#Azris fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fourteentrout · 3 months ago

Text

"The Beholder" Azris Oneshot

Pairing: Azriel/Eris Vanserra

Word Count: 36,304

AO3 link

Description: Azriel and Eris both think the other is beyond gorgeous. The pinnacle of walking, talking perfection, the most attractive faerie to grace Prythian with their presence. After all, they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. The only problem is, they spend too much time hating each other to actually do anything about it.

Hello hello Azris nation, guess who just posted his ridiculously long Azris slowburn oneshot that's literally just about how hot Azriel and Eris think the other is?

It's me, and I have the AO3 link and a preview here for your perusal! The fic does venture into some mature territory and does contain eventual smut, but I wasn't really sure what to rate it, so just consider this your warning. You can check it out using the link above or read the preview below!

It was almost ironic, Azriel thought, how easily he fell. Not in love, really. But something close to it. A winged beast somehow prone to tripping into endless depths of desires that could never be fulfilled. He was a spymaster and a torturer, and yet the minute he became fixated on someone, it became this prolonged, festering thing. Like a wound that refused to heal. He was forged to withstand the brutality of war, condemned to thrive in darkness, a being of sharp blades and black shadows. Yet the moment he grew attracted to someone, he felt like it was a physical, ever-burning brand that could be seen by all. A bright beacon of obvious weakness.

He loved his family, of course. He loved Mor in a different way for a very long time. He still wasn't entirely sure where she stood in his heart. But love was something that formed in him over the course of years, centuries. He was not worried about love. It was a diamond at his center, unbreakable, coated in layers upon layers of impenetrable steel. He no longer heard echoes of that incessant mantra pounded into his head for the first eleven years of his life. You are not worthy of having anything to love.

Now, his love was a well-guarded choice. A distinct investment he made into those he cared about the most. It was simple, and strong, and he had forty nine years of throwing himself against Rhysand's protective wall of magic to prove it. He had hundreds of years of stepping back into the shadows while Mor invited strangers to her bed to prove it. She was…confusing, in that way. But his love for her was not.

So no, he did not worry about love. This wasn't about love. It was about attraction. Infatuation, being enamored, having desire. A certain kind that went beyond his basic instincts to get carnal relief.

That was the true weakness, what he felt was on display for everyone to see. That's what he always fell so easily into, wings ablaze the whole way down. The feeling of finding a missing piece of his soul, and the need to make it his own again. Yes, love could come of it. In theory. He supposed that's what happened with Mor. He first desired her like she was a part of himself that he'd lost, or that had been ripped away from him. Then she became one of the few people he allowed himself to love, and he fell into it as gracelessly as he fell into his initial infatuation with her. But his love and desire for her were often inseparable, a blurred mess of too-bright colors that didn't quite fit in with his shadowed life. His love kept him tethered to her, even when she pulled further and further away, even when his desire was almost completely obscured by mere obsession.

He didn't know how to love anyone else for a very long time after that.

And then along came Elain Archeron, emerging from her cocoon of bleak listlessness bit by bit every day. Every once in a while, in her fleeting moments of presence, he felt that spark of aching want, of all consuming need. It was small, but it was there. The glimmer of hope that perhaps Mor was not the end for him. That maybe one day he could love someone else the same way. But Elain was still so new to being Fae, still so lost to a world that she had never meant to be thrust into, like a flower waiting for the right time to bloom. So as soon as his hope flickered to life when he felt that desire, it was smothered until there was nothing left but bitter, sinking shame.

It wasn't as if he'd ever deserve her love in return, anyway. Not from someone so pure as Elain, her skin kissed by dew drops, her fawn-soft eyes seeming to beg for safety. He would never give her what she needed, and she would never give him what he deserved. Not when she couldn't know him, what he was, what he did. She was too pliant, too bendable, and he suspected that she had too much love in her soul for him to take on. But it was never about what he could get in return. It was just always nice, in those fleeting moments of hope, to think that one day he could give that love to someone other than the female who'd been denying it for five hundred years.

But love was easy to put aside when he was hit with these waves of incessant need. White-hot desire that left him feeling unstable and empty. Something much more urgent than just an itch in need of scratching, but something much less committed and unbreakable than love. With love, he just wanted someone to be there to accept it. With desire, he wanted to take. There was a certain lack of control over it that he particularly despised. Not just the fact that he always felt completely and utterly seen when it happened, but that he couldn't do anything about it...or who it happened with.

It felt like a cruel trick when he felt that simmering fire of attraction burn along his veins at the meeting of the High Lords, of all places.

Because who would ever want to desire the person they hated most?

46 notes · View notes

chairofchaos · 30 days ago

Text

All That Follows

Pairing: Azriel/Eris (Azris my beloveds)

Summary: Sequel to ‘Death’ which is, in turn, the start of a sequel to “When the Blood Burns” - I’m ngl guys I’m too tired to write a summary sorry lol just… trust me please and see A/N

Rating: Teen? I guess?

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: allusions to violence, references of past violence from “When the Blood Burns” and “Death” (ik, you’re like “seriously Chaos? With THIS SERIES? THAT’S IT???” But like… yeah?) AND serious canon divergence. And written on mobile so truly HORRIBLE formatting. (See below)

A/N: ‘Twas the night before hiatus, and all through the house, a few creatures were sleeping but Chaos certainly wasn’t.

I wanted to post & All That Follows on this date, for reasons you might remember if you reread ‘Death’ first (wink wink). On that note: I don’t have time to finish the Masterlist edits I made on this blog. If you go to @fictionalchaos you can see all the posts really easily through that masterlist (Blood, Burns and/or Burns CV, then Death) or you can use the search function. I am so sorry about that. In the meantime, enjoy this completely unedited, un-beta-ed rough (ROUGH) draft of the series finale (but likely not installment, there’s some stuff ~missing~ from the middle) of the WtBB saga. All my love to you all. Enjoy today for me. 💛

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Azriel?”

It was warm. Uncharacteristically warm.

“Az!”

A solid hand gripped his shoulder and shook him.

“Azriel Vanserra.” Eris’ voice was firm.. “Get up.”

Eris.

Azriel’s eyes shot open. It felt like someone was banging on his head.

Eris. Eris.

“I’m here,” Eris smiled.

“Eris,” Azriel choked, the tang of blood lingering a moment on his tongue.

Eris laughed, “Hello.”

“I had to kill you,” Azriel whispered, his brain finally snapping to attention. “Over and over, I— I know it. Why don’t I remember it?”

“Ah,” Eris winced. “People don’t seem to remember things about the in between as much as know them. Here, sit up.” He pulled out a canteen from his hip, offering it to Azriel, who sat up, took it and drank deeply. When was the last time he had had water?

“The in-between?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Its a path of sorts. To here.”

“Here,” Azriel replied, fumbling for Eris’ hand, his wrist, Eris himself, as if he could retreat within the body of his mate and never return to himself.

“Here. Where we are now. Look around,” Eris gestured. “What do you see?”

You, Azriel thought. I see you, and that is all that matters.

Eris was waiting patiently, letting Azriel dig his fingers into the flesh of his wrist— warm, real— until he stopped staring, his chest and head pounding with some dull thud of feeling. Was it his heartbeat, the sound of blood rushing in his veins? It had been so long, so long…

The glen. Azriel blinked, and the world came to him all at once. They were in the glen, Eris kneeling by Azriel’s side the way Azriel had knelt at his to heal him in life.

Where they had lay together and stared at the stars.

Their dreams, breathed on the air and planted in the soil, absorbed into the trees where they were fed by the leaves and the magic of the earth around them, dreams held in nature when they could not be held in hearts.

“Why here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because it’s the only place I’ve ever felt free, and you were brought to me?”

“Was I?” Azriel stared, incredulous. The corners of Eris’ eyes crinkled the way they always had when he was happiest.

“You appeared here, just now.”

“Eris,” Azriel growled. “Where is here?”

“I don’t know,” Eris admitted evenly, sitting beside him. “Truly. What I do know is this isn’t the end, either.”

Azriel just stared. Eris reached over and brushed a blade of grass from Azriel’s leathers. They were both dressed as they had been the last time they were left the clearing: Azriel, ready for battle, Truth Teller strapped to his side and Illyrian blades at his back. Eris wore light armor, leather mostly, over a plain shirt and trousers. A dagger was strapped to his belt, and on the grass next to him, a broadsword gleamed in the sunlight.

“Others have come and gone,” Eris continued. “No one I knew, or at least, no one I recognized. Everyone comes a little differently. It’s hazy, sometimes. I think people take different paths. But we aren’t meant to stay here.”

“Where do we go?”

Eris shrugged, leaning back on his free hand. “I don’t know.”

Azriel glanced around the clearing, tightening his grip on Eris so as not to let him go, not to lose him again, again, again—

It was light. When was the last time he had felt the sun on his face?

He fluttered his wings gently, then stretched them out. Eris squeezed his hand, then stood.

“You can fly, you know,” he gestured up at the sky. “I see fae all the time flying overhead.”

“Would I lose you?”

Eris shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

A movement at the edge of the clearing drew their attention. A female stepped into the clearing. Her eyes were clear as she looked about, but it was as if she barely saw them. Azriel realized if he didn’t focus, she barely registered to him as anything more than a shift of the light. The female walked evenly across the clearing, not pausing once.

The thought came to him suddenly, a raindrop before a deluge. “They are all going somewhere?”

“Yes.”

“You’re here.”

Azriel stared as the light filled Eris’ eyes in recognition. “I knew you would come. You always have.”

“You waited for me,” Azriel breathed.

“I did,” Eris knelt on one knee, reaching for Azriel’s hand. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I killed you,” Azriel accepted the offered hand and rose with Eris. “I was the reason you died, the reason we didn’t have a life together.”

Eris smiled softly, embracing him. “I know.”

“I pierced your heart,” he whispered.

“‘It was always so.’”

“You spoke to the Mother.”

“I did.”

“She told you it always happened that way.”

“She did.”

“Did she say why?”

“Not in any way that was satisfying. What was more interesting was what she said about here.”

A beat. Two. “Well?”

“I could wait for you forever, or I could journey on alone. I had the choice,” Eris’ voice turned bitter, “A choice we weren’t offered in life. A chance to walk together under the sun.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. The Mother said you may know, if you considered it.”

Azriel blinked, the memory flashing behind his eyes. Eris, or rather, a creature who was not Eris, eyes as black as the depths of the night sky. Truth Teller, plunged into Not-Eris’ chest over and over. The Mother’s face from under her veil, the veil lifting.

“She helped us.”

“Oh?”

“Somehow, I think-” Azriel shuddered. “I think she intervened. She promised me I would see you again.”

A russet eyebrow crooked toward the sky. “And?”

He loves you more than life itself.

Life itself.

“Eris,” Azriel stepped backward, looking his mate in the eyes. “Did you make a bargain during the war?”

Eris paled. “What?”

“Did you make a bargain during the war?”

Eris took a sharp breath.

“Eris.”

“Yes,” he snapped. “I did.”

“What was it,” Azriel breathed. The pounding in his chest and head was now a crushing, steady pressure, a strain on his strength. “What was the bargain?”

“That you would survive the war.” The words flew from Eris’ mouth like embers from a fire- small, and yet scorching. “That you would live.”

The pressure in Azriel broke, and the mating bond roared to life, as if that ember of truth had burned away some floodgate and water now crashed against them.

“I recieved a letter from a Seer I knew from my youth. He— stop looking at me like that, I was trying to figure out how to tell you all of this— he said a vision he had showed a bat injured, and another bat dead trying to save his friend. That it showed it was from this war. And that my mate was involved, somehow, and how he knew that I don’t know, but I couldn’t let it happen, Azriel. I couldn’t let you die. When I saw Cassian stumbling away, I knew it was that moment. I didn’t know what it would do. I’m so sorry, Azriel,” Eris whispered, dropping his head to Azriel’s shoulder. “I’ve spent this whole time trying to figure out how to tell you, how to make it up to you, but I can’t.”

“Who was the bargain with, who has that kind of power?”

“The Cauldron,” Eris frowned. “I didn’t realize what I had done until a tattoo appeared over my heart.”

“Here?” Azriel rested a finger against Eris’ chest, a precise spot he was familiar with from nightmares and repeating that offense over and over again, until the suffering was over. He was here. They were both here. Alive, or whatever it meant to be conscious in a time and place after a life you have passed through.

Eris nodded.

“A warning,” Azriel mused. “To be careful.” He stroked Eris’ spine, neck to shoulder blades to lower back, and back up again. His mate, his beloved mate, who had done everything in his power to save him and gotten killed in the process. Until his breathing evened, Azriel would hold him. They had been alone for so long, and now all they had was time.

“She said that to me, too. It’s about me.”.

“No, I think it’s about both of us.” He paused a moment, then continued, “Eris, did you call me Azriel Vanserra?”

Eris lifted his head at last, a small smirk playing on his lip. “A little fireling told me you changed your name. I bet Father hated it.”

Azriel laughed. “He did. Every second of it, but I did it in Night and never left the court again. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop me.”

Eris shook his head. “You always were strong willed.”

“And you were always impulsive.”

“Could be said about both of us.”

“Strong willed, too.”

It was quiet a moment.

“Where do we go now?” Azriel asked.

“That way,” Eris nodded over his shoulder.

“Should we talk while we walk, then?”

“I think so. Are you ready?”

“Ready to walk?” Azriel raised a teasing eyebrow. Eris rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“Walk, yes. Are you ready?”

“I am. Are you?”

Eris smirked. “Ready to walk, and ready for what might follow.”

Azriel laughed. “What, like stargazing? Or like battle? You don’t seem concerned.”

“No. No stargazing. My star is right here,” Eris kissed him gently. “As for everything else, well, we’ll have to see what comes.”

Azriel watched as he bent to pick up the broadsword, wrapping the sword belt around his waist and buckling it with practiced fingers. “Well, if we don’t know what’s coming, we’ll have to stick together.”

“Always,” Eris agreed, eyes flashing.

“Through anything that comes,” Azriel promised.

“And all that follows.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @unanswered-stars (I owe you many thanks, especially for going starting this wild ride with your lovely request.) @ninthcircleofprythian @dusk-muse @lilah-asteria @chunkypossum @c-starstuff-man0

Give me a shout VIA ASK WHILE IM ON HIATUS PLEASE if you want on/off the tag list (general or Azris or what have you). Thank you!

30 notes · View notes

amarillis39 · 2 months ago

Text

New Traditions

“It’s pretty much a tradition by now. A female you want to marry choosing Cassian instead.” Azriel appeared by Eris’ side out of nowhere with the bottle of wine Eris had his eye on. Eris watched the Shadowsinger silently as he poured him another glass of the delicious concoction. “I much rather some other traditions, Spymaster,” Eris said finally.

Day 4 of @erisweekofficial 'Traditions'.

Big thanks to @the-darkestminds for the last-minute beta assist!

#azris fanfiction #azris #eris vanserra #azriel #azris supremacy #azriel x eris #acotar #eris x azriel #azris fic

46 notes · View notes

born-to-riot · 5 months ago

Text

SKAM: Prythian

On this season of SKAM, we focus our attention on Azriel Notte, a star defensive player for Night Court High School’s lacrosse team. High school is hard enough on its own, admittedly Azriel doesn’t make it any easier for himself by pretending he’s straight. Come along with us as we take a deep dive into Azriel’s mind, joining him in his battle to make it through Junior year. It’s going to be a bumpy ride, especially once he is forced by his AP anatomy teacher to get tutored by transfer student Eris Vanserra.

______________________________________

Hiii this is an Azris high school AU based off the show SKAM. It is a gift for @fieldofdaisiies and I am very excited to stir up some drama for y'all.

This is also a part of AZRIS WEEK 2024: FREE DAY

Thank you so much got @azrisweek for hosting the event.

Without further ado, I invite you to please click the link above to enjoy Episode 1.

Tag list: (let me know if you want to be on or off here): @acourtofladydeath @ofduskanddreams @secret-third-thing @areyoudreaminof @iftheshoef1tz @chunkypossum @queercontrarian @yourlazykitkat @krem-has-a-mess @witch-and-her-witcher @yanny-77 @pippsmcgee @amarillis39 @fieldofdaisiies @jules-writes-stories @marina468

41 notes · View notes

the-lonelybarricade · 2 years ago

Text

The Asking Price - Azris Oneshot

“What’s the asking price,” I repeated. “The same thing I told Azriel when I found him snooping through my father’s woods yesterday.” - Acowar, Chapter 26 (Thank you @ofduskanddreams for pointing me to it!)

Summary: Azriel gets caught snooping through the Autumn Court woods

CW: Extremely Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, Restraints, Degredation, Wing play, rough oral sex

Read on AO3

In the last five centuries, Azriel had been to the Autumn Woods many times.

He knew the bends of the branches and each of the twisted roots well enough to glean familiarity out of the large tree beside him, seemingly identical to the ones that spread every direction for miles. Azriel had visited the Autumn Court for a variety of occasions, typically to keep an eye on the Vanserras and their ever shifting favors.

Yet it was never the memories of those trips that returned to him whenever he stepped foot on Autumn soil. Somehow, he always returned the same fledgling he was all those centuries ago, searching for the female he loved who had been left bleeding in the dirt. The taste of the crisp wind would always be laced with her pain, the changing leaves always colored with his rage. But it was the fear, most of all, that left him feeling unsteady. Even knowing what he knew now, that Mor was safe and had grown into a fearless warrior that was undefined by her past, Azriel could never seem to shake the panic thundering through his chest whenever he returned to Autumn.

“Shadowsinger.”

And there he was, lounging across a broad branch overhead, one arm tucked carelessly beneath his copped hair while the other drifted aimlessly towards the earth, stroking the breeze like it were his personal pet.

Azriel clenched his jaw. He didn’t know how Eris had discovered he was here—Rhysand wouldn’t have alerted him, not without telling Azriel first.

“Did you know,” Eris drawled, amber eyes tracking a leaf as it fluttered down from the canopy above, tumbling into his waiting palm, “that my hounds can sniff out any prey as far as the borders of these woods? After our last meeting—” the one where Cassian had put a sword through his gut— “I had them trained to detect Illyrian dogs. I had a feeling you’d be coming.”

Remember why you’re here, he told himself, fighting the snarl that threatened to curl over his lips.

“You want to know if I’ve told my father that your High Lady has taken a kernel of his magic.” Eris turned his head, studying Azriel in a way that drew out the rest of the snarl, regardless of Azriel’s best restraint. He hated how Eris could look at someone as if he were stripping them bare. When the Autumn Lord’s eyes dropped to Truth-Teller strapped at Azriel’s hip, he grinned. “And I suppose you brought that, in case I hadn’t. Intended to torture the memory out me?”

“You love to hear yourself speak,” Azriel said, reaching for the hilt of Truth-Teller instinctively.

A coil of flame curled around his wrist to stop him. Azriel’s siphon blared, prepared to cut through that flame, to meet the Autumn’s heir’s magic with equal might and power. Eris was not stronger than him, even here—

The shadows stirred, coiling around Azriel’s shoulder with urgency, but they were not fast enough. Azriel roared at the sharp pain that spiked through his thigh. The magic in his siphons fizzled to dust—poison. Faebane, perhaps, like Hybern favored in their weapons. Or something worse, a deadly concoction of Autumn’s own making. Azriel turned to track the archer that must have winnowed in, to have evaded his shadow’s notice, but flame pressed into his jaw. Not hot enough to burn, but enough to turn Azriel’s face back to Eris.

“None of that,” he crooned. “You and I have much to discuss.”

Fire spread over Azriel’s body, restraining his arms and legs so he could do nothing but watch as the Autumn lord sat up from the branch, jumping gracefully to his feet. A jungle cat advancing on its prey.

Then that flame against his jaw was replaced with Eris’s hand, the cool cut of his rings pressing uncomfortably into Azriel’s skin. He bared his teeth beneath the Lord’s unimpressed assessment.

“In private,” Eris added.

Azriel felt the fingers around his face tighten as they were enveloped in smoke. The air shifted first, replacing the chill damp of the forest with a pleasant, dry heat. Then he was deposited to his knees, none-too-gently, atop the wooden floorboards of what looked to be a sitting room.

“Welcome to my home, Shadowsinger,” Eris said. He offered a cruel smile. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Immediately, Azriel’s shadows swarmed and fled, taking this rare opportunity to explore the personal home of Eris Vanserra. The Autumn heir snorted, shaking his head so that a small strand of red hair flopped over his forehead. Azriel knew the shadows would find nothing of value—Eris had intended to take Azriel here, and there’s nothing he would have left for the Shadowsinger to discover that he didn’t want known.

“What do you want, Eris?”

Azriel kept his voice flat, refusing to betray a single emotion that might satisfy Eris. He hadn’t brought Azriel to the High Lord, which meant there was some angle he was working. Something ultimately self-serving, as all things were involving Eris.

“To talk,” Eris said, reaching for the hilt of Truth-Teller.

Azriel was still restrained by the male’s magic, could do nothing but growl, “Put that down.”

“Or you’ll what?” He asked, utterly unfazed by the warning in Azriel’s voice. The fire twisting around Azriel’s arms and legs constricted, holding him taut as Eris leaned closer, dancing the blade of the dagger across Azriel’s cheek. “Will you tell on me to Rhysand? Have him punish me for hurting his poor little Shadowsinger.”

He thrashed against his restraints, but stopped the minute he noticed the amused glint in Eris’s eyes. He wanted to see Azriel struggle, to witness the famed spymaster rage beneath his control. Azriel clenched his teeth, willing his body to still.

“Is that what you want to talk about, then?” Azriel asked coldly. “Rhysand?”

Eris stared down at Azriel knelt before him. His hand was still poised staunchly against Azriel’s chin, and his thumb swept over his cheek just the slightest bit, as though in consideration of the question.

“I want you to convince your High Lord to bargain with me,” Eris said finally.

“Ask him yourself.”

He spat the words, and Eris yanked him forward in response.

“Oh,” Eris whispered, his voice as sharp as the blade he trailed down Azriel’s throat. “I was intending to. But now that you’re here, it will be so much more entertaining to do it this way.”

Azriel’s pulse jumped. Not at Truth-Teller pressing into his skin, but at the gleam in Eris’s eyes.

“I heard a rumor once, about Illyrian males.” The blade traveled adjacent across his throat, threatening to break the delicate skin that he would not be able to heal. The arrow wound in his thigh pulsed, a dull ache that clashed with the strange exhilaration of danger, of anticipation. Of not knowing what torture Eris would be inflicting, despite torture being the language Azriel spoke more fluently than his mother’s native tongue.

The blade dragged backwards, over Azriel’s shoulder and the ridges of his spine.

“I heard that your wings are particularly sensitive.” Eris cocked his head, fire burning in his gaze as Truth-Teller’s razored edge danced along the base of Azriel’s wing. Teasing, taunting. Every muscle was begging Azriel to writhe against the flames containing him, to do everything he could to break free. He swallowed, unwilling to betray his anxiety at having his wings be touched—tortured.

“Shall we see if the rumors hold true?” Eris purred. Coaxing, but too chilled to belong to a lover.

Azriel shut his eyes. He had spoken to too many others with that same voice.

Cold metal dug harder into his cheeks where Eris’s hand still gripped him. Azriel resisted the urge to flinch as Eris said, “Look at me.”

A coward would keep his eyes shut. Azriel’s pride was the only thing he could still control, so he opened his eyes and met Eris’s cold stare. If he was looking for fear, for pain, they would be eclipsed by the rage and loathing simmering in Azriel’s gut.

Maybe Eris enjoyed the loathing just as much, because he smiled. “Good dog.”

The dagger teasing the base of his wing pressed forward, following the upward curve to trace his wing’s edge. Azriel’s hands turned to fists in the fiery restraints. Eris wasn’t pressing hard enough to cause any pain and instead… The shadowsinger huffed, struggling to control his breathing as the strangest, most reluctant sense of pleasure cascaded down his spine. Eris likely had no idea that a male’s wing was sensitive in this way. He thought he was teasing him with the threat of pain, but—

Azriel bit down on his lip to smother a groan. His cock was already twitching with interest, simply reacting to the way he was being unknowingly stimulated. It was natural, he told himself, trying to ignore the rising shame as he called his shadows back to disguise the scent of his arousal. Eris didn’t need to know what he was doing. No one ever needed to know.

“Would you like it harder?” Eris asked, no hint in his voice that he was aware of what he was truly inflicting on the Shadowsinger.

“Fuck you,” Azriel panted.

“Would you like to? You are already on your knees, afterall.”

No, Azriel swore, even as his cock continued hardening. Eris moved the blade downwards, over a particularly sensitive spot that made his wing twitch. A strangled noise rose in the back of Azriel’s throat as he thrashed blindly forward, desperate to escape the glorious edge of that knife. To free himself of the building need in his gut. This was so much worse than torture.

Eris noticed, of course. “Sensitive here, hmm?” He pressed the tip harder, causing Azriel to bark out a groan as his pleasure mixed with pain. “Look at you, the famed Shadowsinger, squirming on my floor and I haven’t even drawn blood.”

He continued ribboning the blade across that same spot, over and over, thinking he was causing pain each time Azriel gnashed his teeth and jerked his hips into cruel, empty air.

“Do you want me to stop?” The knife scraped closer to a spot that Azriel knew well. One that past lovers had discovered, where a few kitten licks were enough to push him to completion. He nearly felt like screaming to imagine how the hard metal would feel against it, cold and merciless.

“I’ll kill you,” Azriel swore, tasting blood as he choked on his own desire. It crawled along his chest, up his throat, and to his cheeks. Would Eris be able to see it, would he know that Azriel wasn’t flushing in anger?

“Says the male on his knees,” Eris hummed.

The serrated edges continued dragging against the gossamer of his wing, and Azriel hissed, spitting a string of curses in his mind as Eris arrived at that infernal spot and pushed, very nearly breaking this skin.

Fire enveloped him, shooting beneath Azriel’s skin in a molten tremor that seized his entire body, tightening every muscle. Eris must have seen the way he tensed, the way his wings tucked in as he came, cock shuddering as it erupted in his trousers. Azriel was panting, holding himself so still as he stared at Eris and Eris stared back. Gaping.

Then his eyes flickered downwards, to the wet leathers now sticking to Azriel’s crotch. The knife was still pressed to his wing, and Azriel was still achingly hard as the aftershocks continued throbbing through his cock.

Then, slowly, Eris’s shock was replaced with sinister delight. “How generous of me.” Truth-Teller began moving again, more deliberate now that Eris was aware of its effect. “Have you been enjoying yourself, Shadowsinger? Rutting against my floor like an animal?”

“Eris,” Azriel gasped, alarmed that the male would continue now that he knew he was pleasuring his captive. The air knocked from his lungs as Eris dropped the knife and began using his fingers instead. So much softer—so much warmer.

A moan warbled in the back of Azriel’s throat. There was nothing to contain it besides his own teeth sinking into his bottom lip, and even that wasn’t sufficient in barricading the noise.

“Cauldron, are you going to come again? Like a pathetic bitch in heat?”

Azriel struggled in the restraints. There was no use disguising his urgency to escape, now that Eris was aware of what he was doing. Now that he wanted to continue, was forcing more of that devastating pleasure to build with his delicious, clever fingers.

“Let me go.”

It did not sound as threatening as Azriel had hoped. Eris laughed, scraping his nails and those Cauldron-forsaken rings against the most delicate part of Azriel’s body. He keened, shifting his knees like he might try to crawl away, well aware there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.

“Will you convince your High Lord to bargain with me?” Eris pressed.

“Get fucked.”

Another laugh. “That’s you, Azriel.”

Azriel’s chest was heaving, hips bucking just as pathetically as Eris had accused. The male continued his assault on Azriel’s wings, intent on forcing another moan. There was nothing Azriel could do to stop the onslaught of bright, blistering pleasure. He cried out as that burning shot to his aching cock, spilling more warm, sticky spend into his trousers. It was humiliating, especially as Eris watched it all with a smile.

“Shall we do it again, Shadowsinger?”

Eris’s fingers were already moving. Azriel, who had never before broken under torture, whimpered. The male above him groaned, and Azriel realized belatedly that he was not the only one with a hardened cock.

Fingers fisted roughly in his hair. Eris must have noticed the Shadowsinger’s attention drift to the erection in front of his face, because he drew Azriel closer. Until his lips nearly brushed the stretched fabric. “Or would you prefer to suck?”

Azriel didn’t think his pride could survive orgasming beneath Eris’s touch a third time. At least if he sucked cock, he would be the one with some measure of control. Inflicting pleasure, instead of taking it.

Rather than speak, which would only add to his disgrace, Azriel simply opened his mouth. Eris needed no further prompting. He released Azriel’s wing to unlace his trousers, at which the Illyrian slumped forward in abject relief.

Until Eris stepped out of his trousers and revealed the large, flushed cock presented before him. The tip was already beaded with arousal, glinting beneath the afternoon sun that filtered in through the windows.

Eris fisted himself, taking a few slow pumps as Azriel watched, feeling his heartbeat in his throat. There was something undeniably fascinating about it. Seeing Eris naked, almost vulnerable. Though no one would think it by the darkness stirring in his eyes.

“Now open that filthy mouth,” Eris said, stepping closer. His hands slid into Azriel’s hair again. “Show me how a good Illyrian dog obeys its master.”

Loathing churned deep and low inside Azriel, utterly in contrast to the arousal clashing against it. Impossibly, Azriel opened his mouth, allowing Eris to push the head of his cock against Azriel’s tongue. His taste was salty, masculine, but otherwise not unpleasant.

Eris allowed him only that moment to savor the taste, before his fingers wound into Azriel’s hair, tugging his head forward at the same time Eris thrust his hips. Azriel choked at the unexpected intrusion, not anticipating that he would be taking so much of the male so fast.

“What’s that?” Eris asked at Azriel’s garbled protests. “Don’t sputter like that, Azriel. I expected Rhysand to have you better trained.”

It wasn’t as though it was the first time he’d sucked cock, but it had been a while since Azriel had gotten on his knees before another male. There was no shred of the control Azriel had been hoping to seize, and yet… there was almost something relieving about that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d allowed himself to surrender so fully to another being.

“Good boy,” Eris grunted when Azriel forced his throat to relax. The backs of his eyes burned, but Azriel opened them wide, refusing to let Eris see him so undone. The Autumn male’s pace was punishing, fucking into Azriel’s mouth until he stopped struggling. “Such a good fucktoy,” Eris crooned as his reward. “I can see why they keep you around.”

Eris pulled harder on Azriel’s hair, until the Shadowsinger felt his nose brush the coarse red hair at the base of Eris’s pelvis. Eris groaned, holding Azriel there for several punishing seconds as the male’s cock twitched. Azriel heard a soft, almost surrendered sigh in the shape of his name, which was quickly overwhelmed by the bitter taste of arousal flooding Azriel’s mouth. Warm liquid trickled down his throat, and Azriel found himself swallowing when he knew he should be spitting it back at Eris’s face.

He was kept there, in Eris’s tight grip with his lips pressed to the base of his cock, even as Eris began to soften.

Meeting his eyes, Eris raised his freehand, tapping it to his own temple. “Now I have two memories and two High Lords you would prefer to remain ignorant. Convince Rhysand to help me take the throne, or I’ll let him see how enthusiastically his Spymaster sucks Autumn cock.”

Finally, he released Azriel, allowing the shadowsinger to pull his mouth free.

Azriel coughed, re-adjusting to the sensation of breathing unobstructed. His voice was raspy as he spat, “Go to Hell, Eris.”

The male merely shrugged, gesturing to the Autumn wood just outside the window. “I’m already there.”

#GOD LETS ALL PROMISE TO BE REAL COOL ABOUT THIS OKAY?#Azris #Azriel x Eris #Eris x Azriel #Azris fic #Azris fanfic #Azris fanfiction

275 notes · View notes

acourtofladydeath · 5 months ago

Text

WELP.

The brainworms have won.

The Azris rendition of "Welcome to the Family" is outlined and will be my project starting tonight. Beron better get ready...

#azris #azris supremacy #eris vanserra #azriel #azriel x eris #eris x azriel #acotar #acotar fanfic #acosf #azris fanfiction #azris fic #pro azris

23 notes · View notes

chunkypossum · 3 months ago

Text

@jules-writes-stories I love that comparison especially when you consider Francesca and Paolo thought their love was beautiful but it put them in Hell. Ultimately, Francesca doesn't take responsibility for her actions, claiming that his love was so strong she had no choice but to reciprocate... Kind of how SJM mating bonds feel to me and partially why I am out to rewrite how they operate in this fic… Very similar to how our two idiots found themselves doubting the love they built in What We Deserve. I also really love how it fits the title. I was going to save this and refine it some more and release it with the next chapter but I keep fucking with it instead of writing so I'm hoping if I post I can forget it and continue drafting. For now, here's an peek at What We Deserve Chapter 8.

Too heavy to hold up on his own any longer, Eris’ head fell to the side, his gaze cast upon the floor. Dulled amber eyes, barely split open to the world, found his father’s umber stare one last time. Breath like the rattling of dried bones labored back and forth between the High Lord’s cracked and bloodied lips where he lay dying. All while the sweetest cries from the male whose arms were wrapped around Eris battled those horrible sounds. Azriel was begging the Mother to bring Eris back to him. I’m here. Eris wanted to say, but could not. I won’t leave. He promised anyway, hoping it wouldn’t turn out to be a lie. Perhaps it was another hallucination from an air-starved mind. As Eris’ breathing halted and his vision darkened around the edges, he noticed Beron’s hand twitch. His father’s fingers seemed to inch toward Eris’ limp ones hanging out of Azriel’s hold. Time suspended at that moment where, at the end of it all, Beron might have finally been showing the love Eris had craved all of his life. Evident only by the shade of a scorch mark hidden in the pattern of the polished marble. A scorch mark that no one would ever see and Eris would pretend to have never noticed. A touch of a smile tried to lift in one corner of Eris’ mouth as Beron’s fingers, warm for the last time, reached for his son. Though he wasn’t sure he ever managed it as Beron’s eyes glassed over and he exhaled his last breath.

Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train : @talibunny30 @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @baileybird71 @skyesayshi @yanny-77 @areyoudreaminof @unanswered-stars @futurehunt @ninthcircleofprythian @matrixsss @going-through-shit @c-starstuff-man0 @jules-writes-stories @the-darkestminds @krowiathemythologynerd @cauldronblssd @hieragalbatorixdottir @yourlazykitkat @hellolordling @christeareads @climbthemountain2020 @lilah-asteria @shadowsandlint @acourtofbatboydreams @theeternalstruggle @molcat07

Inspired by — Roberto Ferri, Vanitas | Paolo e Francesca

204 notes · View notes

velarisbynight · 6 months ago

Text

A Fracture In The Glass

Azriel x Eris

a/n: I believe both of them more than capable of handling alcohol, but for the purpose of this little drabble, Eris can hardly tolerate the scent before he’s losing his inhibitions a little.

word count: 1k ~

~~~~~~~~

“What’s wrong with you?” Azriel murmurs into his drink, just loud enough for the male at his side to be able to hear. Under normal circumstances, that is.

As the situation unfolds however, the Shadowsinger swiftly realises Eris’ hearing is somewhat compromised. Not only that, but the way his deft fingers wrap around the slim neck of the glass, just a bit lower than usual…the way the lordling’s eyes flit across the crowd, more restless than he’s accustomed to—certainly not long enough to be taking on information from the fae he’s examining.

A shadow subtly zips up the Heirling’s neck, and amber eyes widen marginally before his head is turning sharply to face the Spymaster at his side who’s already watching him suspiciously. Slim, fiery brows narrow on the Shadowsinger, lips turning down in displeasure as his gaze dances over the male’s finery…it’s unusual but not unwelcome to see Azriel dressed so exquisitely. The clean cut of white linen beneath the ink black of his outer garments, the twinkle of golden cufflinks inset with an orange gemstone…probably citrine, judging by the tonal shift beneath the lighting.

Eris finds he approves of the golden-orange, in place of the usual silver and blue. Likes it, even.

He raises a narrow brow with disinterest, but Azriel can pick out the small spark of irritation in the male’s gaze at being touched so casually. The Spymaster finds himself having to resist the tug at the corners of his mouth, choosing to keep his expression neutral.

“Are you drunk?” Azriel murmurs, hiding his mouth from any secret observers by again raising his glass to obscure what he’s saying. A glint of amusement however is surely showing in his eyes as he looks at Eris whose only reaction is the slight colour that rises to the crest of his cheeks, his expression otherwise neutral, if a little indignant. “I am not drunk,” he replies, irritation showing in the clipped tone of his response.

Azriel hums, clearly not believing the male but taking a sip from his drink to hide the slight smile pulling at his mouth. It’s surprisingly difficult to keep his emotions under wraps whenever the Heirling’s around, a new hurdle he has to tackle but one he finds himself mildly enjoying. To his pleasure however, Eris seems to take the action as a subtle challenge, drinking from his own glass lightly as if to prove he can handle what’s in his glass, and neither wants nor cares for the Spymaster’s nosey observations.

“Keep your assumptions to yourself, Shadowsinger. You should be paying attention to more important matters,” Eris mutters, a slight tint colouring the tips of his ears, the gold piercings twinkling in the light and a small kernel of respect brightens in Azriel’s chest. Even such a small body modification, Beron surely hadn’t approved of the move—it was something Eris had done from himself to keep himself under his own control.

“There are no more important matters,” Azriel replies smoothly, keeping his intonation steady. “This party is so dull I find you to be the most interesting subject.” Hazel eyes slide to look at the male sidelong, watching through his peripherals to observe the reaction. Sure enough, the slight colour on his cheeks deepens, slim brows narrowing in feigned distaste as Eris shoots a mild glare at the Shadowsinger.

“So bored you would resort to flattery? I’m disappointed in your concentration,” Eris remarks, glancing down at his drink before seemingly deciding against another sip, and the Shadowsinger bites back on another tug at the corners of his mouth. “It’s no strike against my concentration,” Azriel counters, this time shifting his body towards the Heirling, meeting his amber eyes over the rim of the twinkling glass. “I think you’ll find I’ve been applying a more than appropriate amount of my attention. Enough to know you were right not to take another drink.”

Eris’s glare deepens but he makes no effort to disprove the statement, his jaw working slightly as he shifts his gaze to scan the crowd. Amusement flickers in the back of Azriel’s mind as the lordling blatantly ignores him, instead choosing to cast his attention in a similar direction, scanning for any faces that might prove to be troubling, but he’s pulled from his self-assigned task as Eris’s body flinches slightly in his peripherals. By the time Azriel has shifted to glance at the male he’s turned away—not far enough however to hide the embarrassed tint on his cheeks, nor how the flush deepens and the back of his hand covers his lips as he hiccups again.

A beat passes before Eris is resentfully making his way past the Shadowsinger, pushing the glass into his chest as the Heirling heads to one of the private balconies wearing an expression that warns any fae considering approaching him to keep their distance. Azriel allows a few minutes to pass before selecting a similar path that will lead him after the lordling.

Eris is alone on the balcony, leaning slightly on the marble banister that overlooks the woodland present in the view. Thanks to the palace’s low build, the view isn’t as high as either would like, but it’s better than being locked underground. After the fall of the High Queen, Eris found his tolerance for subterranean courts had plummeted, finding them to be too claustrophobic, even if he knows the exits are nearby and accessible.

“I don’t want to hear a single word of it,” Eris mutters as he feels Azriel’s approach, and the Spymaster presses his lips together to keep his amusement under wraps. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he replies, walking forward as silently as he’d entered, pausing at Eris’ side, “but since you mentioned it…”

Eris glances at him hotly, mouth tight with displeasure, brows narrowed in warning to not continue, but all Azriel sees is the flush on his cheeks, pale skin coloured in a way that has him pleased—it’s unusual to have such a clear read on the male. Not that it’s a bad thing, perhaps he should consider trying to lightly ply the male with alcohol more frequently—not to get him drunk, but enough to have his emotions a little more in the open. So he can observe those reactions of his.

“Remind me to verbally flay you after tonight,” Eris mutters, returning his gaze ahead, pointedly averting his attention from the male at his side.

“Why would I need to remind you if you’re sober,” Azriel counters mildly.

Eris’ jaw shifts, a muscle feathering briefly as he realises his error.

For the first time that night, the Shadowsinger allows a smile to curve his mouth, joining the Heirling in his observation of the lands. “You don’t have to worry,” Azriel murmurs, doing nothing to conceal his amusement, “I won’t tell anyone the cunning fae lord, next in line for the Autumn throne, can’t hold his liquor.”

“Good,” Eris replies, a sharp glint in his eyes as he glances at the male. “No one would believe you, anyway.”

“I can be persuasive.”

A beat passes, then Eris turns back toward the open woodland. “I know.”

#azriel x eris #azriel x eris fic #azris #azris fluff #azris fic #azris fanfiction

29 notes · View notes