The Mate Males Group Chat
  • (Because of course they do)
  • Lucien:Help, Elain keeps making me flower crowns and I don't know where to put them all.
  • Cassian:Help, Nesta keeps sending me scrolls that say "open this in private ;)" but they're just pictures of broken cucumbers
  • Azriel:Help, Mor and I are playing strip poker and she keeps cheating and I'm cold
  • Rhysand:Help, Feyre is making terrible puns and I can't stop laughing at all of them
  • Amren:how did I get added to this
The Night Court

RHYS: Feyre kissed me.

CASSIAN: Ohmygodohmygod

MOR: Ok, all right. We want to hear everything. Cassian, get the wine. Rhys, does this end well or do we need to get tissues?

RHYS: Oh, it ended very well.

CASSIAN: [getting the wine] Do not start without me. Do not start without me.

MOR: Ok, all right, let’s hear about the kiss. Was it like a soft brush against your lips? Or was it like a “I gotta have you now” kind of thing?

RHYS: Well, at first it was really intense, you know. And then, oh gods, and then we just sort of sunk into it.

MOR: Ok, so, were you holding her? Or were her hands like on you?

RHYS: No, actually first they started on my waist. And then, they slid up, and then, they were on my wings.


In the next room [Feyre eating while Amren swirls a goblet]

FEYRE: And, uh, and then I kissed him.

AMREN: Tongue?

FEYRE: Yeah.

AMREN: Cool.

the seelie court aesthetic

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 implies.

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 lungs.

“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 more.


“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 his ribs.

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 twitch.

“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 way-

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 touching him.

“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 stop.

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 a second.

“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 grinding.

“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 from fate.

“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 rises, Mor?”

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 so beautiful.”

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 breath.

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 stars.

Fangirl Problems:


Mentally Mated to the High Lord of The Night Court


“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!

Please, reblog this to spread the message ♥

  • day one: a moodboard
  • day two: a picspam
  • day three: favorite quote
  • day four: relationship posters (insp by x)
  • day five: fanmix
  • day six: a gifset
  • day seven: free day

you can tag your creations with #andreilweek and i’ll reblog edits i like ♥


Strangerer Things with Ben Schwartz – Is Jean-Ralphio’s Real Father Steve from Stranger Things?

anonymous asked:

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 ~

“I do.”

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. 

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mom!”