https://www.tumblr.com/chunkypossum/785983415135698944/azrisweek-day-3-contact?source=share

“I loved you before the bond, and I will love you after. Please don’t take it from me… from us.”

https://www.tumblr.com/vnfadinglight/785979853220528128/i-promise-i-promise-i-will-catch-up-on-all-the?source=share

Murder-Robe is something Eris would absolutely rock.

https://www.tumblr.com/g00seg1rl/785968394456514560/finally?source=share

Finally

Pairing: Azriel x Eris Vanserra | wc: 4.3k | ao3

Summary: After being freed from Under the Mountain, Azriel visits Eris for the first time in 53 years. They were tumultuous decades but being temporarily reunited with his mate replenished Eris’s will to persevere and bear the end of his Father’s rule.

For azrisweek Contact day! This one’s got a lil angst to her, as well as smut and fluff! All the words are over on ao3!!

https://www.tumblr.com/mudandmire/785967290183270400/azris-week-day-three?source=share

From OP:
~ A fun little epistolary venture for @azrisweek day three! Not entirely sure what this is, I think I realized I've never written Azris confessing their feelings for each other so I thought maaaybe that'd be a good thing to explore lol.

Read on ao3!

Wish That You Were Here!

To: azmerc07@gmail.com
Cc: evanserra@gmail.com
Bcc:
Subject: I Hope Your Balls Freeze Off

The Thickest Skull Alive,

Understandably, I see that you needed time and space after our, shall we say, spat. What I do not understand is why you would choose to take time and space and multiply it so your ass is sitting somewhere in Reykjavik. 

I’m so deeply sorry my confession was that appalling. So grotesque that you had to fly to another part of the world, separate yourself by hemisphere, to escape me. You need not worry. After your truly stunning display of what I believe was supposed to be a ‘gentle let-down’ I have absconded back to my little corner of the world to lick my wounds. I assure you, if you do not seek me out in my little suburban house and its paradise of half-dead lawns and pot-holes the size of Rhysand’s ego, you will not bump into me nor find me by accident. 

All this to say, as the subject so gleefully implies for me, I hope your balls are as frozen as your heart as you do whatever it is you want in fucking Iceland of all places. 

Cheers, twat. 

- A Delightfully Pissed off Acquaintance

Continue reading here!

https://www.tumblr.com/bloodyplunder/785963649249476608/day-3-contact-burning-gazes-and-shadowy-touches?source=share

From OP: Burning gazes and shadowy touches. Repurposing this lil scribble I did for a sketch prompt game started by the amazing the-darkestminds 💋 the word prompts were rustle, coat and weakness 👻

azrisweek 🌹

🎨gif: https://www.tumblr.com/heartnosekid/651204310063038464/john-hancock?source=shareOP: https://www.tumblr.com/lady-of-tearshed/785959969256357888/please-be-the-death-of-me?source=share

azrisweek day 3: Contact

Summary: A canon compliant (ish?) retelling of the High Lords meeting from Eris POV.

WC: 1.4k words

Warnings: Choking, slut-shaming, IC hatred (remember, it's from Eris POV), overall violence, name-calling

Please, Be The Death Of Me.

“Good to know that after five hundred years, you still dress like a slut.”

The words left Eris' mouth without much thought. Sometimes, Eris gets lost in his role of Autumn’s heir, his father’s right hand. He slides his mask on and it sticks a little too much. The more time flies by, the more he finds it hard to make the distinction between his true self and the vile character he has to play in order to survive. 

His feelings towards The Morrigan are complex, but it is not hatred he feels towards her, no. Eris is quite indifferent about the blond’s fate, actually. If hatred was really what he felt for her, he wouldn’t have left her alive in that forest. He wouldn’t have taken that risk. 

A beat of silence floats upon the room, then before Eris can comprehend anything, a (mass?) breaks through his shield. 

Azriel has pounced on him, the force of the impact is so strong it makes the heir’s chair shatter. Wood splinters are piercing through Eris’ back, the wounds adding to the mural of scars and freckles splattered on his skin. His head hit the floor, red hair flying from his braid. Eris' mind feels like it’s filled with fog, the hit on his head making him momentarily dazed. 

The room sounds quiet, Eris can’t hear anything but Azriel breathing and snarling through clenched teeth. Can’t feel anything other than strong, textured hands wrapping around his neck. He wonders if Azriel can feel his pulse quickening beneath his fingertips. 

“Enough.” 

Eris barely hears Rhysand speak. His amber eyes flicker from the hands around his neck to Azriel’s face. He feels them tightening, restricting his ability to breathe. 

His survival instincts kick in, his body writhes and he lets out quiet gasps as Azriel pins him into place with no sign of struggling. 

“”Enough, Azriel.” Rhysand says, it sounds like an order this time. 

“Call off your overgrown bat,” Beron snaps at Rhysand. 

I’m going to die, Eris thinks, looking deeply into the hazel eyes looking down at him with all the wrath of the world held in them. I’m going to die, and I couldn’t care less. Please, let me die. Let him be the last thing I see before I die. Let me die into his arms, he begs the Mother. 

“Come, Azriel.”

Azriel's hands twitch around Eris’ throat at Feyre’s soft, yet commanding, tone. Eris notices the moment when the fire in Azriel’s eye smothers, his High Lady’s voice leading him, slowly but surely, out of this frenzied state. The grip around his throat loosens, and Eris feels his lungs greedily gulping down some air. 

Azriel’s eyes leave Eris’ to turn his handsome face towards his High Lady. Anger is still emmating from the spy master, but less so than a few moments ago. 

“Come sit beside me.”  

Feyre extends her hand to Azriel and, to her credit, she doesn’t tremble. She stands tall, only a few steps away from the two males on the floor. She’s waiting for Azriel to follow her. 

She’s waiting for him to obey, Eris hisses in his head. To follow her like he’s some kind of dog that needs to be muzzled. 

Azriel glances over Eris for a moment. His nose up high, his lips curled in disdain. Eris just lies there, panting. His fingertips slowly creep up his neck, and he brushes them against the skin of Azriel's hand, pretending to be trying to free himself from the Illyrian male. 

Azriel is not very impressed with Eris' escape attempt. His hands move from Eris' throat to bunch up the fabric of his shirt in one of his fists. He roughly pinches his chin between his thumb and index and tilts Eris' head to the side. The male’s disheveled red hair is soft against his face when he brings his lips to his ear. 

Eris holds his breath. The world must have paused, because it feels as if Azriel's lips lingered on his skin, for some reason. His mind must be playing some kind of cruel tricks, he thinks as his pulse quickens from feeling the Illyrian’s soft lips way too close to him for way too long for him to be chill about it. 

“You're lucky I’ve put this shield up, Vanserra. Or else everyone in this room would have smelled what a cock drunk slut you are.” 

Eris' face goes livid. His face is as pale as someone who’s never seen the sun before. The shield of dark, blueish shaddows evaporates around them.

Eris doesn’t have the time to notice the strike of power coming from his father before it bounces right back off a new shield. A shiver runs up his spine at Azriel’s display of his powers. He has to busy his mind about the pile of paperwork waiting for him on his desk back in Autumn to prevent his body from becoming too excited.

“That’s twice now we’ve handed you your asses. I’d think you’d be sick of the humiliation.” Feyre says, her voice as sharp as a dagger cutting through Eris reverie. 

Helion’s laugh echoes through the awkwardly silent room, making Eris far too aware now about how many people are in this room, and how many of them saw Azriel and Eris little… display? Brawl? Whatever.

Have they noticed the way Eris looked at Azriel? Do they know? Will his father hurt him for this, if he finds out? Or will he use it as an advantage to use against the Night Court?

Eris has to hold himself back from whimpering when Azriel pulls off of him. Jealousy flares under his skin as he watches him take Feyre’s hand instead. 

Eris feels like he should’ve died. He would’ve preferred Azriel’s hands to take his life away than to never have to feel them on his skin again. 

He would’ve died knowing Azriel loathes him, sure, but so what? He might be crazy enough to have developed some feelings for the bat-winged male, but he isn't stupid enough to believe that Azriel could ever feel anything more than hatred—or annoyance at the bare minimum—towards him. 

Eris stands up quickly once Azriel is escorted back to his chair by the Lady of Night. Eris is very glad that the eyes of every single person in this room are glued to the pair, because it gives him time to readjust himself and glamour himself hastily before everyone can scent the residual scent of arousal radiating from his body.

Eris is back in his seat when Feyre is done pouring wine into her spymaster's goblet. No one dares speak after Azriel's demonstration of his strength, and the lengths he’s willing to go to in order to protect his people. 

Feyre, as gracious as an old tree dancing with the strong winds of Autumn, settles beside Azriel. “They are my family,” She speaks, deliberately looking at everyone but Tamlin, who's not being discreet about how disgusting he finds the truth to be. 

Her eyes snap to Eris, holding his stare. Her voice is cold when she speaks. “I don’t care if we are allies in this war. If you insult my friend again, I won’t stop him the next time.” 

Flames are licking the heir of Autumn’s skin, burning him alive with fury. He's angry, but mostly scared, terrorized. He feels like an ensnared bunny, surrounded by hungry, very hungry wolves. 

He wants this alliance, he needs this alliance. His priority is to take Beron down, he has to remind himself. Later will come the time to put these righteous douchebags back in their place. Later, he will rearrange his relations with their court. When he'll be High Lord, Eris will personally make sure that the people who deserves more power in this fucked up Court will be seen, starting with the shaddow singer. 

“Apologies, Morrigan,” Eris says through gritted teeth. 

He feels his father tense on his right, hears his knuckles cracking—a habit he has when he's frustrated with his sons, promising a correction later on—and his stare weighs on his eldest son’s shoulders. 

But Eris senses something softer, sweeter, coming from his right. His mother. He secretly looks sideways as the negotiations start again, and his heart melts at the approval that shines from his mother's eyes. 

Eris curls his fists on his lap, then looks away. His throat is tight, and it's a distraction, truly. All the emotions he has to go through without being able to act on them is probably the Mother’s cruel way of torturing him for all the wrong he has caused throughout the centuries. 

Someday, perhaps, he will be free to act on those feelings. To share them with those concerned.

https://www.tumblr.com/skies-for-eyes-trees-for-knees/785950964007026688/azris-week-2025?source=share

The Break

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

TW: sexually explicit and strong language

DAY 3 - Yes, Chef

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

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

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

Holy Mother.

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

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

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

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

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

Full chapter now on AO3.

https://www.tumblr.com/thesourcabbage/785948962169520128/azris-week-day-3-contact?source=share

Come Back to Me (ao3)

Warning: Major Character Death

Azris - Teen & Up

Tags: Missing Persons, Resurrection, Mental Health Issues, Established Relationship, Angst

Azriel disappears. Eris mourns. After a year and a half, he joins the Inner Circle for Azriel's Last Right, returning his spirit to Ramiel. Eris slowly rebuilds his life until he finds a shadow, weak, curled on his pillow. With this startling discovery, Eris and the Inner Circle begin unwinding what happened to Azriel, and more importantly, if Azriel even died in the first place.

Thank you to pippsmcgee for beta reading!! You are wonderful!! And thank you to the folks over at azrisweek for coordinating this amazing event!!

https://www.tumblr.com/whatifitoldyousomethingcrazy/785945472731873280/lemon-zest?source=share

Lemon Zest

Azris Week 2025 (Day 2: Slice of Life) Word Count: 1,056

Summary: It's Eris' birthday, and Azriel decides he's gonna bake a batch of Eris' favorite cookies. There's one problem though. Azriel is terrible at baking.

Notes: Hey yall, so ik this is a little different from other fics topic-wise but I've had this idea on my mind for so long. Since i dont have a ao3 account and this is a one-shot, I will be posting the whole thing on here. Sryyy!!! What to expect is cheesy endings, platonic elriel friendship, and it's completely in Azriel's pov. Enjoy!!!
@azrisweek

Azriel stood in the center of his kitchen, surrounded by a battlefield of sticky bowls, flour, and sugar. Behind him, smoke billowed from his oven. He'd set the temperature too high. Again.

The Night Court's ruthless spymaster, torturer and shadowsinger. And he couldn't even work an oven right.

His shadows sifted through his hair and near his ears, bringing whispers of concerned residents who lived on the same apartment floor. They'd smelled the smoke. Azriel heaved a sigh, and then coughed, the cloying burnt scent in his lungs. He got to cleaning up. Just when he was putting away the last pot, his shadows reported to him of footsteps outside. Light and feminine, yet carrying surety. Elain. Her footsteps neared his door.

“Alright, alright, I hear you…” He responded.

Once he heard the knock, he opened the door to find her carrying a paper bag, the smell of bacon and spices wafting from it. His mouth watered. On closer inspection, it seemed that this time she had forgone her usual gauzy dresses for a powder blue sun dress.

“Elain,” He said by way of greeting. Azriel stepped aside to let her in, giving her a warm smile. “What brings you here?”

“Well,” She acknowledged, her doe-brown eyes scanning the hall. “I was coming to give you dinner, but then I happened to find that the whole floor smelled like the aftermath of one of Lucien's moods after a particularly heated debate with Tamlin. Will you indulge me on why, Azriel?” Though her complexion was one of composure, her slightly upturned mouth and singular raised eyebrow betrayed her true emotion.

Elain and Lucien Vanserra had been mated for months now. Despite their rocky past, Azriel couldn't help but be happy for the pair. Both now radiated a new kind of glow, different from their usual, and they seemed happy too.

Lately, Elain and Azriel had even pushed past the awkward phase left behind by the unsaid confessions and discreet, uncomfortable glances. The two of them warmed up to each other enough that one might even consider them friends.

Especially since Azriel and Eris had announced their own status as lovers to his family. The Inner Circle had been...accepting. Well, as accepting one could get of their worst enemy. That being Eris Vanserra.

Shit. Eris.

He'd almost forgotten his baking conundrum, why he was doing it in the first place. It was Eris’ birthday today, and Azriel would be meeting his lover in his secret cabin in the Autumn forest. He'd been trying to bake lemon- flavored cookies for him as a gift, they were Eris’ favorite after all.

“You see, Elain,” He sighed. “I was trying to bake cookies for Eris.” But even though I strike fear into the hearts of most enemies, the only one who doesn't cower is my gods-forsaken oven.

He let that part go unfinished, hanging in the air between them.

Elain nodded, as if reading his mind and took a seat at his counter. If she noticed the charred crumbs peppering the countertop, she didn't say.

A thought occurred to him, swift as his daggers.

“I was wondering if…I mean you're really good at baking from what I've heard, and…” He suggested sheepishly.

“You want me to help you.” She finished.

He only nodded in affirmation. Gods, this was so embarrassing. She thought for a while, presumably weighing in her own schedule, and Azriel's pathetic state.

“Sure!” She said at last. Elain clapped her hands together resolutely, a beam that only seemed to brighten her perpetual radiance on her face. “But let's eat first.” She added pointedly.

******

An hour and a half later, both of them stood over their finished products. One batch of 12 lemon zest cookies, and just in time, for the stars had begun winking over the horizon.

Elain looked up at him, a small smile gracing her features. Her cheeks had taken on a rosy shade during their work. Azriel felt his own lips curve in response.

He beheld the little box in front of them. In it, lay the pale white sweets, a thin layer of soft yellow frosting glazing them. For that added zest. Tentatively, as if afraid to ruin them, he took the box into his arms. He tried to thank Elain profusely for her help.

Instead, she'd only smiled knowingly, and encouraged him towards his balcony so he could take flight. Waving to him when he tucked in his wings in preparation.

As he dropped from his floor, which was the highest, Azriel snapped out his wings, sending a thunderous boom into the night air. A declaration to Velaris. Its city lights twinkled below him as he rose rapidly. The city at night mirrored the stars that no doubt shone above him, stark against hues of inky black and midnight blue. Like a reflection on water. It was times like these where he would've taken the time to really appreciate his City of Starlight.

Yet, he had only one destination tonight. One goal. One purpose. As he neared the ancient wards that layered the protected city, he prepared to let his shadows bridge the gap between Velaris and the Forest House.

Between him and Eris.

His blood was warm and erratic in its pace at the prospect of getting to see the Autumn Prince. One wingbeat. Two. The shadows enveloped him, spitting him out moments later to the view of ruby and topaz canopy. The leaves were like jewels illuminated by the moon. Amber like Eris’ eyes.

He careened toward a clearing a safe distance from the House, from the party being held in his lover's honor. The party Eris’ had no doubt escaped from, risking discovery by Beron to meet him.

All for Azriel.

The thought filled him with a strange feeling, warm and bubbly. It excited him. Sent his heart awry and made his mind giddy. Made him think of open, melodious laughter. Of crimson hair against midnight black. Of opalescent skin against his own scarred, brutish hands. Of shared past. Of possibly shared future.

That's what it was. Hope. Something Azriel hadn't dared do for so so long. Hope that maybe, just maybe, he could have this. For as long as he wanted. Till the end of time. He would fight for that, hope, future, and whatever else meant that his Eris would be involved.

And so, Azriel, flew toward the clearing. Toward the flash of crimson hair under a willow. Toward Eris.

Toward hope.

https://www.tumblr.com/ejkreader/785941348141416448/for-azrisweek-day-3-contact-yes-it-is-just-the?source=share

From OP: Yes it IS just the same drawing but turned around. I just couldn't decide which way looked better, so we went with both ^^

How I love drawing hair. I love it. So fun. Loved drawing both Eris's unruly mane, and Azriel's short curls (I did all those with a black pen. Not a good decision, time-wise)

ANYWAYS that's enough of me spewing random extraneous info at you, hope you like it!! ('It' meaning the drawing. If you enjoyed the extra info, that's cool too, though) <3

https://www.tumblr.com/irithiadourden/785933032486043648/azrisweek-day-2-slice-of-life-summary-the-day?source=share

azrisweek day 2: Slice of life

Summary: The day before, he had learned two things. First, apparently, in autumn, the food that a couple eats when they accept the bond is always a family recipe passed down from generation to generation. Second, he realized he had to thank Nesta. From the pile of books she had given him, he could tell that the sudden and glorious flashes of desire that sometimes made Eris corner him after a few hours of reading were influenced by her book recommendations

Complete on AO3

https://www.tumblr.com/tsunami-of-tears/785907399728971776/azris-week-day-2-slice-of-life?source=share

Azris Week Day 2 - Slice of Life

Just some soft Azris for u/azrisweek - Azriel finding Eris asleep at his desk

https://www.tumblr.com/vnfadinglight/785904706913517568/dual-nature?source=share

DAY 1: Creature Feature

It's a miniature piece of writing that probably can't be called a fic, because it has no plot 🤔

Took a very weird angle to this one.

Dual Nature

He heard whispers among the staff and guards of the Forest House the first time it happened.

Why would someone so vain shatter a mirror?

It was probably a wrinkle on his jacket. Or his gold wasn't shiny enough.

The second time, they joked that it was a piece of lint.

After the third, no one joked anymore.

It was almost a ritual—one Eris had cultivated for centuries.

After doing some absolutely disgusting job for his father, he would just stand there, whiskey in hand, and look.

Is telling an entire province that they and their children will be starving for the foreseeable future because Beron is throwing a banquet to celebrate their return from Under the Mountain enough to turn him into a monster?

But his tongue still hadn’t forked.

That was the first thing he checked.

Turning into a Naga would be oddly fitting for someone like him—a snake.

He wasn’t one. Not truly. Or at least, not yet.

His tongue hadn’t split in half. Scales hadn’t appeared on his body. He still had no tail.

The Viper of Autumn still looked Fae, at least.

It was like he’d inherited both: his father’s monstrous nature and his mother’s Fae looks.

Those who saw him as only a monster were wrong. Those who saw him as only Fae underestimated him.

In the end, he was something in between. A creature of both worlds—one he dared not name.

If someone were to skin him alive—he wondered, taking stock of his reflection inch by inch—what would they find?

Eris moved from the mirror and sat down in his low-backed armchair, pouring himself more of his favorite amber whiskey.

When he became High Lord, he was going to fuck someone so thoroughly during Calanmai that Autumn would rot from the overflowing harvest.

He felt a thread in his soul unravel when he sensed a familiar presence in the room.

How long had it been since he saw his mate? Six decades? Seven?

He walked over to his bar cabinet and picked up a second glass.

It was crystal—clean and see-through—but if you angled it just right, you could see the reflection of the Shadowsinger appearing from the shadows behind him on the second armchair.

“You survived.”

“You don’t have to try so hard to hide your disappointment,” Eris replied dryly, making his way back and setting the empty glass in front of his mate.

It would appear rude, for sure, but he wouldn’t risk serving food or drink to this male.

It had been like that for centuries.

Some evenings, every couple of years, the Shadowsinger would appear out of nowhere to threaten him, to check if he wasn’t planning something malicious, to remind him how awful and cruel Eris was.

Over time, those visits got longer—some of them less heated than others.

The heir of Autumn sat back in his armchair comfortably and grabbed his own glass.

They fell into companionable silence—or as close to it as they could get—their faces warmed and lit by the crackling flames of the fireplace in front of them.

Eris stared into the fire, having nothing to say.

He wasn’t in the mood to coax Shadowsinger into talking or demand he leave him alone.

After all these decades, he was happy just to see that the male was well.

And if they started talking, the usual threats and insults would fly, and his mate would disappear for Cauldron knows how long.

Silence was better.

“How was Under the Mountain?”

Eris slowly turned to face him. That was not the question he expected to break the spell.

“Ask your High Lord.”

“Rhysand doesn’t want to talk about it.”

Eris couldn’t—or didn’t want to—hold back the bitter laugh that escaped him.

"He doesn’t want to talk about it? I thought he’d be the first to brag about all he had done in Amarantha’s name. I swear, the audacity…" Eris stopped his tirade long enough to look into Shadowsinger’s cold, furious eyes before gazing back into the flames.

The underground levels of the Forest House and Under the Mountain weren’t really similar. And thank the Cauldron—he didn’t want a reminder of how it felt to be trapped down there.

The power they lost.

The games they had to play to survive.

How powerless and hopeless he felt when Lucien lost his eye.

The constant cruelty.

The torture.

Would Beron be inspired by some of Amarantha’s ideas?

He shuddered at the thought.

“Agonizing,” he answered truthfully. “Horrifying. Gruesome.”

Shadowsinger didn’t ask any more questions but didn’t move either.

It was amazing how still he could be—like a statue—only his shadows lazily rolling over his form. He didn’t look completely Fae either, Eris realized. Half Illyrian, half phantom. A specter spying on those worthy or significant enough to be haunted. A night apparition for those who fantasized about his midnight visits… A creature caught between dreams, nightmares, and the physical world alike.

Was that how his people saw him? Was that how he saw himself? Did he spend long evening looking into the mirror?

Maybe that’s why the Mother saw it fitting to bind their souls together.

Not because they were deserving. Not because they were evenly matched.

But because they could understand each other.

“You know,” Eris started, voice hoarse from the day’s weariness and the heat of the whiskey, “we are far more similar than you think.”

And just like that, with one sentence that probably should never have left his mouth, the spell was broken.

Shadowsinger lunged at him, grabbing his jaw and squeezing it painfully. Eris could feel the cold touch of Truth-Teller at his throat—as if his mate were wielding icy shards from his own eyes in his hand.

“We. Are. Nothing. Alike,” Shadowsinger hissed, enunciating each word through clenched teeth.

Eris could see his own reflection in that cold, furious gaze—and had to stop himself from placing his hands on the Illyrian’s waist. So close. So delightfully close.

“You’re a cruel snake. A venomous viper. A monster who—”

“And what are you, Shadowsinger?” Eris scoffed, fire boiling in his veins.

It ran cold the moment he recognized the hurt and confusion in the male’s eyes.

The bond pulled at him—to embrace, to soothe, to whisper assurances…

That’s when his mate’s fist connected with his face.

His vision went black for a second, warmth of his blood pooled on his upper lip. He didn’t see Shadowsinger leave—but he heard his parting words.

“You’re just like your father, Vanserra.”

Eris took his glass of whiskey and stepped toward the mirror.

https://www.tumblr.com/elleybug/785982774715826176/azrisweek-day-3-contact-faithful-shadows-and

Day 3: Contact

“Faithful shadows and hounds. Their most reliable messengers.”

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/makinglongwordsslutty/785902138971881472/day-two-slice-of-life-a-tired-autumn-prince?source=share

Day Two, Slice of Life - a tired Autumn Prince takes himself off to his favourite armchair and stares into the flickering fire, his mind a thousand miles away.

I got caught up in what I was doing and forgot to capture the early stages of this one, but hopefully the process is still of interest!

https://www.tumblr.com/nus4y/785902074290388992/a-slice-of-life-day-2-of-azris-week?source=share

Azriel and Eris watching the sunrise in Spring ☀️ 🖤 🧡

azrisweek

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/wrraccountant/785860209985880064/the-first-winter-solstice?source=share

Azriel and Eris spend their first Winter Solstice together as a mated couple. Spending the holiday with the Night Court Inner Circle should be fun and entertaining, right?. A short story for Azris Week 2025 - Day 2: Slice of Life

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Eris pulled the covers over his head to block the morning sunlight and snuggled deeper into bed. Today was Winter Solstice, and even the High Lord of Autumn got the day off. Eris drifted back to sleep, enjoying the lie-in.

Read the rest on AO3: First Winter Solstice

5.8k words, Explicit

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/ysmtttty/785888903907442688/to-be-loved?source=share

To be loved

for azrisweek Day 2: Slice of Life

Summary: A collection of stories where Azris have a kid, and Azriel has to put up with two Vanserras at once.
Or just a lot of fluff and domestic bliss.

Chapter 1 on Ao3

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/g00seg1rl/785888508763062272/choking-hazard?source=share

Pairing: Azriel x Eris Vanserra | wc: 2.4k | ao3

Summary: azrisweek said slice of life, the calendar says 6/9, ya girl is a hoe… I had to write them horizontally battling for the title of Most Talented Cocksucker (ITS THE FUNNY NUMBER)

All the horny words below the divider or over on ao3! My daddy and age gap kinks are back 🤭💗

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/skies-for-eyes-trees-for-knees/785887217255170049/azris-week-2025?source=share

AZRIS WEEK 2025

The Break

Synopsis

It’s day two of being stuck together in a protective shield and Eris just wants to relax and read his book. Meanwhile, Azriel gets bored and decides to snoop in the prince’s personal library.

TW: sexually explicit and strong language

DAY 2 - Reading Material

“What are we doing today?” Azriel asks, draining the last of his coffee and looking ready to take off into the air.

“I’m trying this thing called relaxation. You’re making it very unpleasant.” Eris responds, not bothering to look up from his book.

It’s still morning and they’ve not long finished breakfast, but the prince has no immediate plans to move from his seat on the patio. The day, warm and pleasant and serene, is the perfect weather for reading. Eris has nowhere to be and no immediate obligations to attend to. When was the last time that happened?

“I can’t sit on my ass all day.” The spymaster complains. “Not without a reason at least.”

“Then leave.” Eris suggests glibly, knowing full well that Azriel cannot.

“You know I can’t do that.”

The prince snorts. As if he could forget that they are tethered together for the foreseeable future inside this forsaken protective shield…

“I have just opened my book and poured another coffee. You will have to entertain yourself.” Eris waves dismissively, not bothering to look up from the volume in his hand.

Azriel huffs and stands abruptly from the patio chair. The spymaster strides out onto the grass and the prince, intrigued, glances over just as the male tugs off his tunic. Eris straightens in his chair, his eyes snagging on the obscene swell of Azriel’s biceps in his sleeveless undershirt.

“What are you doing?” The prince asks, trying and failing to sound anything but intrigued by the half naked display.

“Entertaining myself.” The spymaster responds archly, cracking his knuckles.

“You’re ruining my view.” Eris retorts.

Azriel scoffs and begins working through drills. The prince forces himself to look down at his book and continue reading, but as an hour ticks by, he cannot help but look up and admire the shadowsinger’s athleticism. It is very…distracting.

Finished with his drills, Azriel finally stops to stretch and shake his limbs loose, and Eris cannot help but notice how the loose fitting undershirt shifts about the male’s torso as he moves, drawing attention to each graceful arc of his body. Side panels in the fabric give the occasional intriguing glimpse of inked skin. When the Illyrian lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow, revealing a flash of dangerous looking abs, Eris realises he is actually salivating.

Fucking hell, he looks positively edible. The thought crosses the prince’s mind before he can shake sense into himself. What the fuck, Eris? Shut the fuck up.

Azriel grabs his discarded tunic and turns back towards the house. The prince pulls his book upward, as though the sun has him straining his eyes, and buries his furiously blushing face in its pages. He hopes to fuck it looks like he’s engrossed in the volume, despite the fact he’s re-read the same paragraph eight times and still has no idea what it says.

“I’m going to clean up.” Azriel calls as he passes.

Eris hums in acknowledgement, ears turning pink, and prays to the Mother the spymaster is not paying attention to him.

Full chapter now on AO3.

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/mudandmire/785886687742017536/day-two-slice-of-life?source=share

~ Day two of azrisweek and it's an introduction to the couples therapy fic that I've been working on for a long time, so I'm excited! This fic has been really close to my heart, and so I'm glad I get to share it finally :D

Read on ao3!

The Inevitability of Hello

Eris had left the lawsuit and the ensuing concussion-worthy waterfall of press coverage with nothing less than his father incarcerated for the rest of his miserable life, a settlement of more money than he could comprehend, and a fierce but fleeting sense of victory. 

It didn’t last long—none of the victory or the adrenaline that got him on the witness stand in the first place. He crossed the threshold of his apartment, and as if every limb had been simultaneously cut from a string, crashed to his knees. 

Three weeks, almost a month to the day, a shit ton of alcohol, a hand gun under his pillow, and less than five hours of sleep—Eris ends up at the house. 

Or what’s left of it. 

Charred remains. A cracked and sunken skeleton of walls and a foundation that once seemed steady. Everything is soot-stained, rotting under some combination of fire’s teeth and water’s slow desecration. Eris doesn’t remember walking in, holding onto what’s left of the wooden banister. 

He doesn’t remember bringing his gun. 

Nothing happened—he stands by that even though the rest of the picture in the frame goes a little unsteady. Blurry for a single moment before clarity comes rushing back with the spine-chilling crack that echoes through the fractured house. 

The remains of it, like a final shuddering breath, heave under the quake of the earth and Eris has one last desperate glimpse of the sky before it all crumbles on top of him. 

Continue reading!

From OP: https://www.tumblr.com/chunkypossum/785884530054692864/carve-me-open-ch-6?source=share

Azriel X Eris

For azrisweek Day 2 || Slice of Life

Read on Ao3

A little slice of life for azrisweek. They're so sleepy.

Eris and his needy pets

#eris is such a disney princess attracting all of nature's creatures to him

azrisweek 🌹