead in the line of traffic. It merged into the turning lane, and Laurel had no choice but to glide up right behind it. She’d have to hope Mr. Diggle wasn’t checking his rear view mirror too carefully.

Laurel slowed to just under the speed limit as they left most of the other cars behind. Buildings gave way to a line of warehouses looming large and foreboding on either side of the narrow road. The car ahead rounded a bend, and she stopped just before it for a good thirty seconds. She didn’t want to lose them, but she couldn’t look as if she were tailing them. When she did turn the corner, she just caught sight of their taillights near the end of the lane.

With a sinking heart, Laurel watched Oliver’s car pull into the parking lot of a warehouse that definitely wasn’t owned by Queen Consolidated. She pulled off into the lot before it and waited about ten minutes before reversing back out and entering the lot they’d left their car in. It looked as though she’d gotten lucky; Mr. Diggle wasn’t waiting in or by the car, so there was no one to see her. Laurel parked several spots away and as far from the warehouse as she could.

There were no windows on the side of the building facing the lot. Laurel crept up and stuck close to the wall, leaning to check for any sort of guard first before rounding the corner.

There were a set of windows on this side, so Laurel peered down into the large room. The floor was a level below, so it was hard for her to make out much more than the tops of people’s heads. She could easily pick out Oliver and Mr. Diggle, and it looked as though there were at least two other men in the room, the shorter of whom was doing the talking.

She couldn’t hear anything being said distinctly. As she watched, a third man led a fourth down a set of stairs near the back. The fourth man was forced to his knees once he’d been brought before the others, and more talking ensued. The short man gestured to the one on his knees.

Oliver nodded, then walked around behind and placed his hands at the man’s neck. There was a sharp motion. A second later, the man’s body hit the floor.

A strangled cry left her that she couldn’t hope to stop. Shock, denial, betrayal — she’d believed Oliver was an unwilling participant at worst, that he could never—

But as five heads whipped up in her direction, Laurel realized her mistake. She froze for a crucial second, then her mind worked past the fear and screamed at her to run.

She cleared the corner at a sprint. Two of the mafia men had already raced around the other side to meet her. Laurel swung her purse straight into one of the men’s stomachs whose breath left him all in a whoosh. The second one caught her arm, and she twisted around to ram him with her shoulder.

The first man wrenched her arms behind her back and lifted her. Laurel shouted in protest and tried to hook one foot around his ankle to knock him off balance. A hand was clamped over her mouth to muffle any further sounds so she concentrated all her effort on kicking and lashing out. Laurel heard at least one pained grunt as her limbs connected with whatever she could reach, but the tight grip never slackened, and her feet were never quite able to touch back on the ground.

Dimly she knew the panic was beginning to cloud her judgement, but she was powerless to stop them dragging her back into that room with their boss and Oliver and the man he’d just killed. Her heart pounded wild and erratic in her ears like wings beating in a vain attempt to fly away.

The door to the warehouse slammed, closing her in. Her ankle caught on a railing and the hand over her mouth was dislodged as they fought to stop her from clinging on. Laurel’s captors were calling down to their boss in Russian, she was shouting and yelling again, but one voice rose above the rest, harsh and booming.

“Let her go! Vy ne navredit' yey! I said release her!”

Laurel was forced to her knees, the gasps of breath she took loud in the sudden silence. Her eyes darted from the bald Mafioso to the dusty windows high above them to Mr. Diggle with his ramrod straight back and stoic expression—had he known all this time?—anywhere but the man who had given the order.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at Oliver, to see the cold rage and command that had just been in his voice. To have to face a reality where all her fierce hope and belief was in vain.

But then he spoke again, and she nearly didn’t believe her own ears. “Honey…I thought I told you to wait in the car.”

Laurel’s neck nearly snapped with the speed at which she turned to him, absolutely no idea what expression was on her face.

“She is your woman?”

Oliver did not answer for the moment as he instead made quick strides towards her. He held his hands out palms up and for a single second allowed the careful mask to slip, meeting her eyes with a look of open pleading. And Laurel knew, no matter what had just happened in this room, she was not going to die here.

In the next breath she’d reached for him and was pulled up to her feet and to his side.

“So sorry for the interruption,” Oliver finally said, turning them both around to face the other man, the picture of cool confidence again. “I thought I’d made it clear that this was strictly business, but she gets…curious. I’m sure you understand.”

“Perhaps you should have explained the business was with friends,” said the Russian. He gestured at one of the men who was clutching his side, and Laurel hid a satisfied smirk in Oliver’s shoulder. With a hand resting on his chest she could feel his heart hammering underneath the calm veneer he was presenting.

“Again, my apologies. She knows it’s her safety that I value above all else.”

“Then it is best to keep her safe at home. Business is not the place for loved ones and their sensitivities,” the man advised. His mouth twisted into a leer as he added, “Particularly not when she can sing like this one.”

Laurel clenched the fabric of Oliver’s shirt into a fist and forced herself to bite the inside of her cheek.

“Well she is moya krasivaya ptitsa,” Oliver replied, the warm, even teasing tone completely at odds with the way his hand dropped from her waist to her hip and tucked her in all the closer to his body. “I trust that my favor will be repaid.”

“You have proven your interest. We are men of our word.”

They exchanged what she could only assume were goodbyes in Russian, and, with a nod to Mr. Diggle who heaved the dead man’s body up into his arms, Oliver led her back up the steps of the warehouse and into the sunshine. It seemed surreal even now that she was still alive.

For whatever reason, he’d covered for her. Out of sentiment, out of what she didn’t know. But he had just killed a man for the mob, and she had witnessed it, and he knew that.

She had to get away.

Laurel waited until they were out of sight of the warehouse and closing in on Oliver’s car, hers not too far away. She didn’t think Mr. Diggle would try to stop her, but her best chance was to make her move while he was still holding the dead man’s body and couldn’t help the man he worked for.

Oliver took out a set of keys in his pocket and unlocked the trunk. Then Laurel dropped an elbow into his gut and stamped on his toes with her heel.

He gave a shout of pain which was echoed by one of surprise from Mr. Diggle, but she didn’t stop to look back, already running. Her keys were in her hand — but then another hand had closed around her wrist.

Laurel whirled back, but he caught her other hand before she could even think to use it, the keys twisting harmlessly away from him.

“Let me go! Just let me go, Ollie, I won’t- I won’t tell anyone what I saw.” She hated the quaver in her voice, her panicked gasps for breath as she struggled uselessly in a hold she’d known was entirely too strong. This whole time despite everything she knew, she’d never been scared of him, and only now did she realize what a dangerous game she’d been playing.

“What were you doing here?” Oliver demanded. “How did you find this place?”

She had little choice but to answer. “I followed you after you left the apartment.”

“Why?”

“Oliver, you told me you were working on something to help Thea from your end, outside the law. Was I not supposed to find that a little suspicious?”

“What had you suspicious about me in the first place?” He narrowed his gaze. “You’ve been acting different for weeks now. I just didn’t know what you were thinking. But you haven’t even asked me who those people were back there.”

“They’re Bratva, and so are you,” she asserted. Faintly, she heard Mr. Diggle swear. “I noticed your tattoo the night of the house arrest party, and I did some research. I’ve known practically since then.”

Oliver’s grip on her finally did slacken. “You knew?”

“I knew you were mixed up with- with this, I knew it. I just didn’t want to believe you could—” She couldn’t bring herself to finish but neither of them missed the way her eyes fell on the body Mr. Diggle had finally put in the trunk.

“That I could what?” Oliver prompted. “Kill him?”

“You didn’t have to,” she insisted. “I said I’d help you get Thea out of serving jail time. What was the point of that if you were going to murder someone?”

“Laurel, it’s okay.”

“Give me one reason why any of this is okay!”

Mr. Diggle had his arms crossed and looked to be waiting for an answer, too.

Oliver sighed. “It’s really not what you think. Either of you.” Then he reached down and pressed some point near the man’s neck. The man she’d thought dead gave a great gasp of breath, and his eyes fluttered before falling closed in sleep.

“That’s a neat trick,” Mr. Diggle remarked. “You going to teach me that one day?”

“No,” said Oliver. “We’ll need to arrange a new identity for him. Get him out of the city.”

“You just lied about killing him to the Bratva,” said Laurel.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, so then...you’re working against them?” She desperately needed some kind of confirmation on this, because she still had no idea what it meant now that Oliver knew she knew. “Walter’s disappearance, you being hospitalized over Christmas, the...Bertinelli stuff — that was because you’re against them?”

Oliver was watching her with an increasingly perplexed look. “That wasn’t about the Bratva. I’ve barely been in contact with them since I got back home.”

Laurel stared at him in sheer disbelief. He’d barely been in contact. How, how was that possible with everything that had happened? “Then what have you been doing?”

Oliver’s expression turned a little panicky, and his eyes flitted to Mr. Diggle.

“You gotta tell her, man,” his bodyguard said.

Laurel looked between them, her arms crossing over her chest. “Tell me what?”

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #john diggle #tommy merlyn #green arrow #black canary #my writing

[welcometophu]

Not Your Destiny: Chapter 20

Marked Book 1: Not Your Destiny

Chapter 20

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Mrs. Hannigan is pleasantly surprised to see Ángel, and on a quiet summer night, she’s more than happy to help him find the archives of the local papers. She sets him up in a corner with a microfiche machine, because the archives have yet to make it into the digital collection. It’s not Ángel’s first time digging into old material, and he knows where the microfiche is stored and how to navigate through the drawers. He’s more than willing to help himself as long as she’s willing to let him.

And of course, Mrs. Hannigan is willing to let him dig, as she heads off to help a young mother and her two children find books in the children’s section.

Ángel brings out his laptop, glad he lugged it into work so he has it now, and gets it powered up and connected to the library wifi. He opens a new document to capture his notes as he makes them, then tries to figure out what, exactly, he’s digging for.

He knows his abuela came to the States from Cuba in the early 1960s, and a quick search for information about Castro makes him think that it had to be before 1962. He types in a header for Verita Cruz (name?) and Carlos Cruz then follows that with Bonita Mollicone (NAME?). He adds Cuba and Italy after each name, and leaves himself a few blank lines.

Tony’s parents goes on the next line with a date of 2012. Ángel remembers that it was the end of the school year, during a storm, but he can’t remember more than that. It was early in storm season, and he figures he’ll be able to find the dates and the information in the paper. That one might even be online.

He hesitates before adding another header, then slowly types Mami, even though he’s sure her death had nothing to do with anything. Still. It’s just something else, another big change in his life when he was only twelve years old, and he figures it’s data as much as anything.

Besides, if he’s looking into the grief his new friends suffered, he should look into his own family.

He makes another heading for Carlos Cruz, for information separate from Abuelo’s marriage to Abuela. He remembers him, but he remembers that while he was loving, he could be a quiet, austere man at times. Ángel always thought that the arrow was because that was what Abuelo reminded him of. Dangerous, and rigid. He wonders if he would have accepted Ángel the same way that Abuela has.

Probably not, and it feels as if that should ache more. Ángel tries not to think about the relief of knowing that he’s accepted, and not having to worry that his dead grandfather would disapprove.

He starts with the microfiche from the local papers in 1960 and 1961, scrolling through the social pages. He doesn’t expect that his family made news. Not the big news, not the things that would be in the front sections. But he knows that his abuela had three siblings, that they all came from Cuba at the same time. That her older brother raised them while Abuela and the two younger girls finished school. So he searches through society pages, trying to link his grandparents, or better yet, trying to find a Bonita to link to his abuela.

He finds himself falling into a spiral, digging through articles about the debate team at the high school, or the football team’s losing season. He’s almost stopped hoping when he finds a small article in early 1961 about the graduating senior class, and two girls who were able to win scholarships in science to the local university: Verita Rojas and Bonita DelVecchio. The two girls sit in chairs that are slightly turned toward each other, their hair pulled up into tight ponytails, their skirts spread over their knees, legs crossed at the ankles. Their chairs are close enough that they almost touch at the knee, and their faces are turned toward the camera. Thick black framed glasses perch on Bonita’s nose, dwarfing delicate features. Abuela smiles wide enough that her pride shines brightly, and Ángel swears he sees a hint of shimmer all around her even on film.

He writes down the name, knowing that has to be her. This must be how they met, bonding over a love of science. Abuela received her degree in Chemistry in 1965 from that very university, and Ángel wonders what science drew Bonita in. If they both went to school together, if they remained friends through their education. He makes a quick note, remembering that Abuela married Abuelo in 1968, that Papi was born in 1970. That’s still a long time for the friendship to have flourished, right?

It would be handy if the microfiche had been digitized and cross-referenced, but he’s going to have to search manually for any other references. He skims forward faster now, finds an image of Carlos Cruz accompanying his fiancee, Verita, that December to midnight services at the Cathedral Basilica in St. Augustine. He lingers there, prints the image, because they look happy. He doesn’t remember his abuelo smiling like that often, as if he were staring at the sun.

There is another picture, a year later, of newly engaged Bonita DelVecchio and her fiancé, Vincenzo Mollicone, attending the same services. Ángel prints that as well, and when he looks in the background of the image, he spots someone who might be Abuela looking over at the happy couple.

They don’t appear in articles after that, but when he finds the graduation announcement, they are both in the picture, on opposite sides of the image.

Ángel prints that one as well, because they aren’t looking at each other at all. It’s a marked difference from the earlier pictures with both of them, and he has a feeling that something happened during that time period. He just doesn’t know exactly what.

Clan and Mage, though. He can guess it has something to do with that.

He leaves that avenue behind, not sure what he’s learned, or whether it’s useful. It’s easier to find the modern information, his mother’s obituary still available in the online resources for the local paper. He touches the screen when it comes up, her smile making his heart ache. Grief is something that you move on from, but you never entirely lose. It’s been eight years, but it’s still hard to remember her and realize that she isn’t here. Joey is wonderful, but she’s not Mami.

Ángel pulls his hand back, reads the obituary. The illness. The blessed release at the end of a swift, furious descent after a stage four cancer diagnosis. Tears well up at the corners of his eyes, and he inhales roughly, holds his breath until the urge to let go—let the tears win—abates.

It’s easier to look at the obituary for the Mollicones. The passing of Lydia and Dominic, pre-deceased by his parents, Bonita and Vincenzo, survived by their five children: Zita, Antonio, Stefano, Gabriella, and Alonso. There’s no mention of any of Lydia’s relatives, which Ángel makes note of as slightly odd.

There are more articles about the storm, the vicious weather that swept through northern Florida in 2012. The accident is attributed to the storm, water washing the Ford Ranger off the road and into a ditch, where it flipped, and the two Mollicones were killed on impact.

It was almost the end of the school year when it happened, and news had spread quickly. Ángel remembers the way Gabi had looked like a ghost in class after that, had made it through the remaining few weeks in near silence.

The quiet Mollicones had retreated completely by the following year, snapping at anyone who dared to speak to them. Ángel had thought about trying harder—he knew what grief did to a person—but at the same time, his life was filled with complicated things, and a new stepmother, and Abuela moving in. He never made the effort.

It’s all a dead end, really. None of it changes anything that he knows, none of it makes more sense out of anything he’s learned in the last week and a half. He shuts down the microfiche machine, puts his films back in the drawer where he found them. When he settles in at his laptop again, he opens his email and pulls up a new message to Pawel Szczek.

I’m okay, he types first, because he knows Pawel well enough, after a year and a half of Coven and in his major, that Pawel will ask after him. I have a mark now, and I don’t know who it is. Hayley’s mark is for my best friend, Tanner. I think they’ll be good together and I’m happy for them.

He considers how to ask what he wants to ask, and decides blunt is probably the best option.

I’m writing about Tanner’s brother, actually. He has a Talent but it messes with the synapses in his brain, causes things to jump the gap incorrectly, and he has seizures. He had a really bad one recently, and I was wondering if there are any rituals that you know about that might help him gain control over his Talent. He makes colorful bubbles, that mostly change color when he’s stressed or emotional. He’s fourteen. He’s pretty much always emotional.

I figure you won’t see this until after the holidays. Hayley and I are staying in Florida for the first two weeks of the year; we should be back after that, before classes begin again. If you think of something I should look at, please let me know.

Ángel doesn’t bother to sign it; it’s email, after all.

It’s close to 8:30, and Ángel figures if he packs up now, he might have time to sit out front and watch funny videos or something while waiting for Gabi to come back to get him. He packs his things away, stands up, and comes face to face with Daphne Hamilton.

She smiles, and Ángel swallows.

“Hi,” he says, drawing the word out like a question. She’s tall in her heels, her eyes not quite on a level with Ángel, but damned close, and she leans in close like she wants to be intimidating. If Ángel hadn’t been spending the last several days with people with no sense of personal space, it might’ve worked.

As it is, he’s tempted to shove at her shoulder and push her back, but that would be rude.

“Ángel, isn’t it?” she asks, and he frowns at the way she knows his name. Her smile is gentle, sweet like fake sugar, and she touches his shoulder when she goes on. “You work at the shop, now. You answered the phone for me the other day, didn’t you? And Luca mentioned your name when I stopped in.”

Because Ángel wants to think about that day, about the way Tony stood there so stiffly with her, then lost his appetite. He licks his lips, gaze shifting away before he pulls himself back, forces himself to meet her eyes. “I’m working there until after Maritsa and Cleto get married, yes,” he says, because that’s innocent enough to admit.

She squeezes his shoulder, leans in to murmur, “I’m so glad to hear that. Tony doesn’t know how to delegate, and I worry about him sometimes. That he’s going to work himself to death in that place, and forget all about his life outside of it. It’s good to know that they’ve brought you in to take care of things so he can finally relax.”

“Tony loves the cars,” Ángel says, thinking of that ragtop Mustang just waiting to be worked on.

“Of course he does,” Daphne says softly, patting his shoulder like he’s a child to be soothed. “But he loves other things as well, and sometimes he loses sight of that.” Her fingers catch on his shirt as she pulls away, baring the temporary ink. Before he can blink, she tugs the edge of the sleeve up, then quickly lets go as if it never happened. “You have a rose,” she says.

Ángel touches it reflexively, uses the moment to put some space between them. “Gabi designed it for me. Said it would be better than the angel wings I was thinking of doing as a memoriam for my mother.”

“Angel wings.” Her tone is soft, neutral. “How divine that would be, and a beautiful memorial.” She cocks her head, smile sliding into place to light her features. “Speaking of things outside the shop, you will be there at our party for the new year, right?”

“Your party? I’m already—”

“We hold it at Tony’s home, of course, and I’m certain that Gabi and Luca have invited you. It’s obvious that they’ve adopted you.” Daphne leans in, whispers, “Don’t let Gabriella get away, darling. She’s a beautiful girl, if a bit standoffish. She seems to have taken to you more than anyone else outside the family. Stay strong; she’ll let you in eventually, I’m certain of it.”

“She licked me,” Ángel says, because it’s become his standard response when it comes to Gabi. Even though Daphne is making him uncomfortable with the way she keeps inching closer, keeps insinuating herself into his space. “But I’m not interested in dating her. She’s like a sister.”

“Oh, I doubt that, if she licked you.” Daphne’s eyes go wide and innocent, but her tone is anything but. “What a wicked thing to do.”

Who says that? Who actually says something like that who isn’t ninety years old?

“But yes, I’m going to the party. They all made sure I’m invited,” Ángel says firmly, even though he can’t remember which one of them issued the original invitation. “They said it’s a family party, so I’m bringing Tanner and Hayley, and maybe my family, if they’re interested.”

“That sounds like an intriguing mix.” Daphne’s eyebrows slide up, and Ángel is sure that he’s actually managed to surprise her.

He can’t resist trying to do it again.

“And Tony said I should drop off some clothes there, in case I decide to crash again. Better than waking up and not being able to get dressed on the morning after,” Ángel says blandly.

Daphne blinks, is silent.

It’s all true, too. Tony told him to leave a change of clothes at the house, in case someone brings him home again. So did Gabi, and Luca. They offered the guest room, but right now, with the way Daphne’s looking at him, Ángel’s not going to say that.

Her gaze narrows for a moment, then the lines across her brow smooth out as she eases into a quiet smile. “You see,” she says softly. “You have Tony’s blessing. Gabriella has probably talked to her brother already. Just in case.”

“Or Luca mentioned that he’d be into it if I wanted to jump him,” Ángel says dryly, and it’s worth it just to see the look on her face, the way she takes a quick step back. It lets Ángel breathe, getting her out of his space, and he keeps talking, takes a step forward just to make her step back again. “I’m not sleeping with either Luca or Gabi,” he says firmly. “I’m not interested in dating either of them. And yes, I’ll be at the party, because they all invited us.” He almost say that he’ll see her there, but he doesn’t want to sound like he’s inviting her.

Besides, Tony’s probably already done that. Daphne’s implying that they’re throwing the party together, after all.

The thing is, Ángel doesn’t like her, doesn’t want her to be there when he rings in the new year. It adds a sour note to the beginning of the year that he just doesn’t want to think about.

“Ángel?” Mrs. Hannigan calls out quietly, and Ángel steps around Daphne, makes his way toward the front of the library.

“I’ll see you soon, Ángel,” Daphne calls after him.

Ángel bites his tongue, doesn’t retort not if I see you first and can avoid it, because that would be childish. True, but childish.

Gabi leans against the front desk, chatting with Mrs. Hannigan who now stands behind it, gathering up a small stack of magazines that someone’s returned. Her gaze narrows, nostrils flaring. She meets Ángel halfway, grips his shirt, leans in and inhales roughly. “You reek,” she mutters, and Ángel wonders if she’s smelling his emotions or Daphne.

Probably both.

“Let’s stop off at my place so I can take a quick shower and get changed,” he mutters.

Gabi sidles in close, her arm around his back. “We’ll stop at your place, and you’ll pack some things to bring and leave at ours,” she says firmly. “You can shower there. And this way you’ll be prepared if you end up there in the future.”

“Planning on keeping me?” Ángel tries to shift his voice back to light, to tease her, and she smiles slightly, like she can tell what he’s doing.

“Licked you, didn’t I?” She grips his wrist, threatens to do it again, and they’re both laughing as they stumbles down the steps of the library together.

As Gabi pulls out of her parking space, Ángel spots Daphne standing on the steps of the library, watching them go. He doesn’t think Gabi noticed Daphne, but he knows Daphne saw them both. Even from a distance, he can see the way her shoulders are set, her arms crossed tight.

Daphne really doesn’t like Gabi and at this point, Ángel’s pretty sure Daphne doesn’t like him either, no matter how much she smiled.

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#welcome to phu #welcometophu #not your destiny #phu marked #marked

[literary-lioness]

Nanowrimo Day 9

This morning I was thinking about how behind I have felt in working on this novel and how bothered I had let myself become about not making my daily goals and word counts, and I realized something. Stressing about this was making me dread writing. Normally I have a pretty good time writing, I enjoy it, but I have not felt that way in the past few days, which is a big problem. 

My solution? Forget word counts and just enjoy writing again. Don’t get me wrong, I plan to continue working on this project, but if I don't finish all 50,000 words, or the story itself ends up being shorter than 50,000 words? I’m not going to stress about it. Again, I still hope to finish the 50k, but I’m not going to sacrifice my love of writing to do it. Anyways, here is what I wrote today.

Nanowrimo Word Count: 12230

                                                         VII

                                                       Emery

           Emery and Bucky were taking their nightly walk down main street, when Emery’s phone rang. She stopped walking to pull her phone out of her jacket pocket and check the caller id. Bucky pulled on his leash a little bit before stopping with a huff, one leg stuck straight backward in his funny little snow boot walk. He looked at her indignantly as if to say, first you make me wear these ridiculous things on my feet and now you make me stop walking?

           “Sorry, bud. It’s Lauren,” Emery said apologetically. She hit the green accept button and put the phone up to her ear, “Hello?”

           “I am dying over here, Em. Spiiillll,” Lauren said into the phone.

           “So dramatic,” Emery laughed.

           She resumed her walk knowing that Lauren had no intention of letting her off easy.

           “I am not dramatic! But, you defiantly made me wait too long!”

           “She’s dramatic,” She heard Dave say in the background.

           “Hush, you. Ok, so tell me about the very gorgeous Quinn Stone.”

           Emery felt her cheeks heat, “There is nothing to tell.”

           “Bullshit, tell me.”

           “She really just came so that I could show her some of her niece’s work, and then she left. She was there for less than five minutes, and that’s about it.”

           “Uhuh, and then?”

           “What makes you think there is an ‘and then’?”

           “’That’s about it’ is Emery code for, ‘there are other pieces of this story that I have not yet told you’.”

           “Unfair.”

           “Whatever, just tell meeee.”

           “When I was leaving, she and Daisy were throwing snowballs around, one hit me, and I might have engaged with them.”

           “Oh, spicy, a sexy snowball fight.”

           “Jesus, Lo, you heard the part where her niece, my student, was there correct?”

           “Admittedly it was out of my mouth before I could stop it.”

           “I see that,” Emery said chuckling.

           “And that was it?”

           “Yeah, that was it.”

           “Ok, so, you’re totally into her right.”

           Emery heaved a sigh, “I wouldn’t say totally.”

           Lauren screeched in delight, “I knew it! I saw the way you looked at her in when you walked in, all wistful.”

           “Knock it off, even if I am into her, I’m not going there.”

           “What?! Why?”

           “Well first of all, her niece is in my class, so that would be weird.”

           “Weak! Next reason.”

           “What? That’s not weak, it’s a valid concern, what if it causes a conflict of interest! Imagine how weird it would be if I gave Daisy a poor grade and then I had to face Quinn? What if she asked me to give Daisy a better grade?”

           “Does Quinn strike you as that type of person?”

           “Well no, but I mean, what if?”

           “Like I said, weak.”

           “Ok, well what about Daisy? She might now want her teacher and aunt to date. She’s my student first and foremost, I want her to feel comfortable in my class.”

           “While more valid, still weak. What if Daisy doesn’t care or is happy about it?”

           “Ugh, you’re turning it around on me.”

           “I’m just asking a different ‘what if’ than you, so if we’re done with that scenario. What is your next reason?” Lauren asked.

           “Ok, well I don’t know if she is interested,” Emery said.

           “That-is actually fair. I defiantly didn’t get a vibe from her one way or the other.”

           “Maybe because you were too busy staring?”

           “I was not,” Lauren said indignantly.

           “You were.”

           “Fine, maybe a little. Anyways, I get where you’re coming from, but I think you should put yourself out there.”

           “Lauren, I literally met this woman three days ago, and on two of the three occasions we met, it wasn’t exactly pleasant.”

           “And yet, here we are.”

           Emery groaned, “I just don’t think it’s the right move.”

           “Ok, but just like, be open to it?”

           “Maybe,” Emery said. She paused when she saw a familiar figure walking toward her. Jade. Great. “Hey, Lo, can I call you back?”

           “Sure, but be warned! I shall not be made to wait too long again!”

           “Drama Queen,” Emery said and hung the phone up.

           Bucky started growling, his hackles rising as Jade drew closer.

           “Bucky, you know me,” Jade said, trying to play nice with the little Frenchie.

           “And he doesn’t like you,” Emery said firmly.

           Jade’s laugh sounded forced and Emery had to fight the urge to draw away from her, “He never really did, huh?”

           Emery shrugged, “I can’t say that I blame him.”

           “Ah, don’t be like that. I saw you walking and wanted to say hi to you.”

           “Pleasantry received. Look it’s cold, and I need to get Bucky home. I’ll catch you later.”

           Jade bit her bottom lip in what she probably felt was a seductive manner, but the only effect it had on Emery was to make her stomach roil, “Maybe I could walk you home.” She ended the statement with a wink. Clearly, Jade thought she had a chance of seeing the inside of Emery’s apartment.

           “No,” Emery said in a tone that would have shut down anyone else.

           “Ah, Em, don’t be like that,” Jade said reaching out to touch her arm and step closer to her.

           Emery pulled her arm back and wrapped her arms tightly around her torso. She stepped away despite her efforts to hold her ground, “Leave me alone Jade.”

           Jade leaned closer to her still, “Ah, but we had so much fun last time.”

           Emery shivered, shame and regret washed over her. She knew exactly what Jade was referring to, and it wasn’t something she liked to dwell on. Bucky let another threatening growl fill the space between them. He had never bit anyone, but in that moment, she wished he would just take a little bite out of Jade’s leg.

           “Ms. Webster!” A yell of joy ripped through the air, and Jade immediately drew back

           Emery looked past Jade to her savior, and saw Daisy barreling toward her. She caught the little girl in her arms and help her tightly like the lifeline she was, “Hey Daisy.”

           She looked up from Daisy and saw Quinn walking toward them with her hands in the front of a black Nike hoodie. Emery had never been so glad to see other people before.

           Quinn looked from Emery to Jade and raised an eyebrow, “Everything ok, here?”

           Jade forced a smile onto her face, “Of course, I was just offering to walk Emery home. I don’t think we’ve met; my name is Jade.” She stuck her hand out toward Quinn.

           For a moment Emery thought Quinn wouldn’t take Jade’s hand, but she shook it briefly, “Quinn.”

           Quinn looked back at Emery and asked more directly, “Are you ok?”

           Emery’s throat felt dry, Quinn was offering her a lifeline, she took it, she gave her head a small shake. Quinn raised an eyebrow and turned back to Jade, “You know, I think Daisy and I can handle walking Emery home.”

           Jade’s eyes narrowed, “Excuse-.”

           Quinn cut her off, “You’re excused. Have a good night.”

           Daisy, who Emery was still holding onto said, “Um, Ms. Webster? You have to let me go if we’re gonna walk you home.”

           “Oh! Sorry honey,” she released Daisy and turned toward the direction of her apartment, “I’m this way.”

           Quinn nodded stoically and walked closely beside her. So closely that she could smell the pleasant scent of cinnamon wafting from her.

           “Ms. Webster? May I walk your dog please?”

           “Sure, he’s a good boy, just make sure you keep an eye on him, if he sees a cat he might try to chase it,” she said handing Daisy the leash.

           “Is that how he ended up in the street the other night?” Quinn asked, casting a sideways glance at her.

           “Unfortunately.”

           They walked a little further, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but Emery could feel the questions hanging in the air between them, “Thank you, by the way, for the save.”

           “Thank Daisy, she’s the one who saw you when we came out of Sam’s.”

           “Still, you helped.”

           “You’re welcome. You looked pretty shaken up, I couldn’t leave you there. Who was that jerk anyways?”

           “My ex, she doesn’t seem to realize that all parts of the relationship are over.”

           “Ah, the worst,” Quinn said.

           “The very worst,” Emery replied.

           They continued to walk in silence, Emery’s hand brushed the back of Quinn’s, and she felt her cheeks heat at the simple contact. She had to fight against doing it again, or worse, grabbing Quinn’s hand. Finally they reached her apartment building, “Well, this is me.”

           “Woah! You live in a tall building, Ms. Webster,” Daisy said in wide eyed amazement.

           “I do! Except, I only live in a small part of this tall building,” she said smiling.

           “Oh, neat!”

           Quinn laughed, “Alright Daisy, tell Ms. Webster goodnight so we can head back.”

           Daisy gave her a third hug, “Bye Ms. Webster!”

           “Bye Daisy,” she turned her eyes to Quinn, “Bye, Quinn and thank you again.”

           “Bye,” Quinn said simply, before taking Daisy’s hand and walking back toward Sam’s pizza.

           Emery picked Bucky up and carried him up the stairs to their studio. When she got inside, she closed the door and leaned against it for support. Maybe totally was the correct word to describe just how into Quinn she was. She sighed and thought about calling Lauren but didn’t. Lauren would call when she wanted to talk anyways, and right now Emery just needed a moment to collect herself.

           She thought about Jade and their encounter. She wished that she had never muddied the waters after their break-up, somehow leading Jade to believe her door was open anytime she wanted. She knew she needed to get the situation with Jade under control, she didn’t ever want a repeat of those three minutes before Daisy and Quinn had saved her.

           She felt her heart do a flip when she thought of Quinn. She had saved Emery. With a single look she was able to tell that she needed help and hadn’t hesitated to swoop in to save her. That doesn’t mean she’s into you, crazy. Emery told herself, though that didn’t seem to stop her brain from thinking fondly of the red-headed woman. Of her soft hand, or her inviting lips.

           Emery’s eyes widened at the thought, and she shook her head. She forced the thought of kissing Quinn out of her mind. She refocused on all the reasons she would never get involved with Quinn Stone. The only probably was that now, as Lauren had said, they sounded weak.

           She turned the TV on as a distraction and flipped to Hallmark, they would be showing some sappy Christmas movie with a woman leaving her inattentive suit-wearing boyfriend, for the handsome, small-town carpenter that would defiantly take her mind off Quinn. Except the one that was showing was about a small-town doctor. Emery sighed, settled into her sofa, and accepted that the universe was going to force her to think about a woman she had sworn she wouldn’t get involved with as penance for her misdeeds.

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2019 #literarylionesswriting #fiction #lesbian #christmas novel #word count 12230