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labellefleur-sauvage · 1 year

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And All That Jazz

for @abraxos-and-ataraxia for the 2022 @acotargiftexchange! Happy Holidays and I hope you enjoy!

Summary: The city's lights gleamed in Nesta Archerons eyes, and all she saw was opportunity.

It’s the Roaring 20s in the bustling city of Prythia, and Nesta wants to live her life according to her own desires - whatever the consequences. When she collides with the city’s most dangerous mob boss, she discovers that jazz and whiskey can lead to a criminally passionate night.

Rating: E

Word Count: 9.6K

Read On AO3

“Nesta, hurry up! I want to get there early enough to get good seats!”

Emerie’s voice carried through Nesta’s thin bedroom door, punctuated by two loud bangs of her fist. Nesta cursed to herself as the sound of her friend’s footsteps faded down their boarding house's long, winding staircase. She was still getting ready - her makeup box was open and its contents strewn everywhere on her bed, along with several of her crumpled dresses that she had been trying on and agonizing over before deciding on her current outfit.

Looking at herself in the small mirror propped on her desk top, Nesta smiled. She was quite pleased with how she had managed to stretch the few extra dollars she tucked away to complete her look for the evening: a second-hand, drop waist, sleeveless forest green knee length dress with a scandalous V-neck that showed off her collarbones and the swells of her breasts. Nearly the entirety of her lean, strong back was exposed. She had thrown on a thin double looped silver necklace that fell to the top of her chest and complimented her blue-gray eyes nicely. It was something she would have never dared to wear before.

What she was most excited to show off, however, was her new haircut. If her grandmother were still alive, she would probably have a heart attack at what Nesta had done to her hair. Gone was her gorgeous golden-brown hair she had been forbidden to cut by her mother and grandmother; in its place was a sleek bob that fell to mid-cheek. It highlighted her sharp cheekbones and the graceful line of her strong jaw.

She gazed at herself in the mirror. If she were to go home and visit her sisters, would they recognize her? Not just her new hair, but her growing confidence, her new excitement for life? If he were still alive, she doubted her father would notice her. By the end of his life, alcohol had taken over his existence. It may even be for the best that he had already passed - Prohibition would have driven him insane, or some illegal liquor would have poisoned him to an early grave.

She gave herself a little shake - she was going out with her friends to have fun, and she wouldn’t let her miserable upbringing ruin that. She had just finished applying a touch of blush to her cheeks and putting on a pair of opal earrings when Emerie’s voice cut through the air. “We’re leaving in two minutes, with or without you!”

Quickly applying her favorite blood red lipstick to her plump lips, throwing on a pair of low heels and grabbing her beaded clutch, Nesta thundered down the steps. Waiting at the bottom in the foyer of their boarding house were Gwyn and Emerie. Upon seeing Nesta, Gwyn whistled. “I can see why it took you so long to get ready.”

She was one to talk, Nesta thought. Gwyn wore a loose, ankle length gown with beaded floral designs that matched her teal eyes perfectly and made her auburn hair pop. Her arms were bare, and the gown’s drop waist was accented by a large bow on the side of her body. Her long, shining hair was curled past her shoulders and kept out of her face by a feathered headband.

By Gwyn’s side, Emerie looked equally as wonderful. She wore a long, black, beaded gown with matching black heels. The beads across her gown were sewn in various geometric patterns, highlighting her trim build. She had a faux fur shawl around her shoulders and her black hair was done in perfect finger waves.

“Come on,” Emerie said, taking her friends by the hand and leading them outside. “I told the singer tonight we’d be there and I want to get front row seats.”

Gwyn looped her arms through her two friends’ arms. “You’re very interested in this performer,” she said, a corner of her mouth lifting. “Friend of yours?”

“Acquaintance,” Emerie replied instantly, her dark cheeks reddening.

“Good,” Gwyn cheerfully said. “I know Nesta and I are your only friends.”

Nesta couldn’t help but laugh. She had moved to the large, bustling city of Prythia, friendless and nearly penniless, her only prospect a typist job she had found in the help wanted section of her local paper. Gwyn and Emerie were new in town as well and had started the same day as her and by lucky happenstance, found their employer had put them all together in the same boarding house just a ten minute walk from work.

Their boarding house was also within convenient walking distance to several social gathering places. Until tonight, the three of them had safely stuck to the theaters and social parlors people their age visited, but being in the city for just over a year had made them bored and bold. Someone had told Emerie about a small speakeasy tucked in the basement of a corner store and the three of them had decided to expand their social outings.

If grandmother could see me now , Nesta thought viciously. Her grandmother had been a domineering hag to Nesta, controlling nearly every aspect of her life until she died when Nesta was fourteen. By the time her father had passed away a year ago, only a few years after her mother, Nesta had decided that she was done living by anyone else’s standards and ideas. She was going to make her own decisions and live her life how she saw fit, regardless of the consequences.

Finally, they turned onto the main street of Prythia’s entertainment district, and Nesta was awed, like she was every time she stepped out into the tempting darkness of the city. Here were people - women - wearing what they wanted, doing what they wanted, without overbearing parents or a man nearby to police their every action and word. A lone woman in a pair of tall heels and a luxurious fur coat passed by the three of them, confidently making her way down the street towards a brightly lit marquee.

She wanted that. She wanted that woman's confidence and freedom, her poise and elegance. The city's lights gleamed in Nesta Archeron’s eyes, and all she saw was opportunity.

XXX

Eris Vanserra didn’t trust anyone but himself with a straight razor. In his line of business, literally baring his throat was more likely than not to get him killed, so his father had taught him how to shave and trim himself early. He enjoyed the simple routine of shaving: showering, lathering his neck and face, and slowly, bit by bit, moving that deadly straight edge against the most sensitive and crucial bit of skin on his body. He always took his time, making sure to get every stray hair on his chin and neck. Appearances mattered, and he couldn’t present himself as the most distinguished and powerful crime boss in Prythia with a scruffy neck.

Tonight had been a bloody one, and he was still simmering with annoyance that he wasn’t able to get ready for the evening in the comfort of his sprawling wooded estate outside the city but instead had to shower, dress, and shave in the small apartment above his front just a block off the city’s entertainment district. The business with his newest - and now dead - business associate had taken much longer than he thought it would. His still-bloodied gloves laid at the side of the washbasin he was using to shave. His knuckles were rapidly bruising and already ached.

Eris had just finished wiping any remaining soap off his face when two loud knocks pounded on the door.

“It’s been thirty minutes, Mr. Vanserra.”

“Thank you, Vince,” Eris replied smoothly.

Vince was one of Eris’s most trusted bodyguards. He had been part of the Vanserra crime family since his father ran their bootlegging operation, but he was entirely loyal to Eris, thanks in no small part to Eris paying off a large amount of his debt and bringing his family from their shithole hovel in the continent to Prythia. That loyalty paid off in spades when Vince helped Eris murder his father, Beron, making Eris the new head of the Vanserra syndicate and its territory, lovingly called the Autumn Court.

The Autumn Court covered nearly the entire southern half of Prythia, including the coveted financial and entertainment districts. He had several speakeasies spread throughout his territory, along with gambling and drug dens. He was blackmailing most of the city’s politicians, and most recently discovered the mayor had a secret mistress and child tucked away in the town of Velaris on the coast. He hadn’t yet decided what he wanted from the mayor in order for that to remain hushed up. His men freely burgled stores and warehouses in areas held by other syndicates. At least half of the city’s police force was financed by Vanserra money, including the Chief of Police.

All the while, Eris Vanserra governed his Court from his throne built of illicit crimes and the bodies of those who tried to get in his way.

“How is the Forest House looking, Vince?” Eris called through the door.

He wanted to spend the night checking in on his newest speakeasy in the city, The Forest House, in the building’s basement. The Forest House occupied the lowest level, then his corner store - a front for The Forest House, used to legally move his illegal money - on the main level, with his personal apartment and storage on the upper floors. Tonight was the first night their new bootlegged whisky - aged on Eris’s own estate - was available to the public, and all he wanted to do after this long and shitty day was grab a glass, sit in a booth in the Forest House, and find a woman to spend the evening with.

To do that, however, he needed to get dressed. Eris decided on a cobalt blue form-fitting suit jacket and matching pants that clung to his muscled body with a deep green tie that paired well with his flaming hair and amber eyes. He combed his short hair back and applied just enough product to keep it in place.

“Busy,” Vince’s slightly muffled voice answered through the door. “Lots of women.”

Eris grinned, a predator ready to begin the hunt. “Perfect.”

XXX

The Forest House was already hopping by the time Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie walked in. After speaking the password - “Orange Hounds” - to the burly men standing in the shadows of the alley entrance to the building, they were ushered in and led directly downstairs to a large open barroom.

Deep brown wood panels covered the walls, creating a sumptuous and rich feeling in the space. A long, fully-stocked bar was along the left side of the room, with individual booths around the walls and smaller tables placed in the center of the room. The large, well-lit stage was positioned in the right corner of the room, with a dance floor directly in front of the stage.

Despite apparently being new, the space was crowded: dozens of people were mixing and talking, sitting at tables and waiting for drinks at the bar. Nesta felt a flush of excitement travel through her body - confidence and ease oozed from the strangers around her, and she was part of this secret, select group of people who were, in their own ways, taking charge of their wants and desires. A woman in an even shorter dress than Nesta’s was leaning into a man at the bar, her lips dangerously close to the man’s throat, as she talked to him. Nesta watched as the woman plant her lips on the man’s neck and move up and up and up -

Beside her, Gwyn and Emerie appeared equally as taken in with their surroundings. Gwyn had a blush on her cheeks that ran down her chest, and Emerie was staring, wide eyed, at a blonde woman in a tight fitting red dress that had appeared on the stage and was beginning to set up some equipment.

“Let’s get a table!” Emerie squeaked, pulling her friends towards a round table near the stage. The woman setting up saw Emerie, grinned, and winked.

“The mystery singer confirmed,” Gwyn murmured to Nesta. “How do you think they met?”

“Maybe the department store Emerie works at on the weekends.” Emerie had swiftly abandoned Gwyn and Nesta and was talking in hushed, excited tones to the woman on the stage. With a smile and lingering touch to Emerie’s wrist, the woman disappeared behind the stage, and Emerie came back to the table.

“That’s Mor.” Emerie was breathless and grinning.

“I see why you were so excited to get here for good seats,” Gwyn said.

“Let’s get our drinks sorted before she starts.” Emerie was looking towards the bar, craning her neck at the line.

“You two stay here, I’ll get drinks,” Nesta volunteered. “My treat. What do you want?”

After getting their drink orders - a gin rickey for Emerie, and a bee’s knees for Gwyn - Nesta moved through the crowd of sharp-dressed men and women to the bar. She found an open spot and leaned on the bar, trying to get the bartender’s attention.

The bartender turned towards Nesta, and his eyes snagged on her cleavage before snapping to her face, where a sultry grin awaited him. A corner of his mouth twitched up as he walked over.

“What can I get you, ma'am?”

“A gin rickey, a bee's knees and… what do you recommend?” Nesta leaned even further over the bar and practically purred the question in the bartender’s ear. He shivered slightly.

“We’re just uncasking our own special aged whiskey tonight. Would you like a sample?”

Nodding, Nesta watched as he poured a sliver of a shimmering, amber liquid in a small glass and handed it over. She took a sip. Instant warmth, like a low simmering fire, spread through her chest and migrated to her limbs. Hints of spices - cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla - danced on her tongue, followed by a smokiness that reminded her of childhood campfires her father would make for her and her sisters. The warmth stayed in her chest as she signed in pleasure at the whiskey.

“I hope a glass neat isn’t too expensive, because I don’t think I could drink anything else.”

“For you, my dear, it’s on the house,” a deep voice said in her ear.

Whipping her head to the side, Nesta came face to face with perhaps the most handsome man she had ever seen. Amber eyes, just like the whiskey she had drank, bored into her own eyes just a few inches away. He had a smooth, slim face without a touch of facial hair - just how Nesta preferred her men. His short red hair was combed back from his face, showing off his sharp cheekbones and full lips that smirked at her. The blush she had applied to her cheeks earlier that evening couldn’t compare to the real warmth gracing her face as the two openly stared at each other.

“I was hoping for a favorable reaction to our new whiskey tonight,” the man continued, straightening to his full height from where he was leaning on the bar. “Based on your reaction, it must be rather good.”

Nesta took a slight stuttering breath. “It’s exceptional,” she said, looking up at the man through hooded eyes. The heat in this man’s eyes suddenly made her bold and daring, more so than she had expected of herself. “Though I think I need one more taste, to see if it lives up to my high standards.”

“Just one taste?” The man leaned down to brush his lips against the shell of her ear, one of his large hands skimming her waist. The breath was knocked out of Nesta’s body, and she hoped the man couldn’t hear the loud beating of her heart over the din of the room. “Perhaps you could join me later for a private tasting, just the two of us.”

Nesta trembled with excitement. Just like that, an opportunity to do what she wanted, to rebel, with no one around to tell her no or judge her, fell into her lap. And how fortunate at what a handsome opportunity he was.

“Just a whiskey tasting though, right?”

“And whatever else we’d like to sample.” Those mesmerizing eyes dipped down to her blood red lips before returning to her eyes.

Although she wasn’t the most experienced young lady, Nesta had flirted and teased enough men to recognize the emotions swirling in the man’s eyes: hunger and desire. She knew her own eyes mirrored his, couldn’t hide the yearning and sheer want she was feeling for this unknown yet hypnotic man.

She didn’t know who he was and had certainly never seen him before tonight. Based on his familiarity with the staff, Nesta figured perhaps he too worked here, or was an investor of some kind in the operation. The idea of not knowing anything about the man in front of her and openly flirting with him would have shocked a younger version of herself that had spent her entire life in the safe, sleepy town of Velaris on the coast. If her grandmother could see her at this moment, she would have slapped her and dragged her out of the building, called her all manner of horrible names, and vowed to never let her out of her sight for as long as she lived.

Her grandmother and the old version of Nesta were dead, though, no longer around to command Nesta how to live and caution her from straying from the proper path.

The man in front of her only made her feel rash and excited, like she wanted to push herself to be as different from her past self that her grandmother had tried to mold and break.

“Charles,” the man said, addressing the bartender without taking his eyes off Nesta’s face, “drinks are on the house this evening for…?”

“Nesta. Nesta Archeron.”

Taking her hand and kissing her knuckles, the man murmured, “Well met, Nesta Archeron. I believe I’ll be seeing you by the end of the night.”

Taking his own glass of whiskey, the man nodded before turning away and disappearing into the crowd. Heart hammering in her chest, she grinned. She felt reckless with power and warm from her whiskey, and she knew, based on the ache between her legs, she’d be seeing more of the flame-haired man later in the evening.

XXX

As soon as Eris entered the Forest House, he knew exactly how this night was going to end: between the trembling thighs of the gorgeous woman sampling a bit of his whisky with a nearly orgasmic look on her face.

Seeing her rapture, her quiet, sensual enjoyment of just a touch of whiskey, brought Eris the closest he’d ever been to having a religious experience. There was no explanation other than God himself as to how this exquisite angel in the most daring green dress had come to grace the Forest House this particular evening.

Quietly sidling up to her, he’d just heard the woman ask the price of the whiskey and state she couldn’t drink anything else when he quietly leaned down and whispered, “For you, my dear, it’s on the house.”

He heard her breath hitch and watched as a slight blush graced the apples of her cheeks. Eris wanted to sweep his gaze down, see how far that blush traveled, but her eyes - those eyes - pinned him like a bug to a collector’s board.

Eris was no stranger to female attention. Even here, as he had walked in and made a beeline for the bar, he had felt dozens of eyes on him: from men sizing him up or talking in hushed voices of who he was, or women calculating how they could grab his attention. No other woman could compare to her, however. He would either be spending the night with the mystery woman at the bar or with his own hand and a glass of whiskey.

She bantered and flirted with him so easily, it was like she was made for him. Based on her choice of attire, maybe she was. The dark green of her dress matched his tie exactly, and he noted with interest how good in general she looked in green - his family’s main color.

The dress was loose on her, as was the style of all women’s dresses at the moment as it was much better for dancing. The deep neckline of her dress showed off her impressive cleavage, and he imagined his lips trailing down her collarbones to her peaked nipples, sucking them into his mouth -

She was talking. “Just one taste?” he answered back. Eris couldn’t help himself - he leaned down towards her ear and suggested they should spend time alone together by the end of the night, touching the soft indent of her waist. This was his most blatant gamble. She could very well decide he was being too forward and walk away, especially if she only came here to drink and dance. He would respect her wishes if she wanted that; he’d walk away right now, his cock already half-hard in his trousers, with nothing more than the snippets of a flirty conversation to stroke himself to later tonight.

But he knew deep down that part of what attracted him to her was her resolution. Her eyes met his, and they sparked with challenge, determination, and lust. “Just a whiskey tasting though, right?” she said, batting her eyelashes as she trembled with excitement and want, and Eris knew he would be worshiping her body all night long.

He paid for all her drinks for the evening - it was the least he could do, and he was genuinely pleased that she enjoyed his whiskey. More importantly, he learned her name - Nesta Archeron. He savored the taste of her name like he would savor this whiskey, or the taste of the wetness he’d find between her legs later this evening.

With a parting kiss to her hand and a nod, he turned around and walked to his reserved booth in the corner of the room, where he could observe all the goings-on of the Forest House in relative seclusion and quiet.

“Everything alright, Mr. Vanserra?” Like smoke, Vince materialized out of nowhere.

Eris’s sharp eyes watched as Nesta rejoined her two friends at their table near the stage. They each took a sip of their drinks. Nesta’s eyes fluttered close as she sipped her whiskey, and Eris grinned.

“Yes, Vince. Everything is fine.”

XXX

“Who was that?”

Nesta was unsurprised that she had come back to an ambush. She had been gone long enough that no doubt Gwyn and Emerie had looked for her and seen more than they were anticipating.

“The man who’s paying for our drinks this evening,” Nesta replied.

“What’s his name?” Emerie asked. Gwyn was craning her neck left and right, even resorting to standing up and using her considerable height to try to look for the red haired man. Pulling her back down to her seat, Nesta hissed, “Stop it! You’re not being very subtle!”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” Gwyn shot back, still looking around her. “I can’t see him. With that hair, it shouldn’t be that hard to find him. Plus, us redheads are always aware of each other, ya know, since there’s not that many of us. It’s kind of like a telepathic connection.”

Nesta and Emerie exchanged a brief glance before bursting into laughter. Gwyn joined in, snorting into her drink, earning a few stares from several women at the next table over.

“But really,” Emerie pressed on. “Who was that?”

“I… didn’t actually get his name.”

“And yet he’s still paying for our drinks for the evening? Did you even thank him?”

“Geez, mom, sorry I forgot to thank the mysterious and handsome drink benefactor while we were flirting with each other,” Nesta groaned, though she realized with a guilty start that she did neglect to thank him for the free drinks. “I’m sure I’ll see him before we leave tonight.”

“How much of him will you be seeing?” Gwyn perked up, her teal eyes sparkling with excitement. “He was very handsome - “

“Gwyn!”

“ - and he looked like he wanted to eat you,” she finished with relish, taking a dainty sip of her drink.

Nesta blushed. Needing to deflect her friend’s attention off her, she said, “Like Mor onstage wasn’t looking at Emerie the same way?”

Mission accomplished. It was Emerie’s turn to flush and stutter, claiming they were just here to support her friend at one of her singing gigs.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gwyn interrupted, grinning at each of them. “Let’s not worry about all that. Let’s listen to music, dance, and have as many free drinks as we can handle. Speaking of,” she said, standing up and pointing at Emerie. “I’m already done with this drink and want to try what she’s having. Anyone need anything?”

By the time Gwyn had returned with her second drink, the crowd had thinned as everyone crammed into booths and tables in anticipation of Mor starting her set. Finally the band appeared on stage, taking their positions at their instruments: trumpets, trombones, and saxophones, a drum set, even a piano tucked away in the corner. Emerie clapped when Mor came on the stage, and without even an introduction, the band started.

From the opening beats of Irving Aaronson’s Let’s Misbehave , one of Nesta’s favorites, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop herself from joining the dancefloor before too long. The musicians were extremely talented - whoever had brought them in had clearly only wanted the best Prythia had to offer. Mor’s voice rang out strong, steady and smooth. She didn’t just sing, she interacted with the crowd and got them even more worked up the longer she performed.

By the time the band moved onto Swanee, Gwyn had dragged Nesta and Emerie to the dancefloor with a laugh, joining a throng of young people and couples. Nesta had always loved dancing. Her grandmother had insisted she have some type of dance training, and it was the only thing from her she was thankful to her grandmother for. She loved dancing the waltz with a partner, or dancing a carefree version of the Charleston in a crowd.

The three of them danced, only stopping to take hurried sips of their drinks. Nesta felt a slight sheen of sweat on her grinning face, feeling happier than she had in a long time.

“Alright, everyone,” Mor announced into the microphone. Her voice was decadent and sultry, despite having been singing for nearly thirty minutes. “I need a break, so we’re gonna slow things down a bit.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Emerie said without looking at either her or Gwyn, making her way over to Mor, who had just stepped off the stage.

Gwyn snorted. “Yeah, I bet she’ll be back real soon. I’m going to get another drink - want anything?”

“I’m just going to sit down for a bit,” Nesta replied. She had only taken a few steps towards their table when a warm hand gently grabbed her elbow.

“I was hoping you’d have one more dance in you for me,” a deep voice murmured in her ear. A chill went down her spine and she met the blazing eyes of her red haired man.

XXX

Nesta Archeron was a force of nature.

Eris’s eyes were glued to her as the night progressed, watching her with her friends as she listened to the band and Mor’s singing, and as she danced happily on the dancefloor.

She was wild and strong-willed, clearly caring and close with her friends, and happiest while on a dancefloor. She was much too good for him.

It only made him want her more.

After what seemed like an age, Mor announced she was taking a break. Nesta and her friends disbanded, one to rush off to talk to Mor - interesting - and the other to grab another drink. Quickly moving from his booth, he had just managed to wrap a gentle hand around her elbow before she left the dance floor.

“I was hoping you’d have one more dance in you for me,” he said. Immediately he felt her stiffen slightly, and a tremor ran through her body. Her blue-gray eyes slowly met his. Her face was flushed, whether from her dancing or the whiskey making its way through her body, or perhaps both.

The opening trumpet to Louis Armstrong’s West End Blues rang out sharp and strong through the room. Nesta held out her hand as the trumpet slowed, and a clarinet, trombone, and piano joined along in a perfect cacophony of slow jazz.

“Lucky for you, I love dancing and never tire of it,” Nesta said as he took her offered hand in his and placed a hand on her waist, her remaining hand landing on his shoulder as they began to move. Around them, a few other couples were softly swaying to the steady beats of the song, but Nesta only had eyes for him .

This close to her, Eris could smell Nesta’s perfume - surprisingly luscious and rich, with spiced undertones. He wondered where she applied it and if it would taste as good as it smelled on her.

“Lucky for me indeed. Are you having a good evening here?”

“Very much so. I realized I never thanked you for the whiskey and drinks, nor asked for your name, Mister…?”

“Vanserra. Eris Vanserra.”

Her smile dipped. Good, Eris thought. This one is smart enough to know about me and be at least a little afraid.

Just as quickly as her smile dropped from those plush red lips, it reappeared in force. “Well, Mr. Eris Vanserra - “ Eris had to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine and ended straight at his cock at her sultry voice, “ - thank you for your generous hospitality this evening. It was terribly rude of me to not thank you for your kindness earlier.”

“Think nothing of it. It was rude of me to not tell you how magnificent you look tonight.” She smiled bashfully and ducked her head, sweeping her hair behind an ear. “And your hair looks equally as lovely.”

That was the right thing to say. She beamed up at him as they continued swaying to the music, and Eris’s heart stumbled at the sight of the sheer happiness on her face.

“Thank you,” she said, before the minx he had been flirty with all evening reappeared. Wetting her lips and batting her eyes, she gazed up at him. ”There must be something I can do to repay you for your generosity.”

His filthy mind immediately thought of those red lips wrapped around his cock, leaving a brand of her lipstick around its base. “There’s nothing to repay. The whiskey tasting still stands though.”

They continued swaying to the slow, steady beat of the music. Feeling adventurous, wanting to see her move and feel more of her lush body in his arms, Eris spun Nesta in a tight circle, bringing her even closer to his body. Her hand not already in his found itself planted firmly on the hard planes of his chest. He hoped she couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating.

“And what if I want more than just a taste?”

Oh, she was a fiery one, this woman.

“What if you can’t handle any more than just a taste?”

The hand on his chest suddenly moved to the back of his neck. Pulling him down closer to herself, Nesta raised herself on the tips of her toes and whispered in his ear, “I think you’ll find that I can handle quite a bit,” as she placed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Eris leaned down to kiss her, devour her, but she pulled away, lust and excitement shining in her eyes. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation in private? I’m curious if your lips taste as good as your whiskey.”

He groaned. All the blood in his body rushed to his hardening cock; he felt lightheaded with desire. “Tease,” he murmured, as he subtly tried to adjust himself in his pants.

“I just need to find my friends - “

“Your friends are as occupied as you are,” Eris noted. Her dark-skinned friend was still with Mor, softly swaying in each other's arms in a dark corner next to the stage. The redhead was vividly talking to a tall, dark man at the bar - one of the mayor’s underlings, Eris noted. No doubt running reconnaissance or trying to be a spy for the mayor or some other bullshit.

Nesta bit her lip, and Eris found himself irrationally jealous of her teeth. “They’ll be worried about me-“

“I’ll make sure they know who you’re with, that I’ll get you home safe, and even make sure they get home safe tonight,” Eris replied smoothly. He made eye contact with Vince over Nesta’s shoulder, motioning towards each of her friends. Nodding, he started making his way towards the woman dancing with Mor.

Nesta stared unblinkingly into Eris’s eyes, searching his face for any deception. She’d find none - he was too wound up, too enthralled in her snare to do anything that required the willpower to actively deceive her.

“I could do with another glass of whiskey,” she said huskily. Eris grinned, and, still holding her hand, led her out of the Forest House.

XXX

Eris Vanserra.

She had flirted and danced with and nearly kissed Eris Vanserra, and now she was being led to his private rooms for a whiskey tasting. Alone. Just the two of them.

When she had first moved to Prythia, the owner of their boarding house gave them a quick rundown of who really controlled the city. Different crime families commanded different sections of the city, and their boarding house was squarely in the Autumn Court, run by the Vanserra syndicate. “Whatever you do,” she had warned Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie on their first day, “stay away from the Vanserra family for your own good.”

Well, that certainly hadn’t worked out. She heard whispers at work - someone’s brother suddenly disappearing or men trying their hand at bootlegging found dead in the street, their corpses riddled with bullets. Nothing ever seemed to come of it: no stories in the papers or a police investigation opened. The name Vanserra always floated around these events, and she had finally found herself in the crosshairs of its leader.

And she was willingly walking into his den alone.

Nesta wasn’t an idiot and knew what Eris wanted. Did she want that? She stumbled and nearly tripped on a stair. Is this really who she was? She heard her grandmother’s shrill voice in her head scream about her reputation, her propriety, how she didn’t raise Nesta to be a loose harlot -

“Nesta?”

Eris was a step above her, still holding her hand. He was looking back at her with a raised eyebrow, as if he could see the battle that was currently raging in her brain.

Nesta took a steadying breath, then another, and realized she didn’t want to stop. She wanted to spend time with Eris, she wanted to kiss him and touch him and see where the night took them. For once, she wanted to make her own decisions and do something she wanted with her own damn life.

“I’m fine,” she replied with a soft smile. “Just a bit of a stumble.”

He continued leading her up the staircase, stopping as they reached the landing outside a sturdy locked door. He pulled her close and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“I'd be a terrible host if you got hurt while you were here,” he said, ghosting his lips over her wrist. “I’d have to kiss all your injuries away.”

She shivered. “Is this your apartment?” her voice squeaked.

Chuckling, he withdrew a heavy key from his pocket and slotted it in the keyhole. With a sharp twist and a click, the door opened, and he led her inside.

Nesta was expecting something similar to the decor of the Forest House below. Instead, she found herself in an open Art Deco-inspired space. One corner was dominated with floor to ceiling bookshelves, cut neatly around a tiled fireplace and a built-in liquor cabinet. A pair of plush armchairs were centered by the fireplace with a low table between them. A basic kitchen was tucked in the other corner. The rectangular space was dominated by several large windows that took up most of the back wall of the room. Centered between the windows was a large wooden writing desk.

Eris turned on a lamp in the fireplace sitting area and opened the glass front of the liquor cabinet. “I have several whiskeys we can try, even a few imported varieties from the continent if you’d like to try one of those.”

“I’ll take whatever you’re drinking,” she said, moving over to look at the books jammed in the bookcase. There were a lot of nonfiction titles, and she gazed uninterestedly at the spines until she found a small section of books she recognized.

“You read Sellyn Drake?”

He snorted. “Those are courtesy of my mother, who brought them over so she’d have something to do when she visits.”

“You should give them a chance. They’re not half bad and certainly help me relax and unwind,” Nesta said suggestively. Eris’s eyebrows shot up. “And who knows, maybe you can learn something.”

“I highly doubt there’s anything in those romance books I don’t already know.” His voice had gone an octave deeper as he handed Nesta a glass tumbler filled with a burnished gold whiskey. She swirled the drink inches from her face, taking a deep whiff of its fragrant scent: malty grain, peat, and ending with a slight sweetness.

“Hybernian whiskey,” Eris said, studying Nesta’s reaction to the drink. “Easily some of the best whiskey in the world, its taste is unparalleled. I’m curious if you’ll like it better neat or tasting it on my lips?”

One of Nesta’s eyebrows and the corner of her mouth both lifted up as she stared at Eris with lust-darkened eyes. Clinking their glasses together, she sat down and took a deep sip from her glass.

Immediately, the whiskey’s smoky flavor coated her tongue. She rolled it around her mouth, letting all the flavors come into focus, one by one: nuttiness like almonds, charred wood from the barrel it was aged in, vanilla, and caramel. Each new flavor complimented each other wonderfully. She wasn’t aware that whiskey, or any alcohol, could taste this good.

It was sublime.

She sighed happily, letting her neck fall back against the chair. “This is much better than your whiskey.”

Eris barked a laugh. Nesta noted how the skin around his eyes crinkled and how his smile transformed his face. “You're not wrong - they’re much better equipped at the moment to make superior whiskey than us.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, each content to enjoy their drinks. After taking a particularly long sip, Eris stood up and walked back to the liquor cabinet. He opened a drawer and withdrew a wooden box, setting it on the low table between the two chairs.

“Would you like a cigar?” he said, opening the box to reveal a dozen long, perfectly rolled and formed cigars. “They pair especially well with the whiskey.”

Nesta hummed. “Perhaps not an entire one to myself. I’d be alright just taking a few puffs from yours.”

He chose a brown cigar with a dark green wrapper. Cutting and lighting the cigar with practiced hands and taking a deep drag, Eris released the smoke in a long stream. “Have you ever smoked anything? Cigarettes, menthols?”

Nesta moved to sit on the arm of his chair. The cigar smoke smelt like leather and old library books. Combined with the whiskey, it made her head swim. “I’ve smoked a few cigarettes, though certainly nothing as… big as this cigar.”

By the hitch in his breathing, Nesta knew he understood her perfectly. Taking another drag, Eris lifted the cigar to her lips. “Suck,” he said softly, his eyes intent on hers.

Eris was still holding the cigar when she wrapped her lips around it and took a slight inhale. His eyes were transfixed on her mouth. She kept it in her mouth for a moment, tasting it like her whiskey.

She tilted her head back and looked down at Eris through heavy-eyes as she exhaled. His mouth was slightly open, his breathing harsher than it was just a moment before.

“It seems you had no problem handling something as large as a cigar,” he murmured. One of his large hands touched her knee and began moving slowly up her thigh. “Do you think you could take more?”

“And what could be bigger than a cigar?” Nesta’s voice cracked slightly. She tried to focus solely on Eris’s eyes but his hand was making its way up and up and up her thigh, dangerously close to where she was so wet.

“I could show you, if you’d like.”

This was it - one final out from Eris. It was nice of him to provide it, but he didn’t need to; Nesta’s mind was made up the first time she had laid eyes on him hours before.

“Show me then, unless you’re all talk and no game.”

The hand that was on her thigh, so close to her center - Don’t stop! she wanted to scream - suddenly left her thigh moved to the back of her head, where his fingers threaded her hair to pull her down to his mouth. At the first touch of his plush lips on hers, Nesta knew no one could ever compare. His lips were as soft as they looked, and he devoured her like a patient predator waiting for his prey.

His lips moved against hers seamlessly, like they each already knew what the other liked. The cigar dangled precariously in one his hands, while his other hand that was on her head moved to squeeze her hip; Nesta gasped, and Eris took the opportunity to sweep his tongue in her mouth.

She could taste the whiskey and cigar on his breath: smokey and rich, it complemented Eris as well as his custom suit. Nesta nipped his bottom lip, and Eris’s breath hitched. He suddenly sat upright and practically threw the cigar in his hand on an ashtray as he gripped her hips and hauled her body over his on the chair so she was straddling him. Nesta didn’t wait before leaning down to plant her mouth over his.

His hands moved to her waist, softly squeezing her body, and she gasped above him. Her hands were on his shoulders, and she enjoyed being able to freely touch and feel the man underneath her. His shoulders were muscled and broad, and his thighs were spread wide under her. She lightly scratched his scalp and tugged on his short hair, delightfully surprised at the small moan he let out.

Nesta felt drunk on her discovery that Eris apparently didn’t mind a bit of pain with his pleasure. Her smugness was short-lived when he gripped her waist and forced her down at the same time he lifted his hips up and she felt his arousal through the thin material of her underwear. She gasped as he continued grinding her over his clothed cock, staring at her with an intensity she’d never seen from any man.

“I can’t wait to get my lips all over your body,” he whispered, sounding wrecked. He shoved her dress up her thighs so it bunched around her waist and groaned as he stared at her panty-clad pussy grind against the large bulge in his pants.

“No time like the present.” Nesta tried to sound cool, confident, but knew her voice was breathy and desperate.

Firmly gripping her ass, Eris swiftly stood up. She instinctively locked her legs around his waist as he moved them over to his desk. Kicking his chair out of the way, he lowered her to the wooden surface and kept himself slotted between her legs.

He leaned over her and tried to kiss her, but Nesta wanted more . Pushing him back slightly, she stood up and began ever so slowly to move her dress’s thin straps down her arms. Nesta kept her eyes on Eris’s the entire time, even as she pushed her dress over her hips so it puddled around her feet, leaving her in only her sheer stockings, heels, underwear and lace brassiere.

The way Eris was staring at her was nothing short of a predator finding his prey. His pupils were so dilated his eyes were nearly black; his breath was harsh, and the tension in his body looked like it was going to snap like a rubberband. A considerable bulge tented his trousers.

Nesta had never felt more desirable, so wanted. She felt a small thrum of power course through her. Here was one of the most formidable men in all of Prythia, and he was reduced to a near beast at the sight of her half-naked body. Even if nothing else came from this night, she would always remember this small blossom of power and influence she held for a night.

She deftly unhooked and removed her brassiere with skilled hands, and her underwear quickly followed. She bent over to remove her stockings and shoes when Eris’s rough voice broke through the silence. “Leave them on.”

Grinning like the cat that caught the canary, Nesta stood tall, letting Eris survey her body: her slim, bare shoulders, large breasts with dark nipples, a trim waist that flowed to her hips, and shapely legs and calves. Hopping back on the desk and crossing her legs, Nesta was just about to remark with some quip when he crowded close to her, connecting his lips with hers in a bruising kiss.

“You’re an absolute vision,” he muttered, kissing and biting down her neck to her collarbones. “Let me taste you, please.”

Please.

In the span of a few minutes, she had him begging her. She felt a little thrill run though her at the control she possessed over this dangerous man. She hummed her consent and moaned softly when his large, warm hands trailed down her body to open her legs up. His lips took a more leisurely route down her body, taking each of her nipples in his mouth and sucking lightly. He left trailing kisses and licks down her body before he lowered himself to his knees between her wide spread legs, shrugging off his suit coat and throwing it away to reveal his broad shoulders.

The only man Nesta had previously been with was a middling sort of man from her village. Tomas had never deigned to kiss her between her legs, calling it disgusting and beneath him. Nesta had believed him, thinking that men simply didn’t put their lips between women’s legs like men expected women to do to them.

Eris clearly did not hold that view. Licking a broad stripe up her cunt with his tongue, he held her legs wide open as her legs instinctively tried to close around his head. Nesta leaned back on her hands as she let Eris kiss, lick, and suck her folds. The tip of his tongue grazed her clit, and she let out a sharp gasp; looking down at him, she saw triumph in his eyes as a thick finger entered her.

One of Nesta’s hands flew to Eris’s head to tangle in his hair and keep him on her pussy, though based on the ferocity he licked her, it wasn’t needed. A second finger entered her and started thrusting and curling, and he didn't stop as her legs tightened around his head, the heels of her shoes digging into his shoulder blades. She was quietly moaning and gasping and suddenly his thick fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot. His tongue flicked hard against her clit, and she was coming, letting out a loud moan into the silent air.

Eris had moved his head away from her body and was placing soft kisses to the insides of her thighs. Carefully lowering her thighs off his shoulders, he stood up and captured her lips in a slow, languid kiss that would have taken her breath away if she had had any to begin with. She still faintly tasted the cigar and whiskey but mostly tasted herself on his lips.

Their slow kissing suddenly turned frantic. Nesta pushed his suspenders off his shoulders and they each worked on getting Eris’s clothes off his body as fast as possible. Soon, Eris was naked, kicking his pants away.

Nesta stared at Eris’s cock. It was large and thick - much bigger than her previous lover. She reached forward and wrapped a hand around his length, moving it up and down and watching Eris’s head fall back, the pale column of his throat exposed. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to lick his cock or his neck first. She swiped a thumb over the dark red tip of him, and he gasped.

“Do you have - ?”

“Yes,” he said, reading her mind and reaching down to one of his desk drawers and pulling out a condom.

“Do you often bring women here to fuck them on your desk?” Nesta asked, a challenge in her eyes.

“What if I do?” he replied, rolling the latex down his cock. “Jealous?” He leaned his forehead against hers and rubbed the tip of his cock against her pussy, gathering her wetness against his length.

“No,” she breathed, reaching down to move his cock to her opening. “Just thinking that you’ll never want to bring another woman up here who isn't me after tonight.”

Grinning savagely, Eris slid inside her in one smooth, hard stroke. Nesta gasped and grasped his hip, silently begging him not to move yet. Eris kept still, letting her adjust to him while he placed small kisses on her neck. A large hand moved to her hip and gripped her, cementing them even further together.

Finally Nesta slightly moved her hips, and Eris withdrew before slowly sliding back in to the hilt. Nesta leaned back on her arms as Eris built a steady rhythm between their bodies. He felt deliciously thick in her; she looked down and saw how she was split wide to accommodate him, her wetness making his cock shine.

“You’re taking me so well,” he murmured, watching where her eyes traveled. “Such a good girl for me.”

She whimpered and tightened around him at his words. No one had ever said such lewd things to her before, especially not while intimate. She leaned her head back and sighed, enjoying the feel of Eris’s cock thrusting into her body and his words sending shivers down her spine.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he groaned. His speed picked up. He pulled her ass closer to the edge of the desk so he could better pound into her soft cunt. “Like you were made for me.”

Nesta could only hang onto the desk and his shoulders as his pace turned punishing. The sound of their wet flesh hitting each other flooded the room, drowned out by their moans and groans. Nesta hadn't been serious when she told Eris he’d never want to bring another woman to his apartment after tonight and had only wanted to rile him up a bit. She realized, however, as his thumb moved to her clit and his hips angled up to hit that sensitive spot inside her, that maybe she hadn’t been joking at all.

“Want you to come on my cock,” he whispered in her ear. “Can you be a good girl for me and come all over me?”

“Yes, yes, please,” Nesta groaned. His thumb on her clit was stroking her just right, and with a particularly well placed hard thrust of his cock, she fell apart. She squeezed her eyes shut and bright stars erupted behind her eyelids. A warmth traveled up her spine and through her limbs, like the whiskey she had drunk earlier, but this was more intense, better. Her legs were trembling and her arms gave way, but Eris was holding her body to his, keeping her supported.

His eyes were boring into hers with a fiery intensity. A lock of his hair was plastered against his sweaty forehead. Nesta swept his hair away from his face, threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged; with a strangled gasp, Eris came, letting out a loud, deep moan into her shoulder. His powerful hips stuttered against hers, holding her body to his.

They both lay there in silence, collecting their breaths. Nesta had started to think of how she would awkwardly redress and depart for the evening when Eris interrupted her train of thought. “Stay here tonight.”

Nesta blinked. Once, twice. She hadn’t counted on that. She had originally only wanted a bit of fun, a chance to test her newfound freedom and ability to choose whatever she wanted for herself. Did she want to be entangled with Eris Vanserra for any longer than was necessary?

Eris sensed her indecision. “It’s late, and I’ll take you home in the morning. After breakfast,” he said, nipping along her jaw and sending more shivers throughout Nesta’s body.

“I’m going out to lunch with my girlfriends tomorrow.”

“Plenty of time for me to make you breakfast and get reacquainted with you then,” he said, looking at her. He kissed her softly. “If you don’t want to, I’ll take you home tonight. But you’d be missing out on some excellent coffee I have,” he said, grinning slightly.

Nesta laughed. “Fine, but only for the coffee,” she replied. He withdrew from her with a hiss and helped her off the desk. She rubbed her bottom - she would undoubtedly be a bit sore from where the desk was biting into her soft flesh.

Eris tsked. “Looks like you’re hurt. I said I’d be a terrible host if you were injured while you were here and I’d have to kiss all your injuries away.” He swept her up in his arms. “I’d better get started on kissing that particular injury.” Nesta laughed as Eris carried her to his bedroom, where her laughter turned back into moans before too long.

XXX

Eris had known he would end up between Nesta Archeron’s thighs before the end of the night. What he hadn’t expected, however, was for her to be so intoxicating, so quick-witted, so interesting, that he’d invite her into his bed for the entire evening and morning.

He lay in his bed with her; she was still sleeping after their intense night. Her time spent dancing had strengthened her legs, which he got to experience when she rode him last night, the muscles in her thighs flexing with every sharp swivel of her hips. He gave her legs a break later when he pushed her down and pounded into her from behind, watching her ass bounce against his hips. He had whispered such filthy things to her, things most partners of his shied away from, and she had responded in kind, telling him of all the things she wanted to do to him, how he made her feel.

Eris turned on his side to stare at her. Even after being fucked all night, she was still the most captivating woman he had ever seen. He could already envision her in his life, in his home, in his bed, naked and trembling in his bed sheets, face flushed with pleasure, that wickedly talented mouth gasping and moaning his name. But he could also see more mundane things: her engrossed in a book in his small reading nook with a roaring fire while he worked at his desk, going out to a dancehall together, or going back to his estate outside the city for a more extensive whiskey tasting.

Eris had rarely thought of finding someone and settling down. He was still young, and most women who wanted him only wanted his name and the perks that came with him. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted that, much less if Nesta would be right for him, but he would at least be willing to spend more time with her and get to know her better.

As if she could hear him thinking about her, she opened her bleary eyes and smiled. “Good morning,” she said, her voice husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” he said, leaning over to cup her jaw and kiss her. She responded so perfectly to him, leaning further into his body. He felt her nipples perk up against his chest and he reached over to grab her hip and move her on top of him -

Before she pushed him away with a shove to his shoulder. He stared wide eyed at her.

“Ah, ah, ah. I believe someone promised me some excellent coffee this morning,” she said primly, rolling out of bed and throwing on one of his shirts. It just barely covered her cute ass, and the sight of her in his clothes nearly short-circuited his entire brain. “I think I need some caffeine right away, especially since you and that big cock of yours kept me awake nearly all night,” she said, winking at him.

Yes, he thought to himself, watching Nesta saunter out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. He most certainly wanted to get to know Nesta Archeron much better.

#nesta archeron #eris vanserra #neris #acotar #acotar secret santa 2022 #Mobster!Eris #Flapper!Nesta #my fic #a court of thrones and roses

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critterino · 4 months

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You know what we don’t talk about enough? Ruhn mountains in erilea, middengard (Midgard) wyrm in prythia; been there done that.

What about the fact that a title for fae in this earthen world we live in is Tuatha Dé *Danann* as if our own world might be connected to the rest of the massverse but all our vanir have been bled dry like cattle centuries ago

#maasverse #sarah j maas #crescent city #hosab spoilers #cc hoeab #cc hosab #ruhn danaan #acotar #throne of glass #tuatha de danann #fae #fae folk #vanir #aesir

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polyacotarweek · 2 months

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Here are some questions and ideas that you can use to help develop your own creations for poly+ ACOTAR week! These prompts are meant to be suggestions, so feel free to do whatever you'd like for each prompt! All formats of creative expression are welcome.

We encourage you to create something that brings you joy, and maybe even something you haven't done before. This is a safe space to explore new ideas and develop different things that help celebrate consensual non monogamy (CNM) within the fandom.

Read more under the cut!

Day 4: 4/10 ~ Adventure

Your poly+ group is off on an adventure. Is it a physical one? Maybe they’re on a secret mission. Or an emotional adventure, like wanting to start a family together. Interpret this however you’d like! Perhaps they’re just trying something new they’ve never done before *wink wink, nudge nudge*.

Is your group traveling somewhere? If so, have they been there before? Is this a fun trip, a work trip, a serious trip? Do they get lost anywhere along the way?

You could explore an adventure AU! Are they pirates? Wilderness explorers? Gangsters on a mission? Astronauts? Wild car chase?

Starting a family together is quite the adventure. Does your group do this through pregnancy? Surrogacy? Adoption? If it’s a pregnancy, how do they find out? Who finds out first, and how do they share the news? Maybe it’s not a baby they expand their family with, but a pet.

Maybe the adventure is sexual and your group is trying something they’ve never done before. Maybe that adventure is your couples first time swinging with each other.

The adventure could be emotional in nature. Is your group moving? Maybe they’re moving between courts, or even out of Prythia.

Maybe the adventure goes wrong. Maybe it’s a date that goes adorably wrong. Maybe it goes horribly wrong! How does your group handle this?

How does the adventure get planned? Who in your group is the planner? The backseat driver? The passenger prince/princess?

Feel free to reach out to the page with any and all questions. We are happy to help you brainstorm ideas as well. You can always refer to the pinned post to access the CNM misconceptions posts and general CNM information post as well. These posts may help you determine which aspects of CNM you wish to explore in your fic!

Happy creating, we can't wait to see what you all come up with!

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littlefishbigsea · 10 months

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Going into part two of The Spymaster & The Priest, I’ve been diving back into a lot of ACOTAR research which really just means I’ve re-read the wiki a thousand times and obsess over Reddit theories.

That said, I’ve got my own idea of how I imagine SJM will approach Azriel and Gwyn in the next couple of books, CC3 included. It’s one shared by some across the internet but the more I think about it, the more I like the direction it takes.

That said, spoilers ahead. Don’t be mad at me.

Azriel at the end of ACOSF, seems to be going through some things. He’s lonely. He’s obsessed with having a mate, to the point of trying to usurp another’s. He’s been grounded - no more spy work. He’s all but been alienated from the River House and the House of Wind. He doesn’t strike me as the type to sit around, either. He seems lost, listless, and maybe for the first time in his life - helpless.

Gwyn on the other hand is almost directly opposite. She’s taken command over who and what she is and will become. She’s determined, driven, passionate and ready to take on the world (her returning to the Tower after the Rite seems more a plot device than PTSD to me). She wants more… cue Little Mermaid music.

That being said.

Azriel is going back with Bryce. He’ll be sent back to help with conflict, likely train Ruhn, and discover more about Truth Teller. Gwyn will go with him. Why? She understands language. Azriel doesn’t. He’ll need a translator at minimum. It’ll be Gwyn because Nesta won’t leave Cass. It’s a toss up if more characters join, but I’m convinced Az and Gwyn are going to cross worlds.

This will push them closer. Az has to rely on her to translate this new world they are both going to have to navigate, forcing them to rely on each other in ways they’ve never likely had to rely on others before. Gwyn has shown interest in multi-world theories and her work with Merrill will come in handy.

This will come with some fun, I think. Bryce dressing Gwyn in modern fashion - finally getting her out of those robes! Let’s take a moment of silence for poor Azriel who is just not going to be prepared for that scenario…

…

Think of all the fun Gwyn is going to force Azriel to have in this new setting. The first time they go dancing? The food? We’ve already mentioned the fashion. Do you think Az is a jeans guy or leather pants guy? Boxer or briefs? 🤤

I’m getting distracted.

There might be some things to work out on how they get back to Prythia. I assume Az will have something to do with their fight against the Asteri - who are able to transcend worlds. Maybe Gwyn takes ownership of the Harp and sings them back.

Anyways, I wasn’t a big fan of CC2, I actually really enjoyed the first book and got too lost in the world building of the second to be able to really enjoy it. Yet, I’m curious as to how these worlds are going to come together and the eventual uniting with Aelin’s.

Also, I think Azriel’s daddy might be a sorcerer who’s chained to a lake surrounded by trees and keeps his soul in a box. Cass has claimed Az is different than other Illyrians and Rhys seems to agree that Az could destroy a High Lord, despite there being no evidence that shadowsinger ability puts them above a High Lords magic. Anyways… it’s fun to speculate.

#Gwynriel #azriel and gwyn #azriel shadowsinger #WTF is going to happen in CC3 #Gwyn is too precious for this world #She’s forever that girl #She’s going to make him dance with her #And sing duh #Maybe they’ll sing together to transverse worlds #ok I’m done

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bhaalpit · 2 years

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The thought of feyre, a 20 year old who only recently learned how to read, wearing a little crown and attending a political strategy meeting with, essentially, heads of state, is so funny to me. This is a child playing dress up. She knows nothing about politics, war, or even prythia for fucks sake. How is ANYONE taking her seriously.

#high lord meeting #anti acotar #anti acowar #anti feyre #i guess #i dont want the wrong peope to find this lmao

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asnowfern · 1 year

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Effervescence - Chapter 3

Summary: Not able to resist the call of the Night Circus, Elain sneaks in to the circus and chances upon the most beautiful man she has ever seen. Elucien. Night Circus Setting AU.

Read on AO3 Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Read on Tumblr Part One

Chapter 3/3: The Lighting

Elain

Elain spent most of the day in her room replaying the fight she had with Lucien with equal amounts of anger and grief. A soft knock drew her out of her daze. She opened the door to see Feyre hovering outside with a tray of tea and sweets.

"Nesta is half an impulse away from storming the circus, demanding retribution." Feyre announced, walking into the room. "Just say the word."

Elain scoffed, "Completely unnecessary."

Feyre plucked two scones off the tray, dropping one in Elain's hand while taking a bite off the other. "I think we shall be the judge of that."

"I can fight my own battles." she retorted, "Not that one is required. He's leaving with the circus and we will never see each other again. End of story."

Elain gathered by the way Feyre's eyes softened that her sister was not convinced and continued, "It was fun. Something that I can look back on one day fondly. That was all it was meant to be."

"But you want it to be more."

Elain bristled, the words to deny and placate poised at the tip of her tongue. Yet, she was tired. Tired of pretending that she did not want more. Tired and angry that Lucien did not want more, that he gave no indication that what they had was worth fighting for So she stayed silent and let the silence damned her.

She moved to lay her head on Feyre's lap. Eyes falling shut when Feyre began to idly massage her scalp. After a long while, Elain distantly heard her sister say through the haze of Morpheus's hold, "You are worth fighting for."

Wake up. You need to wake up. Now .

Elain shot up, chest heaving, her heart pounding in her ear. Her eyes frantically surveyed her surroundings. She was alone.

Right?

She drifted to the window to observe the surroundings. All clear too. She clutched her chest tightly, willing her racing heart to settle. She spotted the small bottle from the tent sitting on her desk and picked it up, opening it to sniff it. She sighed, letting the familiar scent soothe her when-

Behind you!

She turned around and ducked, narrowly missing the kidnapper's grasp.

"Sharp senses."

Elain's head snapped to the source of voice, it was the blonde from the circus who was typically supervising Aris at the counter. Her face was pointed with a haunting beauty but her azure eyes shone with a cruel glint. Next to her were three burly men - the strongmen from the circus.

Her mind raced. She was surrounded. Could she take the chance of screaming and hope that someone would hear? Making up her mind, she swept the contents off her desk at her assailants and opened her mouth to scream.

A towel was tightly clasped over her nose and mouth before the scream left her throat. A sickeningly sweet scent filled her senses and darkness took over her senses.

***

Her head pounded.

Elain suppressed a groan as she took in the distant sounds of a man and woman arguing. The haze in her mind cleared and she recalled the events that transpired. She was kidnapped. She quickly closed her eyes to feint unconsciousness.

"This was not what I agreed to, Ianthe." a familiar authoritative male stated in apparent displeasure.

"That was just for Lucien's benefit, I'm sure." the woman, her kidnapper, surmised.

"You cannot abduct humans from their home and assume it wouldn't go unnoticed. This is not Prythia!" He reprimanded.

"It's just a human." she sniffed.

"A human who is awake and listening in on our conversation."

Elain froze. Seeing no reason to keep up the pretense, she sat up and turned to face them. It was the same woman from before, Ianthe, and the ringmaster, Tamlin. They looked different now. More than human - taller, pointed ears, almost feral. Yet undeniably beautiful.

"Hello, Elain." The ringmaster, Tamlin, said in what had to be his gentle and reassuring tone. He turned to Ianthe and ordered, "Leave us."

For a moment, Ianthe looked like she was about to argue but then decided against it. She shot Elain a final look of disdain before leaving the room.

"I'm truly sorry about this. It was not my intention to have you taken like this." A cheap attempt to mollify her. Instead, Elain felt the fear gave way to indignation.

"Why have I been taken?" Elain pressed on, "If this is about Lucien then you have nothing to worry about."

"Lucien?" Tamlin asked, bewildered before frowning. "No, no. It is not about him."

"Then what is it?"

"It's the impact your presence has made. The hole in our fence."

Elain shot him a skeptical look, "You brought me here to fix the hole? It was there before I arrived!"

"No." Tamlin corrected, "The hole appeared because of you."

Elain paused. Her mind whirled at his words, trying to connect the dots at their strange appearance and the sudden very apparent supernatural nature of the circus, "What do you mean? What are you people?"

"We are Faeries or Fae. Bounded to this traveling circus after a great war had wrecked our world. Our fence represents a border between your world and ours. A hole like the one you found was a sign - a sign of a vulnerability in the magic keeping us alive."

"Faeries?" Elain whispered. They were not human. Somehow, everything suddenly made sense, like it was a fact as obvious as acknowledging that the sky was blue or the grass was green. "And Lucien?"

He nodded, "Fae, just like us."

A pit dropped in her stomach. Hands wrapped around her mouth, she asked in aghast, "So if the magic fails, he dies too?"

"We don't know," he grimaced. "That's why this is worrying. We don't know anything other than how your presence had agitated the Cauldron."

"The Cauldron?" she echoed.

"A very powerful artifact. One so powerful it has a level of sentience." he explained, "Would you like to see it?"

He led her down the corridor and into a room where a large dark cauldron sat bubbling. Elain felt torn at its presence, equally repulsed and attracted. She stared at it, resisting the urge to flinch backwards when it spoke to her.

You came.

"If I go in, will it save the circus?" she asked quietly.

"The circus runs on my magic, not the Cauldron." he clarified, "But there is something interfering."

Elain considered his words carefully and made her choice. She made her way to it and lowered herself in. The last voice she heard before being submerged was Lucien yelling.

***

In the beginning

And in the end

There was darkness

And nothing more

Then along came war

Forged by lords and kings and queens

A world destroyed

A world remade

The world was on fire. Towers, palaces, houses and trees alight with silver flames which burned cold. In the middle of the inferno stood a lady. She seemed human.

"This was Prythia."

The fires receded at her words to reveal beautiful sandy beaches, snow-covered towns, lively cities, sparkling night skies and sunrises streaked with purple and pink light.

"A world destroyed, a world remade." Elain muttered under her breath.

The lady nodded, "When the world was remade from the ashes, the seven courts of Prythia was split. Hidden within enclaves in the human world, all except for the Spring Court, which was ravaged so terribly that nothing could be saved. Its people turned nomadic, eventually becoming what you know today as-"

"The Night Circus." Elain finished. " But why are you telling me this? Why am I here?"

The lady answered, "You're here because you heard its call. You're here because more importantly, you answered the call. You can bring change to Spring. Give them the chance to have a home base again."

"How?" she asked.

"Are you accepting?" she asked in return.

"I'm asking how." she clarified.

"By accepting change yourself. By transforming yourself into something that can bring about the change."

Elain's mind flashed back to Lucien's expression when he spoke about the loss of his home. At the thought, their surroundings transformed to rolling green hills and beautiful lakes. Sparkling sky and singing trees.

She turned to the female and dipped her head, "Okay."

Elain screamed as a sharp pain ripped through her. Visions assaulted her brain, too fast for her to process. Then there was nothing but whiteness.

***

Lucien

Lucien felt like he got sucker punched the moment Elain went into the Cauldron, her warm brown eyes shining brightly. He continued to stare at the Cauldron but accused, "You agreed to monitor. That there was no need to sacrifice her to the Cauldron."

"Ianthe acted on her own accord to bring her here. Elain chose to go into the Cauldron." Tamlin huffed.

"Don't you mean kidnapped her here?!" He snapped.

Tamlin shrugged his shoulders with such indifference that made Lucien want to smash the High Lord's head to the ground, consequences be damned. But then a small gasp sounded from the Cauldron and with it, Elain's scent of jasmine and honey.

Lucien hurried to help her out of the Cauldron, gently hauling her up and out. He dimly registered the pointed ears poking out of her golden brown hair and the subtle shift in her scent, one of Fae. Yet, everything is overshadowed by the insistent tugging in his chest.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

He crushed her to him, arms wound tightly around her back. "You're my mate." he said in the slightest of whispers.

When Elain pried herself out of his grip, it was not to look at him but at Tamlin. She asked with effort, "If you could re-establish Spring, would you?"

"It's not possible." he muttered in denial, waving his hands.

"But would you?" She pressed fiercely.

"Yes. Gods, yes."

At Elain's instruction, they gathered in front of the Cauldron after throwing in a few mementos from Spring. She then began to chant in a foreign tongue, one Lucien was sure was an ancient Fae, and the artifact started to tremble.

"A flame" she ordered quietly to him before tilting her head to Tamlin, "And a kernel of your magic."

The tremble grew into a quake as the final ingredients of the spell were added, Elain took both of their hands and shouted over the commotion, "Now, wish for it harder than you have ever wished for in your life. Envisage how it looked, how it smelt, how it felt!"

Following her words, Lucien snapped his eyes shut and let the memories of Spring resurface. The energies surged through the three of them as he focused on the thoughts single-mindedly. Seconds bled into minutes before the energies dissipated and Lucien felt Elain's grip gradually loosened. Panicked, he opened his eyes just in time to catch her as she fell into unconsciousness.

***

Lucien took a deep breath as he stared down the greenhouse - the innocuous looking building which currently housed his mate. He inhaled sharply as he entered.

Elain was elbows deep in soil. He watched as she transferred a plume of daffodils from the pot into the ground, lovingly patting the soil. Lucien felt his breath caught up as she looked up at him. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and her face was smeared with dirt. Lucien thought she never looked lovelier.

His eyes narrowed on the cuts on her hands and instantly crossed over the stretch of greenery to her side. Elain stared at him with questioning wide doe eyes when he took her hands, face softening when he began to silently heal the cuts.

"You've been avoiding me." he said quietly as he healed the last cut, instantly missing the warmth when Elain withdrew her hands from his.

Elain said nothing. Her hands reached for a pair of shears to snip off yellowing leaves of a nearby plant. She eventually admitted, "I needed time to process everything that happened."

"About us?" he pressed.

She stiffened, the words tumbling out of her, "There is no us."

A chill ran down his spine, his mind spurned as he echoed, "No us?"

"You left me." she said, body trembling slightly before she straightened her back as if firming her resolve, "You chose not to fight for us. This." She gestured around them, around her pointed ears, "Changes nothing."

"This" he gestured wildly, "changes everything!"

"No!" she cried out, "Andras told me about the mating bond. What it means to be Fae and mates. You didn't choose us."

She turned away, continuing in a soft devastated tone that twisted his heart, "You didn't choose me ."

"What was I supposed to do? Tell you I am an immortal being trapped in an eternal existence of a nomadic circus performer? Trap you into that life with me? You deserve the world, Elain." his voice cracked, "You deserve more than me."

She shook her head sadly and placed one hand on his cheek, "You're still not choosing me."

A panic overtook Lucien as he saw Elain walk away from him for a second time. He blurted out, "Give me the chance to deserve you."

She stopped, her back still facing him. He rushed in front of her, "But in the meantime, let me love you everyday of my life."

Her face whipped to his in disbelief, wide eyes beseeching. He pressed on, "Let me spend the rest of my forever bettering myself so I'm good enough for you."

She gave a teary smile, asked in surprise, "Are you proposing?"

"I don't have a ring but" He reached for his pocket to take out a slightly squashed cup, "Will you accept the promise of daily cups of chocolate covered, cinnamon coated churros?"

She choked out a laugh and took one piece out, biting a chunk off, "Yes, you silly male. All I ever wanted was you."

Lucien felt his heart lighten as joy blossomed in his chest. He captured her lips in a searing kiss. "My wife." He breathed as Elain made quick work unbuttoning his shirt and shrugged them off his shoulders. His pants quickly followed suit.

"My mate." Her dress drops into a puddle on the ground.

"My love." He carefully laid her on a bed of discarded clothing to worship her with his mouth, his hands. Savouring every moan and sigh he elicited from her, his lips humming between her thighs as she writhed and shattered underneath his tongue.

"Say the words." he murmured, trailing wet kisses down her chest as he lined himself at her entrance.

"You're mine." she sighed, gasping as he pushed himself in an inch, pausing to let her accommodate him.

"And I'm yours." she continued, panting as he fully seated himself in her.

The greenhouse glowed as their magics surged to meet another, glimmering vines threaded through the air and winded around the both of them.

"I love you." Lucien said afterwards as they laid sated in each other arms.

Elain's answering smile could have sent him to the heavens with no regrets. "I love you too."

***

Elain

Elain popped the Amsterdam postcard for her sisters into the mailbox and walked over to a quiet street corner where Lucien was waiting with a cup of hot coffee.

"Done." she announced as she leaned forward to take the coffee from him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek in thanks.

"Let's go." she threaded her arm with his and let him winnow the both of them to their campsite next to the tulip farms.

"It's beautiful." she sighed, sipping her coffee as she took in the fields.

"Not as beautiful as you." he quipped.

"Cheesy." she teased.

"For you? Always."

End

A/N: I have to admit, this fic got away with me. I started out only wanting to write a tribute to The Night Circus - literally nothing more than a love letter to the novel. Didn't expect it to end up with a Spring-centric story. But it had a really nice parallel to the novel's storyline which came as a happy surprise! I am also intentionally leaving the female Elain met in the Cauldron a mystery (although I did have someone in mind when I wrote it!) so I would love to hear any guesses or who it might be to you. I really enjoyed myself writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it too!

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar fic #acotar #the night circus #night circus AU

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faedusted · 10 months

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𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖛𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖓𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖊…

the prince of hybern spent eighty years before the war in the winter court masquerading as one of them. living under the false name, kalin albright, he became well liked by many within prythia; this included the eldest son of the high lord of winter. the two became the best of friends and it was something atlas hadn’t expected. to fall in love with the place and the people he’d been sent there to betray and eventually invade. as the time for war drew near, the guilt began to eat at him until finally he caved and confessed the truth to his closest friend. atlas told asril everything, about why he’d come, his father’s plans, and most importantly about the deals that had been presented to his father and the other lords.

if he could still remember it, atlas might say that telling asril the truth was his biggest mistake and regret. that had he not exposed himself and the truth than he could have escaped with rhyn, could have found their happy ever after somewhere far from the chaos the war had brought. and at one time in his life, asril too would have wished to have been spared the truth. to have never known what was about to happen, to have not interceded in the way he had and let the cowardly prince flee from the mess he’d created. he shuddered to think where that would have left them all, how just one little decision could have changed the course of their history…

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑

asril stared blankly at the fae who sat across the table from him. he’d heard the words and understood what he’d been told, but struggled to process it. to accept the high fae he’d come to know, and even love, over the last eighty years had been lying to him—lying to them all. kalin albright. a fake name to go with the fake friend he’d had for so many decades. asril bit down on his lip so hard all he could taste was blood, it was all he could do to stop himself from releasing the ice that longed to launch from his fingertips and freeze the prince of hybern where he sat.

❝ please, ❞ atlas pleaded as he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the edge of the table. ❝ my name might not have been real, but that doesn’t mean i wasn’t. ❞ he attempted to defend his actions. to defend the time they’d spent together. ❝ you have to trust me. ❞

❝ how am i to trust you when the first thing you ever told me about yourself is a lie? ❞ the blonde spat back at him, as he rose from his seat. ❝ there is no way to tell what is the truth and what is not with you. ❞ he shouted, wishing he could have been kept outside the loop on this one. just once the lie would have been better than the truth. asril couldn’t help but wonder if his father had known of atlas’ true identity from the beginning, if that was why he allowed him to stay and accompany him to each court so freely. a feeling of nausea overcame him and he had no choice but to sit back down as he began to recall all the times his behavior had raised alarm for asril, but the prince had been so good at talking his way out of whatever he’d been caught doing. how many times had the winter lord been the one who was truly at fault for valuable information being leaked to prythia’s enemy? too many it seemed.

❝ fight for my father, don’t let your court fall too. ❞ atlas urged desperately.

❝ and where will you fight? ❞ he returned, the image of a certain autumn courtier coming to mind.

❝ i won’t. ❞ the prince said flatly, his expression stone-like.

the rage bubbling within asril had him leaping from his seat and bounding across the room at the other. ❝ you coward, you would come to my home and incite a war you have no plan to even be part of? ❞ he pressed the side of his hand to the prince’s throat, shards of ice forming on his fingers sharp as the most formidable steel blade. ❝ i should kill you right here, ❞ asril snarled as the ice grew thicker around his hand and inched closer to the delicate skin beneath. and before he found himself entirely consumed by the need for revenge, asril was suddenly thinking of his family, what might become of them should he go through with it. he released the prince from his grasp, shaking him roughly as did so, as if to silently say: you’re not worth it.

❝ i had always planned to fight, ❞ atlas corrected, straightening himself out in his seat and fixing the collar of the tunic his friend had just wrinkled terribly. ❝ my priorities are different now. the things i care about now, i wasn’t aware even existed until decades ago. ❞ he spoke so nonchalantly, as though this discussion had nothing to do with the certain coming bloodshed.

❝ so you’re going to start a war and run away from it? to where? ❞ he asked incredulously.

atlas shrugged, it was the one part of his plan he’d yet to map out. ❝ there is no going, the war is on its way. and even if i had a way to stop it, i couldn’t. it’s far too late for that. the only solution is fight or flee. ❞ the prince explained getting up from his seat and making his way to the door. he paused to look back at asril, despite what had transpired, he saw the high lord as his dearest friend and wanted nothing more than for him to find the same happiness he had. ❝ rhyn and i are going to flee. perhaps you might find emira in time to make the same choice. ❞

and just like that, asril was alone with nothing but his unwelcome thoughts. the only sounds that remained was the roaring fire in the hearth and his heart racing so fast it might as well beat right out of his chest.

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑

❝ if you leave us now, your father will never honor his deal. he will assume you’ve been killed and do far worse to us as punishment. ❞ asril insisted as he watched atlas throw the saddle on the horse. the stables were empty, asril had them cleared out the moment he arrived so he might have a truly private word with the prince before his untimely departure. ❝ he will punish us for your actions. ❞ he shot at him hoping it would strike a nerve, hoping it would make him care. if they were still truly friends as he’d told him only three days earlier.

it was enough to make atlas take pause, if only for a second. ❝ no, i’ve letters ready to send to my father and my sisters explaining things. that i am alive, well, and unable to assist in his war any further. ❞ while atlas didn’t trust his father to keep the place that had been a second home to him safe from destruction, he did trust his sisters. the people of the winter court had welcomed him and treated him well and he wouldn’t see harm befall them for what he’d done. ❝ my sisters will take care of you. all of you. ❞ he said reassuringly as he adjusted and buckled the strap under the mare’s belly.

asril snorted, almost unable to believe the prince could find it so easy to walk away from his own family. especially considering how much he’d already gone through to get them to prythia's shores. ❝ your sisters won’t even be able to defend themselves. the winter court won’t need protection if you leave us. ❞ it wasn’t meant to be a threat, but the way atlas’ back stiffened and his jaw tensed, he’d certainly taken it that way. good, atlas thought. it was the first time he’d really managed to get a reaction from him.

the high lord of winter wanted nothing more than to do exactly what the prince now was attempting. he didn’t care where they might go, just that they would have the chance to be alive and together, but emira wanted to fight for her court. and he couldn’t fault her for that. but it broke him a little more every time he thought of her to know that the day was rapidly approaching when they’d be standing on opposite sides… unless of course the prince truly decided to flee.

without assurance from the prince that they’d be safe, asril father would have to consider denying the king's offer and to stand with the other seasons and solars that would still defy the invaders. and with the winter court’s army, it could even be enough to topple the scales and ensure their victory. ❝ if you go now, my father will have no choice but to fight with autumn, dawn, and the others. ❞ he was lying, he didn’t truly know how his father might react to the new of the princes disappearance, but asril would play into this as hard as he could. ❝ your father will lose and whatever remains of your family… just know the high lords will have their vengeance for the fear and panic your family has brought to our shores. ❞

the prince turned to look at him, his face devoid of emotion as though he were trying to process what was being said, as though he’d never even considered it a possibility. and that was because he hadn’t. ❝ you would do that? ❞

❝ i will do whatever is best for my family. for my people. ❞ asril retorted, knowing it would be best to ensure his court was on the winning side. ❝ perhaps it’s time you start doing the same .❞

atlas feel to his knees and the other fae took a step back unsure what to make of it. there was silence for several long minutes as the prince did what he could to work through the possible scenarios, to see how things could still work in his favor. how he could still win. ❝ i can’t go, ❞ he finally admitted, his voice cracking.

several more moments passed before asril finally crouched down beside him, suddenly very aware how close his head was to the horses’ back legs. ❝ even a prince can’t have everything he wants. ❞ he said, clapping him on his shoulder before standing and beginning to unstrap the saddle.

❝ i have to tell him, ❞ atlas said at last as he placed his hands over asril’s to stop him. ❝ i have to tell him the truth and explain why i can’t go. ❞

❝ how could someone this thick ever have fooled me? ❞ asril said aloud as he stepped away from the horse and gazed at the ceiling as though he were seeing straight through to the sky above. as if he were asking the gods themselves. but they wouldn’t reply. they never did. ❝ you cannot! ❞ he half-shouted, raising both his arms in frustration. he couldn’t help but feel as though he was speaking with nothing more than an insolent child. ❝ the surprise of you is all we have left, i’ve told emira everything else. ❞ he admitted, but deep down he knew he didn’t regret it. at least now perhaps they would have a fighting chance against whatever army hybern had amassed.

atlas glared at the other, as though he’d been trying to make some joke at him, but his gaze softened as he realized he’d meant it. ❝ what surprise? ❞

❝ that you’re fighting with us, against him. ❞ asril explained pointedly. ❝ he’d never be able to strike you down. ❞ he almost whispered. the truth behind the words was heavy, too much weight for atlas to bear and he found himself on the floor once more. it was true, rhyn wouldn’t have been able to kill him anymore than atlas could strike him down. so then this was to be their alternative? no happily ever, no life of their own together. just war, loss, and bitter resentments.

#𝐀𝐒𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋 #ᴀᴛʟᴀꜱ ʜʏʙᴇʀɪᴏɴ #idk how to tag this atm

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