known to seek help from humans, to warn those who have accidentally offended them, and to return human kindness with favors of their own. a fairy belonging to this court will avenge insults and could be prone to mischief. the most common time of day to see them is twilight. other names for the Seelie court are ‘The Shining Throne’ or 'The Golden Ones’ and 'The Summer Court’. seelies are known for playing pranks on humans and having a light hearted attitude, forgetting their sorrows quickly and not realizing how they might be affecting the humans they play pranks on.
Neil thought about Renee’s bruised knuckles, Dan’s fierce spirit, and Allison holding her ground on the court a week after Seth’s death. He thought about his mother standing unflinching in the face of his father’s violent anger and her ruthlessly leaving bodies in their wake. He felt compelled to say, “Some of the strongest people I’ve known are women.
When Azriel winnows back in the House of Wind he can’t
help but feel empty and accomplished at the same time.
He knows truth-teller is dripping with blood and the
creature’s screams are still ringing in his mind, over and over again and he
shakes his head, trying to get the sound out.
He wants nothing more than hide in his room and clean
himself, pretend it didn’t happen, that he didn’t do it, that the red stains on
his scarred hands are forgivable, that truth-teller will be clean again like
the day he received it, a blade caught in the light.
But he needs to report to Cassian and Rhys, needs to do
his work and his duty always comes first.
And he knows, he knows that Mor is standing in the
shadows, not saying a word.
He knew it from the moment he arrived.
It’s not the first time this happens and he always
feigned ignorance, never turning her way, never acknowledging her presence,
crawling in the shadows as fast as he can, away from her, to what her presence
But ignoring Mor is something that Azriel just can’t do,
it would be like ignoring the sun.
“Where were you?”
she asks, and every muscle in his body freezes; this is new, he thinks, this is
unexpected and he can feel an irrational fear rising his gut because he thought
his longing for her had formed a predictable pattern, like the dark in a room
with no windows and the screams when fire meets flesh and- and he never thought
she would break it, this unspoken oath based on love, desire and fear.
He can hear the impatience in her voice, the bad
conceived fury. It’s the first time she speaks, the first time she refuses to
play along in their game of hide and seek and dread spreads like ice in his
“On duty.” he answers, doesn’t turn to face her. Azriel
is rooted to the floor, his eyes closed, praying don’t look at her, don’t turn, five hundred years, five hundred years
“Of course you were. Like yesterday, and the day before
and the day before that.”, there’s a slight tremble in her voice and even if
she tries to hide he can hear it loud and clear, a knife in the space between
Mor moves, gets
closer to him and Azriel doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to do with
himself, he has nowhere to run, no brother to shelter him, no distraction but
the sound of his own heartbreak.
“Azriel” , she is standing right behind him and his wings
“Azriel” Mor repeats and he turns, helpless, like every
syllable is a thread pulling him to her.
He doesn’t look at her, he looks at the ground instead
but if he closes his eyes hard enough he can see her eyes; brown, but with
golden speckles, the way her eyelashes curl, the way her eyes lighten up when
she’s happy, the frown when she’s angry that makes them look nearly black, the
She places a hand on his chest and spreads her fingers
like she wants to cover him and it’s like all that he is is focused on that
blessed part of his body, he feels his blood rushing and his shadows move
frantically, whispering what could be.
He honestly doesn’t know if this is one of his dreams
where he gets just a touch from her and he knows, even in dreams, that it would
be enough for him to savour for eternity, or one of his nightmares when he gets
so close, close enough to touch her,
finally mustering the courage to do what he wanted to do for centuries just to
be reminded of how unworthy of her he is, how low and ruined.
“Azriel”, she says again, and he can’t help but think of
how filthy his fighting leathers are and how dirty her hand will be for
“Azriel, open your eyes”, her voice is so sweet and he
does as she says.
There’s a pained expression on Mor’s face, like she’s
bracing herself for something and Azriel wants nothing more than be there for
her, embrace her, to help with whatever is tormenting her.
“Do you want me?”she
asks and each word cuts into him in the shape of five hundred years of doing
only that: wanting her, loving her, admiring her.
The feelings were-are-so
strong he sometimes thinks they took all the space in his heart, leaving no
room for anything else.
Yes, he wants
to say, yes.
He can’t speak, can’t answer, his mouth doesn’t move and
the way she’s saying his name, again and again and again like she’s calling him
to her, asking him not to hide.
But Mor knows, she must know because she pulls him down
by his fighting leathers and kisses him; it’s lips on lips and Azriel doesn’t
close his eyes, not yet, but he sees Mor closing hers. He can’t remember how
many times he dreamed of this, this simple contact between them, how much he
hoped it would happen once, just once.
She moves one of her hands to the back of his head,
urging him closer and when her tongue brushes his lips he makes a sound that
his half cry, half moan.
His hand shakes terribly as he moves to cup the side of
her face and he opens his mouth just a bit, enough to make her understand that
he wants it, wants it so much it terrifies him, but he doesn’t move, he gives
her the time and space for when she will stop, for when she will understand she
doesn’t want this.
But she pulls him closer, her hand trailing in his hair
and he-can he move? can he touch her? this
is too much, too much-Azriel moves his other hand, the touch is slow, soft,
full of hesitation and longing and he feels like if he gives in, if he touches
her, if he feels her skin on his just this one time, he will never be able to
She breaks the kiss and he can’t help but chase Mor’s
lips as she moves back and raises herself on her tiptoes a bit to move her
forehead on his.
“No more running, Azriel. No more hiding.”,she whispers,
and the emotions he is feeling are so strong he aches but he nods and doesn’t
even fight the tears.
Five hundred years, five hundred years, five hundred years.
She grips his face between her
hands and he pulls her closer and he feels a familiar tug in his stomach as she
winnows the both of them in her chamber and he knows, he knows what she wants
but he can’t, his breath is coming in short gasps, he honestly can’t describe
how he feels, it’s too much and not enough, it’s five centuries culminating in
“Azriel, Azriel. Look at me,”
Mor says and he hears the conviction in her voice, like she absolutely knows
what she is doing while he’s so scared he can barely move “nothing bad is going
to happen. I want you and I know you want me too, don’t you? Azriel, I love you.”
He thinks of all the times he
imagined her voice say those three words to him and it’s like they fill all the
cracks in his being, stitching together every broken piece of him.
He kisses her, the contact of
his tongue brushing hers makes him shiver and he knows he has to answer her and
it seems absurd to him that he has to say it because he knows that no matter how hard he tries to conceal it, his
love for her pours out of him like an uncontrollable force.
“I love you too,” he breathes
her in, closing his eyes and he’s surprised of how steady his voice is and it’s
so low it’s a wonder she hears him, “I did nothing but love you for the last
five hundred years.”
She kisses him again but now
the kiss is nearly desperate and Mor moves until they both fall on the bed, and
her hands shake a bit when she unbuckles his fighting leathers and he stops her,
catching her hands and holding them in his and the view of her on top of him is
enough to make the breath catch in his throat.
“We don’t have to do anything
in one night ,we can-” the sentence is cut short by Mor’s lips on his, her hips
“We waited long enough.” it’s
her response and Azriel feels her hand on his skin and he can’t keep his eyes
from the sight of her hand disappearing under his fighting leathers.
He places his hands on her
thighs, his siphons a glowing ocean, and moves to kiss her.
Every touch is precious,
something he wants to memorize and keep with him for the rest of eternity, it’s
a collection of answered wishes.
He feels like he’s burning up,
all this centuries of wanting tumbling out of him and he wants to kiss every
inch of her skin, wants to touch her, wants to learn how her body moves, wants
to feel her every part of her wrapped around him.
He knows, he knows what he wants,
he passed nights and nights and nights with the thought of her and his hand
under the covers and a cloak of shame as company, he knows.
Azriel trails his hand up and
down her thighs, his eyes locked in hers as she takes the upper part of his
fighting leathers off of him and the hurry in her gesture makes him smile, it’s
so incredibly her.
Her hands roam on his chest and
there’s a little sound escaping her mouth before she bites her lower lip and he
needs to kiss her, because he can now, she wants him to, even if the sight of
his marred hands on her perfect skin makes him want to pull away, to continue
to watch her from a distance until she will inevitably find someone who is good
enough for her, and, and he’d be happy for her, he’d find a way to be there for
her even if it would cost him his happiness.
“I wanted this so much, all
this time, and I always thought you never wanted me”, she says, her voice
breathless and Azriel feels like he’s being slapped.
“You-you wanted me?”he asks,
and his voice is so small and her words seem like a bitter cruelty delivered
“Aren’t you listening?” she
chuckles, her eyes travelling over his body, his face, his wings and he can’t
believe her gaze, filled with lust and want and love is directed to him, that
she finds him, in some ways that only she can see, worthy of it.
“I am listening.” he answers,
his lips on her jaw.
Azriel takes a deep breath and
pulls on the string keeping her shirt together and Mor moves until it slithers
down her body and his hands move to her breasts. He flips them over so she’s
under him and he brushes his tongue on the peak of her breast, as slowly as he
can, kissing and biting and licking at her exposed skin.
“I wanted to do this so many
times,” his voice is a low rumble, the only sound except for her labored
breathing, “everytime we were at Rita’s and you were dancing I wanted to come
to you and hold you in my arms, kiss you until you were breathless.”
Azriel trails kisses on her
stomach, and leaves a tender, loving kiss on the most prominent scar; he doesn’t
indulge there, this, this is not a night for sadness and cruelty so he goes
further down to play with the hem of her pants “I should have known you were a
damned tease.” Mor says, and a gasp leaves her mouth as he slowly pulls them down,
but leaving her underwear on.
He kisses lower, and lower
until he is between her thighs, pressing an open mouthed kiss above her
underwear, right in the center on her sex.
She moans, and it’s the most
beautiful sound he ever heard, incredibly better then how he imagined it.
He wants to hear it as much as
he can tonight.
Azriel brushes his tongue on
her and hears her calling his name, urging him on but he waited so long for
this, for her, there’s no way he’s
going to rush.
He moves when Mor’s hands go
down to pull her own underwear off and he can’t move, her scent hits him and
it’s the most delicious smell to ever fill his lungs.
He goes down again and his
tongue curls over her wetness and she yelps, lifting her hips from the bed and
he hums, “Ah, you taste so good, better than I dared imagine.”
She moans softly at his words
and his hand joins his mouth in teasing her, drawing lazy circles that make her
squirm and groan.
“I love the sounds you make,”
he says between kisses “how many sounds can I get out of you before the sun
His finger find her entrance
and he dives in achingly slowly and she rolls her head back, her golden hair
forming an halo around her.
“Azriel,Cauldron, get on with
it!” she is squirming, and she’s so beautiful, her body his beyond perfect in
his eyes, every curve, her smooth skin, the faint scars, everything.
He moves up to kiss her and
brushes his nose with her, “We’ll get there.”, he answers, a low laugh escaping
his lips, “It’s just that I-I want to do everything with you, I-all this time-”
words tumble out of him and she tenderly places a hand on his cheek, smiling up
at him because she knows.
“I know how you feel, believe
me. And I know we have all the time in the world, but now, off with your
pants.” She works to free him of his pants as she speaks and Azriel was never
the type of male to feel self-conscious but this is Mor and he can’t help but
think he won’t be enough, would never be and he would mold himself in someone
better if he only could, if he could just-
He hears Mor’s sharp intake of
breath and he knows how he looks, all the scars, the cuts, the burns, he isn’t
someone she would want, someone she’d find- “Beautiful. Mother, Azriel, you’re
His world stops for a second
and it’s in that moment that he notices how his shadows aren’t whispering,
aren’t talking, there’s no secret for him to cradle in this moment, no darkness
lurking around him.
“Azriel, I’m ready.” She says
and he hides his face in the crook of her neck, pulls his finger out of her and
she moans softly with the motion.
He buries his hand in her hair
it’s a moment before he finds himself on his back, Mor on top of him. He moves
his wings a bit to adjust to the new position and she laughs, “Little Illyrian
and his poor wings.”
She’s hovering right above him
and he closes his eyes, his head rolling back as she lowers herself on his cock
and they both moan, their voices the perfect mix of high and low.
He grips her hips, easing the
motions, back and forth, up and down and it’s so perfect, she’s so perfect and
it’s more than sex, more than love, more than everything under the moon.
Her arms are around his
shoulders, pulling him closer to her as they kiss and look in each other’s eyes
and whisper faint words on why did they wait so long, they will never do
something like that again, they’re together now, they’re together-
He moves his hips up to her,
striking deeper and she moans louder while he feels her closing on him as his
own orgasm starts building up, his arms around her.
He moves one of his arms to let
his hand move between her legs and it takes a few strokes for her to shatter as
he whispers “I want to see you come.”
He keeps moving for a handful
of thrusts before his own release hits him, rocks him so hard he can barely
Azriel lifts her up and moves
so they’re both on the pillow and the radiant smile on her face it’s something
he wants to remember as long as he lives.
“At least we can say that it
was worth the wait.” Mor mumbles against his skin while she snuggles against
his chest and he can’t help but laugh.
He knows it’s just a matter of
time before his shadows will start whispering again but when Mor whispers “I love you” before she falls asleep it’s
like his darkness was bathed in light, like a whisper of love between the
“Andrew kissed him like this was a fight with their lives on the line, like his world stopped and started with Neil’s mouth.”
Hey guys! So, because Andrew and Neil are consuming my soul right now and because their relations are just so beautiful and important, I thought it would be a great idea to make an Andreil week! You’re free to participate and change the subject of the day (for example, if you can’t do gifs, you can make one more graphic etc.) ♥
At first I wanted to make a timeline but then decided that it’s not necessary and you can start whenever you want!
How about the Foxes reaction to finding out about Neil's mum being abusive and/or him having to burn and bury her
All aboard the Angst train ~
The Foxes stopped. Was - Did -
Jack spat, “Whatever. It’s not like she loved you anyway.”
“Apparently, neither did yours.” Neil was tired. He was so tired of the staring, of the fighting, of the arguments.
“Shut up, fucker.” And with that Jack stormed off the field. This was the second time this week that he’d stormed off during practice. Neil was at his wits end.
Dan shot a look at Matt. Matt shot one to Allison. Allison to Renee. Renee to Andrew.
Kevin didn’t look surprised. Nicky looked devastated. Aaron was too far to have heard the exchange, and he didn’t look like he’d bother with it anyway.
Andrew was watching Neil.
Neil swallowed around the lump in his throat. His mother had loved him. He knew that. She had. She wouldn’t have hurt him to protect him if she hadn’t.
She had loved him. He was sure.
Neil swallowed again and turned to his team. “Alright -”
Renee cut him off, “Neil - we, you didn’t tell us - your mom…” She trailed off, unwilling to accept what Neil had practically just confirmed.
Neil smiled shakily. “Don’t worry about it -”
Matt cut in this time, “For fuck’s sake, Neil. Don’t act like this is ok. We know your dad was…your dad.” Matt shook off the wave of rage at the thought of Nathan hurting Neil as a kid, “- but your mom -” he broke off, “ - Jesus - “
Neil smiled again, but even he could feel how broken it was.
“You don’t know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mom!”