#modern azris au

[queercontrarian]

my first azris fanfic ehehe

feels like it was just hours ago i told @iftheshoef1tz about this idea (because it was literally hours ago and i just wanted to contribute something to romance week. i know it's not technically meetcute day, but it's whatever day so i can do what i want). anyways, have the unedited first chapter of my modern azris agegap au snippet bundle - that's a lot of words. i'll shut up now. enjoy.

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Azriel is already in pain when he wakes up, which is usually a bad omen. His knee feels tender, and he hasn’t even gotten out of bed yet. It doesn’t bode well for the day he has planned, and he wonders if he should just call Cassian and cancel their hike for today. 

With a sigh he forces himself to throw the warm blanket to the side and at least get his feet on the ground. One small step towards starting this day. A coffee would be nice, he thinks, but Nesta has been on his ass to limit his consumption, which is ironic because his sister-in-law drinks much more coffee than he ever has, but if he has one now he won’t allow himself to have one at Cassian’s house later, and he definitely needs that one to make it through the afternoon and the evening without prematurely passing out on his couch. 

With nothing else to do, Azriel stands and slowly makes his way to the kitchen, and yes, the knee is definitely going to cause problems. Once again he curses himself for deciding to walk home in the dark after getting shitfaced at Cassian’s and Nesta’s party, for not seeing that dumb root sticking from the ground and for getting his foot stuck under it. Most of all for having gotten to an age where the pain in his joints doesn’t disappear after a maximum of two days. He knows that he’s not twenty-five anymore, but it’s been more than a month since the party, and he can still feel it. Maybe someone should just shoot him, like a lame horse. 

Standing in the kitchen he stares at the coffee pot on the stove, a fancy little espresso maker Rhys got him for his fifty-third birthday, along with a trip to Italy. He realises he hasn’t left these woods since that trip, except for his weekly trip to get groceries at the town’s supermarket, and visiting Rhys and Cassian at their homes located around that same forest he lives in. He’s been moving around, contained to that twenty-five mile radius, for two years. 

On second thought, maybe he will have a coffee. While he reaches for the espresso box - another expensive gift from his friends - and both his knee and his shoulder pop this time, he remembers that he went to Greece for Feyre and Rhys’ wedding. That was last year, so he can still count that towards his “recently been active” list. Hanging out with family, travelling overseas. Suck on that, Cassian, he thinks. I’m going places, I’m not rotting away all alone in my cabin. I don’t need to “get out more”. I don’t need to “meet new people”. I’m perfectly fine where I am. 

Granted, he is alone right now - he takes his eyes off the stove to look towards the window where Mr. Goggles used to sit. The cat had already been old - and named, as Az always feels the need to stress - when Feyre had given him into Azriel’s care because there was no space for him in Rhysand’s house. It wasn’t that they didn’t have the room - Rhysand’s mansion has more rooms than the two of them can possibly know what to do with - Rhys is just very allergic to cats. So Az had taken the grumpy old furball in and they had lived together for nearly three years. Now Mr. Goggles sleeps in the earth below his favourite window sill, under a small bush of white pansies that Elain says remind her of the fur pattern on his face. Azriel wonders what flowers she’ll put on his grave when he dies. Will they bury him next to the window behind his favourite armchair too? He wants to be cremated, but he’d be fine with a cardboard urn like Mr. Goggles’ casket.

The whistling and clattering of the espresso maker pulls him out of his thoughts. It’s not all that bad. Sure, maybe retiring so early was a mistake - he doesn’t need the money, he just misses having something to do - but when Cassian and Rhys left he hadn’t felt like being the only one to stay behind. Maybe he underestimated just how empty his cabin would feel once he spent more than just the nights and weekends there, with his brothers spending the majority of their time with their wives, ten miles through the forest in the homes they’d built for themselves. He’s not lonely, he doesn’t need or want anyone else in his house, or his life for that matter. The area feels crowded enough with just Old Man Schmidt down the street. Maybe he’ll get another cat. Nesta has mentioned occasionally seeing one roaming about where her office is.

While he sips his coffee he’s still debating whether to call the hike off - his body tells him yes but his brain says if he mentions it to Cassian he’ll come to his house to inspect the old injury himself, and he hasn’t even told him he fell in the first place, and he will undoubtedly notice the pathetic state of Azriel’s house. Everything is reasonably tidy, but it’s painfully obvious no other human being has stepped through the door in months, maybe even a year. The last time he had people over was for Mr. Goggles’ funeral, for Christ’s sake. Azriel shifts his weight onto the damaged knee and immediately regrets it. He bites back a pained groan, letting his head fall back against the cabinet.

Cass would tell him to see a physician. Az hates going to the doctor, and not only for the usual reasons - he hadn’t gotten the memo that it was a bad idea to sleep with, have a messy entanglement and then ditch the only medical professional for nearly 200 miles. He’s not gotten a check-up in almost four years. Neither of his brothers knows that though, and he would rather die than tell them, both about the problem and the reason behind it. Fifty-five feels like the worst age to come out to your life-long best friends. 

Summer is already fading, but the sun is still warm on Azriel’s skin. He tilts his face up to the sky as he walks, before he quickly remembers he doesn’t want to sustain another injury and he concentrates on the dirt road under his feet again. He grits his teeth through the strain on his leg and keeps walking. 

The quickest path to Cassian’s house leads him from the treeline where his cabin is straight through the clearing past Old Man Schmidt’s property and through the woods. He’s walked this path a thousand times, but something is off today. Old Man Schmidt never has guests over, but this morning there’s a new car in his driveway. When Azriel crosses the street he realises it’s not just the new car, there’s a moving van as well, and parts of the garden are ripped open from construction, old furniture and materials, tools and workers all over the lawn. Az has always been curious, and he’s a little perturbed that he hasn’t noticed what has apparently been going on for a few days already. Has he really been that disconnected from his surroundings? He wanders off the path and up to the fence, leaning against the gate. He tells himself it looks at least a little cool but really he’s just trying to take the weight off his knee. He doesn’t recognise the licence plate on the car, and he tries to look around for Schmidt but he’s nowhere to be found. The last time they spoke he hadn’t mentioned anything about wanting to sell his house. Then again, the last time they spoke was six months ago. Maybe things have changed. 

“Can I help you?” Azriel turns his head so fast it almost gives him whiplash, his carefully combed hair immediately falling into his face, obstructing his view. He was so immersed in his snooping that he hadn't noticed the man stepping up to the fence. 

“Um, yeah. I’m looking for Schmidt? Boris Schmidt, he lives here,” he manages to say, buying himself a minimal amount of valuable time as he sizes the other man up. He seems to be in his late twenties or early thirties, tall and muscular with silky short hair that is so red Azriel wonders if it’s dyed. None of Feyre’s attempts to colour her hair have turned out this perfect though, so he thinks it just might be real, or done by a very, very pricey stylist. Everything about the stranger screams expensive, from his hair to his crisp white shirt and leather boots. He even smells like it, and Azriel is suddenly very aware that out of all the things he has on, only the shirt and the underwear have been washed in the last three days, and he can’t even remember the last time he put on cologne. 

“Mr. Schmidt doesn’t live here anymore. Hasn’t for over a month,” the stranger explains, and his voice is deep and smooth, feels like it wraps itself around Azriel, sliding through his ears and into his brain, muddling his thoughts.

“Oh,” is all he can get out. There’s a short pause where the stranger only stares at Az with his amber eyes, waiting for him to say something more.

Then he asks “Are you the neighbour?”

“Yes.” He clears his throat. “Yes I am. Are you moving in?” The stranger smiles, and good Lord above he is beautiful. Azriel swallows hard around the feeling suddenly bubbling up in his chest, through his throat and spilling into his mouth. He is too old to be reacting like this over a pretty boy.

“I am. Eris Vanserra,” the stranger introduces himself, reaching his hand over the gate. Azriel shakes it.

“Azriel,” he answers, then quickly adds, “Azriel Kantor.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Azriel nearly wishes Eris would stop talking because it is incredibly hard for him to concentrate on coming up with answers when his hand is burning where the man’s skin has touched his, and this is getting ridiculous. Just because he hasn’t gotten laid in one and a half years?

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says, and means it for once. “I, uh, I live right down there. Can’t miss it.” He vaguely gestures behind himself with the burned hand, trying to shake that feeling off. 

“Not like there’s many other houses around,” Eris replies smoothly, a faint smirk still on his lips, and Azriel has to pinch his arm to stop himself from staring. 

“Yes. Only me. But my friends live south from here right through the forest. I’m actually going to visit them-” He trails off, and unfortunately the other man picks it up right where he left it.

“Azriel,” he says, embarrassingly breathless from forcing out that one word. Way too late he realises that maybe it was intentional, maybe Eris would prefer not calling him by his first name, and not having Azriel call him by his in turn. He’s being awfully presumptuous. But Vanserra only hesitates for a moment before giving him another smile.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you." Eris is already stepping away from the fence. "I guess I’ll see you around, Mr. Kantor.”

“Azriel,” he repeats, slowly, savouring every letter. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.” He lets a few seconds pass by silently where neither of them move. Then he turns and leaves him standing at the gate, glued to the spot like an idiot.

“You too,” Az calls dumbly after him, too late and too slow. Eris doesn’t look back, only lifts his hand with the smallest hint of a wave, and Azriel quickly looks away and returns to the dirt path, hands buried in the pockets of his pants. 

Miles and hours later he can still hear the echo of his name from Eris’ lips in his mind when he raises his hand to ring Cassian’s doorbell. 

Maybe he’ll walk back later instead of having Cassian drop him off at home after the hike. His knee doesn’t seem that bad anymore.

[ysmtttty]

Azris AU with Azriel as Eris’ bodyguard.

Just Azriel as Eris’ bodyguard.

[strykozart]

Vanserra Ink 🍂

For @azrisweek Day 3: Contact

[jules-writes-stories]

The Night Court Lounge | Tribeca, NYC

I forgot to post my WIP...Thursday? | Azriel x Eris AU |

“Perhaps I might have resisted a great temptation, but the little ones would have pulled me down” ―The House of Mirth

There was nothing like spotting one’s mother at a BDSM club. 

The ink was still wet on his parents’ divorce papers, but there she was for all to see, sprawled across Helion’s lap. After all, the Vanserras could always be counted on to feed the tabloids and gossip columns. 

Eris planned to finish his whiskey and make a discrete exit. But then, his heart leapt into his throat and his dick hardened at first sight. 

He’d been expecting Thesan in his usual get up. Eris occasionally came to The Night Court to support his ex. The man could still turn him on like no one else. They’d never been good at long-term relationships, but they could be each other’s confidantes, a soft place to fuck and forget for a spell. 

Eris had hoped to get that from his ex tonight, and was taken aback when something, someone, completely different entered the main stage. 

The man looked younger and Thesan’s lithe body and smooth brown skin was replaced by a lighter, golden tone, covered in scrolling Arabic across a sleek muscled chest. In place of white feathers were black leather bat wings. 

Eris found the whole thing to be absurd and had teased Thesan about it incessantly. But this man, his broad tattooed shoulders, the planes of his abs below the leather harness, those wings did something to him. He needed to go to fucking sleep or get laid.

Black lined eyes like topaz gazed out at the crowd. Eris wanted to smell those black curls, to test their silk between his fingers. He was being absurd. 

The beautiful man got to his knees in the most submissive prone position in the cage, and Eris watched him lean, like an overgrown house cat, into the auctioneer’s hand as she stroked those curls through iron bars. And fuck if it wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever seen. This man was dangerous, even caged, and Eris wanted that creature purring between his legs. 

Then Helion made a spectacle of himself, announcing his intentions, and that sealed the deal. Eris would win. He hadn’t made the Wall Street Journal’s “30 Money Makers under 30” lists three years in a row for nothing. He was an apex predator in every boardroom, could dominate every corner of the market. But what made him dangerous was his discretion.

The Wall Street wolves of Beron’s generation were past their prime. They were showy hunters who howled at every win, too certain of their supremacy and too concerned with pack politics. Thanks to a twenty four hour news cycle and social media, the current global market was volatile, and one must be ready to strike silently and with sudden force. For Eris Vanserra was no wolf. He was a snake. 

He watched the kneeling figure, whose eyes traveled the room. Eris needed them on him. Look at me. See me. And almost as if the beautiful, dark creature read his thoughts, his head turned and hazel locked with his own. Fuck. Eris watched those gorgeous eyes travel along his face, lingering on his mouth. He smirked. Then, lower, down to his shoulders, to his chest, and lingered, once more, on his fingers. Eris moved them, ever so slowly, along the wet rim of his cocktail glass. 

As those glittering eyes followed them, Eris swore he saw the man’s pupils blow out further. This beautiful stranger wanted him. And Eris had to possess this caged creature, needed to steal him away from Helion, from the pretentious Lord Winters, from Donna Suriel, the most sadistic bitch on this side of the Hudson. But mostly, Eris just wanted to watch that gorgeous face unfold with pleasure. Wanted that perfect body prone beneath him, before him, begging for release. 

He was coiled in position and ready. And then Eris clocked it: a shadow of discomfort passed across the man’s face. He shifted and this time, it was not with arousal. His legs were cramping and he was tired. He gave three taps to his leg. He saw it for what it was. The sub had used his safe signal. Feyre, the auctioneer, almost imperceptibly, picked up the pace. She’d seen it too. 

Those hazel eyes locked with his once more, as if to say, Don’t you want me? Eris kept his face impassive. He would reveal nothing. It was how he got this far, how he'd survived twenty-seven years as Beron’s son, and had made his name as the Viper of Wall Street. 

“Forty thousand,” Helion called out in his bombastic voice. 

Feyre called out quickly, “Forty thousand. Going once, twice and—” 

He struck. “Fifty thousand.” Eris was sure to keep his voice level, his timbre smooth. It did no good to sound desperate or overwrought. 

Hazel eyes locked with his, and it took all his will power not to stand up and take what was his. Because the caged, leashed, beautiful man, there on his knees, literally leaned forward, subtly arching his back so perfectly, as if his body couldn’t help but move closer to the sound of Eris’s voice. The auctioneer must have seen the same thing, because she didn’t give anyone a chance to counter. 

“Sold to Eris Vanserra for fifty thousand dollars.”  

[kopfkino-o]

another cracky actoar au. the setting is a hardware store in the early 2000s. Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian all work there.

Rhys obvi runs the front cash register and calls himself the shift manager (he isn't, Az is) but he actually doesn't know that much about at home projects and mostly just likes to flirt with Feyre who works at the craft store across the street. but the customers love him, and he’s charming as hell, so management lets it slide.

Cassian loves working in the powertools department. he likes them all. power saws, chain saws, drills, sanders, polishers, etc. his favorite is the nailgun though. once he almost got fired for accidently nailing Tarquin's coat to a piece of plywood but it all turned out okay in the end. sort of. most days during his shift, Cas likes to post not so subtle body shots to his MySpace in the hopes of catching Nesta's eye. It literally never works.

Azriel likes to mix different paints together to see what colors they make whenever he's on edge. it's like a damn drug. does the shop owner (Eris) appreciate all the wasted paint? probably not. but what's he going to do? fire him? laughable. Az is the only one who can actually work the cashier and Eris sort of has a thing for him so it’s basically a win win. He skateboards to work because he can’t afford a bus pass and sometimes he smokes cigs in the tile isle because, well, how many customers actually care about luxury vinyl planking

[secret-third-thing]

Modern AU Eris

Art by @leylses

Commissioned by @secret-third-thing for Day 6 of @erisweek2023

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST

--

She doesn't read acotar, but I asked her what she thought of Eris. Her response was:

BARK BARK BARK BARK!

Honestly, same.

[ofduskanddreams]

The Embers of Us pt.1

I'm posting part one for @erisweek2023 modern au day and part two will be finished in the near future :)

Summary:

It's been ten years since Azriel fled his hometown of Starlight Creek, Wyoming to attend college in California. When his mom decides she's moving back to care for her best friend, there's no question in his mind—Azriel's going with her. She's done so much for him that pulling up roots to support her and his family is the least he can do. Those roots were shallow; prairie grasses, alpine forests, snow-fed streams, and star-strewn skies always suited him better anyway.

It's been ten years since Eris Vanserra was forced to choose the lesser of two substantial hurts. It's just his luck that the person who walks into the town's only bar on a Thursday evening in April is the same man he'd pushed away all those years ago. It's a drunk birthday wish come true, only seven years too late. It's a small world, and despite his best efforts not to, Eris runs into Azriel where he least expects.

A story about second chances for people and places, emotionally messy humans, and so much more. Loosely inspired by both the line "I wish I knew how to quit you" from Brokeback Mountain (2005.)

rated: E ✯ 12.6k words (pt. 1) ✯ read it on ao3

tagging: @iftheshoef1tz @ablogofsapphicpanic @moonpatroclus @octobers-veryown @damedechance @panicatthenightcourt @foundress0fnothing @krem-does-stuff @melonsfantasyworld @lady-riel @queercontrarian @asnowfern @valkyrieassassin @brokeneveningstars @catboyjamesbond @xtaketwox @itsthedoodle @areyoudreaminof @separatist-apologist @the-lonelybarricade @melphss @fieldofdaisiies @acourtofladydeath @bubybubsters @nestas-workwife @wilde-knight @thelovelymadone @archerofmagnusheart

if you want to be added to (or removed from) my azris taglist just let me know <3

[chunkypossum]

I guess I'm working on this too... someone stop me from starting things before I've finished other things...

Snippet from Wildfire

Azriel X Eris Modern AU

Summary:

Azriel wants out of the crime life and finds the perfect opportunity to leave after a tragedy leaves the fate of his family unknown. He tries to pick up the pieces and live a quiet life. The only problem? After his brothers fled the leader of a rival family takes special interest in Azriel and the skills he is famous for. Tarquin claims Azriel is on the hook for a debt his brothers owed and Harasses Azriel at every turn.

Will a job that sends him into the dense woods of Alabama finally mean the escape he is looking for or will his past come back to haunt him in a new way?

Eris is am avian expert at a local wildlife refuge. Rising quickly to become head of his department, his colleagues respect him but don't know a lot about him. He is careful to protect himself and his past, working hard to create a new life for himself after finally escaping his father. It took a terrible tragedy to do it, but he finally managed to find a safe place to build a new life, or so he thought. The arrival of someone new in town challenges not only the peace he has carved out for himself but his desire to run from the past at all.

═══════════════*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*══════════════

Azriel may have taken last night's cheap fuck for granted. The guy cleaned up after himself and had quietly disappeared before Azriel even stirred, leaving a plate of food behind on the counter.  Smiling to himself, Azriel tore off a bit of buttered toast with his teeth. It was clear that he had left Azriel’s apartment pretty early. The toast was slightly soggy and cold by the time he had woken up but that didn’t matter much. If it hadn’t been there, Azriel probably wouldn’t have eaten anything at all. There was a note pinned to the counter by the plate. Azriel slid his fingers over the surface of it as he read the short sentence.  To soak up that whiskey.  Complete with a small winking smiley face scribbled in the corner. Simple, sweet and entirely too close to something real. Azriel’s smile slowly faded until the spark of that amusement had died completely. He crumpled the note in his hands before tossing it in the trash can and started to tip the paper plate into the trash too before stopping himself. The frown on his face deepened and a sigh blew past his lips, mocking the absurdity of the urge to toss the food just because some guy wrote a note. Azriel stood at the counter for a few more minutes, forcing himself to finish every crumb. Surprising himself further, washed it down with a glass of room temperature tap water instead of bourbon.

[moodymelanist]

there are two ways we can do this (i know which would be more fun)

Happy day 4 of @sjmromanceweek, everyone! Venturing a little outside my comfort zone with this one and I hope you enjoy<3

shoutout to @c-e-d-dreamer for the title and @creativepromptsforwriting for the prompt!

Summary: Eris and Azriel are traveling for work, but the hotel they’re staying in has a mixup with their rooms, and they’re forced to share a bed.

Read on AO3 here!

♡♡♡♡♡ Eris

“There’s no way that’s possible,” Eris said. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Azriel said at the same time. 

Eris and Azriel worked for the same consulting firm — Night Industries — and had been forced to travel together for the project they’d been working on for half a year. It had been bad enough dealing with Azriel’s snark mostly through a computer screen, but dealing with the other man had been a true test of Eris’ patience. He was huge, he was even ruder in person, and who the fuck needed that many muscles in the first place?

Whatever. Eris had very much been looking forward to decompressing in their very much separate hotel rooms, but through some kind of mistake, it appeared the hotel had placed them in the same room. 

“I’m very sorry, sirs,” the man working the front desk replied. His name tag read Kallon, and he did not sound very sorry. “There’s been a mix-up with the booking, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“I will give you a hundred dollars to make this go away,” Eris offered, ignoring the dirty look Azriel threw his way. 

“I can’t accept that,” Kallon responded, bored. “But even if I could, there aren’t any other rooms available. There’s a convention going on—”

“Five hundred,” Eris interrupted, more than ready to be done with this conversation. He wasn’t above flaunting his wealth to get what he wanted, and what he really wanted was to be away from Azriel’s brooding presence. 

Kallon’s hands continued moving across the keyboard as if he hadn’t said anything at all. “Like I was saying, you’ll be staying in room 902. Breakfast starts at 8, and you have full access to all our amenities. Here are your keys.”

“Thank you, Kallon,” Azriel told him. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” Kallon chirped back with a self-satisfied smirk. 

Eris scowled at Azriel, but took the other hotel key anyway. If he couldn’t get a night’s peace, at least he could take a nice shower and relax in the hotel bed while pretending Azriel wasn’t there. 

“You know, it costs nothing to be kind,” Azriel said once they were in the elevator. Eris saw the way Azriel was smirking and braced himself for the incoming dig. “But I’m glad you think I’m worth at least five hundred dollars.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Velasquez.” Eris leaned against the elevator walls and resolutely ignored the way Azriel filled out his dark blue suit. “The only reason I offered that much is because money isn’t a concern.”

Azriel snorted. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Vanserra.”

They didn’t speak again until they reached the hotel room, and Eris sped up so he could be the one to open the door. Azriel snorted from behind him, but Eris didn’t care what that smug bastard thought about his admittedly-petty antics. As long as Eris came out on top, anything Azriel had to say about it didn’t matter. 

The room was gorgeous as usual, and Eris was pleased to see they’d been placed in one of the suites. The second he stepped into the bedroom, though, any goodwill he’d managed to build up in the last thirty seconds disappeared as he realized there was only one bed. 

Granted, it was a king sized bed, but it was only one bed. For two grown men to share. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Eris exclaimed at the sight. He let go of his rolling suitcase and turned on his heel, fully intending on marching back down to the front desk to complain even though he knew it wouldn’t accomplish anything, but Azriel’s body stopped him from leaving the room. “Are you seeing this?”

“I see it,” Azriel replied coolly. He looked down the few inches that separated them and raised a dark eyebrow. “Are you really going to go complain about it?”

“Yes,” Eris hissed, ignoring the incredulous look on Azriel’s face. “This is absurd—”

“Yeah, but it’s damn near midnight,” Azriel cut him off without missing a beat. Eris scowled at the interruption but allowed him to keep talking anyway. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been ready to get out of this suit for hours. We can get it fixed in the morning.” 

“But—” Eris spluttered, still riled up.

“Eris,” Azriel said seriously. Azriel so rarely said Eris’ actual name that it made it more difficult than Eris cared to admit to stay focused. “Just take a shower and get in the fucking bed. We’re grown men. We can handle sharing for one night.”

“I’m going down to complain first thing tomorrow morning,” Eris grumbled. He turned and reached for his suitcase, bringing it over to the right side of the bed. “And I’m complaining to Rhysand about this.”

“Don’t tell me you’re that mad about having someone in your bed,” Azriel responded, his tone turning slightly mocking. “I know it’s rare for you, but surely it’s happened before.”

Eris contemplated throwing one of his very expensive shoes at Azriel’s head, but he didn’t think it was worth scuffing the leather. “Of course it’s happened before. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Granted, it had been a while since Eris had let someone warm his bed, but Azriel didn’t need to know that. He decided to retreat to the bathroom before Azriel could come up with another way to insult him, detaching his briefcase from his carry on and rolling the tiny suitcase into the bathroom with him rather than waste time digging through it for his toiletries.

Once he was safely behind a locked door, Eris took his time in the bathroom just to be a dick. The shower was huge and the hot water was endless, and by the time he finally emerged in a cloud of steam, a muscle in Azriel’s jaw was working overtime. 

“Took you long enough,” Azriel muttered. He’d loosened his tie and taken off his jacket altogether, and Eris had to force himself to look away from the borderline obscene way he was leaning back in his chair. God, didn’t he realize how he looked, sitting there with his legs spread wide enough for someone to crawl in between them?

“It’s been a long day,” Eris said cheerfully, forcing himself to pay attention to the conversation instead of letting his mind wander further. “I earned it.”

Azriel’s expression suggested he exactly what he’d thought Eris earned, but he just rolled his eyes before disappearing into the bathroom. He took just as long as Eris had, if not longer, and Eris used the opportunity of the empty room to get himself situated. He hung up his clothes for tomorrow, organized his nightstand just the way he wanted it, and even went to fill up the ice bucket so his water would be cold.

When Azriel came out of the bathroom, Eris was doing his best to appear nonchalant while he relaxed against the headboard. He definitely didn’t notice the way Azriel’s thin undershirt clung to all that golden-brown skin, and he certainly didn’t take another look at the way the other man’s thighs flexed underneath his loose shorts.

“Let’s just go to bed,” Eris said shortly before Azriel could. Azriel thankfully just nodded, and after a few minutes of Azriel shifting around his side of the room, he motioned for Eris to turn off the lamp.

Eris shifted under the covers while Azriel did the same, the two of them laying in complete silence for a few minutes. Eris felt like his mind was traveling at a million miles per hour between all the things he had to get done tomorrow and the way he was sharing a bed with someone he honestly didn’t know very well outside of their limited, albeit snarky, interactions. 

“Stop moving,” Azriel growled from his side of the bed. 

Eris stopped his fidgeting, stunned into compliance for a few moments before he regained his composure. “Fuck you, I have a lot on my mind.”

“I’m trying to sleep,” Azriel snapped. “I don’t care what’s on your mind. Stop fucking moving around so much before I make you.”

“What are you going to do?” Eris snapped right back. Even though he could feel those hazel eyes on him, it was much easier to be bold with the lights off. “Cuddle me into submission?”

To Eris’ complete shock, that’s exactly what Azriel did. Eris cursed under his breath the entire time, but that didn’t stop those ridiculously muscled arms from reaching out and physically dragging him to the other side of the bed. Eris let out a completely undignified noise at being manhandled so easily, but Azriel either didn’t hear it or didn’t care.

“Was that so hard?” Azriel practically purred into Eris’ ear.

Eris could think of something that was going to be hard if Azriel kept this routine up, but he thankfully had the presence of mind not to embarrass himself further. “No.”

“That’s what I thought.” Azriel tightened his grip across Eris’ waist, his hips grinding into Eris’ ass as he tried to make himself more comfortable. At least, that was the only reasonable explanation for what Azriel was doing. “Stop thinking so loud.”

“I’m trying,” Eris ground out, “but it’s a little hard with your dick on my ass like that.”

Azriel just chuckled lowly, the sound doing way more for Eris than he cared to admit. “Sounds like you’d rather it be somewhere else.”

“I never said that—” Eris stammered out, his face burning. Azriel was ridiculous, that was absolutely not what Eris was intending, and he was just trying to rile Eris up as per usual. “What are you even—”

“You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?” Azriel interrupted Eris’ protests. “You can’t decide whether you want to hit me or fuck me. It’s adorable.”

“That’s idiotic,” Eris snapped, ignoring the low chuckle Azriel issued in response. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“I don’t?” Azriel asked. He sounded like he was enjoying this way too much. “Tell me to stop, then.”

Eris choked on his next breath as the hand Azriel had wrapped around his waist began a slow descent toward the waistband of Eris’ pajama pants. “Azriel.”

“Eris,” Azriel replied, teasing. His hand slowed as he played with the waistband of Eris’ pants, fingers dipping shallowly underneath. “If you don’t want this, tell me to stop.”

Eris did no such thing, and if anyone noticed Azriel walking funny the next morning, they were at least too polite to say anything about it. 

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @houseofcalores | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard

[foundress0fnothing]

Meet Me in the Woods Tonight

Forced to partner together during their company's annual team building event in the Illyrian forest, Azriel Moreno and Eris Vanserra find themselves an unlikely duo. When Eris suggests straying off the marked paths through the forest to beat the other competitors, Azriel reluctantly agrees. Eris was an eagle scout after all---what's the worst that could happen?

This is a collaborative project organized by @azrielshadowssing, so make sure you check out their masterlist for the continuation of this story! You can expect part 2 on April 9th and part 3 on April 23rd!

Part 1 (2.3k words, SFW, rated M--rating may change as story continues)

Read on AO3!

Part 1:

Azriel was not particularly religious, but he was pretty certain that hell, at least, was real. 

“Az? It’s your turn.” He heard Feyre prompt him gently.

Yes, hell was definitely real, Azriel thought, turning his attention to the circle of his coworkers, their eyes squinting in the bright afternoon sun as they waited for him to offer up his two truths and a lie in what Azriel could only hope was the final exercise in the misery that was Velaris Technology’s company-wide team building day. 

Come head the IT department at Vel Tech for me, Az, he thought, mimicking the offer Rhys had made to him almost six months ago after Azriel had finally burnt himself out freelancing. Normal hours, good pay, great people, no corporate bullshit. 

Three of the four of those, Azriel had come to realize, were complete lies. Yes, the pay was good—better than good, if he was being honest. But the rest? Today certainly dispelled any lingering illusions he had that Vel Tech was above “corporate bullshit,” despite Rhys’ best intentions. All it took was an email from Rhys’ old college friend—Helion something—offering Vel Tech a discount on his new team building course set in the forested Illyrian steppes outside of the city and suddenly the entire office was being ushered onto buses and driven out to the woods for a day of mandatory fun.

And the hours were long, far longer than he had ever pulled as a freelancer. For a tech company, Vel Tech seemed barely able to hold itself together, and, to keep himself sane, Azriel had finally stopped counting the number of times Rhys or Feyre or Mor called him at 2 a.m. to “put out a fire, just this once.”

Which left the people. He loved five of them fiercely, even if they were the ones to call him in the middle of the night—Rhys’ inner circle, which he supposed he was officially a part of now. Rhys and his cousin Mor started the business five years ago with the money from Rhys’ inheritance, bringing Cassian along to head security and Amren, whom Azriel was still scared of, along to run the financial side of the business. When Feyre started dating Rhys two years ago, he brought her on board as well, the two of them quickly becoming the very definition of a power couple. Azriel, had he wanted it, could have had a job at Vel Tech since the beginning. While he didn’t regret that it was where he ended up—the six of them in the inner circle were a family of sorts, close-knit and comfortable—he was still glad he didn’t jump on board right away.

As for the other employees who staffed Vel Tech? They were fine, he supposed, but certainly not great: technologically incompetent and bland, but almost universally inoffensive. 

All except fucking Eris Vanserra, Vel Tech’s company lawyer. Tall, cunning, and always impeccably dressed, even for a day out in the woods, Eris Vanserra was far too competent, entirely too interesting, and gleefully offensive.

Case in point: “Yes, Az,” the asshole in question called from his place in the circle, emphasizing Azriel’s nickname in a way that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “Do share. I’m sure what you have to say will be fascinating.”

Ignoring Eris’ goading, Azriel dispassionately rattled off the three statements that had gotten him through many similar icebreakers during college: “Azriel Moreno. I like computers. I have two half-siblings. I’ve broken two bones.” Three safe, completely unremarkable facts that allowed him to nominally participate until the group moved on.

There was a beat of silence. To no one’s surprise, Cassian was the one to break it: “Congratulations, Az. Those are boring as shit.”

Rhys and Mor snorted, and Azriel laughed along with them, knowing Cassian had a point. “Look,” he sighed, tired of this, tired of the day—the morning had started at 9 a.m. with a three-legged race of all things, as if that nonsense ever helped with “team building.” “It’s not like anyone even listens to anyone else’s facts in these icebreakers. Much less cares about them.”

It was the most he had said all day, and he knew the moment it left his mouth that it had been entirely the wrong thing to voice in the large group. Everyone was quiet, suddenly uncomfortable. Fuck. He should have saved it for drinks at Rita’s after the godforsaken day was over and it was just the people who already knew him, who already knew what he was like. Rhys, Cassian, and Amren would have laughed—hell, would have agreed, probably—and Feyre and Mor would have fondly rolled their eyes before teasing him about his antisocial behavior.

Not now though, not with twenty-odd other employees gathered in the circle. He saw Feyre cast a glance at Rhys, his mouth cast in a stern line, and then started saying, “Look, Azriel, I get that this isn’t really your thing, and, don’t get me wrong, we’re glad you’ve joined in today—”

“Oh, come on, Feyre,” Eris interrupted, any teasing in his voice having evaporated. “You can’t seriously be letting that slide.”

Without giving anyone else a chance to weigh in, he started working through the circle methodically. “Kallias grew up in Alaska, once rode on a reindeer to get supplies when the town was snowed in, and met Vivian, his wife, not online but at a bar in town. Nephelle has not yet completed a full marathon although she hopes to do so, is allergic to sesame, builds terrariums in her free time. Tarquin won five amateur surfing competitions as a kid, does not particularly enjoy tiki cocktails ever since his 21st birthday, and is working on getting his boating license. Do I need to keep going?”

Azriel was silent, simultaneously embarrassed that it was Eris of all people who called him out on his bullshit and in awe of the feat of memory he had just displayed. Azriel hadn’t meant to be rude, not really—he was just…done with the day and figured others would be too.

Rhys cleared his throat and, letting his cool CEO mask smooth over his previous irritation, said, “Thank you for that demonstration, Eris.”

Eris nodded at Rhys and then looked over to Azriel, a question in his eyes. Azriel didn’t meet his gaze, didn’t say anything, didn’t know what the right next step was. Misreading his continued silence as a challenge, Eris’ gaze shifted into a glare, annoyance evident, and continued, “Moreno, if you can name a single thing someone else has said during this game, I will quit my job at Vel Tech right now. Otherwise—”

“I’m sorry.” Azriel said curtly but sincerely, interrupting whatever tirade Eris was about to start in on, deciding that a quick apology, at least, was better than doing nothing and letting Eris continue. “I’m tired, but that’s no excuse for my rudeness. I didn’t mean to offend.” He looked around at his coworkers in the circle, hoping they would read the regret on his face even if his apology itself was a bit brusque.

Feyre smiled brightly, easily appeased. “Thanks, Az. Apology accepted.” She turned her bright eyes to the woman from HR seated next to Azriel on the grass, “Diedre, why don’t you go and start us up again?”

Relieved that the group’s attention had shifted, Azriel closed his eyes briefly and took a breath, trying to gather himself, trying to stop his heart from racing after the scene he had just caused.

When he opened his eyes a moment later, he found Eris watching him. Azriel held his gaze, neither of them breaking eye contact until Eris, deciding something, slightly inclined his head. Azriel took that to mean, apology accepted. Eris’ eyes then narrowed, and he glanced pointedly at Deidre, which Azriel realized meant, fucking pay attention, idiot.

And Azriel tried, really—three dogs or something, wanted to be a ballet dancer or was a ballet dancer, read…romances, maybe?...disguised as other books during her high school days—but he could barely focus. His heart was still racing, but this time with something he couldn’t quite place, something like … anticipation? Pleasure? He didn’t know, and didn’t know if he really wanted to know anyway.

“You never told us what the lie was.” 

Azriel choked on the water he was drinking, surprised to hear Eris’ voice behind him. He knew Rhys and Feyre and all weren’t really mad about what happened during the game, but still, he had walked away from the picnic tables in the clearing and to the forest’s edge, wanting to be alone to get himself together before the end of the day. Just for a minute. And, of course, Eris refused to let him have even that. 

“Why?” Azriel challenged, irritated that his brooding had been interrupted. “Want to know all my secrets?”

Eris’ only looked perversely delighted, amber eyes glinting with mischief. “Of course, Moreno. I want to know everything about you.”

Azriel huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. “Look, Vanserra—” he began, not really sure where he was going with his reply.

But before he could figure it out, a whistle called them back together, and Azriel was forced to sullenly follow a smirking Eris back to the main clearing.

As they neared the larger group, they found Helion, architect of hell, midway through a closing speech. “ … and what a delight it has been to help Vel Tech grow closer as a team!” Ever the showman, he paused for cheers which Cassian and Mor exuberantly led. He continued, “There have been highs, and there have been lows. You have seen each other’s strengths; you now know each other’s weaknesses. And you, Vel Tech, are better for it! Ready to return to Velaris as a stronger, more unified group of … dare I say family?”

Azriel resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“But now, tragically, we have reached the final activity for today. Drumroll, please!” He glanced at Cassian, who gleefully indulged him by smacking his hands on his thighs.

Azriel waited. Please be something quick, please be something quick, please be something quick—

“The final team building activity for Vel Tech is…capture the flag!” Helion gestured to the forest that surrounded the clearing. “But you’re not just playing against each other—you’ll be playing against me as well. In the forest behind me, I have hidden three flags marked with Vel Tech’s trademark mountain and stars logo. Your job will be to bravely venture forth into the forest, find the flags before your coworkers do, return to claim your prize, and bring glory to your name!” 

Laughing good-naturedly at Helion’s dramatics, the Vel Tech employees began eyeing the forest, some blanching a bit at the sheer size of it. Sensing their hesitation, Helion clarified. “All flags are set just off of some of the main trails at strategic lookout points, and we’ve provided you all with maps. You shouldn’t have to deviate too far from the marked paths to find my flags—the trick is choosing the right paths and getting to the flags before anyone else does. Questions?

As Helion paused, Azriel idly wondered what, if any, actual team building could be done by treating them like middle school kids at a summer camp. None at all, he decided, figuring he’d run into the forest with everyone else and then peel away from the group to take a nap against a tree while everyone else made fools of themselves.

“And you’ll be working in teams of two! So grab someone nearby and start talking strategy.”

Azriel glanced around. Rhys and Feyre were already deep in conversation, arguing over the map in front of them. Mor and Cassian had a map but didn’t look at it, clearly determined that sheer enthusiasm and willpower would win the day for them. Even Amren had already partnered up with Varian from marketing, the two looking more bloodthirsty than Azriel thought was possible for real humans. With a sinking feeling, he turned to look at Eris, who was already grinning at him wolfishly. So much for that nap.

“Hello, partner. I hope you’re better at scavenger hunts than you are at two truths and a lie.”

Azriel glowered. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Humming noncommittally, Eris only replied, “We’ll see.”

Deciding it wasn’t worth the effort of lobbing insults back and forth, Azriel only said,  “Strategy?”

“No witty banter for me? Shame. Well, even if you are shit at this too, I have it covered.”

Azriel quirked an eyebrow.

With a long suffering sigh, Eris explained. “Had you been paying attention during Helion’s wonderful little game, you would have learned that I was an eagle scout in high school. These are my woods,” he said theatrically, throwing his arms open to encompass the forest around them. “I know every inch of them—the trails, of course, but also the unmarked paths that’ll get us to Helion’s lookout points without having to deal with everyone else bumbling about together. Are you ready for a hike, partner?”  

Groaning internally, Azriel resigned himself to not only missing out on a nap but also having to actually try. He studied Eris, who, despite appearing absurdly elegant in a close-fitting green quarter-zip that brought out the color of his eyes, his hair artfully windswept in a way that Azriel refused to believe was totally natural, looked actually ready for a hike through the Illyrian forest. Asshole.

“Assuming, of course, that you can keep up, that is.” Eris smirked at him, studying Azriel—who was wearing all black, of course—in his turn. 

“Lead the way,” was all Azriel said in reply, refusing to be outdone by Eris fucking Vanserra and his too-manicured appearance. “But if you get us lost, Vanserra—”

“Please, Moreno,” Eris cut in with a withering glare at Azriel as the two reached the forest’s edge. “Impossible. It’ll be fun.”

[acourtofladydeath]

@erisweek2023 AU Teaser

INTRODUCING: FALSETTOS

The latest production by Prythian Productions at the Court Theatre, founded by Aurelia Vanserra-Spellcleaver. Director Helion Spellcleaver is excited to announce casting calls for his latest show. Do you want to be one of the jews in his room bitching, or maybe even a lesbian from next door? Union and non-union actors are welcome to audition. Stay tuned for more details.

Hello all, I am happy to introduce my next multi-chap fic “Lovers Live and Die, Fortissimo”.

Are you interested in a modern theatre AU featuring an entirely overworked and overwhelmed stage manager Lucien? What about retired actor and now stage husband and father Rhysand? Featuring Azris (literally and figuratively) center stage, and a scandalous backstage polycule Feytamsand. Nessian, Elucien, Helion/LOA will also all make an appearance. Buckle up folks, this is going to be a ride. 

Why did famed union actor Eris Vanserra have a very public onstage breakdown? What happened between Rhysand and Tamlin to make them hate each other so much? Where the hell did new kids on the block Cassian and Azriel learn how to act? For answers to all of these questions and more, stay tuned for my next fic, which will include one chapter per song in the show for a grand total of 43. Will you be able to find all of the song quotes? Keep an eye out!

Given the amount of research and number of interweaving plots this fic will take a while to write, and will not have a regular posting schedule. I’d rather give you good content than rushed content. But I'm incredibly excited for this, and I hope you are too.

[elliemarchetti]

Instinct

The follow up to Habit Rouge, or the actual Halloween party, in Eris’s POV.

I stole LoA’s name from @andrigyn's A Swing in the Dark, check it out if you haven’t already because it’s very good, just like everything she does.

Plot: Eris recognizes Nesta’s scent at the party.

Warnings: no beta, we die like heroes.

Words: 3049

Prev

The music was strangely to his taste, nothing like the electronic crap that nowadays played on the radio wherever he went. For too many years the mortals had depended on technology for everything they did, and the absence of a DJ in favour of live music only served to demonstrate they weren’t welcome at the event. Whoever the organizer was, they certainly weren’t Eris’s age, or they would’ve preferred strings and trumpets to guitars and drums, but he knew how to find satisfaction in what he was given, especially considering the chaos of bodies moving on the improvised dancefloor.

With all those werewolves around, the smell wasn't really the best, and soon the stench of sweat would overtake those of the expensive essences the witches had doused themselves with, but even then, he would bear it, if only to find someone to spend that night of revelry with. It was his last lover who invited him, a witch from New Orleans with long white hair and deep blue eyes, the same shade as the ocean on hot summer days. Appropriate, considering her specialty was water manipulation. He could see her among the patrons of the bar, together with her brother and cousin. To the casual eye, they could all have been mistaken for twins, their features so similar and exotic. The oldest of them had his muscular arm around the shoulders of a middle-aged woman, and judging by the adoring smiles he flashed her from time to time, she must’ve been his partner. In the human world, in the broad daylight he had to avoid for centuries, such an attitude would certainly have caused a stir, but here it was normal, encouraged even. After all, although the sorcerer looked twenty-five at best, he must’ve been at least four times older. Surprisingly, Eris too felt his actual age on that chilly night.

He was born in Spain during a violent period, on a year in which freedom was only a distant memory and you couldn’t trust your neighbour, the risk of being sold to the Inquisition as Jew out of mere envy so high that one barely allowed distant family members to visit. The matter shouldn’t have affected him, the Vanserras were fervent Catholics, and it hadn’t, until Eris turned thirteen. He still remembered vividly the day he found out his mother was pregnant for the seventh time. His father had organized a sumptuous banquet, and had announced the happy news with such satisfaction Eris almost feared he wanted to demonstrate to the guests how active he still was in the nuptial bed. Lucien was born the following year, and despite the mild winter, the blood of the maids who had assisted Lady Vanserra during the birth must’ve run cold. The child had auburn hair, and eyes of the same russet as his mother, but his skin was noticeably darker than that of his brothers, so much so that the whispers he was a half Moor reached Eris’s tutor, who was engaged in a lesson with the three oldest children, before they arrived to Beron’s ears.

“Are you sure?” the man asked under his breath, and although the other two students had taken advantage of the opportunity to distract themselves from their books, Eris listened attentively.

“Half Maghreb, I swear,” the woman replied, before disappearing back into the corridors of the villa. They called it the Forest House, and although there were various woods in Spain, the name was due to the quantity of fruit trees the founder of the family had planted all around the estate. Acres and acres of land that Eris knew like the back of his hand, an advantage he used to smuggle out the suspiciously silent baby.

“Run,” his mother had told him that night, still covered in dried sweat, holding back tears. “Leave Spain before your father comes back and never return.”

Eris had kept his promise, even when he discovered they’d both been burned alive. Helion hadn’t embraced God, and Lady Vanserra hadn’t regretted having loved him.

How a fourteen-year-old boy had managed to keep a newborn alive could only be explained through the compassion of strangers: he’d met women who had acted as wet nurses, and had been offered all sorts of lucky passages; he’d sold some expensive heirlooms for twice their value, and he’d been hired as a kennel master even though he had no previous experience, just a great love for animals.

They’d reached England, where their aunts still lived, when Lucien had already learned how to properly talk and walk. The two women, younger than their deceased sister, had silently mourned Aureliana’s terrible fate, and at the same time did everything possible to make their nephews forget the horrors they had to endure, but in 1563 the plague reached the gates of London, and with it more suffering came. In that wicked year, Lucien lost his eye, and Eris was initiated into the supernatural in a rather unceremonious way.

Everyone knew the symptoms of the plague, the disease that had wiped out nearly half of Europe's population just two hundred years earlier. High fever, headaches and severe weakness were only the first of a long list of ailments that led to almost certain death, and when aunt Drusilla began to suffer from them without apparent relief despite the compresses and treatments her family subjected her to, the only reasonable solution was quarantine. Although it didn’t happen so often, it wasn’t unusual for some members of the same household to get sick and others not, but when the terror reached its peak, and the woman stopped sleeping because of the nausea, officers dresses in long black tunics, with thick leather gloves and masks that still populated Eris’s nightmares, showed up at their door to drag her to the lazaret. Lucien had tried to oppose, to place himself between the bedchamber of the woman who acted as mother and father for him, but someone had drawn his sword, and before Eris could intervene, a long red gash had opened on his brother’s face. The deep cut ran from above his eyebrow almost to his chin, and although they managed to stop the resulting heavy bleeding, Lucien didn’t wake up for days. Seeing his little brother, the one for whom he’d risked his life so many years ago, fighting between life and death had pushed him to extremes he never thought he would reach, and in the middle of the night he’d brought a doctor of ill repute to his room, without the knowledge of his grieving aunt. The man was deathly pale, with deep dark circles surrounding his pitch-black eyes. He spoke with a heavy accent, and something in his movements seemed ancient, dating back to times when there weren’t abundant wealth and urban centres teeming with life, but remote villages and a life marked by the alternation of the seasons. He warned him that he would have to pay dearly for his brother’s recovery, and that Lucien would no longer be able to lead a normal existence.

“A solitary life, with an insatiable thirst,” he concluded, after which he laughed at his determination to stay by his side despite everything.

“You would die, and you will do it long before he goes back to being who you now call brother,” he’d warned, so Eris asked if there was no way to follow him on that path, to condemn himself too, if this would serve to help him.

“It's possible,” the doctor confirmed, “but you'll have to pay double.”

The price to reduce his existence to the shadow of what could’ve been, to be dominated by predatory instincts that scratched his chest and broke his ribs if they weren’t indulged, started with the blood of two servants. Eris had sent for them on a plausible pretext, and then watched the doctor drain them as if they were tasty glasses of fine wine, no emotion in his eyes. Soon he too learned how thrilling the taste of healthy people could be, and how bitter that of the sick and the drug addicts was.

For almost fifty years, Lucien hadn’t forgiven him for that choice. It was too much, death preferable to damnation. Eris had told him that he could choose his own path, go out into the sunlight and burn to ashes if that was what he wished for, but at least his conscience was clear and he would know he did everything possible to keep him alive. Over time, his hatred had weakened, and by the beginning of the eighteenth century the roles seemed to have reversed. The habits and customs of the 1700s definitely suited Lucien’s character more than Eris’s, and the long scar had become the protagonist of daring stories that attracted the admiration of men and the adoration of women. Fame obviously proved to be a double-edged sword, making the borders of unified Britain too small for the comely pairing, so they visited the Empire of Denmark and Norway, Sweden, and the ever-expanding Russian lands, from whose territory they witnessed the fall of the Holy Roman Empire and the coronation of Francis II as Emperor of Austria.

In Moscow, Lucien met his first love. Jesminda was a former serf, a poor woman hardened by work and the constant cold that characterized her homeland. She didn’t care that Lucien was a vampire, nor did he care about the dirty looks they were given when they walked the fancier streets, but her family soon forbade her from seeing a man she wasn’t married with, and since there was no way for Lucien to enter a church without perishing, he had to abandon her. More than Eris himself, who knew very little of love at the time, it was Vasilisa Melentyeva who consoled him. Sixth wife of Tsar Ivan the Terrible, after her husband sent her to a monastery to forget about her and have the freedom to remarry, she fled, resolute in not watching life pass before her eyes, only to end up in the hand of a Death God who first trapped her under the ice of Lake Baikal, and then, when he’d grown tired, cursed her to live the daily hours as a flaming bird, so she could act as a reminder of his immense powers for the growing supernatural population. After a quarter of a millennium, and with the impossibility of communicating when most of the people were awake, Vasilisa found it extremely difficult to adapt to the innovations that had radically changed the daily life she remembered, but in the end she succeeded, and the meeting with a heartbroken Lucien had solidified her will to live.

The latest addition to the bizarre group of redheads, and the one who broke the pattern with his brown hair, had been a sarcastic witch hunter whose soul had been trapped in a disturbing ring decorated with his own eye. The maker of said piece of jewellery had a history with the guy, he killed her sister during a previous job, but Eris pitied the finding he made at the end of the 19th century, and since he needed a specific set of skills to reconstruct a body, he, Lucien and the beautiful Vassa moved to France in hope to win over the leader of a renowned Aquitaine congregation. Grateful for what they did for him, and without any ties to his previous home, Jurian remained with them, discovering to his horror he was unable to age. Immortal and immutable were the only adjectives the magical community had managed to use to describe him, aggravating the quartet’s need to move whenever the local population became suspicious.

In 1915, at the outbreak of the First World War, two vampires, a recently reborn phoenix and a human frozen in time boarded the hold of a merchant ship and fled to America, landing in New York together with tens of thousands of Bulgarian, Greek and Romanians refugees. It was there that their paths parted, and nor for lack of love for each other, but because Eris simply wanted a retired life, far from suffering and prejudice, while Lucien and Jurian aspired to carry on Vassa’s desire to help those in need by bringing a smile and a moment of relief.

It was only much later, after the war ended and the Twenties started to roar, that Eris saw their performance for the first time. The Band of Exiles hid their peculiarities in plain sight, so Lucien, who certainly couldn’t die from a bad fall, was now an improvised acrobat, Queen Vasilisa was a bird of rare plumage and Jurian her tamer, who guided her through courses made of fire rings and mid-air pirouettes. When the spectators had finally emerged from the tent, and the two brothers had a moment to talk alone, Lucien had admitted that they didn’t earn much from the tickets, but at least they managed to lead a life worthy of being called one.

At the end of the decade, when the Great Depression hit the Unites States like a hurricane, Eris settled in Boston on a semi-permanent basis, buying for a paltry price an apartment that at the time could be considered quite luxurious. Finding clothes and sustenance was certainly not difficult for a vampire, and the long immobility to which he was forced by the scarcity of entertainment and jobs suited for his condition allowed him to claim a small number of victims, who went unnoticed thanks to his refined techniques of corpses concealment.

His favourite hunting area was undoubtedly the Public Garden, a place that exuded magic and attracted both supernatural beings and humans alike. There he’d encountered The Morrigan, who he’d helped escape her homophobic immortal family, and there he also met his first male lover, a friend of the aforementioned who was able to merge with shadows. Their relationship had been brief and passionate, but then Azriel had reunited with his friends waiting for him further south, and he’d never heard from him again. Just when he thought his life had fallen back into a monotonous routine, he saw Nesta, a witch with unearthly beauty and an icy gaze, so good at concealing her nature that he tried to seduce her like a fool in an attempt to feed on her. When she laughed in his face, he’d decided she would be his partner for life, no matter what he had to do. The courtship had been relentless, made of expensive gifts, attentions and promises, and when she’d finally been his, Eris had wondered if the Paradise he’d studied about as a child might not be on earth for those who couldn’t yearn for eternal grace. They’d spend years of pure, unconditional joy, until he talked too much, until he revealed feelings she likely wasn’t ready to face. She’d left him after a wonderful night at the theatre, leaving behind her intoxicating scent and a short note of apology. She’d told him her sister urgently needed assistance, and she would get in touch as soon as possible, but it had never happened, and Eris’s local acquaintances had reported that she’d been engaging in a vulgar affair with a werewolf almost five inches taller than him, with arms as wide as tree trunks.

During the 80’s, the neighbourhood where Eris still resided was raided by a gang of thieves. On a mild spring night, they took from him years of memories and the vast majority of the things belonging to the woman he loved, and although he managed to buy back almost everything in local pawn shops and flea markets, her perfume had disappeared from the fabrics, and with it his hope of reliving the moments spent together. Of the few missing pieces, the one he felt most sad for was the red velvet dress she’d worn on that last evening, the one that left her back bare, just a golden chain dangling down her spine. For a brief moment, Eris though he recognized the bodice among the people moving on the dance floor, but his attention was drawn by a lanky witch who nearly spilled the drinks she was holding on his jacket, and when he turned again, the vision disappeared like a cruel hallucination.

“I’m surprised to find you partying in such an unrefined place,” a familiar voice, one he hadn’t heard in over a hundred years, teased. The last time he encountered Vassa, her tone and body had been that of a child, so different from those of the woman in her sixties who had turned to ash one morning in France instead of taking on her usual bird appearance. Now, in front of him stood a decaying beauty, but the playful twinkle in her blue eyes was always the same. Her skin was no longer as white as the day he met her, but pleasantly tanned, a healthy golden colour that highlighted her refined features, and her hair were of a vibrant shade of red, no white in sight, surely thanks to box hair dye. Next to her, Jurian looked younger than he remembered him, but it must’ve been a simple reflection of the years passing for one and not the other.

“I see only one Queen here,” he replied, before pulling his friends into a quick embrace. With the exception of Vasilisa, his small group wasn’t particularly fond of canonical displays of affection, but given the prolonged distance, it almost seemed obligatory to seek for physical contact, a reminder they were all real and alive.

“Where’s my favourite acrobat?” he asked, scanning the crowd behind them with a hopeful gaze.

“He must’ve lost himself in his witch’s embrace. Elain never seems to tire of the old-time poems he recites at every hour of the day, and he…” Jurian started, but his renowned vulgarity was interrupted when Vassa elbowed him in the ribs. To everyone else, his words may have seemed harsh, but Eris recognized the tenderness in his expression as the same he wore when thinking of his brother.

He was just about to ask them if they were going to stay nearby for a while, when an unmistakable scent hit his nostrils, so intense it stunned him.

Nesta was at that party, and he had every intention of finding her.

[jules-writes-stories]

Eris Week 2024 | Day 6 | Modern AU | Read Chapter 1 on AO3

The Night Court Lounge | Tribeca NYC

The beautiful man knew Azriel was studying him. Broad shoulders tapered down to a long body beneath a perfectly tailored suit. He wasn’t built like Tamlin Rose or Helion Day. His strength was something different. This man was far more dangerous. He was like smoke, a viper in waiting. When he struck, one would not see it coming, and it would be deadly. 

Azriel’s hazel gaze met those gilded eyes. Bid on me. His eyes and body were betraying him and screaming out to this dangerous stranger. He looked at the long, pale fingers slowly making circles along the rim of his glass. How would those fingers feel inside him, slowly opening him up, pulling his hair, wrapped around his throat… 

He shifted, uncomfortably hard now. The male clocked the movement and slowly lifted his glass to his lips. He cocked his head to one side, seeming to study Azriel like one would a specimen, something rare and beautiful. It was somehow both demeaning and sexy, and Az would, at that moment, kneel at this man’s feet to have those eyes study him all night. 

“I hear ten thousand from Ms. Suriel.” Azriel snapped back into the moment. His eyes moved towards the elderly woman holding up her white flag. Oh god. Ok. He could sit with her. It would be like going to Bingo secretly with his aljada.

“Thirteen,” Tamlin called out again. And it went on for quite some time. Back and forth. Grandma Suriel had dropped out at twenty thousand. Lord Kal Winters topped out at twenty-five.

An androgynous figure wearing dark shades and a hooded sweatshirt joined at thirty thousand. Azriel could not tell their gender or age beyond the loose-fitting hoodie and sunglasses that dominated a round, pale face. A tuft of dark hair peeked out from beneath the hood. Their mouth was wide and painted purple, and their voice almost had a plurality to it. 

“Thirty thousand for Bryaxis,” Feyre called out. Bryaxis. The famous electronic DJ from Amsterdam. No one had ever seen their face before. Azriel was intrigued, wondering if he’d be the first. What would be this enigma’s kink?

“Forty thousand,” Helion immediately countered. 

Azriel was getting tired. A third of that would be plenty to pay his rent for a few months. And the Days seemed normal enough. He could handle them for a few hours. Besides, his legs were starting to go numb. 

He and Fey had devised a plan where he would tap his thigh three times when he was done, or tug his leash discretely if he felt uncomfortable with a bidder. He tapped his leg. One. Two. Three. 

Feyre looked down and nodded imperceptibly. Az looked up one last time at the golden eyed stranger. The sting of disappointment and a little rejection coiled through him. It was silly. He didn’t even know if this red-haired stranger was into men. But Az swore he’d seen the heat and sheer possession in those amber eyes… 

Feyre called out, “Forty thousand going once, twice, and—”

“Fifty thousand.” A smooth voice called out from the corner. Azriel clenched at the sound. It was like velvet and so sure of itself. 

Feyre’s shrewd eyes immediately clocked Azriel’s body language, the way the winged man sat up on his haunches at the red-haired man’s single bid. She smirked knowingly. “Sold to Eris Vanserra for fifty thousand dollars.”

Read all of Chapter 1 on AO3

Please let me know if you ever want on/off the taglist |

@the-darkestminds @fieldofdaisiies @mistandmemories @secret-third-thing @chunkypossum @erisweekofficial @talibunny30 @amalhe-kofee @shadowsandlint @queercontrarian @molcat07 @c-starstuff-man0 @lovely-vanserra-sunshine @hieragalbatorixdottir @brunetterebel010 @pippsmcgee

[melonsfantasyworld]

Escapism, Vol. 1 Part 2

I caved and wrote a second part to Escapism, Vol. 1 which you can read here. Check out below for a snippet:

“I’m sorry.” Azriel says. “I just- I always wanted whoever I was with to be a part of my family. They mean so much to me and I couldn’t imagine having to choose between them and you. I thought it would be enough if they could just see us, you know?”

“It’s not me forcing you to pick.” Eris states. Azriel looks away, jaw tensing.

“I know.” It sounds forced, but Eris doesn’t back down.

“I have tried, Azriel. I go to your family dinners, attend your parties. I try to talk to them, include them whenever we go out. But I am not going to subject myself to their hatred just because they’re your family.”

“I can’t leave them, and I can’t leave you.”

“What if…what if you took a break from them? Nothing permanent, but enough for us to get our shit together without worrying about them.”

Azriel stares at him incredulously. “You want me to break up with my brothers?”

Eris rolls his eyes. “You know that’s not what I said jackass. Just take some time away from each other, like a month or so. See who you are, who we are, without their constant presence.”

Eris can see Azriel considering it, the mental pros and cons list clear as day on his face. He can almost pinpoint the exact moment Azriel comes to a resolution with the way his eyes harden in resolve.

“One month with little contact unless there’s an emergency. And then you’ll stay?” The way Azriel poses the question is so hopeful that Eris aches a little.

“As long as you don’t give me a reason to leave.”

Azriel gives him a firm nod. “You’re staying. I’ll talk to them soon.”

[erisweekofficial]

Fanfic

One Year Later (OC x Eris) by @afandomangel 👑

Until I see you again (OC x Eris) by @mika-no-sekai-blog

Protection (Eris x Reader) by @littlest-w01f 👑

All’s well that ends well to end up with you (Eris x Reader) by @daycourtofficial 👑

yea, though i walk (Azris) by @brunetterebel010 👑

What Could Have Been (Eris x Elain) by @nocasdatsgay

Suffering his Scent (Azris) by @neciebee 👑

Falling For You (Eris x Reader) by @bubybubsters

Hold Me While You Wait (Eris x OC) by @fieldofdaisiies

Bedroom manners (Eris x Reader) by @lady-of-tearshed 👑

Pinky Promise (Eris x Reader) by @pit-and-the-pen👑

Still Beautiful Things by @climbthemountain2020 👑

Pull Me in Deeper Ch 17 (Eris x OC) by @zenkindoflove 👑

Ensnaring Marks (Eris x Reader) by @surielstea 👑

A Bond of Song & Flames Ch 1 (Eris x OC) by @sadiegirl2021 👑

Under the Weeping Beech (Azris) by @chunkypossum

Waiting for You (Eris x Reader) by @mcuamerica 👑

Day 1 - Bonds | Bargains by @clockwork-ashes 👑

A Wound So Deep (Azris) by @acourtofladydeath

An Unconventional Bargain by @hellcat8908 👑

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows Ch 22 (Azris) by @jules-writes-stories 👑

Of Our Own Devices (Eris x Reader) by @illyrianbitch 👑

Gone Through Enough (Eris x Reader) by @thelov3lybookworm

The Uncertainty of Spring (Eris x OC) by @daycourtofficial 👑

Tomorrow Can Wait (Azris) by @myromanempiree 👑

By Turns by @jon-snows-man-bun 👑

Roots In My Dreamland (Eris x OC) by @lucienarcheron

Always An Angel, Never A God (Eris x OC) by @chairofchaos 👑

Your Scars on My Pulse (Azris) by @shadowsandlint 👑

To Dust or To Gold Ch 2 (Neris) by @queercontrarian

An Exchange in Etiquette (Eris x Reader) by @qwimblenorrisstan 👑

Into the Dark (Eris x Reader) by @prythianpages 👑

Lady Luck (Eris x OC) by @ginandtobacco 👑

Bond (Azris) by @thomasisaslut 👑

Being Seen (Eris x Elain) by @vague-shadows 👑

The Crushing Burden of Those Before Us (Eris x Reader) by @dee-writes-smut 👑

A Page From Another's Book (Eris x Reader) by @readychilledwine

Autumn Leaves (Eris x Reader) by @mirandasidefics

Fanart

Eris' bond with Autumn by @elleybug 👑

Eris x Alexius by @zenkindoflove 👑

Neris Art by @rosesncarnations

Worried Eris by @secret-third-thing

Eris and his mate by @/artbyellat (on instagram)

Azris Art by @moonpatroclus & @cauldronblssd (@lucychanart)

Eris Week, Day 1: Bonds (Azris) by @the-darkestminds 👑

Misc.

day one : bonds ( m o t h e r ) by @spore-loser 👑

Eris Week Moodboard by @fieldofdaisiies

Chopin by @chairofchaos 👑

Vanserra brothers in a modern AU by @wishfulimaginings 👑

Thank you for all your contributions! It’s incredible and almost unbelievable how many stories and creative ideas you’ve brought to life on just the first day!

There was a bit of confusions about the crowns- so sorry for that. If it's your first eris week, let us know! If we missed giving you a 👑, please let us know so we can add it to the masterlist. We'll make sure that all masterlists are up to date before the full event masterlist is released 🧡

(divider by @tsunami-of-tears)

[ofduskanddreams]

Know Better Than This | Hockey AU Azris

just a little mood board to celebrate the MN Wild’s first official game of the season, crafted during commercial breaks :)

out of everything I’ve ever written, this is the fic I’ve reread the most—I can’t wait to get back to this one and finish it <3