#anyway everyone in the inner circle is so fucking irritating it's wild

[asilentfrenzy]

remember when

"Rhys bared his teeth. My limbs turned light, trembling at the dark power curling in the corners of the room. Not fear - never fear of him. But at the shattered control as Rhys snarled at Lucien, 'My mate may one day find it in her to forgive him. Forgive you. But I will never forget how it felt to sense her terror in those moments.' My cheeks heated, especially as Cassian and Azriel stalked closer, those hazel eyes now filled with a mix of sympathy and wrath. 

Lucien, to his credit, didn't back away a step. From Rhys, from me, or the Illyrians. 

The Clever Fox Stares Down Winged Death. The painting flashed into my mind."

(it's the "forgive you" for me lmfao like shut the actual fuck up)

he has the audacity to say this shit to lucien when two books prior -

"'You draw blood from me, Lucien, and you’ll learn how quickly Amarantha’s whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady.'

'Oh? Here I was, thinking you still mourned your commoner lover after all these centuries,' Rhysand said, stalking toward me."

"'I knew you liked to stoop low with your lovers, Lucien, but I never thought you’d actually dabble with mortal trash.” My face burned. Lucien was trembling—with rage or fear or sorrow, I couldn’t tell. 'The Lady of the Autumn Court will be grieved indeed when she hears of her youngest son. If I were you, I’d keep your new pet well away from your father.'"

"'Amarantha will enjoy breaking her,' Rhysand observed to Tamlin. 'Almost as much as she'll enjoy watching you as she shatters her bit by bit.'" 

Those invisible claws lazily caressed my mind again - then vanished. I sank to the floor, curling over my knees as I reeled in everything that I was, as I tried to keep from sobbing, from screaming, from emptying my stomach onto the floor. "

(damn. i wonder how it felt to feel her terror in those moments 🤔)

anyway, friendly reminder that rhysand is the biggest fucking hypocrite in the series and feyre & co's self-righteous attitudes are absolutely insufferable 🤗

[whenimaunicorn]

Nothing Good Comes After Midnight

Fandom: Wynonna Earp Characters: Bobo Del Rey, Original Female Character Rating: Explicit, please don’t read if you’re not 18+ Words: 2909

I didn’t have an exit strategy. In fact, as I stared back into his heavy gaze, I realized that I didn’t particularly want one. Wynonna thought that she could just ditch me for an idiot guy tonight… well I found my own idiot. Without breaking eye contact, I lifted the straw in my drink up to my mouth and took a good long sip while starting to ride Bobo’s lap to the beat.

Full Fic:

Fuck Purgatory and their not-having an open container law. I would have left, after realizing my friend had just ditched me to go home with her ex while I was in the bathroom, but I had ordered one more expensive cocktail before I checked my phone and got her drunken message. While I was pissed to be left alone at the bar, there was no way I was leaving without drinking what I’d paid for.

But I could feel the sharks circling in the water behind me. It was late enough in the night that any young woman alone on a barstool was gonna get mobbed. The first two guys buzzed off fairly easily after I straight-up growled at them, and then the front door slammed open.

There was something familiar about the scruffy, biker-looking guys that strutted in. Their eyes raked over the whole place, seeming unimpressed with all of us. I definitely knew the guy that walked in after them. Bobo Del Rey, the most fearsome revenant around. He was basically my friend Wynonna’s arch-enemy. There was no mistaking that thick, mohawk-cut hair, those steely eyes, the hulking presence. Did I say arch-enemy? More like arch-hottie.

And he saw me. His goons had failed to remember me and my associations, but the boss-man didn’t miss anything. He gave me a glare that could have meant any number of things, then walked with his crew over to an empty table at the back.

I thought that sense of ‘blood in the water’ was strong before. The back of my neck practically prickled now, though every time I turned to look over at Bobo, he wasn’t paying any particular attention to me at all. One of his boys had grabbed a bucket of beers and they were all just kind of sitting around. Creepy.

He was throwing me off my carefully composed “back the fuck off before I get stabby-stabby” vibes, too. Some sloppily-dressed man with an unkempt ponytail was sprawled over the barstool next to me, babbling and thinking he was getting somewhere.

“It’s a real anaconda, baby, you gotta come back to my place and see it,” he slurred into my ear. I wasn’t sure if he was talking about his dick or an actual snake; I had definitely not been paying any attention to him.

When he finally began to comprehend my lack of interest, he got mean. “What, you think you can do better than me tonight? You can’t be waiting for someone.”

My eyes slipped over to Bobo’s corner, involuntarily.

“Him?”

Something snapped inside me at his tone. “You know what? Yeah. Him.” I snatched my drink off the counter, still mostly full thanks to everyone’s inability to leave me alone and let me fucking enjoy it, and started stalking right over toward the gang of revenants.

Bobo’s eyes tracked me as I strode across the room. The jukebox was playing a wild woman anthem, the beat bold and infectious, and it put some swing into my hips. I let it. Didn’t I deserve to have some kind of fun tonight? Maybe make a bad decision too?

One of Bobo’s thugs made an aggressive posture at my approach, starting to stand, but the boss stilled him with a hand. They knew I was part of Wynonna’s crew. But as I had hoped, tonight Mr. Del Rey didn’t seem to care. He stared at me from under heavy brows and waved me on to approach him with a sharp flick of his wrist.

There were no seats left empty at his table, so I had to ask. “Can I sit with you?”

Bobo looked me up and down, with a sly little twist to his lip. “Maybe if you sit on my dick,” he growled.

Another bubble of irritated energy popped inside me. I stepped right up to him and swung my leg over his lap before my better self could catch up. And by then, I was committed. Bobo’s notched brows climbed to his hairline as I plopped down straddling his hips. I’d call his fucking bluff. I ground myself against his crotch in tight, exaggerated circles. “Oh yeah? Where is it? Can’t seem to find anything.”

Bobo snarled. His hands came down on both my hips, fingers curling hard. But instead of throwing me off, he took control of my movements and rocked me against him a few times more, slower and more in time to the music. “Keep moving like that, darlin’, and it’ll hit you.”

I didn’t have an exit strategy. In fact, as I stared back into his heavy gaze, I realized that I didn’t particularly want one. Wynonna thought that she could just ditch me for an idiot guy tonight… well I found my own idiot. Without breaking eye contact, I lifted the straw in my drink up to my mouth and took a good long sip while starting to ride Bobo’s lap to the beat.

His pupils dilated as he watched me, as he felt me. His fingers slid slowly along my rocking hips. I tried to play it cool, sipping on my drink and glancing around the room, a little overwhelmed by the sizzle in his gaze. That, and the heat building up between my own legs. I’m not ashamed to say that when my clit rubbed up against some stiff fold in his pants I repeated the angle, working myself up even as I felt something start to poke against my inner thigh.

“Last call!” a gruff voice shouted over the noise of the bar. “Last call for alcohol.”

Bobo’s smile turned conspiratorial, then he looked past me. “How about a round of shots, Lou.” One of the thugs got up and pushed his way up to the suddenly-crowded bar.

“So, Y/N. You’ve certainly got my attention.” He shifted underneath me, and with a quick swipe of his hand the hard line that had been forming along Bobo’s thigh was moved to a more central location. With his grip on my hips he coaxed me to settle back down over it. I was glad I had chosen such thin pants to wear out tonight; I could feel every inch of him against my whole slit now, and goddamn did it feel good. “So, what’s your plan.”

“Hm?” I gave him a questioning look.

“Your little crew is always up to something.” He leaned his forehead in closer to my own, looking hard even though his fingers were playful along the hem of my shirt. “Is this the newest attempt to pump ol’ Bobo for information?”

A grin cracked my face. “Play your cards right, and I’ll be pumping you for something,” I cackled. Just couldn’t resist that opening. The laugh turned to a nervous giggle as Bobo’s face remained stoic. “No,” I amended swiftly, “nothing like that.”

“Good, because I don’t appreciate tricks.”

I leaned in, the spiking sense of danger only adding spice to the erotic charge in this corner of the bar. “I’m just a girl having a bad night, trying to figure out how to make it a little bit better.”

Bobo’s smile was slow and thick. “Mmm,” he purred as he brushed his nose along my cheek, “I can think of a few things that might help with that.”

I tilted my chin and that was all the invitation he needed to press his lips into mine. His beard was softer than I expected, sliding across my cheek before his tongue parted my lips. Bobo tasted like dark chocolate, charcoal, and mistakes that still feel kind of worth it in the morning. One of his hands spread across the back of my neck, holding me close, while the other slipped underneath my shirt. I responded by popping open the button on his jeans.

When the bartender says ‘last call,’ you don’t waste time.

The bottom of my shirt was shoved up over my tits when Lou came back with the shots. Bobo’s fingers were playing with the scalloped lace of my plunge-line bra. I tried to cover back up before turning to accept my shot glass, but Bobo’s hands curled over my own. “Let the boys have a little show,” he rumbled.

My nipples hardened at the dirty glory of the idea. I leaned back from my position on Bobo’s lap, letting my smile hang wide and sloppy as I twisted with my rack hanging out of my shirt and reached out for my drink.

Lou’s eyes were hungry. So were the rest of the boys, grinning like circling sharks as they watched the debauchery playing out in their boss’s lap. It was equal parts hot and frightening.

“Bottoms up,” Bobo said, drawing my attention back to him. The amber liquid flowed easily down my throat; it was shitty whiskey but when you hang out with Wynonna you kind of become a pro at knocking back cheap shots. Bobo’s lips were wet and I leaned in to lick the last of the burning liquor off of them.

The friction between our hips was getting unbearable, and between the gaze of ‘the boys’ and the fresh alcohol tingling through my limbs, I was dying to move. “Let’s go somewhere more private,” I purred into Bobo’s ear, then nipped his earlobe for good measure. We couldn’t do much more than we already had without getting kicked out of the bar, anyway.

“You got it, darlin’,” he drawled, and then seized the bottom of my ass with both hands. I felt his muscles clench gloriously between my thighs and then he was standing, with me still wrapped around his waist and squealing in delight. “Excuse me boys, I’ve gotta step out and take care of something.”

We made it halfway down the alley at the side of the building before Bobo pressed me into the wall and started assaulting my mouth and neck again. I felt the press of his erection under my suspended thighs and this time I regretted the choice of pants, rather than a skirt. How glorious it would have felt if he could just sink in to me right the fuck now.

He pawed at the barrier between us, as much as he could while still holding me up off the ground, and then made a frustrated groan. He put me down and before I could even get my balance, turned me to face the wall. One big hand slid down inside my pants, cupping my ass, fingers questing deeper between my legs. “You want me right now?” he all but snarled.

“Fuuuck,” I hissed as his fingertips pressed between my slick inner labia. He made a wordless noise with a similar tone as he played with the wetness I had ready for him there.

Two fingers found their way deeper, penetrating into needy flesh and making it hard for me to remember language was a thing that I could use to answer his question. I pressed myself over his hand and moaned, my own palms pressed against the cold concrete of the wall just so I could keep my balance. “Yeah.”

Bobo finger-fucked me a little harder, then slowed. “Yeah, what?” He nipped at my ear and I could see the flash of white teeth set in a smirk in the moonlight.

I squirmed over his hand. “Yeah, I want you.”

He loomed over me even more. “Want me to what.” His fingers pistoned and I let myself moan like a whore, egging him on.

“Want you to fuck me, Bobo Del Rey.”

“Good girl.” He wrenched my pants down past my knees, bit the side of my ass hard while he was down there, and got his erection of out of his pants faster than I would have thought possible. The line of his body came to cover mine against the wall, and he nipped the back of my neck like a dominant animal while he lined his hardness up against my cunt.

Bobo was thick enough that he didn’t exactly slide in easy. He kicked my feet apart, as wide as they could go with my pants still around my ankles, and pressed me to bend over until I was presented to him properly. Then he worked himself in, every inch a delicious stretch that overwhelmed the rest of my senses. “Fuck, Bobo!” I squealed. 

His big hand clamped over my mouth.

“Don’t call attention,” he growled, and kept his hand there to muffle my screams as he rutted into me faster, more thoroughly. It was all I could do to press my hands into the wall against his pressure and try to keep my cheek from slamming into it as he fucked me within an inch of my life.

He could hear just enough of my whimpering cries under his smothering palm to notice when I was getting close to coming. I needed only a little something more to get there.

He let up the intensity just a fraction, so he could take his hand off my mouth. “Stay quiet now, baby girl,” he said, and reached down to find my clitoris.

It was clumsy, but it was all that I really needed. I swallowed a moan or two as he resumed the punishing pace with his cock, now driving my hips into the counterpressure of his strong fingers on that magic button. My orgasm boiled up fast and hard and I held my breath for the entire duration, not trusting myself not to scream at the joy of it.

I went a little limp when it was over, gulping in air with ragged breaths while Bobo continued to rut into me. The aftershocks were making my whole body sizzle. With a sudden hiss, the villain pulled out and pushed me down to my knees.

I turned willingly enough, sure that I knew what he was after. The discomfort of bare knees on the alley pavement only added a little submissive spice to the experience. Bobo had his cock in hand, pointed right between my eyes, and I knew I only had a moment to make my play.

I figured Bobo was like most guys, eager to blast me in the face like this was a porn video. But slutty as I am, I draw the line at calling a cab at the end of the night with cum still stuck in my hair. Just as he seemed ready to blow, I wrapped my hand around his shaft and made his fat head disappear in my mouth.

Bobo made a noise that was both surprised and pleased, and in just three eager, wholehearted sucks I had him groaning through his teeth as his cock jumped and sprayed against the roof of my mouth. I held him there even when it was done, all the way through his spasming, trembling finish. I always loved this moment, knowing I’d brought a powerful man to ‘the little death,’ and for this instant in time, at least, he was putty in my hands.

When he started to pull himself out of my mouth I pursed my lips, sucking him clean and making sure no stray drops were going to dribble out and mess up my shirt. I was still holding his cum in my mouth, as was my habit, ready to spit it out as soon as the way was clear.

But the demon was paying attention. His palm pressed over my lips, fingers wrapping around my jaw. “You’re going to swallow it,” he ordered. That little spike of humiliation was like icing on the cake of this whole wild evening. I looked Bobo right in the eyes and made a big show of gulping his seed down. His answering smile made it worth it too, that smug, masculine look guys get when they feel like their cum went into places they could be proud of.

Then, in a surprisingly gentlemanly gesture, he helped me to my feet.

I almost regretted putting my pants back on. If we had been in a more comfortable location, that last little exchange would have inspired me to get started on a round two. At least to convince him to eat me out. But looking up at Bobo’s wild and imposing silhouette in this moonlit alley, I didn’t think it was a good time to press my luck.

His hand was kneading the back of my neck softly as I re-dressed beside him. Awareness of my surroundings returning, I felt my guard coming back up. Most likely I was about to regret all of this, no matter how blazing hot the encounter had been; better not to drag it out. I stepped out from under his hand, avoiding his eyes and moving toward the main street.

“Can I call on you some time?” Bobo asked, surprising me again with his softness. But plenty of tough guys got that way, after.

I looked up at him with a cold smirk that would have made Wynonna proud. “Oh no, we are definitely chalking this one up to temporary insanity.”

He stiffened, eyes narrowing. “Back to enemies again, in the morning?”

I nodded. “Couldn’t be any other way.”

He cocked his head to the side, the lines of his mohawk amplifying the wild effect of the gesture. He glanced quickly at the sky. “Got a few hours left before daylight, then. Wanna make the most of it, come back with me to my trailer?”

More Bobo here

Taglist:  @allsharingonebreath, @demoncrypt1066​, @writingfromasgard​, @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen​, @peachieowl @savismith​ @ceridwenofwales @equalstrashflavoredtrash​ @ivarinleatherpants​ 

[darling-cas]

Whatever It Takes: Chapter 3

ACOTAR Figure Skating AU

Summary: Nesta firmly believes that if you want something, you have to work your ass off for it. And she wants a National title attached to her name. But when her coach decides that a change in discipline is what Nesta needs, she’s far from impressed. Now, instead of training as a ladies single skater, she has to switch gears and skate as a pairs skater. And her partner? Someone she can’t stand. Non other then cocky, flirtatious, former Men’s skater Cassian. Edited by: @ilikebigbooks-and-icannotlie

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Cassian had been to a number of hockey games before. Probably just as many - if not more - as skating competitions. Hockey games happened more often throughout the year, and he was proud to say that he very rarely missed a game. He enjoyed watching them. If he hadn’t taken to figure skating so well, Cassian would like to think he would have joined the hockey team.

Plus, Az was on the team.

Their whole inner circle always showed up to cheer on Azirel and their home team. A few years before, it had been just him, Rhys and Mor. Then Amren came along, and then Mor’s girlfriend Andromache. The Archeron sisters typically had gone to the games anyways to support Lucien. When Ferye and Rhys starting getting along, she joined their group, which led to Elain and Nesta also tagging along.

If they kept it up, Cassian figured they were soon going to have to rent a bus to get to and from games.

But that night was different from most games Cassian had gone to. It wasn't the championship game, or even a tournament game for that matter. Those wouldn't start for another few weeks. It was just a simple hockey game. Two teams playing against each other without the added pressure of getting kicked out of a championship.

And yet, the air around them was just as tense, just as tangible as it would be. The rink was packed, people sitting shoulder to shoulder. Cheers and applause echoed off the rafters. Feet stomped against the stands. People booed and whistled. The atmosphere was electrifying.

The Velaris Starlight University Hockey team definitely did not have home team advantage this time around. Fans of the Rifthold Royals University Hockey team filled up about half of the stadium.

Cassian wasn’t sure where a fight would going to break out first - in the stands or on the ice.

“You hear that?” Cassian said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "That's the sound of my stomach slowly starting to eat itself."

“We've only been in line for about five minutes, you big baby.” Feyre looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, eye sparkling.

Cassian glanced up at the horribly slow moving snack shake line before them. “And we'll be here for another twenty.”

"I told you we should have packed snacks for him." Rhys' smile was smug as Feyre laughed.

Cassian turned to Rhys with his own wicked grin. "I still don't understand why you didn't. I love snacks."

Feyre rolled her eyes, the line moving barely an inch forward. Clearly, the game so far had caused everyone to work up an appetite.

The first and second periods were nail biters. He hated to admit it, but the Royals were good. Just as good as their home team. The Royals were big, strong, fast, and ruthless. Number Thirteen, Whitethorn, gave a particularly mean body check. Cassian could almost feel it himself whenever he slammed one of the players into the boards.

Plus there was their goalie. The Prince, Azriel said he was called. Cassian couldn't help but laugh the first time he heard that. But now, he could see how he got the name. He really was one of the star players of the team. The Prince of the Royals. He managed to block every goal that was thrown at him.

Of course, it wasn’t like their team sucked either. They had one of the top teams around. But they were definitely working for the title that night. Cassian could see it as the game went on. The players became more wild and brutal. The coaches got more red in the face. Until the ref blew the whistle and the second period ended.

The score: 0-0.

“I just want my fries. Is that too much to ask for?” Cassian grumbled.

“I told you we should have left before the second period ended.” Feyre stood on her tiptoes, looking over the heads of the people in front of them. “Then we wouldn’t be waiting in this long-ass line.”

“We couldn't miss the end of the period, darling.” Rhys shook his head as they all took the smallest step forward. “What if someone got a goal?”

“At this rate, no one is getting a goal any time soon,” Feyre pointed out.

A few moments passed by in silence. They were slowly but surely making their way up the line. At that point, Cassian just hoped they’d make it back before the third period started.

“How’s skating with my sister been going lately?” Feyre asked after a moment. There was just a handful of people in front of them at that point.

Cassian tried to suppress his groan, but he didn’t think it worked very well, based on the look on Feyre’s face.

“That good, huh?”

“It’s a bloody nightmare,” Cassian admitted as Rhys chuckled next to him.

“At least you’re not doing the dances anymore,” he smirked, causing Cassian to punch him in the arm.

“I’d rather the dances at this point,” Cassian confessed. “Coach Carver is finally teaching us our routine, and it’s a fucking disaster. We haven’t even started any lifts yet because he doesn’t trust that one of us won’t stab the other with our blades.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow. “Does he not realize Regionals is less than a month away?”

“Apparently he’s not worried about Regionals.” Cassian couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice as he spoke. “Says we’ll place and make it to Sectionals no matter how bad we do. And he's too bloody scary to argue with."

“That’s reassuring.”

“And Nesta…” Cassian paused to shake his head. There were so many things he could say about Nesta. Things that were good, bad, confusing, and overwhelming. There was so much to say that he wasn’t exactly sure how to say it. So he said the one thing he could think of in that moment. “That woman is going to kill me.”

Practices with Nesta hadn’t gotten any easier as time went on. She was annoying and hot-headed. She had to have everything her way. They were really behind in practice. Cassian honestly couldn't help but enjoy himself at first. He pushed her buttons as much as he could. He loved watching her get all fired up. He loved watching as her cheeks flushed and eyes flashed. But even he knew when to stop, when to get to work and do what they needed to do. Nesta, on the other hand, didn’t seem to.

Sure, she was a professional figure skater. And a damn good one at that. But she was a professional ladies singles figure skater. She still had yet to fully open up to the idea of being in a pair. Something that was irritating Cassian more and more every practice.

He also knew that was one of the reasons Coach Carver wasn’t letting them actually throw up lifts yet. Skating was not only physical, but also mental. Skaters have to believe they want to land the jump. They have to want to be there. They have to want to do good.

Nesta wanted to do good. But she didn’t want to be there, in pairs.

And when it came to learning something as difficult and dangerous as a lift, she had to 110% want it. She had to be in the moment.

If Nesta didn’t realize that soon, Cassian didn’t see it ending well.

“She’ll come around,” Feyre spoke, eyes facing forward as there was now one person between them and the counter. “I’m not sure when, but this is Nesta we’re talking about. She lives and breathes skating. She’ll wake up soon and realize this is her only ticket to getting that National title and then she’ll be working a hundred percent.”

“Can she wake up soon?” Cassian sighed, hands in his pockets. “Because I’d like to actually start working a hundred percent now. You know, before the competition comes.”

“Maybe a kiss from Prince Charming will wake her up.” Rhys nudged Cassian in the ribs, a devilish smile on his lips.

Cassian’s snorted despite himself, rolled his eyes.

Rhys teased him all the time about Nesta, though he didn’t actually know about Cassian’s stupid crush on her. Azriel did, but he kept his mouth shut. Mainly because Cassian could bring up Elain just as fast.

Damn the Archeron sisters. Azriel slurred one late night over the summer, when the two were completely wasted in their apartment.

Cassian couldn't help but agree.

Feyre let out an airy laugh. “I think Nesta would punch Prince Charming in the face.”

“I know Nesta would punch Prince Charming in the face,” Cassian commented, just as they reached the counter. He had to resist the urge to rub his jaw, as if feeling the blow.

The conversation died off as they ordered the food. A part of Cassian felt bad that they had such a big order. They were ordering fries and drinks for not only themselves, but also for Mor, Andromache, Nesta, Elain, and Amren, who were all saving their seats in the stands.

And judging by the look on the elder woman's face, the way her thin lips pursed together and wrinkles deepened around her eyes, she wasn’t overly happy about it.

As they stood off to the side, waiting for the food, Cassian couldn’t help but think about the conversation earlier. About Nesta.

He couldn't deny that she was attractive. She was devastatingly beautiful. Cassian could picture her perfectly - those plump lips, and defined features, and her stormy gray eyes that were filled with a powerful cunning cruelty. Everything about her was calculated, yet Cassian couldn't help but feel a pull towards her whenever she was around.

Azriel had told him that same drunken night that Cassian was in love with Nesta.

But Cassian wasn’t in love with Nesta. He couldn't be. Right?

Cassian wasn’t one to fall in love. Sure, he’d been with a number of girls in the past, but nothing permanent. And yet, he couldn't deny that things with Nesta were different. It always had been. Since they first met each other at the age of twelve, in the very rink they were standing in. Cassian got in her way one practice as she was doing a jump.

“Next time you get in my way, I’ll purposely stab you with my blade.”

“I’d like to see you try, sweetheart.”

Apparently, she hadn’t been used to people standing up to her. Cassian could still remember the way her nostrils flared, eyes flashing with fire. If it hadn’t been for Coach Carver calling for her, Cassian was sure she would have punched him.

For the past ten years, Cassian found that he couldn't stay away from her.

But it couldn't be love. Besides, Nesta was married to skating. And hated his guts. Being in love with Nesta Archeron would just be a waste of his time.

These words hurt way more than he expected them to.

“Here you go.” The elder woman brought Cassian out of his thoughts as she pushed all of the food and drinks towards them. “Do you need some boxes?”

Because there was no way they would be able to carry all of the food themselves, Rhys nodded.

They loaded the food and drinks into some small boxes before each grabbing one and leaving the cantine.

Feyre cursed under her breath. She held the box of food close to her, side stepping around bystanders as they made their way back to the stands. “It’s a good thing this isn’t a championship game.”

“Imagine how packed it’ll be if the Starlights and Royals end up having a championship game against each other,” Rhys pointed out, pausing to let a group of little kids run by.

“Who are we kidding?” Cassian glanced over his shoulder. “The Starlights and Royals will definitely-”

“Cass, watch out.”

Cassian came to an abrupt stop just as the door flew open in front of him. He heard Feyre curse again behind him, most likely because she’d almost walked into his back.

Making sure he hadn’t dropped anything, Cassian looked up. He was slightly taken aback to see a young woman standing before him. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulders in waves, green eyes wide as she held a baby to her chest. A rather cute baby if Cassian was being honest, with wide gold-blue eyes, chubby cheeks, and a full head of light brown locks.

“I am so sorry,” the young woman quickly apologized, hoisting the baby higher up. “The door didn’t hit you did it?”

Cassian shook his head, giving her a warm smile. “No, we’re all fine-”

“Lys. Move. I am not spending the rest of the night standing in the bathroom.”

Cassian almost couldn't help himself. He wanted to laugh out loud as another woman side-stepped out of the bathroom. She glared up at her friend before turning towards him. Her blonde hair flew behind her, turquoise and gold eyes - eyes just like the baby's - shining in the stadium light.

A sly smirk pulled on her lips.

“I was wondering when I’d bang into you tonight. This is your home turf, after all,” she said, smile growing. “And look! By a girls’ bathroom no less!”

That time, Cassian did laugh. “Should I not be surprised that you’re here on my home turf as you call it?”

Aelin Galathynius’ smirk turned wicked. “I was right. You are as dense as you look.”

“Aelin.” Her friend - who Cassian now recognized as Lysandra - rolled her eyes. “Be nice.”

“You’re the mother to my adorable niece in your arms,” Aelin said. “Not to me. So I can be as mean as I please.”

“Oh I hope you never run into Armen, Aelin,” Rhys spoke up, stepping around the crowd as best as he could to be seen. “I can’t see that turning out well.”

“It’s good to see you too, Rhys.” Aelin’s smile grew wider. “Where’s Feyre?”

“Not far.” Feyre stepped forward, squeezing herself between Cassian and Rhys. “How have you been?”

“Good. Busy with training, but good.” Aelin pushed a piece of hair behind her ear. “How about you guys?”

“More or less the same.”

“I’d still like to know why you guys are here,” Cassian stepped in. “Or did you drive all the way up just to see my handsome face?”

Aelin’s bright eyes sparkled with laughter as she placed her hands in the pockets of her jacket.

“Rowan’s on the Royals,” she explained. “And so is our friend Dorian. So a whole bunch of us decided to make a weekend trip up here.”

“Which one is Rowan?” Rhys asked.

“Number 13,” Aelin smiled. “And Dorian is the goalie.”

Cassian honestly wasn’t that surprised that Rowan was the aggressive one. He met the guy in person once, and he definitely had that “don’t fuck with me” look.

“Anyways we should get back to our seats, before the game starts again,” Lysandra said. “But it was nice to see you all.”

“And try not to be too upset with our team takes yours down.” That wicked smile formed on Aelin’s face again. For a moment, Cassian couldn't help but wonder how Rowan managed to deal with her. She was like a wild flame. “At least it isn’t a championship game.”

Laughter trailed behind the girls as they walked off, calling one last goodbye behind them.

Cassian continued on towards the stands, Rhys and Feyre following behind him. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips as he went. He felt light, relaxed - the feeling you get when you see an old friend again.

It was nice.

Then it vanished the moment they made it to their seats.

“About time you guys got back,” Mor said.

“You should have seen the line for food,” Feyre sighed, sitting down next to Mor. “It was insane.”

“Plus we ended up running into Aelin on the way back.” Rhys handed Armen her drink as he spoke.

Mor’s brows shot up, a smile breaking out onto her face. “Aelin’s here?”

Rhys nodded as he continued to pass around everyone's drinks. “Her and Lysandra. Rowan is #13 and their friend is the goalie.”

Andromache cast Mor a sideways glance, taking a slow sip of her drink. “And who’s Aelin?”

Laughed floated around them, but it only sounded like background noise to Cassian. The whole conversation going on around him sounded distant actually. Because while Feyre and Rhys handed out food and drinks, Cassian stood there. Unable to move.

It wasn’t intentional, but the moment their friends came into view, his eyes found Nesta. What he saw, however, wasn’t the cunning calculated gaze he knew. No, though she sat there as if nothing was wrong, her eyes betrayed her.

Cassian didn’t put much thought into how he picked up on all of that the moment he saw her.

In her stormy eyes, there was anger. Anger mixed with fear - something that Cassian had never seen in Nesta’s eyes before. And because of that fear, her whole demeanor had changed.

An old woman yelled at him to sit down, but Cassian barely heard her. He slowly made his way to his seat, his blood pumping through his veins with every step.

He sat down behind Nesta before following her gaze to where it was locked on a group of young men, standing at the bottom of the stands. But Nesta’s eyes were locked on just one. The leader of the group it seemed.

Tomas Mandray. Cassian knew him from high school.

In Cassian’s opinion, he was a pretty average looking guy. Nothing overly special about him. But Nesta’s eyes were glued to him in a way that caused a roaring fire under Cassian’s skin. Everything about her was stiff, locked tight, unmoving. It unnerved Cassian. It broke his heart.

The crowd started to cheer as the players took to the ice once more. But Cassian didn’t pay them any attention.

He moved without even realizing it.

“You wanted ketchup on your fries, right?” Cassian held out a plate of fries over her shoulder.

Nesta’s gaze snapped towards his, as if she was burned by fire, hair wiping behind her. Her wide eyes flicked between Cassian and the plate in his hand for a long moment. Until Cassian finally saw the fear slowly start to fade away.

“I hate ketchup,” her voice was tight, guarded, brows narrowed.

Cassian flashed her a bright smile. He took back the plate, switching it out for his own plain one.

“Then it’s a good thing I don't.”

Another beat passed of Nesta simply staring at him. Then she took the plain fries and turned back in her seat without another word.

Cassian watched as her shoulders relaxed and her muscles loosened up, just the slightest bit. Something was clearly still wrong, but despite himself, the smallest smile formed on his lips.

That’s when he looked up, out onto the ice. That’s when he saw gloves flying. That’s when he saw Velaris Starlight player #06 throw a punch directly at Velaris Starlight player #16

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

Azriel was exhausted.

But it wasn’t just him. The team whole looked about ready to pass out at that point. They sat there in the locker room, waiting for the third period to start, listening to Coach aggressively go over their game play. They were all exhausted.

And yet, there was a raw energy in the air. Like a live wire. Azriel could see it in everyone's eyes, he could feel it in his own skin.

They were exhausted, but they were also extremely pissed.

They had been playing their asses off all game. Never stopping. Never breaking. Never giving in. They played the game like they had never played it before. And they had yet to get a goal.

The only thought that made it better, was the fact the Royals also had yet to get a goal.

For two periods, they didn’t let up once. They took every shot on the net they could. Yet the score was still 0-0.

Everyone had a reason to be tired and irritated at that point.

Maybe that was why, when Lucien walked up to him after Coach finished his speech, he didn’t think twice about the look of paranoia on his face, fixed with the slightest bit of fear.

What he didn’t expect, were the words that came out of Lucien’s month.

“She keeps looking at you, you know.”

Azriel looked up from re-tying his skate, taken aback.

It must have been the atmosphere in the room that made Lucien say it, because Azriel knew he wasn’t that type of guy. He had never confronted Azriel like that before. It had been almost five years since he and Elain had started dating, and Lucien had never once said anything to Azirel. It was more of a silent agreement really. Whether Lucien knew about Azriel’s feelings for Elain of not, he had never once said anything about them, even though Azriel knew Lucien hated when he was around.

Then again, Lucien had been colder that game than he normally was.

And yet, Azriel couldn't deny what Lucien was saying. Azriel was looking up at Elain throughout the game, more than he normally did. He didn’t know why. He couldn't help himself. But every time he met her eyes, she gave him a smile, and he felt a burst of energy run through him.

He thought they were being discreet about it. But apparently, he’d been wrong.

He couldn’t deny what Lucien was saying, but he didn’t want to confirm it either. So he said the one thing he could think of.

“Excuse me?”

Lucien's russet eyes narrowed, lips pursed. “I get it, you’re both close. I’ve put up with it. But all the glances during games, hanging all the time…. It’s become a lot lately, don’t you think?”

Azriel finished re-tying his skates before standing up. He didn’t miss the coldness off Lucien’s tone, mixed with the slightest bit of fear. Though what that fear was for, Azriel didn’t really know.

“I can’t control what she does. Elain’s her own person,” he stated calmly. “Besides, she’s just my friend-”

A dark laugh left Lucien’s lips as he shook his head. “We both know this is something more. It isn’t just friends between you two.”

“I don’t understand what you want from me, Vanserra?” Azriel could feel anger starting to rise, but he kept a tight hold on the leash. He didn’t like where the conversation was going. Plus, the rest of their team was starting to stare. Azriel could feel Drakon’s gaze on him.

Lucien took the slightest step closer to Azriel. The tension in the room was so thick, Azriel felt like he was swimming in it. But before anyone could so much as utter a word, Coach came back in the room, telling them it was time.

Lucien stood there for a beat longer, eyes swimming with emotion, before turning and walking away. It was only when he was gone that Azriel let out a breath.

He picked up his water bottle, taking a drink before dumping some on his face. He took a moment to try and clear his head as best as he could, then threw on his helmet and gloves, turning and walking out of the locker room.

The crowd cheered and booed as they made their way back onto the ice. Azriel did his best to get in the zone again, but it was harder this time around. The only thing he could think of was Elain and his conversation with Lucien.

The moment his blades hit the ice, a voice spoke up behind him.

“I want you to stay away from Elain.”

Azriel glanced over at Lucien, his blood rushing through his veins and he tried to keep his tight hold on his anger.

He could see it in Lucien’s eyes - he was fighting an inner battle with himself. As if part of him didn’t want to ask this of Azriel.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” he said, voice dangerously calm and low. “Either way, we have a game to play. We can discuss this later.”

Lucien’s eyes glowed brighter. “She’s not yours.”

Azriel came to a stop in the middle of the ice. He was aware of their team skating around them. He was aware of the visiting team stepping onto the ice. He was aware of the crowd. But he focused all of his attention on Lucien.

“She’s not yours either.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could think twice. His mind flashbacked to all those times Rhys ranted to him about Tamlin and what he did to Feyre. How he wanted her all to himself, how he tried to control her.

The fact that Lucien and Tamlin were good friends didn’t go unnoticed. And Azirel would be damned if he let the same thing that happened to Feyre happen to Elain.

Elain wasn’t an object. She was a person. And she belonged to no one but herself.

The next thing Azriel knew, a fist was colliding with his jaw. His head snapped to the side, ears ringing. Time froze, the hockey game forgotten.

Azriel slowly looked up, only to find Lucien watching him, gloves off and a fire in his eyes.

Every rational thought flew out of Azriel’s mind. His calm demeanor melted away. He didn’t take hits, not from anyone. Not since he ran away from home. Not since his father. Not since he had Rhys and Cassian teach him how to throw a good punch.

Without so much as a second thought, Azriel threw down his gloves and nailed Lucien in the eye.

There was a beat, no longer than a second, where everything was quiet and still. Where no one in the whole stadium moved or made a sound.

Until Lucien snapped back from the hit, eye already black as he turned back to Azriel.

And all hell broke loose.

[daniedoodles]

Danie’s Dilemmas Ep. 13: Pull Those Socks Up, bitch.

Hi. Everything is in fact, not well, thanks for asking. It’s a beautiful day out right now, yet I find myself here, indoors, sulking in a corner, writing another one of my episodes where I complain about what’s going wrong in my life. :)))

You’ve heard me talk about this before many a time. By now, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were sickened by how much I’ve managed to drag this along. But I can’t help it. I’m sure you understand to an extent, right? In case you don’t know who or what I am referring to, then it’s most likely because it is none of your concern. Then again though, the only people that really end up reading this are those from my tightest inner circle, unless I venture out and tell someone to read it for shits and giggles. Basically, sis can’t get closure. I’ve tried, believe me. Coming from a highly sentimental individual, letting people go is hard as shit, no matter how dirty they did me. I somehow am able to cling on to the one or two good things about them that make me decide that they are worthwhile, even though I am well aware that they probably don’t think of me in a similar context. I haven’t cried, surprisingly. And I think that’s because this whole situation has blown up so much in my head, to the point where my anger and frustration has significantly exceeded my feelings of sadness and disappointment. Like I said, on multiple occasions, I’ve tried to get this person to speak their mind, lay it all on me that what I did might have come out more cold-hearted than I’d intended it to be (not that I was intending it to be cold-hearted in the first place). I just hate how they won’t fucking cooperate. How passive do you have to be to be able to reject every single opportunity they’ve been given to blame someone else? How immature do you have to be to not want to fix things, or at least end it in a way that gives both parties of the situation a chance to fucking move on? Just because they might feel fine leaving loose ends untied, that doesn’t mean the other is. I even went as far as making a post specifically for them to read, where I explain myself wholeheartedly, because I didn’t want to say anything more directly to them in fear of being told that I was being clingy. In a way, I’ll admit that I am. But it’s only because I want to reach the end of it. Tell me you want to get past this shit and be friends again, or tell me that you’re done, I couldn’t fucking care less. All I care about is that they do say something, so I can move the fuck on, give my brain some fucking space for memories and other shit that do matter and are worth my time and energy. I was going to be nice about this, be the bigger person, if you will (metaphorically, of course). On second thought, maybe I won’t. I want this fixed. Soon. Then I won’t have to drag it like a fucking pack mule into the new year. Shit’s getting so old, it’s not even funny. Why didn’t I just listen to everyone else that told me from the very beginning that they weren’t it? This is why I don’t trust that stuff when they tell you to look for the best in people. I always just get proved wrong. Then there’s also that struggle where you want to involve someone else into the situation, have them do the dirty work, or have them persuade the other to get that stick out of their ass and do something. But that isn’t right either. If anything, it just increases the risk of making things worse. Idk. This is dumb. Danielle, move on. Listen maybe. Think with your head and not your gut. 

My one friend and I could drone on about a topic like this for hours. Thank God I’m not the only one. 

That’s not all though. In the back of my mind, another friend situation is fuelling my irritation. I’ve not done this person wrong by in any means, as far as I can tell. I’m not sure how to even put it ‘cause this could be something or nothing, depending on the way you see it. I can obviously only really speak for myself but, say you have a friend that you would consider close. They like your social media posts, maybe even leave a comment or two if they’re feeling wild. Then have them just all suddenly stop. For no apparent reason. As shallow-minded as it sounds to pay attention to trivial details like the one I just mentioned, they still count. I can’t even begin to think of what I could have possibly done to have them suddenly be distant? Whatever it is that’s off, needs to turn on lmao. We haven’t spoken in almost a month, nor do I think we ever will again, unless I take initiative and start the conversation myself. I haven’t acted upon anything yet, because there’s still this little voice in my head asking “what if it really is nothing and it’s just that life is overwhelming at the moment?” or “maybe they are pissed with you?” Part of me wants to confront them now and get it over with, and the other wants to put confrontation to the side as a last resort because I don’t want them thinking that I thought that whatever this is was something to begin with. Sorry if that sounds redundant. 

For now, I think that’s all I’ve got. Tea has gone stale, I’ve been sipping for longer than I signed up for. I need to get my life back on track and realize that if people don’t want me in their life, then what the fuck is the point of keeping them in mine? As difficult as it is, like I initially said, I somehow need to train myself to be able to do that, since nothing will come out of it anyway. Makes room for everyone else that do matter.  

Good to be back after that month-long wait. Keep up. 

x