A/N: This is a snippet from my fic: How to Disappear. OC is the youngest Archeron sister. This takes place during ACOWAR(before the war)
CW: Just pure fluff. If you're planning on reading the fic, this will spoil what power she got from the Cauldron, but if you don't care, read on.
Word Count: 732
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Morrigan's attention finally shifted to me. Her brown eyes dragged up and down my body before she stepped towards me, a hand outstretched.
"Come with me," she said.
I hesitated for just a split second before taking her hand. In a second, we had winnowed away.
⋆ ˚⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆୨♡
When we emerged, I felt as though I'd stepped into a new world.
A clear, gorgeous pond stretched out in front of us. The pond in the estate had been murky, but in this one, I could see clear to the bottom. There was no fish that I could see, but petals from the tree above rested on the water.
The tree next to the pond was large with twisting branches. There was beautiful pink petals that reminded me of cherry blossoms.
The pond itself was surrounded by wild flowers and pretty bushes. It felt isolated, as if no one would ever find us here. There was trees all around us, closing us in.
"What is this place?" I breathed, glancing around as I stepped forward to explore.
"My favorite secret getaway," Mor shrugged, strolling behind me. "No one can find me here. It's just mine."
A place for myself was something I had always craved. I'd been so lonely for most of my life, but I was never able to escape to truly be alone.
"Can I get in the water?" I asked, my eyes lighting up as I stared at my reflection in the clear water.
"Of course," she smiled. "It's shallow."
I slid out of my shoes but kept my dress on as I waded into the pond. The water was cold, in a refreshing way.
A thrum of energy seemed to bring me to life the farther I emerged myself. I tilted my head back, dipping my hair into the water. I felt more awake here.
Mor took her own shoes off before stepping into the water. I grinned at her as she approached, squealing at the chill.
My lavender dressed billowed around me in the water, and I giggled, moving my hips to make the fabric ripple. Mor only chuckled when she got to me, both of us waist deep in the pond.
"Why did you bring me here?" I asked, gazing at her. She sighed, pursing her lips as she thought the question over.
"I can imagine that everything with your sister is . . . weighing on you," she said. "And I thought maybe you would want to get away from all of that."
"I would," I realized. "Thank you . . . for this, and for last night."
"I know how it feels to be different," she explained. "And I just wanted you to know you're not alone."
"That means a lot to me," I said quietly, glancing at the ground. "Nobody . . . Nobody ever really thinks about me like that--about how I feel."
She stepped forward and tucked a strand of my wet hair behind my ear. I nearly burned at the feeling of her skin brushing against mine. I knew I was blushing deep red as I lifted my gaze to meet her eyes.
She took one more step, her glance falling to my lips. I looked down to her full, red lips as well, a way to tell her what I wanted.
Her hand intertwined with my hair, and she drew my face forward, until our lips met.
I nearly gasped, but I managed to stop myself. Instead, I placed my hand on her shoulder and deepened the kiss. She hummed against my lips, her other hand on my waist.
Her tongue brushed against my bottom lip, as if asking for access. I opened my mouth in response.
She pushed my face closer to hers, her tongue almost massaging my own. I didn't care that she was likely getting red lipstick all over my face. I only cared about her.
I gasped at a cold sensation making its way up my body. Mor must've felt it, too, because she pulled away.
I glanced down, only to see tendrils of water surrounding and whirling around us, holding us close together. I couldn't even fight against it as the strands of water pressed our bodies closer.
"Is that you?" I asked her, eyes wide.
"No," she whispered, studying me with a furrowed brow. "I think we've discovered what you got from the Cauldron."
Summary: Fulfilling anon reqs: “Part 3 of fire and water?” and “ooo would it be alright if you created a deleted scene of ‘fire and water’ where eris and archeron reader hook up? love ya <3-🪷”
Warnings: Smut, mentions of abuse and murder.
Word Count: 2,282
Notes: Chlo indulged me last night so I’m returning the favor...been a while since the last part of this one...I hope you all enjoy 🥰
[Part 1] [Part 2]
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“I want to take you to the Summer Court someday,” Eris admits, soft breath stirring the unruly hairs at the crown of your forehead. He’s trailing his long fingers up the smooth skin of your arm, the pads of his touch rough with his swordsmanship. “But I’m afraid you may never want to leave.”
You peek your eyes open at his confession. You’re not asleep nor on the verge of it, just basking in being in your mates arms again after the awful intervention your sisters and their counterparts had set up. Curled up in Eris’ arms in a bed at an inn he’d taken you to right after picking you up at the border of Autumn where Lucien had dropped you off.
You were more thankful for the youngest son of Autumn than you’re sure he knows, for betraying Feyre and the Court that had offered him solace in his time of need. He would surely be the one to take the brunt of the investigation once your sister and the High Lord have noticed you’re no longer in their Court, for helping you escape to Autumn as he wished to do himself, hopefully with his own mate, if only she would have him.
It had been difficult for Eris to see his youngest brother, of that you knew. Hurt him to lock eyes with the soft caramel gaze of Lucien, an unspoken agreement between them that Eris was doing his best to try and rid his father of the throne. He missed Lucien, more than he’d missed anyone, even more than the brothers he had lost by Tamlin’s hand. You knew it had been hard for him to see his youngest brother turning away from the court he had every right to live in to return to that of darkness and night.
Eris had been quiet on the trek to the cozy hostel, his hand tucked into yours, thumb grazing over your knuckles in a way that soothed you both. Your heart had been pounding, from the 10,000 stairs you had to descend to arrive at the rendezvous Lucien had told you to meet him at, the feeling like Rhysand or your sister or one of their cronies were right behind you, a constant fear clawing through your mind.
He hadn’t wanted to take you back to his home, for fear of his father you already knew. You didn’t care though, didn’t care if Eris took you back to that cave or the inn or somewhere even less appealing, as long as you are with him you couldn’t care less about where you are.
The both of you had fallen into the swelling urges of the mating bond as soon as the door clicked shut behind you, reverberating in your chest, a signal that you and your mate were alone, away from prying eyes and ears, well…as much as you could be at the inn. But you didn’t care about the others occupying the rooms next door or the woman seated at the counter below yours, all you saw was Eris, all you felt was your mate, the simmering and sweltering feelings clawing to the surface, to care for him, to claim him.
The hand you have settled against his chest twitches, thumb automatically moving in response to the waiver of his tone, a gentle motion back and forth that’s meant to soothe the stutter of his heart beneath your head, and calm the shake of his vulnerable words.
You peer up at him from your spot at his shoulder but he’s not looking at you, watching instead as he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers.
“Why’s that?” you scrunch up your nose, drawing his attention. The look on your face must settle him some because he’s dropping the tuft of hair in favor of poking at your screwed up features, tapping the tip of your nose and following it with his mouth.
“The oceans mostly,” Eris says when he pulls back and you settle into him, listening to the rumble of his voice as he speaks, its own wave in your ear. “I hear the drinks are fruity and sweet. Here they taste like ash and cinnamon.” Now he’s the one wrinkling his nose in distaste as he complains.
You laugh, stealing a kiss from his pouty mouth. He follows you like a moth to a flame when you pull away, still eager for more of you.
He’s addicted to you already. Had turned his nose up at the stories of males finding their mate’s, how he’d be consumed by them like a wildfire, reducing him to ash in their wake, melted and malleable for her to do with as she pleased.
But Mother does he believe it now.
You taste like a lifeline, like the oxygen his fire so desperately needs. But you are water, so unlike him, Eris would let you douse his flames even if it only meant you’d give him a single touch, a look in his direction.
He will give you whatever you want.
“You don’t like cinnamon?” The amused lilt to your voice has his stomach burning, and the look you’re sending him, a crooked smile makes his heart skip in his chest.
“I love cinnamon,” he sighs like it’s the biggest burden he’s had to bear. Not his abusive father, not being on the cusp of war with the Night Court, who will surely be planning to attack now that he’s stolen a possession so prized to them, a sister of the High Lady.
That’s what you are to them. A possession. Not a being of your own wits and mind. A little girl, the youngest, someone who can’t make decisions for herself or run her own life. No, they have to be the ones to do that for you.
You stare up at your mate pointedly.
“You don’t get it because you’re not from here. You didn’t grow up in Autumn where all there is is cinnamon drinks and pastries, pumpkin spiced tea, and ginger snaps. It’s a total cliché.”
Ah, you understand now.
“So you’re afraid I’ll leave you because you’re a cliché?”
His playful growl catches in his throat when you shift your leg from where it’s resting across his, your knee dragging up the ridges of his muscular thighs, brushing against the tip of his spent cock.
The subtle brush of your knee against his skin, the mere thought of burying his cock inside of you once more makes him flush, makes his cock wag.
“I’m not a cliché,” he purrs instead, his fingers grazing a long stroke down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You shiver, arching into him just as he expected you to. He’s already shifting slightly, holding you closer to him. You can feel the heat from his cock against your leg.
Eris pounces, rolling on top of you in a movement as swift as a fox, pinning you beneath him. He clasps your hands in his, holding them to the soft fabric of the sheets while he appraises you with shiny amber eyes.
“Cinnamon is the cliche and I’m worried you’ll leave me because you’ll realize you like Summer better. The oceans are vast, and with your powers, it will be much easier to learn and hone in on your skills there. I can’t teach you how to control water, and I am fire. You might find it much more comfortable than dry, old Autumn.”
He’s being honest, nervous.
“I might like Summer,” you nod, watching how his brows twitch with unease. He allows one of your hands to slip away and you brush his thick auburn hair from his eyes, tucking it around his pointed ear before moving to caress his face. He leans into your touch. He yearns for it. The calming sea to his raging flames. “But I’ll never like it as much as I love you, Eris.”
He nearly crumples. His arms shake and his heart strains in his chest at your words. He bites at his trembling lip to stop himself from whimpering. He’s weak. He hasn’t known you for long and half of the time he’d spent fighting you when he should’ve been loving you. But now…he’d do anything you ask. He wants to drown in your love.
“Besides,” you sigh, a teasing smile pulling the corners of your lips upwards. Eris nips at your finger playfully as you trace the bow of his mouth, already preparing a response to your joke, “Who wants to be a prune anyway? I’d much rather stay here in your cozy bed with you.”
His heart soars and he can’t hold himself back, drawn to the tantalizing water like a parched male, kissing across your cheeks and down your throat. He’s warm and it makes you shiver, nipples hardening into peaks as the muscles of his chest brush across them, a wildfire of lust courses through your veins.
“And your powers?” he prowls, a question against your mouth.
“You’ll build me a pool, won’t you?”
“I’ll build you anything you godsdamned want.”
Your languid hum pitches into a lewd moan as Eris’ fingers breeze down your body, leaving embers in their wake. He brushes up against your entrance, sliding easily against the wet folds of your cunt.
“Speaking of wet,” he puffs and you groan, shoving at his shoulders. His breathy laugh is hot against your cunt and your shoving only pushes the heir away from your lips and down your body instead, everywhere he touches becomes putty in his hands.
“No, you’ve ruined it now,” you groan but he’s laughing, prizing your legs apart from where you’re trying to clench them back together after his awful joke.
“C’mon, my Love. Don’t hide from me, I’m thirsty.”
You flush, beat red. You didn’t think that it could get any worse but it has. You hadn’t known that Eris would have such a comedic streak.
You press up onto your forearms, eyeing him where he’s playfully running his hands up and down your legs, nudging you to open them. “Really, Eris? I’m done now, all dried up down there, you’ve ruined it for yourself.”
Your body betrays you, listens to the calling of your mate instead, legs falling open easily for the male before you and you curse under your breath at his knowing grin.
He kisses your skin, biting at the fleshy meat of your thigh, causing you to jump. He presses a single finger knuckle-deep into your pulsing cunt. The action has you keening, his long digit pushed up inside of you without warning, unmoving but there.
He watches as you squirm, sucking his finger in with your heat. He’s achingly hard, gaze hot as your hips writhe down on him, walls clenching, trying to pull him in further. You are like putty in his hands, all from a single touch.
He hopes that his courtiers will be this keen to take his commands, once he is crowned High Lord.
“I’m about to ruin you,” your name is solace on his tongue, “Again.”
You don’t have the breath to respond because he’s driving the air from your lungs, replacing his finger with hot tongue, tasting your wetness.
His tongue is nearly scorching as you seize around it. He’s burning your entire body in the best way. Eris jackknives his tongue into you with fervor and your mind goes dizzy. It might be the best thing you’ve ever felt, especially when he snakes a finger up to your clit, rolling it like he’d memorized the rhythm that had gotten you off the first time you’d slept together.
He hadn’t done this the first time.
Eris must catch the question trying to claw its way from your throat, the guttural noise sounding something akin to one, you think, because he’s answering with a sinful smile.
“Couldn’t have shown you all of my tricks on the first go around, Love. Have to keep you interested.”
“I think I’ll–” you gasp in pleasure as he licks up your cunt, melting at the way your body reacts to him, “I’ll always be interested in you, Eris. Because I have never loved anything such as I love you.”
Your name is a plea from his lips, hot against your core. It makes you tremble. It makes you ache.
He’s all consuming as his tongue works quicker now, licking long stripes up the length of your cunt and then some, tracing swoops and arches like the runes of a bargain.
You’d never been so thankful for your mate’s control over flames as you reach your peak, grabbing his head with both of your hands so you can grind against him.
Eris’ hands snake around your waist, pulling you tighter, burying himself into you, wild and uncaring, the feeling of you so close to the edge a hot brand across the bond–
You cum with a cry of his name on your lips, a prayer all the same.
But he’s not done with you yet.
He gives you no reprieve as he nips at your sensitive clit, drawing a strained yelp from you, your tightly shut eyes snapping open as he climbs up your body, kissing his way up, his chest brushing against your overheated skin.
Eris presses a long, hot kiss to your heart, the thrumming beat of it pulses against his mouth, making him tingle. He can’t help when his hips dip down, cock brushing through the wetness of your cunt, dragging groans from the both of you that mingle in the silent room.
There’s a faded strip of light seeping through the sliver of the curtains, framing the apples of his cheeks, the bridge of his straight nose. His freckles nearly glow in the growing light, debris of ember against his pale skin.
The rising sun only reminds you that your time here is nearly over. Soon it will be morning and with that comes reality. The reality that your sisters will find out you’ve escaped their clutches in favor of the fiery tempered heir to the Autumn Court’s throne, that you and Eris will somehow also have to survive the throes of Autumn, his father and fucked up brothers.
Neither of you has the perfect family.
But when his lips meet your own, all of your worries melt away.
You thread your fingers through his already tangled hair, reveling in the feeling of him against your mouth, against your body, smothering you like the wildfire he is.
“What do you want, my Love? Anything. Name it and you shall have it,” Eris mutters against your lips, the words of a man on his knees before his Queen.
And while he’s referring to what you want next from him; his cock stuffed deep inside of your cunt or your throat, you riding his face, anything, your mind shifts from sexual favors to something far more serious.
He’d felt the fracture of your pleasure when you’d been reminded of the upcoming days events, a stab of pain down the bond when your mind had wandered for a fleeting moment.
This is no light promise. You know this. Understand that he doesn’t mean he will give you a kiss if you ask, his cock if you beg. Eris is prepared to go to war for you, burn down Prythian if that is what you want, what will make you happy. He is utterly entrapped by you.
He’d stifle himself if it means keeping you alive.
Your heart swells, aching in the best way. You’d hated being a fae, but now, finding what Feyre and Nesta both had…you would never wish for something other than this. Other than him.
Eris coos softly, brushing a tear from your cheek, shed from his heartfelt words. You feel too much, it’s nearly drowning to feel how much he loves you, pouring through the bond as you stare up at him, clutching him tightly, in your own little world inside of an inn with your mate.
But there’s something else, that scalding burn of your anger, beneath it all. It bubbles to the surface at his promise to you, your mind flickering from how in awe you are of your perfect mate to your sisters and their counterparts. How they’d made your business everyone’s business, letting them speak when it was not in their command to do so. How they kept from you, plotted for you, forced you into doing their dirty work.
They’d never get their alliance now. Not if you had anything to do with it.
Sensing the shift in your emotions, Eris hugs you tighter, kissing the crown of your head. You’re brewing with it now, gaze simmering with something wicked. It excites him, seeing that hard look in your eyes, makes him want to take you all over again, let you do anything you want to him. He’d fall to his knees for that look alone.
“I want power. I want to show them that I’m not some fragile thing that needs protecting. I want to be a force that they constantly look over their shoulder for.”
The curve of his mouth is unholy when he responds, amber eyes glittering with pride.
AN: Snippet from How to Disappear. OC is the youngest Archeron sister. Important detail to know if you haven't read it is that she was mute until she was thrown into the Cauldron, and Mor helped her learn to speak.
Summary: This takes place right after they get back from Hewn City in ACOWAR and Elain has that little seer moment. Two chapters before, Samara came out to Mor, but Mor hasn't come out to Samara.
Word Count: 809
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I watched as Mor stepped out the front door. I frowned, turning my attention back to my sisters. They were silent.
"Is Elain alright?" I dared to ask.
The two didn't respond--only glanced at each other, seeming to have a silent conversation that I was excluded from.
"May I go see her?" I went on when they didn't answer.
"No, give her space," Nesta said to me. "I will check on her in a moment."
"Sammy, why don't you give Nesta and I a moment?" Feyre said gently. That gentle tone I hated so much; as if I couldn't handle being spoken to like an adult.
I scoffed, irritated that I couldn't be a part of their conversation. I pushed passed them and stormed out the front door, glancing around for Mor. I squinted, my eyes adjusting to the dark. But I could see the moon reflecting off of her blonde hair.
Luckily, it seemed she hadn't gone far. She was slowly stepping down the sidewalk. I furrowed my brows, trying to run to catch up to her. She had told me that running would be second nature, but I still found it difficult.
I called her name, and she halted, turning around to face me. Tears continued to stream down her face.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, her tone sharp. I blinked at the sharpness.
"I wanted to make sure you're okay," I explained, finally reaching her side.
"Shouldn't you check on your sister?" she asked with a sigh.
"I wanted to, but Nesta wouldn't allow it," I shrugged, falling into step beside her.
Mor scoffed, shaking her head. I frowned, glancing at her to find out what exactly she was scoffing at.
"What?" I demanded.
"Why do you let her make all of your decisions for you?" she asked me.
"I went to Hewn City without her permission," I reminded her.
"Is that the only time you've disobeyed her?" Mor wondered, raising a brow. I frowned again, thinking it over.
"I don't know," I admitted with a shrug. "She's my eldest sister. She's the only autho-rity I've ever had."
"Authority," Mor corrected, saying it differently than I had. "You said it wrong. It seems I'm not as good of a teacher as I thought I was."
"Hush," I rolled my eyes, shoving her shoulder. She chuckled, a bit of light coming back to her pretty face. "Where are we going, anyway?"
"There's a bar further in the city," she explained to me.
"You were going out drinking alone?" I teased her. She smiled, but shook her head.
"This bar is different," she said. "Everyone goes, but it's mostly for . . . people like us."
"People like us?" I repeated, glancing at her with confusion in my eyes.
But then, I remembered what she had said to me. 'It's hard,' she had said. 'Keeping such a huge part of yourself from the people you love.'
"People like us," she confirmed with a nod.
"Oh," I said, brows raising. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Nobody knows," she confessed. "Not even my family."
"Oh," I repeated, this time in an understanding tone.
I wasn't ready to tell Feyre or Elain. Elain because I wasn't sure if she would be utterly scandalized, and Feyre because I was scared she would see me differently. If Nesta hadn't figured it out herself, I wasn't sure I would've told her, either. I knew my sisters wouldn't shun me or be ashamed of me for it--not like my mother would've been. But I just wasn't ready to confide in them, yet.
As we walked on, I carefully slipped my hand in hers. Instead of batting it away like I expected her to, she took it, intertwining our fingers.
Neither of us spoke for the rest of the walk, but having her hand in mine was a reassuring feeling that made me smile a bit.
We got to the bar--Rita's--about ten minutes later. It didn't seem too crowded; Mor said that it really only got bad on the weekends.
She grinned, the life coming back to her eyes as she stepped inside. I saw it then, why she was so scared of her father coming into the city. He would take away the little things that gave her happiness. She wouldn't even be able to walk to the bar without fear of seeing him.
"Morrigan!" a female's voice chimed.
Mor practically squealed, letting go of my hand to hug the female. This female had curly, red hair and a darker complexion. Her eyes were deep green, and she was wearing a blue dress.
"Rita, this is Samara," Mor introduced me.
Rita--who I assumed was the owner--smiled at me. I went to shake her hand, but instead, she stepped forward, embracing me. I froze for a second, shocked by the affection, but carefully returned the hug.
