#azrisweek

Thank you so much to @chunkypossum for commissioning me to work on a piece that highlights the AMAZING Fitz!

I chose a scene from their fic from their amazing @azrisweek creature feature from a past year, Timshel. Who doesn’t love some accidental knotting?

You can find the full uncensored version here on my bluesky, and i think I’ll also add it to the ao3 collection so that it can be recognized as a work based on Timshel, cause that fic is seriously so beautiful. And I might add some other sketches if I get the chance before the week's done.

Speaking of beautiful, here’s a note from Chunky to Fitz: “You beautiful, fearless, wondrous leader of ours and the first person I think of when I think Azris! You have and continue to do so much for this community that I am speechless. All of the effort you put in is astounding, from the gorgeous fics you write to running this appreciation week! Thank you for being your beautiful, wonderful self and for all you have given us! May you receive 1000 fold all that you have given, and may Azris continue to be a source of joy for you! We couldn't be here today the way we are without you!”

Major ditto to that. Below the cut you’ll find the full piece and my tag list. Let me know if you want on or off!

Who Will Hold Me?

Five years later…

Chapter 32 now on AO3

Inspired by @azrisweek’s day four prompt: Dark and stormy night.

Spoilers below, and if you didn’t read the last chapter after my warnings then make sure you check out chapter 31 first!

Please check content warnings and message if you need spoilers.

CW: 18+, self harm, blood, angst and despair.

———

Outside a storm is battering the Forest House and the High Lord finds himself alone as he does every night. Eris has been at his desk for hours. He should have gone to bed long ago but he cannot sleep. Instead he sits and stares into the dying fire and listens to the rain and the wind pelting the roof and windows. Firelight dances across the hearth, ever diminishing as the darkness of the evening encroaches on the room. The shadows play tricks on his eyes, and Eris sighs and hopes, as he always does, that his mate will simply step out of the darkness and erase the distance that years have put between them.

Azriel’s letters are spread out on the desk before him. Eris has read them a hundred times, maybe more. He kept them all, of course. He allows himself this one weakness. The spymaster’s letters are surprisingly eloquent, verbose even, despite the near childlike scrawl of his handwriting. Eris can’t imagine Azriel saying even a fraction of what he wrote out loud. There’s such sincerity on every page that it hurts to look at them.

Eris has never had love letters before, not like this. Some of them are angry tirades, full of expletives, bordering on threatening. Some of them are desperate, pleading. And some of them are beautiful, heartfelt, precious things. Most of the letters came in a flurry in those early months after his ascension, when Eris was trying to run a court while having a mental breakdown. Unable to function and second-guessing himself at every turn, he’d responded only once, desperate and half mad for Azriel to stop. Even as wrecked as he was, he knew then as sure as he knows now that no good could come from further contact.

Azriel’s last letter came four years ago. Eris can recite it without looking.

“...I think I understand now why you did it. And I can’t help but wonder if you’re not doing this to hurt yourself, to deny yourself what you think you don’t deserve. Because I know that you loved me that night. I could see it in your eyes, I could feel it through our bond. And even if your feelings have changed, I love you all the same, and I always will. I’ll wait an eternity if that’s how long it takes you to remember that regardless of who we are, we belong together. Forever yours, A.”

Eris shivers. Even across the space of years, the words still make every hair stand up on the back of his neck. He doesn’t know why tonight he felt the compulsion to look at the letters again. It’s been months since he last tortured himself. As with every letter of Azriel’s, Eris believes every word of it. And yet, and yet…

Full chapter now on AO3

Tag list:

Bees

@azrisweek day 3: creature feature

Azriel Beesinger is the most powerful beekeeper in the Night Court.

The only way to control his Illyrian bees is with fire.

Unfortunately, that's exactly what his arch-nemesis excels at.

🐝 Taglist:

Lil treat for a good boy🐕

Azris Week Day 3: Contact - The Beginning and End of Friendship

Actually posting for day 7 of @azrisweek free day because I’m super late posting so it is what it is.

The long awaited part 2 from my Azris Week Day 3 story from last year. Sorry it took me a literally year. I apologize in advance because I’m quite sure this is not what anyone was thinking when I said there would be a part 2.

Read here on ao3

No snippet because that would ruin the surprise.

Sing a little ditty if you want on or off the tag train

AZRIS WEEK 2025

The Break

Missed yesterday’s posting, but better later than never!

Synopsis

In the aftershock of yesterday’s searing kiss, Eris and Azriel go fishing, hoping to clear their heads and clear the air. They end up discussing everything they’re not going to do.

TW: sexually explicit and strong language

DAY 4 - Read My Lips

“Don’t worry, brat, I’m not going to kiss you.” Azriel smirks, dipping his head again to Eris’s neck.

The spymaster’s nose grazes the delicate column of the prince’s throat, breathing deeply again, from the nape of his neck to the lobe of his ear. Eris stifles a groan at the sensation, which sends a jolt of pleasure straight down his spine.

“I’m not going to bite your earlobe.” Azriel whispers gruffly, talking into the shell of Eris’s ear.

Eris gasps, realising exactly what Azriel is doing, hating and loving it in equal measure. The spymaster traces a thumb along the prince’s lower lip and the touch ignites him.

“I’m not going to bite you here.” Azriel trails that same thumb down his neck, drawing a line of fire across Eris’s skin.

“Or here.” The spymaster gently grazes the tip of his scarred index finger over the hard edge of the prince’s clavicle and across the thin stretch of linen which covers the plane of his chest, pausing to graze a hardened nipple through the shirt. “Or here.”

Eris gasps at the electric shock of the touch, his gaze locking onto Azriel’s face in bewildered disbelief. The spymaster is studying him closely, his eyes dark with lust. The prince dare not move, in case the last thread of his self restraint should snap.

Torture. Blissful fucking torture.

Azriel’s hand continues its journey south across the plane of Eris’s chest and stomach. When it reaches the waistband of his trousers it stops, splaying flat against his abdomen, a solid heavy weight that burns through the fabric of his clothes. His skin is itching to make contact. Without warning, that same hand begins to pull at each button of the prince’s shirt, popping every one of them open, before laying flat against his chest. Eris’s heart beats loudly beneath Azriel’s palm. Hazel eyes drink him in as the rough skin of the spymaster’s hand slowly works its way back down across the prince’s stomach, ending once more at his naval. The languid touch feels almost possessive, proprietary.

Azriel’s eyes, full of fire, slowly roam the length of the prince, who fights the urge to squirm beneath such scalding focus. Eris shudders, what little remaining blood in his head rushing south. Azriel’s hand, so hot and heavy on his abdomen, is just inches too high from where Eris wants to feel it. Feeling half mad with arousal and ready to crack under the pressure of his wanting, Eris finds himself ready to play this game of dare.

“What else aren’t you going to do?” He asks, voice rough with desire.

Azriel’s eyes flare with delight and he bites his bottom lip. Eris wants to feel it between his teeth.

Full chapter now on AO3.

Let me know if you want on or off the tag list!

@azrisweek haii .. IM LATE BUT here is my azris week contribution 🤲🤲🤲

AZRIS WEEK 2025

The Break

Sexually frustrated Eris channels his feelings into baked goods. Azriel wants to help.

TW: sexually explicit and strong language

DAY 3 - Yes, Chef

“Hand me another bowl? Something small.” Eris calls over his shoulder. “And these can be washed.”

Azriel is suddenly behind him, reaching around to place a bowl on the worktop.

“Yes, chef.” The spymaster’s voice dips, low and dangerous, as he steps into the prince’s space.

Holy Mother.

Eris’s lips part on a silent gasp. His entire body tenses. Azriel does not touch him, but he comes so close that his voice feels like a caress against the prince’s ear. Heat radiates from the male and that intriguing mist and cedar scent fills the prince’s nostrils. The overwhelming presence of the spymaster in such close proximity is gone as quickly as it came, and Eris is left quietly but violently unspooling from the assault on his senses. The sound of Azriel’s voice rings out through the ensuing silence, reverberating through Eris’s bones and rushing through his blood. The prince’s body hums in delight and anticipation. More, it pleads.

The prince, entirely too hot in his clothing and feeling half mad with rage and want, wonders if the spymaster realises the effect he’s having. Does Azriel know what it does to me when he drops his voice like that? Eris grits his teeth and closes his eyes. He must, the bastard.

Looking intently down at the worktop, the prince wills himself to calm and focus on the task at hand, but suddenly the spymaster is behind him again.

“Can I?” Azriel asks, reaching around Eris once more for the dirty dishes.

The prince, feeling completely flustered, fails to move out of the way, and instead steps backward into the spymaster with his hands still full of the delicate dough. They bump awkwardly into one another, failing to co-ordinate their bodies. Eris almost jumps out of his skin as his ass collides with Azriel’s hip. Seemingly unfazed, the spymaster simply places two broad hands on the prince’s hips and moves him bodily to the side. Azriel quickly retrieves the dirty dishes and retreats to the basin, but Eris, feeling somehow molten and tense all at once, like a volcano ready to erupt, can still feel those handprints burning through the fabric of his trousers. He shakes his head to clear it, and turns once more to his work.

Full chapter now on AO3.

New chapter coming tomorrow!

Let me know if you want adding or removing from my tag list.