#Eris week 2024

[jules-writes-stories]

Eris Week | Day 2 | Childhood | There had been joy, too.

"His mother, who had adored dancing and hired musicians to perform at the Forest House. Her flames had once been a rosy gold when she lit the nursery’s hearth, a blanket to warm their shivering faeling bodies after a day at the swimming hole...It was melted down chocolate and hazelnut on a crisp morning." --Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows

Thank you to the talented Poppy for creating JEL's Amma and young Eris for me.

Art by @/poppypola and commissioned by me for @erisweekofficial

[climbthemountain2020]

Eris Week Day 4: Hounds

Don't nobody try to tell me that this man isn't a softie for his doggies.

Taglist: @erisweekofficial @chunkypossum @clockwork-ashes @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @the-darkestminds

[readychilledwine]

Peace in the Violence

Eris Week - Day 5 - War and Adventure

Summary - When the battle for Autumn doesn't end by your one year anniversary, Eris has no choice but to share one more night with you during the heat of war

Warnings - war, mentions of death, smut, using sex as a coping mechanism

A/N - I will be completely honest, I was most excited for this prompt for @erisweekofficial, and I almost was not going to partake this day until this happened. She is only a little thing, but I do love her and her potential.

So many people bash on the sex scenes on ACOWAR, but I don't think they see the bigger picture with them. Those scenes are meant to remind you of what the characters are fighting for. The sex is meant to be symbolic of so much more than sex. SJM, in my opinion, can not properly execute a smut scene during war. Hopefully, I conveyed what I feel those scenes are supposed to represent with this.

🍂Eris Week Masterlist🍂Eris Masterlist🍂Master Masterlist🍂

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

A rough roll of his hips had you gasping as Eris began to lose his gentleness. He was desperate to feel anything besides the looming fear of the battle that was coming. Eris was a skilled warrior, a natural fighter, and had been preparing his whole life for this, but the efforts to dethrone his father were making him question everything.

The war in Autumn had left far too many wounded and more dead. What was supposed to be a simple siege of the Forest House was now more. It was Beron with a legion protecting him. Eris with 6 High Lords in a tent waiting to call their armies. It was Beron refusing the blood duel while Eris put all of his magic into containing battle to just the area they were in to protect the fae of this court. His fae. His court.

You gasped below him before a strangled cry of pleasure tried to leave your throat. It was as if Eris couldn't hear you below him, like he was using all of his tricks to drive more noises from swollen lips. “Eris,” it was a broken call of his name, trying to pull him back to you. To remind him you were the one below him.

His wife. His mate. His love. The one he had set this very fire for.

His eyes met yours and he slowed before forcing you both to roll over, silent admission he could not be in control tonight. He wanted to laugh. One year. One year of marriage spent in bliss, and it was bliss he hoped to seek in this moment of peace you two shared.

Hands. Hands touching your thighs, your hips, your back. Hands roaming every inch of you. Desperate. Aching. Yearning. This wasn't the trip he had planned for your anniversary, but war waits for no male.

When you began to move slowly, he couldn't stop the whimper that fell through his throat.

He was seeking sex.

You had been seeking to make love.

Every bounce was at the pace he was hungry for, his hands settling on your hips to help guide you. You leaned down to kiss him, hands on his chest as he began to meet your movements, pace slowed to savor this instead of rushing.

There were no promises of this happening again, no guarantee that after battle tomorrow your husband would be in bed.

But you had tonight.

You had now.

“I love you,” the words left his mouth in a hushed tone. He needed to say them, to whisper them until his voice and words were etched in your bones.

Eris knew as he was making love to you, as he cherished you on his night, that tomorrow he may die. He knew he was the target in these battles. Not his brothers who so bravely came to his side. Not the soldiers he had been recruiting in secret. Him.

And tomorrow, before you woke up, Rhysand will have taken you to Velaris, hiding you from Beron if Eris will to fail. His mother was already there. His hounds. His wife belonged there too, safe, beautiful untouched.

He memorized every inch of you as you leaned back, pace increasing to give him what he was desperate for. He memorized every freckle, curve, the exact shade of your lips and eyes.

He memorized the noise you made as his thumb brushed your clit, the way your body seemed to shake before you could continue.

He memorized your face as you fell apart for him, forcing his own body to hold back to listen to every note in the song you began to sing.

And when he finally tumbled over the edge, you memorized his soft cry.

This wasn't how Eris planned to spent your anniversary, handing Rhysand your things as you slept clueless to what was happen. This wasn't what he wanted as he kissed you for what could have been the last time. It wasn't all he needed to say as he whispered he loved you again.

His world shifted as Rhysand winnowed your sleeping form to Velaris and he began to pull on the dark illyrian leathers he had borrowed, Azriel waiting in tow, watching Eris prepare to assassinate his father in his sleep.

Risky, unhanded, and cheap.

But war waits for no man.

Not even in his sleep.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[the-darkestminds]

Eris Week, Day 1: Bonds

Azris, my beloved.

@erisweekofficial

[erisweekofficial]

Introducing...

We wanted to create a fun way for spectators and creators alike to engage with this years new content! Follow along with our pre-filled bingo card, or use one of the four empty templates and fill in your own squares. Once you're done, post your completed board to tumblr and tag #erisweek2024bingo. We can't wait to see your Eris Week journey!

[iftheshoef1tz]

Summary: Three snapshots of Eris, pianist, and Azriel, a cellist who Eris thinks he loves. Written for @erisweekofficial 2024, Day 4: Traditions | Hounds.

Rating: T

Pairing: Eris/Azriel

Notes: This is set in the same universe as Auld Lang Syne, though you don’t really need to read that one to understand this one. As the tags say, there are some references to alcoholism, including drinking in inappropriate places/times, as well as graphic depictions of music theater majors. I’m not sorry. Special thanks to @queercontrarian for reading this over quickly for me, and thanks to the very busy @acourtofladydeath for still taking the time to create the beautiful banner for this fic!

The competition weekend begins, strangely, with Mor. She hasn’t spoken to him in nearly a decade, not since the lengthy court battle and Beron’s definitely-not-suspicious death.

It’s the past, and therefore Eris doesn’t bother with it.

But Mor, she straddles the line between that non-existent past and his present when she turns to look at him. The first time she does it, he ignores her, assuming it was a passive-aggressive glare. Yes, how dare Eris Vanserra walk the hallowed halls of this conservatory; how dare he step into this sacred rehearsal hall with a face that dares to look so much like his father’s!

The second time she does it, it’s impossible to ignore. She’s doubling piccolo on this concert, and her seat is closest to Eris and the piano. She hooks her left elbow over the back of the chair at the same time she crosses her legs, one long leg hooking over her knee. Her golden hair spills over her bare arms and the flute in her hand.

Read the rest on ao3.

[acourtofladydeath]

Eris Week '24 Day 1: Bonds/Bargains

An injured Eris finds his way to the place he needs most, but are some wounds too deep?

Let's start out @erisweekofficial day 1 with a heavy dose of Azris angst! Read a snippet below, or read the whole fic on AO3.

Soft muted light danced across the streets of Velaris through the rainfall. The faelight reflected off puddles of water, glinting like fireflies as the new drops fell. It was a beautiful sight, Eris thought before he dragged his boot through the puddle. But he had a habit of ruining beautiful things, himself included.  Liquid from the bottle at his side sloshed to join the clear water, a puddle of amber dissipating out in concentric ripples. Beside the drop of amber fell several drops of a darker liquid, thick and rich. Whiskey in, blood out. The thought made a very drunk Eris chuckle as he continued to stumble along the dark alleys of the town he wasn’t supposed to know existed. It wasn’t far now until he reached his destination. Just a few more… Eris stumbled, falling nearly face first onto the wet cobblestones.  He felt the water run in the ditches between the stones, the cool patter of rain across his skin washing away more of what had been done to him as the liquor cleansed his mind. Needing to get further from his thoughts, Eris pulled the bottle up toward his lips but there was nothing there. His fingers wrapped around the neck of the broken glass, the shattered base of the bottle now glinting like gems amongst the stones. More blood trickled down Eris’ arms from the deep gash the broken glass has left in his palm.  What was more blood, at this point? 

Keep reading here on AO3!

Thank you to @iftheshoef1tz for betaing this fic! She pulled me back from a much darker ending, so you can all thank her for that.

Let me know if you want on or off the taglist! @pippsmcgee, @born-to-riot, @chunkypossum, @bubybubsters, @queercontrarian, @yanny-77, @fieldofdaisiies, @iftheshoef1tz, @secret-third-thing, @jules-writes-stories, @the-darkestminds

[ysmtttty]

Eris week Day 2: Childhood || Legacy

AO3 or read below

Once upon a time, in a kingdom veiled in shadows and cruelty, there lived a young prince who loved his family dearly.

One shot, 1.1k words; @erisweekofficial

Once upon a time, in a kingdom veiled in shadows and cruelty, there lived a young prince who loved his family dearly.

He was the firstborn son of a fearsome and wicked king, who ruled the land with an iron hand. The young prince, though cherished deeply by his gentle mother, could not escape the dark influence of his father. The king was determined to shape his son into a mirror image of himself, a ruler even more ruthless and cunning. He harbored the vision of his son surpassing him in every way, with no intention of easily relinquishing the throne.

As the years passed, the young prince's heart was slowly consumed by the darkness that surrounded him. It seemed as though the light within him had been snuffed out, and everyone believed that the king's corruption had taken root in his soul.

Yet, there was a time when the young prince was innocent and free, before the weight of the crown loomed over him. In his childhood, he spent his days playing with the puppies in the garden, causing mischief, and sneaking pastries from the kitchen, much to the annoyance of the cooks. He would sit by his mother's side, listening to the stories she told with wide-eyed wonder. She was his first friend, his greatest comfort, and the most precious person in his little world.

She used to be the first who greeted him in the mornings with motherly affection, and the last who said him goodnight, leaving a tender kiss on his forehead. In her presence, the young prince felt a sense of peace and calm that he found nowhere else. He would share with her tales of his adventures, proudly recounting how he had taught the puppies to sit or how he had made a sweet maid's daughter blush by giving her daisies from the garden.

Those were the golden days of his youth, filled with love and laughter. But as he grew older, the cruel king decided it was time for his son to learn the ways of a true heir.

On that fateful day, the king struck the young prince, hard enough to leave a bruise on his chubby cheek and bring tears to his eyes. The prince looked to his mother for protection, but she stood by silently, tears streaming down her face. She did not intervene; she could not and she never did. She watched helplessly as the king began to mold her beloved son into something dark and unrecognizable.

The young prince’s light-hearted nature began to fade, replaced by bitterness and cruelty. His words grew harsher, and his actions more brutal. His mother could only watch as the transformation took hold, as the innocence of her child was stripped away.

Despite the harshness of his new reality, the young prince still played his favorite game—pretending. But now, the game had changed. He no longer pretended to be a mighty warrior or a fair king; instead, he wore masks of cruelty and cunning, so convincing that even he began to believe in them. No one could tell he was still pretending, that beneath the mask, a flicker of his former self remained.

As time went on, the young prince was joined by brothers. They, too, were once full of life, with chubby cheeks, fiery red hair, and mischievous grins as they stole candies from the kitchen. The young prince loved his brothers dearly, and they adored him in return. But as they grew older, they too fell under the king's dark influence, becoming echoes of their father and eldest brother.

The young prince watched in silence as his brothers lost their innocence, as their childhoods were stolen by the cruelty of their father’s reign. He watched them suffer, beaten until they conformed to the king's will. And in that suffering, the young prince finally understood why his mother had never come to his defense.

He then realized that the mask he wore had become a part of him, fused to his very being. But then, a new light entered his life—his youngest brother, a child of pure love and light, untouched by the darkness that had claimed the rest of the family. This child was different, and the young prince vowed to protect him.

But the light was soon extinguished, shattered by the king and the brothers who had succumbed to his influence. The young prince fought back, rebelling against his father, enduring broken bones and shackles. Yet, even his pain was insignificant in a court ruled by darkness. No fire or light seemed capable of piercing the thick veil of cruelty.

Centuries passed, and the young prince grew into a cunning and dangerous man. His mask was no longer a mask; it had become his true face. His eyes gleamed with cruelty, and his emotions were buried deep within, never to be seen again.

But deep down, he knew what he had to do. He had to bring fire back to the court, to ignite a wildfire that would burn the corrupted kingdom to ashes, so that a new and just realm could rise from the ruins.

When the young prince finally ascended to the throne, the kingdom began to change. Though the dais of his throne was stained with blood, the cries of despair gradually faded. The death of the old king marked the beginning of a life that could flourish once more.

At first, the people feared the new king as they had feared his father. They had no faith in his kindness, for they had known only tyranny. But over time, the king’s actions revealed his true intentions. He ruled with a firm hand, but his decisions were guided by a desire to help his people.

Slowly, the kingdom began to heal, and the folk came to cherish their new king. Yet, some wounds took longer to mend.

The king's brothers, still twisted by their father's teachings, envied him. They dreamed of seizing the throne, of ending the life of the brother who had always been there for them. The king, now unable to undo the damage that had been done, could only watch in despair.

His mother, who had found freedom after the old king’s death, still loved her children dearly. She chose to stay in the kingdom for just a little longer, but even love could not erase the fear that lingered in her heart. She flinched when the new king raised his voice at someone, and she was more guarded around him, as if she feared he might hurt her too. The king noticed, and it pained him deeply, but he did not know how to fix it.

The new king had achieved everything he had set out to do, yet he had lost everything he had once loved. In quiet moments, he longed to be that carefree young prince again, playing with puppies and listening to his mother’s stories, far away from the burdens of the crown and the scars of the past.

[littlest-w01f]

Eris Vanserra & Lucien Vanserra

ERIS WEEK MASTERLIST

@erisweekofficial Day 3: Healing/Betrayal

posting my moodboard I made for fun cause it fits the prompts

Lucien's eyes, Eris has betrayed him as a brother over and over again, from everything that happened with Jesminda's murder, hunting him to Spring and from hunting him through Winter, even if he was acting for his father. Their relationship has been strained to say the least.

But as we see in Acosf, with Eris visiting the Band of Exiles, their relationship could be it's way to being bettered, I'd like to think they would soon be well on their way to heal their broken brotherly relationship, especially after Beron will kick the bucket and Eris will be HL of Autumn.

[pit-and-the-pen]

Dirty Little Secret

Day 3 of @erisweekofficial: healing/betrayal

Summary: You were one of Beron’s top spies, your assignment, Eris. Little did you know how complicated that was going to get…

Warnings: Beron being awful, burning, violence + injury

WC:2.7k

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

You woke up to find the other side of the bed already empty. This has become the new normal for you. The past few months you would go to bed wrapped around Eris and come morning he would be gone. It was really for the best.

Even if he was doing it to protect your image. something he didn’t need to worry about in the slightest. Eris believed you were nothing more than a newly appointed lady, and didn't question your sudden arrival into the court. The very opposite in fact, he had approached you first. Took you riding less than a week after first introducing himself. You never expected to enjoy his company so much, never intended on sneaking off into hidden corners of the palace to press his lips against yours.

It had all happened so quickly that you were still struggling to wrap your mind around it. Every time the guilt threatened to eat you alive. But as you rolled over and barrier your face into a pillow that still smelt of cloves and pine, you couldn’t find it in yourself to put a stop to it. 

A knock on the door had you quickly tugging your discarded dress over your head. It cracked open to reveal one of Berons men. 

“You’re needed.” Was all he said, voice clipped and annoyed. You fought the urge to roll yours eyes 

-------

Beron’s office was one of your least favorite places to be, second only to the tunnels of dungeons he has hidden under the forest palace. At Least those places didn’t hide what they were used for. Didn’t try to go through all the pomp and posturing that had no one fooled. Berons office was covered in dark mahogany wood, lush and dark velvets. If it was anyone else in the room it would be homey. But with Beron’s anger like a pulsing heartbeat in the room, it felt like walking into a tomb. 

“Report.” He barely looked up from the papers in front of him. 

”There’s nothing to report.” You told Beron as you stood across from his desk. 

“I’m not paying you to sleep with my son. I’m paying you to find out what he’s up to.” 

You didn’t back down, didn’t break his stare. “You told me to do whatever it took to get him to talk, to trust me. And I’m telling you, he hasn’t told me anything.”

”Then keep looking.” He waved his hand in a clear dismissal. You gave a curt nod of your head and exited the room without looking back. 

You traveled down the hidden passages of the palace, wanting to avoid contact with anyone that would be more than happy to sell the information of you leaving Beron’s office. The paths were designed for servants to travel without being seen, which was more than fine with you. After all, you were no different than a servant for Beron. YOu mind was spinning, replaying the conversation. Keep looking. It was such a ridiculous notion. You spent every minute you could with Eris but Beron refused to believe that he simply wasn’t up to anything at all. Convinced that his son was plotting something he just didn’t know what or who with. 

Nevermind that you had noticed that Eris was going somewhere, but it wasn’t worth drawing attention to until you had more details. You found a small part of you that didn't want those answers. Didn’t want to pry information out of the sweet redhead that was slowly starting to consume your thoughts. 

The passageway opened up right next to the door to the garden and you decided a walk would be the perfect way to clear your head. The crisp autumn air always helps you relax. The slight bite that reminded you of each breath. 

Soon enough, the perfectly manicured lawns gave way to winding pathways and thick forest. You could hear the sounds of birds flying in the high branches, animals crunching on the fallen leaves. A pair of hands at your waist had you spinning quicker than you could process, your arm braced against their throat as you backed them against a nearby tree. Warm amber eyes were open wide in shock. 

“Oh my gods.” You scrambled and stepped away from a rather surprised Eris.

He rubbed his neck lightly with a hand, “Remind me to never sneak up on you again.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

He wrapped a hand around your front, pulling you tight against him. 

“I think I can maybe forgive you. If…” He trailed off. YOu rolled your eyes but couldn’t keep the smile off your face. 

“If?” You raised an eyebrow at him, head slightly inclined up to look at him as he pressed himself closer. 

“I’ll think about forgiving you if you kiss me.”

“I’d kiss you even if you didn’t.” You rose onto your tiptoes, pressing your lips against his. When you tried to pull away he placed his free hand on the back of your mouth, pushing him even closer against him. You smiled into the kiss, lips tugging up as he pulled away, starting a slow trail along your jaw.

“I love you” He whispered against the skin of your neck. You felt your whole body tense at the words, his hands freezing their path along your waist. no.no.no.no

“Eris. You can’t mean that.” Your voice was desperate. Begging him to take it back. 

“Why can’t I? I'll be high lord someday. We won't have to hide from my father then.” 

“You only just met me.”

”And in all of my long life I have never felt this way about anyone.”

The mother had to be playing some kind joke. In any different lifetime, in any different world this would be the greatest thing you’ve ever heard. In a different life you would have shouted the words back, wrapped your arms around his neck and loved him without abandon. But this was not another world and the mother had always been cruel. You pulled away despite every nerve telling you to pull him closer. 

“ You can’t because I don’t love you. Eris,” The words felt so wrong, you focused on anything but the way his face dropped. “How could I ever love you? I would be stuck in this awful court forever.” You tried to make the words sound sincere, prayed he wouldn’ pry and push because you couldn’t say them again. Your heart couldn’t take it.

”I’ll change it. I would change it all for you. Please. You can’t mean this.” Tears lined his gorgeous eyes, cheeks already reddening. You could only shake your head. You pried yourself out of his grip, putting distance between the two of you. 

“I thought I could do this. But I..I can’t. I’m so sorry.” 

The cold air that had just been refreshing seemed to be tormenting you as it bit at the skin of your cheeks,stinging the wet skin. You pushed into the palace and didn’t pause as you opened the hidden door, slinking in the dark hallway until you were at the entrance right outside of your room before collapsing into your bed. 

-------

“Find someone else.” You slammed your palms down onto the wood of Beron’s desk. The glass figure on his desk wombling slightly at the force. 

“I don’t think I remember asking for your opinion.” He rose from his chair, his guards hands went to rest on the swords by their sides. 

“He isn’t going to tell me anything anymore.”

“And how, pray tell, did you manage to mess up that badly.” He snarled out at you. 

“He said he loved me. I, of course, said I didn’t. No way in hell he tells me anything anymore. So find someone else if you want information that badly.”

“I gave the job to you.”

“And I’m telling you I don’t want it.”

“You believe you have a choice in all of this. Do I need to remind you that I own you, you wokr for me. And you certainly do not get to tell me what you will and won’t do. So I will remind you of my request from when you started. Do what you have to.” 

Metallic blood filled your mouth as you bite your tongue to hold back the curses you wanted to spew  at the High Lord in front of you. Scream at the world for putting you into this position in the first place. But instead, you merely gave Beron a deep mocking bow and turned to walk out of his office. 

You had the plan hatched before you had even arrived back to your room. It was simple. Something Eris had joked about in passing. Beron was never going to let you go, so you would have to leave. Before you did, you would need to see eris one last time. Explain to him what had really been going on the whole time. And hope it would only take a kiss this time for him to forgive you. 

The door to his room was slightly open which was unusual for him. It was closed whether he was in it or not. Dread filled your stomach as you pushed open the door. The smell of burnt fabric quickly filled your nose, the rug on the floor burnt and melted at the edges. There had been a struggle. The perfectly organized table besides Eris’ bed had been overturned, books strewn across the floor. The glass rose you had given him lay shattered beside them. 

Picking up the edges of your skirt, you sprinted down the hallways, running so fast your lungs hurt with each stride but you had to get to him. 

You barreled through the doors of the throne room and were greeted with Beron casual sprawled out on the blood red chair. 

“Ah you decided to join us. Clever little fox.” Beron’s slow claps filled the air as you walked closer. 

Kneeling on the ground with guards surrounding him, was Eris. He struggled against the guards, heavy blue tinted manacles hung from his wrists. 

Eris opened his mouth to speak as his father raised a hand to him.

“I would consider your next moves very carefully.” Beron’s voice was like ice. the words crept over your skin, horror rising in you as he raised a hand to you. 

“Maybe you don’t have enough motivation.” Every single step you took echoed around the throne room. “I believe the two of you have met before. But allow me to do the proper introductions. (Y/n) is one of my newest spies.”

Eris struggled against the chains on his wrists. Eyes flickering up to you, honing in on the possessive hand his father had laid on your shoulder. 

“You’re lying.” He spit out at his father. 

Beron’s cruel laughter rang through the room. “Why don’t you ask her? But it's a shame, really, she won’t tell me anything… I wonder if she just needs some motivation.”  

That was when you saw it, one of Beron’s guard standing, a wreath of flames around his hand. “No. Please.” You felt a slap land on your face. 

“Then talk.”

“He didn’t tell me anything. I swear.”

“Such a shame.” Beron nodded at his guard. The man didn’t hesitate to rip the back of Eris’ shirt. 

“Stop.” But your screams of protest were blocked out by the sound of flesh sizzling. Eris ‘ body went tense, the muscles in his face contorting. He didn’t release a single sound as the guard repeated the action. You went to move but someone was already there, pinning your arms to your side. You were forced to watch him place his hand over and over again onto eris’ back. 

“Please. It’s me that failed, don’t punish him fo-”

“You think I’m doing this because of you?” Beron shouted down at you, rising from his throne. “My son is hiding things from me, that’s why I’m doing this. I could give a shit about your or his attraction.” 

Beron took a step, grabbing your chin with his hand. A motion that had you baring your teeth at him. 

“I think it goes without saying that you no longer have a position in my court. I’ll grant you the courtesy of an hour's head start.” He turned to his men, who were already looking at you with feral grins, “Then the hunting begins.” He shoved your face away from him, his guards releasing their hold on your arms. They screamed in pain but as you looked at eris, panting and half conscious on the ground, you didn’t feel the pain. Only the rippling anger as you looked at the male you had grown to love in a very short amount of time. 

Beron and his men filed out of the throne room, not sparing another glance at you or Eris. Leaving the heir of autumn to struggle to remove the chains himself. You moved with ease, catching him right when his feet slipped out from under him. He recoiled from your touch like it had burned worse than the guard.

You caught a glimpse at his back and tried to fight back the burning tears. You managed to unlatch the cuffs, letting them fall to the ground with an echoing clatter. You pushed them away with your feet, keeping your eyes trained on Eris’ back. The skin red and leaking, you could feel the heat coming off in waves as you tried to lift him to his feet. When you couldn’t you helped him onto his front, cradling his head, running your fingers through his hair. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to love me, and I wasn’t supposed to love you.” You spoke into his hair, bent down with your face pressed against the side of his neck.

“How could I not?” His voice was hoarse and quiet. You let out a soft laugh, tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“I’ll kill him for this.” You said, pulling Eris’ head into your lap. Leaning down, you placed a kiss on Eris' forehead and started planning how you were going to make Beron pay for what he did to Eris. 

Your mind was racing with ideas of how to make him pay for every shred of pain that he had made his sons feel, for the terror he reigned on his court. And found a small smile tugging at the edges of your lips as you thought of how much you would enjoy it.

[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

[climbthemountain2020]

It's day 3: Healing of @erisweekofficial

This is maybe my least favorite piece I did for the week because I wanted to do more with it, and I just simply ran out of time so it's a little rough.

Anyway, ✨healing✨

Taglist:

@chunkypossum @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @the-darkestminds @clockwork-ashes

[readychilledwine]

The First Hunt

Eris Week - Day 4 - Hounds And Traditions

Summary - Open season in Autumn always creates a fun game for you and your husband

Warnings - fingering, dirty talk, praise, signs of dumbification and pet play, signs of predator prey play, hunting.

A/n - Slowly reworking through @erisweekofficial things and getting them reformatted 🫠 Happy late day 4! Day 5 should be up this evening. 💕

🍂Eris Week Masterlist🍂Eris Masterlist🍂Master Masterlist🍂

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

You sighed as you walked through the fallen leaves and branches behind your husband's path. Autumn had fully fallen throughout Prythian. Leaves were changing in the solar courts, and coffee shops began to request goods from your home.

But none of that matter to Eris right now. What mattered to Eris is Prythian welcoming Autumn along all their borders meant one thing.

Open Hunting Season.

Every court had different laws regarding when hunting certain game was appropriate. With Mabon having past, Beron had opened deer and elk season. Your husband's favorite time of the year.

He spent weeks training the hounds for this, and they were as ready as their handler.

“Eris, this isn’t-”

“Now, now, my pretty bunny. Silence is the most important part of the hunt. The hounds can't find their prey if you sit here huffing.” Amber eyes stared at you, a pleased smirk on his face as you crossed your arms. “I warned you, little wife. I said this would bore you.”

“I wanted to come to the cabin, spend time with you,” you huffed again. The hounds were deep into searching. Their sensitive noses buried in the ground. They were stealthy, silent. It was as if they knew exactly what leaves and branches to avoid.

The smokehounds were one of your favorite things about Eris. It was a preview to how he'll treat your future children, a sign of the amount of love he truly had just waiting to emerge, and his patience. One of the hounds, Cyprus, came and brushed his hand before walking another direction, the others following him.

He wordlessly motioned for you to follow, bow strapped to wide shoulders again as he moved. Eris was such a graceful being. Even in his most lethal moments, Eris carried the signs of his love of dance.

You followed them, deeper into the woods, deeper into thick brush. There were no villages nearby. No fae for you to decide to leave and speak with.

You all finally stopped in a field, a cleared area in the woods with only a single ancient oak tree.

It would be the only witness to what he was about to do to you. Your back met soft ground before you could even respond and he stood above you, bent at the waist and smirking, “Little wife, on your back for me already?” His bow was carried away by Willow, weapons now long gone as the hounds began to surround the clearing, sitting in the grass to stay guard.

You pushed up to your elbows, “Huband, help me back up.” You held a hand out to him, only for him to remove his shirt. Inches of new skin was revealed before he ultimately got on top of you, caging you to the ground below, “This isn't hunting?”

“Oh but it is, sweet bunny. I ensnared you right where I wanted.”

“Did you now?”

A soft kiss found your lips, “I did.”

“What if it is I who ensnared you?”

Eris only chuckled in response, “Then maybe we are both getting what we want.” His lips found yours again, more heated and needy as he forced you to lay back again. Your own shirt was pulled of moments later before he moved to pull down the travel pants you had been allowed to wear.

His hands began to explore then, his eyes soft as he looked over your smooth skin. “This is is much better than sitting lonely and waiting for the hounds to find something,” he squeezed the plush skin of your thighs, groaning as he did.

Eris loved every inch of you. He loved the curves you carried. He loved the strong muscles of your legs. “You're already wet for me, I can smell it.”

“Eris, I'm always ready for you.”

He lifted his head at you words before glancing to where Oak had stood, “It appears we only have about 10 minutes. They've found something to chase.”

Your remaining clothing became heated, burning off to ash before a hand came to rest on the most sensitive part of you. Fingers danced through your folds, a sigh leaving your lips as you laid back. “That isn't long enough,” you whined as a nimble finger found your clit, circling it.

“Not for everything I'd like to do, no, but long enough for me to get you to finish on my hand, yes.” Eris slid a finger in while holding your eyes. “Did you really think I would not find the rabbit foot treats you hid?”

You could hardly respond as barely brushed your spot, teasing you, giving you a taste of what you craved without fulfilling the hunger.

“Did you think I wouldn't notice my hounds munching on their favorite snacks during their prehunt routine? Little wife, how silly of you to think I didn't know you were trying to get fucked against a tree.”

He began working his finger in and out, curling it just below where you needed him to touch. You continued to hold eye contact, soft moans coming from your lips as you slightly raised your hips for him.

“Gods, you're beautiful like this,” he murmured. “So responsive and soft. Who's my dumb little bunny?”

“Me,” your voice broke with pleasure. “I'm you're dumb bunny.” Eris smirked, adding a second finger and stretching you out more. His thumb grazed your clit with every movement of his hand.

Your mind shut off with every word whispered into your ear. Praising you, degrading you, the dirtiest things about how warm and wet you were, how greedy your pretty pussy was as it took his fingers so easily.

Eris began to focus on chasing your high as the hounds broke into a sprint, his fingers moving fast as the build of barking began to intimate their prey. His second hand grabbed yours, placing it on your bundle of nerves so he could focus on finding the exact angle he needed.

His free hand began to squeeze your breasts, pinching your nipples hardened from the chilly Autumn morning.

Your cries as you felt the wave approaching were drowned out to all but him. The barking now louder and insistent, indicating the hounds were closer to you and Eris, leading the prey straight to you both.

“Need you to come, bunny. Need you to a the best girl for me,” his voice had dropped, deeper as his own arousal began to grow. He kept working you, fingers pulling like a magnet and pushing you towards the sea of pleasure you wanted to bathe yourself in. “Come, bunny,” he commanded.

His spare hand forced you into a kiss, swallowing the scream of his name falling from your lips as your body found what he was working for. He kissed you through the high until he couldn't, grabbing a single bow and arrow and turning while you laid shaking on the ground to shoot whatever finally came into the clearing.

“Not bad,” he muttered as he looked between his trembling wife and the large stag. He handed you your clothing, helping you put it back on, before standing and offering all 12 hounds their individual praise.

You shook your head as Eris smiled at his first game for the season, “Good first hunt?”

“Absolutely.”

“Better than the game we played last year?”

Eris seemed to pause at that question, “Well, considering you picked the most obvious choice in distraction for the hounds this year, I would say the game of cat and mouse we played during the hunt last year was better.” Your mate, blunt and honest to a fault, looked you over. “Though, I do think you look incredibly sexy with leaves in your hair.”

Eris bent down, lifting the deer with ease, “Besides, you, my bunny, only made it 20 feet from the cabin.”

Your jaw dropped as your eyes grew wide, his laughter rang through the clearing, hounds turning in circles of excitement with him. “I swear I tried.”

He moved, kissing your forehead, “Try again later.” The invitation was soft as he whistled, rounding up 12 smokehounds. “Let's go take care of this and then I can fulfill your wishes.”

He turned and walked away, muttering to himself again, “Not bad at all.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[the-darkestminds]

Eris Week Day 2: Legacy

High Lord Eris

@erisweekofficial

nose ring added as an ode to Eris from JEL because I love him @jules-writes-stories

[erisweekofficial]

Hey, Eris Week fam! The Mods were so excited to have the opportunity to collaborate with @Mithruidatism to create a custom Eris Vanserra Cocktail and Mocktail for folks to enjoy!

If you end up making one for yourself, share a pic and tag us!

The recipe for the Pepitas Orgeat is under the cut! *Egg whites can be substituted with 1oz of aquafaba. Be sure to check out our dinner post as well!

*Drink responsibly and follow the laws of your location of residence. We do not condone underage drinking. The mocktail is really good!

[fourteentrout]

Eris Oneshot: "A Blood That Burns"

Eris Week Day 2: Childhood/Legacy

A short one shot about Eris and his mom for @erisweekofficial.

Read here on AO3 or check out the preview below!

Description: Eris cuts his hair and talks to his mom. Both are harder to reckon with than he'd expected.

Word Count: 3,246

Preview Below the Cut

Eris looked into the mirror like it would tell him a secret. He peered at himself, observing as if he were another person. His eyes passed over his features, his sharp cheekbones, his sharper eyebrows. What did people see when they looked at him? Just another one of the Vanserra brothers, they-all-look-the-same? A cruel, egotistical prick, his hunger for power etched into his very features? A pathetic whelp?

His father?

Eris registered the rage on his face before he even truly felt it, the flames in his eyes guttering out as an unsettling kind of fear slipped in. He looked tired, which almost made him look more like Beron. Older, more weathered. Though certainly not as powerful. Dark circles under his eyes, his long hair tangled and oily, his skin pallid. 

Pathetic, indeed. 

With a disappointed scoff, he grabbed the scissors off of the vanity before him. Not even combing it beforehand, he sectioned off a large portion of his hair and cut through it until it was severed completely. It hung limply from his enclosed fist without luster. It all felt quite unceremonious. 

Ashamed of thinking that it would feel more momentous, Eris continued to hack away uneven chunks with rage-fueled vigor, that lingering fear settling like lead in the pit of his stomach. He barely tried to make sure the length of each sheaf matched up, eventually snipping all the way around until his hair hung in an uneven curtain, ending above his shoulders. He would have to cut much more for it to be presentable. 

With an unseemly groan, he let the shears clatter to the vanity, covering his face with his hands. 

The thing was. 

The thing was, Eris couldn't remember the last time his brothers looked at him and didn't just see another version of their father. 

He didn't know the last time his mother touched him like he was her baby, her pride and joy. He didn't know if that's what he ever was. She could never say he has his father's eyes and feel happy about it, so why would he ever have been something precious to her in the first place?

Especially not when her little light came into the world. The Vanserra brother who wasn’t a Vanserra. The one child who was born to be loved by her. 

The grimace on Eris’ face deepened as he took up the scissors again, cutting with more precision, more intention. Cutting and cutting and cutting, until he had to switch to a less broad pair of shears. 

His arms ached with the strain of being held in odd positions for so long. By the time he was done, his discarded red hair made him feel like he was lost in a sea of fire, or perhaps blood. He was disgusted by it. He had never cut it so short. With a wave of his hand, he sent every severed strand away to the large waste bin in the laundry room. 

Eris looked in the mirror, at his father’s eyes. Wrath still burned hot underneath his skin, and he stopped pretending it hadn’t always been there, and wouldn’t always be there. He stopped pretending that fire wasn’t something that raged, and wasn’t something that lived in his very blood. 

If people were only ever going to see a second Beron, a legacy—not a separate male, not a person—then there was no point in pretending he was anything else. He reached into one of the vanity drawers, drawing out his simple, dark crown, meant for ceremonies and balls. It wasn't fashioned like his father's crown, decked with gold-plated laurels and oak leaves. Beron wasn't willing to grant that honor to any of his sons, nevermind the one closest to succeeding him. But Eris’ crown, as simple as it was, was regal and harsh, much like him, much like Beron. It would certainly complete the ensemble. He settled it onto his head, the metal digging uncomfortably into his skull, and looked at himself anew. 

Same dark circles. Same waxen skin. His father's haircut, his father's eyes, his father’s rage, his father's crown, if he pretended hard enough. 

As he stared and stared, hoping to see a glimmer of himself, or anyone else but Beron, he heard an urgent patter of footsteps in the hallway. Just as he started to turn, his mother flung open his bedroom door, her eyes wide. In the hand not bracing the door open, she clutched a lock of his discarded hair.