#them meeting and the tension and overwhelming feelings

[fantasydreamland]

A Dance of Forbidden Fire

eris vanserra x fem reader

Summary: You attend the winter solstice ball at the Night Court with your sisters Feyre and Nesta. The plan was for Nesta to seduce Eris with her dancing skills, but instead he asks for your hand. As you dance away into the night you cannot fight the feeling that he is your mate.

Notes: 18+ only! Slight suggestive smut, forbidden love, tension, angst, fluff, spoilers, bolded words taken directly from the chapter & belong to sarah j maas

(y/n kinda replaces Elain in the story - Based on chapter 57 of ACOSF)

this is the scene that really sparked my random crush on eris 💃

Word count: 1.9k

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The ball began after Feyre and Rhysand arrived and took their places on their thrones. You and Nesta took your places on either side of them, both wearing similar black gowns. You wore a low cut style that accentuated your cleavage, and an open back, leaving much of your skin exposed.

Eris came to greet you all, the first time you had ever seen him, having remained mainly inside the house since being Made. Though you had heard plenty about him. You knew he was the son of Beron and the heir to Autumn court. You knew he was cunning, and self centred, and deceitful, and arrogant. And of course the story with Morrigan. Your family allied with him because they needed to, but they have made it clear to you that they did not trust him in the slightest.

They had failed to mention just how gorgeous he was. He was as if a perfect autumn leaf transformed into a devilishly handsome male. His long firey orange hair was styled neatly behind his pointed ears, freckles scattered across his sun kissed skin, and a cocky smirk formed on his lips. But it was his piercing amber eyes that took your breath away the moment they connected with yours. You both held silent that eye contact for a short moment that felt like a small eternity before he seemed to shake his head to focus back on Rhys and Feyre.

The High Lord and Lady presented Eris with a solstice gift, his eyes seeming to keep flicking over to you during the entire time they spoke. Feyre ended the conversation by explaining she could not offer her hand to Eris for a dance, due to her condition.

“My older sister shall take my place.” Feyre says to him, gesturing to Nesta.

“Actually, my High Lady… I would like to ask for (y/n)’s hand. If she would care to join me, of course.” He says overly politely before looking to you.

Feyre and Nesta both look over at you, you meet their worried eyes briefly before turning your attention back to Eris.

“It would be my pleasure.” You offer a small smile as you step towards him, deciding to carry out the plan yourself.

Cassian tries to hide his relief as Eris walks you to the dance floor instead of Nesta.

Others watched from the sidelines as the dance finished and the introductory strains of the next began, a harp strumming high and sweet. Eris extended a hand, a half smile on his mouth.

You place your hand in his. The feeling of your skin connecting sent electricity throughout your body. Percussion and horns blasted; low stronger instruments started a rushing strike of music. A summons to the dance in a countdown to movement.

Eris slid his broad hand over your waist, tucking you in close. His slender fingers seeming to warmly burn into the bare skin of your back. You lifted your chin, looking up into his face. The moment your eyes connect up close, you feel it, the tug in your chest, a strong magnetic pull of your heart towards his. The sudden wild look in his amber eyes told you he felt it too. Even the smell of him seemed to overwhelm your senses. He smelt like… cedar, and a rainy day, and a hint of something sweeter like vanilla, an addictive smell you wanted to bury yourself in.

He does not miss the heavy rise of your bosom as you take a slow deep breath trying to compose yourself, his eyes dart back to yours and the dance begins. You move to the music, becoming completely lost in it. You have always danced well, you would not consider yourself an expert like Nesta, but following Eris’s lead felt as easy as water flowing through a silent stream. You seemed to fit perfectly in his arms, like you were meant to be there. You dance together as one, moving in perfect harmony, your eyes never parting once except the brief seconds between twirls. His presence had your cheeks and ears burning red, your breathing difficult, and your heart absolutely racing.

You let Eris lead you into the next dance as a new song began. It was a lighter, easier dance than the first.

Eris’s amber eyes studied yours. “Trust Rhysand to keep you hidden away.”

“I’m afraid I am the one who has kept myself hidden away...” You respond, it was the truth, despite your families efforts you kept yourself isolated for a long time after being Made.

“Understandably so.” He says, his expression turned more serious, sympathetic. “I can hardly imagine what you went through with… the Cauldron.” The last word coming out as almost a whisper.

“Yes…” You breathed, the only response you could manage as you tried to shove those memories aside.

Eris spun you, and when you returned to him, he murmured in your ear, “Don’t believe the lies they tell you about me.” His breath on your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze. “Oh?”

Eris nodded to where Mor watched them from beside Feyre and Rhys, her face neutral and aloof. “She knows the trust but has never revealed it.”

“Why?”

“Because she is afraid of it.”

You didn’t pry further about the details but it did make you question what you have been told about him, and that maybe there was more to the story. The man in front of you did not seem like the monster you had pictured. It made you curious about his perspective, about his life.

You chatted a little more throughout the song, getting to know a bit about eachother. Not just the facts that everyone already knows but small things deeper than that. He asked you about your favourite season and you admit it has always been autumn. When you were human you would count down the days for the chilled weather and colourful leafs. The crunch of leafs beneath your feet, and cozy sweaters, and pumpkins, and warm ciders. You have always loved everything about the season.

“It almost seems like you belong in Autumn, interesting...” Eris says with a sly smirk.

You blush in response earning a wider smirk from him. The dance continues on in silence, only exchanging occasional small smiles between you.

You follow his lead into a third song, this one much slower, more romantic. You sway and twirl together around the dance floor. No more words are exchanged between you but so much is said through your deeply connected eyes. The entire ball fades into the background, no one else existed in this moment. It felt like you were the only two beings in the room, in the world. Being in his alluring presence, his hot skin touching yours, his firey eyes staring into your very soul… it felt like he had you completely under a spell as you danced and danced.

The song finishes with a final twirl, then holding onto your connected hands as the other is outstretched behind you in an elegant pose. As the song comes to a close Eris pulls you back against him, even tighter than before, your bodies pressed firmly together while his fingers pressed firmer into your skin. You were so close that when you lift your head to meet his eyes again your noses lightly brush. You freeze, his tempting lips just a mere breath away. You swear you can feel his heart thundering against your body like a brutal storm, or perhaps that was your own.

Still under his spell, you lean in and almost connect your lips before the beginning of new song makes you come to your senses and pull away from him with a small gasp.

“Are you alright?” Eris asks you with genuine concern.

“Yes, I- forgive me. I… I just need a moment to freshen up. Please excuse me.” You babble before you nearly run off the dance floor and away from him before you could even hear his response.

You rush down the hallway and find a washroom, quickly slamming the door closed behind you as you let out a heavy breath. Your heart was still racing and your skin burning hot like a raging fire as you try to collect your thoughts. The undeniable connection you felt with him, even now you feel as if some force is pulling you back to the ballroom, back to him. Was he?… He couldn’t be… No. The ‘ally’ whom your family detests could not be your… mate. No.

You take another deep shakey breath before returning to the room and take your place back by Rhysand and Feyre, eyeing the dance floor in search of Eris.

“Well done (y/n). Eris is quite taken with you.” Rhysand says quietly with a smirk, the mere mention of his name causing breath to shorten again. “We were a little concerned when we saw you basically bolt out of the room but he seems to truly believe he has a chance with you.” He chuckles in a scoff.

You laugh nervously. “Yes, well, he is a fool...”

“You can say that again.” Cassian chuckles as he rolls his eyes.

The nervousness bubbles in you again as you’re reminded how much your family dislikes Eris. Then he comes into your view from across the room, his firey eyes catching yours instantly. Your heart raced at the thought of going back on the dance floor, he was pure temptation you were terrified you would not be able to stop yourself.

“I am actually not feeling too well, I think all the dancing has made me light headed.” You turn to Feyre, lightly hold your stomach. “I’m beginning to feel a bit nauseous.”

“Please, go on home then (y/n). Get some rest. You have already done wonderfully tonight.” Feyre offers a soft smile.

You offer a curtsy to the High Lord and Lady before departing. You quickly turn to leave and nearly crash right into Eris.

“Woah there, you alright (y/n)?” He asks with his usual sly smirk.

“Yes, sorry um, please forgive me... I’m afraid I am feeling rather, um, unwell, and must retire early.” You ramble as you begin to get lost in his fierce eyes once again.

“Oh, yes, of course.” He says with a serious face before turning back into his wicked expression as he takes your hand in his. “I do hope we see eachother again soon. (Y/n)…” He slowly empathizes your name in a low voice, sending shivers up your spine, before placing a kiss to your hand.

You gulp before responding. “I look forward to it. Eris…” His name rolls off your tongue in a whispery breath and you notice how it makes his breath quicken and eyes darken.

You rush through the crowd towards the exit, looking back only once to Eris who has not taken his eyes off you. You feel the pull in your chest again as your eyes connected for a long moment before you find the strength to look away and leave the palace.

The days following felt like a blur. You tried to ignore them but your thoughts remained full of Eris, somehow still deeply under his spell even though he was nowhere near you. You could not stop thinking of everything about that enchanting night, about that enchanting man, your… mate. Whom you desperately yearned to see again.

*

I imagine the final dance to this song ~

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[rafes-slut]

Rafe finds out you arent wearing any panties underneat your dress at party

Warnings: Public play, cockwarming, dominance, overstimulation, possessive behavior, jealousy, explicit content, strong language, mild degradation, slight exhibitionism, toxic dynamics, semi-public smut, and heavy teasing.

Summary: you came to party only because of him wearing slutty dress with nothing underneat. So once he finds out he makes you pay for it. Forcing you to cockwarm him at the party. And then leaving you high and dry in the end.

----

The party was already in full swing by the time you pulled up, bass from the speakers vibrating through the ground as you stepped out of your car. You exhaled sharply, adjusting the hem of your dress that barely covered anything, the fabric riding up with each step. It wasn’t just short—it was slutty. The thin straps threatened to slip off your shoulders, the neckline dipping just low enough to be sinful. And underneath? Nothing.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You didn’t want to be here. The only reason you bothered showing up was Rafe. He had been adamant about meeting up, promising you he'd be here, and damn it, you weren’t about to let him think you’d flaked on him.

Your heels clicked against the pavement as you entered the house, eyes scanning the room for him. It didn’t take long.

There he was, at the bar, surrounded by a few Kook girls who laughed at every little thing he said. Something burned hot in your chest at the sight—jealousy, annoyance, frustration. Whatever it was, it made your blood boil. You had shown up for him, looking like this, and he was entertaining them?

But as soon as his eyes landed on you, it was over. The smirk he had been flashing them disappeared. His whole expression darkened. His blue eyes dragged down your body, slowly taking in every exposed inch of skin, and you saw the exact moment he realized what you had done.

He looked pissed.

Good.

The night went on, and Rafe never left your side. He kept a tight grip on your wrist, his hand never straying too far from your waist, his touch firm and possessive. It was like he was staking his claim, making sure no one else even thought about getting too close. And you liked it.

But then, Rafe started leading you away from the crowd, his grip tightening just a little. You didn’t question it, just let him guide you toward one of the couches tucked into a dim corner of the house. When you reached it, you bent down slightly to fix the hem of your dress—

And that’s when he saw it.

The sharp inhale behind you made your stomach flip. The tension radiating off him was suffocating. You barely had a second to react before he was pulling you down onto his lap, settling you so your back was flush against his chest.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice dark and amused.

“You’re fucking bare under this, aren’t you?”

Heat pooled in your stomach, embarrassment creeping up your neck. You swallowed thickly, shifting slightly, but his hands dug into your hips, keeping you in place.

“If you wanted this,” he murmured, fingers teasing at the hem of your dress, “then this is how you’ll have it.”

Before you could process what he meant, he shifted you slightly, just enough to make you realize—

He was hard.

And then, without warning, he lifted your hips, lined himself up, and pushed you down onto him.

A gasp caught in your throat, eyes going wide as you clenched around him. The stretch was sudden, overwhelming, making your breath hitch. You could feel him, every inch, every twitch, buried deep inside you, but before you could even think about moving, his hand wrapped around your throat, tilting your head back so his lips brushed against your ear.

“You’re gonna be a good girl for me,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement and something much darker. “You’re not gonna move. Not gonna make a sound. Understand?”

You clenched your jaw, nodding weakly, every nerve in your body on fire.

The party was still in full swing around you. Music pounded through the house. People laughed and talked, completely unaware of what was happening right in front of them. If anyone looked too closely, they might’ve noticed the way your breathing was uneven, the way Rafe’s hands gripped your hips a little too tightly.

And then he shifted.

It was barely a movement, just a slight adjustment of his hips, but it sent a bolt of pleasure shooting through you. Your hands flew to his thighs, fingers digging into his jeans, trying to ground yourself, but he only smirked against your skin.

“Feel that?” he whispered. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the desperate whimper threatening to spill out.

He kept you like that for what felt like an eternity. Occasionally shifting just to make you squirm, just to remind you of how full you were, how utterly helpless you were in his lap. Arousal pooled between your thighs, and you knew without a doubt that you were soaking through his jeans, but he didn’t care.

If anything, it only made him more smug.

Minutes passed, then more. Your body was wound so tight you thought you might snap, every tiny movement sending waves of pleasure through you. And then, just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he exhaled sharply, tightening his grip on your waist before—

He pulled out.

You blinked, stunned, your body screaming at the loss, but before you could even protest, he was fixing your dress, smoothing out the fabric like nothing had happened.

Then, he leaned in close, lips brushing against your ear one last time.

“Now,” he whispered, voice low and full of promise. “Let’s see if you can keep those pretty little legs closed for the rest of the night.”

And just like that, he was standing up, pretending like nothing had happened, while you sat there, thighs clenched, body aching, desperate for more.

This was going to be a long night.

[sinkuna]

୨୧ ― NANAMI KENTO

The ball gag reduces your desperate pleas to muffled whimpers as Nanami's cock twitches inside your stretched out pussy. Drool trickles past the rubber sphere, down your chin as you try fruitlessly to rock against him. His tie wrapped around your eyes keeps you from seeing the warm smile on his face, and how his iron grip on your hips keeps you perfectly still, forced to be nothing more than a warm sleeve for his throbbing dick.

"Patience, my dear," he chides, thumb stroking your hip bone, "I know exactly what you want... But good girls wait for permission, don't they?" You nod frantically, willing to agree to anything if it means he'll finally move.

"So beautiful..."

The first brutal snap of his hips knocks the breath from your lungs as his usually controlled pace is thrown out the window. Each slap of his balls against your ass rings out in the room, punctuated by Nanami's low grunts.

Your fingers flex, desperate to grasp at him, but your bound arms keep them in place. You wanted so badly to hold him, to whisper in his ear, but he's in complete control, and he doesn’t plan on giving up that control tonight. It had been a long work day, and taking the time to carefully bind you had been rather therapeutic, the process of tying knot after knot calming his nerves and easing his tension. He couldn’t give up that control just yet.

You keen around the gag, saliva spilling over the edge as your cunt flutters around the cock impaling you. Nanami's thrusts were relentless, and you could feel his cockhead dragging against your spongy g-spot with every plunge into your dripping hole. "Show me how much you've missed me," he commands, jackhammering into your swollen pussy.

Even with the gag you can't hold back the moans, the screams, the sobs that wrack your body. You could feel how his hand moved from your hips. trailing up your side, brushing lightly over your nipples before his fingers wrap around your throat. He could feel your heartbeat fluttering against his palm as he squeezed, feeling your airway tighten under his hand. The choked sound you make is heavenly, and Nanami's grip loosens for a moment, letting you take a gasping breath before squeezing again.

"Don't stop clenching around me, d-ear-ah-" Each thrust threatens to split you in half as he unleashes hours of pent up stress into your complying body.

It was a struggle to focus at this point, your body overwhelmed with the aching pleasure between your thighs and the pressure on your throat. Each time Nanami let go his hips would still as you took greedy gulps of air, before he squeezing once again and snapping his hips up to burry himself so deep his swollen cockhead smooches your womb… And fuck how it made your vision spin, your brain feeling like utter mush.

You were so close, you could feel the coil winding up tight in your gut.

Your toes curling, legs spasming, your thighs squeezing against him, trying desperately to find some relief from the onslaught of his teasing.

"That's my girl, show me how you fall apart on my cock."

୨୧ ― SHIU KONG

Shiu could barely concentrate on the Zoom meeting, your wet mouth making the most obscene slurping noises beneath his desk. He'd tried to resist when you first slid under there, giving him that innocent look that was anything but.

"The client asked that..." he managed, gripping his pen so hard it nearly snapped as you deepthroated him with practiced ease. Clear strands of saliva poured from your dick-hungry mouth onto his pressed trousers, soaking the expensive material until there was a nice wet spot. You were such a messy little cocksucker, taking pride in how sloppy you could get-knowing that’s just how he likes it.

Your tongue swirled around his swollen head, collecting every drop of precum that leaked from his slit before sucking him back into your mouth. Your cheeks hollowed, creating the perfect vacuum to milk him, drawing his cum closer and closer to your waiting throat.

"Yes… I’ll be sure to- mph- send the info..." Shiu’s voice hitched, his hips involuntarily lifting to chase the sensation of your wet, warm mouth. You were getting him close, and Shiu struggled to keep his composure, hoping the meeting would end soon so he could grab you by the hair and fuck your throat like he wanted.

Your hand massaged his balls as you worked him deeper, spit dribbling down your chin, tears streaming down your face from the effort. You were so desperate to please him, and he couldn’t remember the last time someone had sucked him with such enthusiasm.

"We should- mmph- circle back… tomorrow…," he told his colleagues, voice strained as you increased your pace. He could barely focus on the screen, your mouth was so hot, so wet, making those obscene squelching noises that drove him wild- noises he hoped only he could hear.

The second the call ended, he grabs you by the hair roughly, yanking you up with one hand, "You're going to pay for that, babygirl." His free hand reaches out, his fingers curling around your face, his nails gently- sensually digging into your cheeks until they reluctantly parted. The rich scent of his cigarette fills the air as he takes a slow drag and the cherry glows as he leans closer and closer to you… Until his lips finally meet yours, exhaling the smoke into your mouth, sealing it inside you with a shared breath.

The warmth of the smoke swirls within, his tongue flicking to tease your own. It’s all so intoxicating, like a drug coursing through your body… And what makes your melt into his grip is the feather light touch of his. A slow, deliberate caress against your flushed cheeks that causes you to take a deep breath, inhaling more of the thick smoke.

You cough slightly when the smoke reaches your lungs, and Shiu pulls away, a smile on his face,

"Now… " he takes a deep breath, the cigarette dangling between his teeth, "What should i do with you?"

You swallow, the taste of him still lingering in your mouth, "Whatever," you hop up on his desk, his dress shirt on your sliding off one shoulder, your nipples peeking through the fabric, "you want," your eyes meeting his, "Shiu~"

He lets out a small chuckle, his eyes traveling from yours to the curve of your neck, "You always make such good decisions," he takes another drag, holding the smoke in his lungs as his head dips low, his lips pressing a soft kiss against the side of your neck. The tip of his tongue traces a line up to your earlobe, teeth nipping gently, tugging at the soft flesh, "But, do you think you deserve to cum tonight?"

୨୧ ― HIGURUMA HIROMI

The silk tie binding his wrists strains against the headboard as you roll your hips torturously slow, your slick folds barely kissing the swollen head of his cock.

Higuruma's jaw tightens, a muscle twitching in his cheek as you deny him what he wants. For a man who prides himself on control, being at your mercy certainly was maddening.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" his voice low and gravelly, strained with the effort of keeping his composure, his gaze fixed on yours, "Teasing me like this." his wrists testing his binds.

Your fingers splayed across his bare chest, “Whatre you going to do about it~?" You hummed innocently, "Can't touch me like this, can you?" You rolled your hips, grinding against his cock to coast his impressive length in your wetness, but not quite taking him inside of you still, "So mean, keeping a girl waiting~ Hiromi~.”

Leaning down, you trail your tongue along his chest, tasting the salty tang of sweat that lingers there. And when you find his nipple, you take it between your teeth and bite, a sharp sting that has him arching his back off the bed.

"Nha'! F-fuck-!!..."

He grits his teeth, hissing at the sensation, the ache in his arms growing more pronounced, the strain in his biceps making them bulge and swell.

His hands, balled into tight fists, tugging on his binds, the silk ties straining against the bedpost. Until finally, it gave way. His silk black tie finally snapping at the seams, and like hell he doesn't hesitate.

Before you can even react, he has you flipped onto your back with predatory grace. The bed creaking beneath his weight as he hovers above you, a meaty hand pressed against one of your breasts, your nipple caught between his fingers while pinning you to the mattress.

"You've been testing my patience all day," He slams his cock into you in one fell swoop, sheathing his entire length inside your warm pussy , "Playing with me at the office," he thrusts hard, "Deliberately bending over my desk in front of that obnoxious prosecutor to hand me the food you made," he rolls his hips, the tip of his cock pressing against the opening of your womb, "I think you need a little discipline."

He slowly drags his cock through your tight heat until you're whimpering. his fingers pinching your nipple, bullying the tender little bud by twisting it between his fingertips, giving it a sharp tug before pulling it away from your body… Only to release it when your back arches off the bed, a high pitched gasp tumbling from your lips.

When he finally sees fat tears well up in your eyes, he dips his head to swipe his tongue over the tender nub, lapping at it to soothe the sting, a deep groan rumbling in his chest, "Doesn't feel good to be teased, does it?"

[fidesvirtusobsession]

Echoes of a Thousand Nights

(Yandere Vampire x AFAB reader)

Prologue || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9|| 10 || 11

Description: For centuries, Alaric has walked the earth, bound by the cruel hand of fate. A vampire of old blood, he has seen empires fall, lovers turn to dust, and the world reshape itself around him. Yet, through the endless nights, one thing remains constant—her. The woman who haunts his past lives, slipping through his fingers with every rebirth. She never remembers, never knows who he is, yet he finds her, lifetime after lifetime, only to lose her again.Now, in the present day, her scent resurfaces in the most unlikely of places—an underground auction house where humans are sold like cattle. But Alaric will not let fate steal her away this time. This time, he will keep her.

The evening sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the drawing room was quiet, save for the soft sound of the wind rustling outside and the occasional clink of silverware from the distant dining room. Alaric paced slowly in the hall, his thoughts still tangled with everything that had been weighing on him—the constant worry over (Y/n)’s safety, her relentless training, and the overwhelming emotions he fought to keep hidden.

He needed to do something. Something to remind her that she wasn’t just a weapon, that she wasn’t always going to be under the heavy burden of protection, of training, of the looming shadows that followed them.

The door to the study opened, and there she was—(Y/n), with her gentle smile, her eyes bright and full of energy despite the long days she’d been putting herself through. She looked like she needed a break more than anything.

Alaric took a breath, walking toward her with his usual composure, but there was a softness in his gaze that hadn’t been there before.

She was absentmindedly flipping through a book, her head tilted slightly to the side as she absorbed the words. Alaric, however, was watching her, his fingers lightly tapping against the armrest of his chair, his mind racing. He had been thinking about this all day, weighing his options, but now that the moment had come, there was an unsettling feeling in his chest.

Finally, after a long pause, he cleared his throat, drawing her attention. She looked up, her eyes meeting his with a soft, curious gaze.

“(Y/n),” Alaric’s voice was steady, though there was a faint tension underlying his words, “I was thinking... we should go out tomorrow night.”

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. “Go out?”

He nodded slowly, his usual composure shifting slightly as he leaned forward in his seat, a rare hint of vulnerability slipping through his facade. He hesitated for a moment, then let out a small breath. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone. I’ve seen it. The late nights, the exhaustion... You deserve a night to relax. To just... be yourself, without all the responsibilities hanging over your head.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I mean that I’ve arranged something for us. Just you and me. A break. A night where you don’t have to worry about the next fight, the next lesson, or anything else. Just us, having some time to ourselves.”

“There’s a ballet performance tomorrow evening. It’s supposed to be quite... exquisite. I thought it might be something you’d enjoy. It’s a chance for us to relax, get away from everything for a night. No business, no concerns, just... us.”

“You’ve been working yourself to the bone. I’ve seen it. The late nights, the exhaustion... You deserve a night to relax. To just... be yourself, without all the responsibilities hanging over your head.”

(Y/n) blinked in surprise, her heart warming at the thought. She hadn’t expected Alaric to suggest something like this, a night of culture and elegance instead of his usual reserved demeanor. “A ballet? That’s... unexpected. But I’d love to go with you, Alaric.”

The corners of his mouth twitched into the faintest of smiles. “I thought you might.” His gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt like the weight of the world lifted, as if the night out could offer some kind of escape from the complexities of their lives. “It’ll be a night just for us—no distractions, no interruptions.”

There was a brief pause, the air thick with unspoken emotions, before he added in a quieter tone, “I promise, it’s just a date. No hidden agendas. Just you and me.”

(Y/n)’s brow furrowed as she looked at the card, but her heart gave a flutter at the gesture. “You’ve... arranged this? For us?”

Alaric nodded, his expression unreadable but with an underlying sense of determination. “Yes. I’ve taken care of everything. It’s just a small night out—nothing extravagant. I thought you could use the time to unwind, to have fun. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, (Y/n).”

She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to process his words. Slowly, she nodded, her lips curling into a small smile. “I didn’t expect this... but it sounds nice.”

(Y/n) smiled again, her expression warm and genuine, not sensing the tension in his words. She hadn’t picked up on the layers that lay beneath his suggestion, only focused on the sincerity in his voice. “I’m looking forward to it, Alaric. Thank you.”

Alaric’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. He felt a twinge of something deep within him—possessiveness, protectiveness... and a quiet anticipation. He wanted this night to go perfectly. He needed it to. As he nodded slowly, his eyes hardened with determination, though his smile remained in place, fragile but sincere.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, though his mind already swirled with thoughts of the upcoming night, and of the man he knew would be there—Valen. But for now, he could ignore it. For now, he would keep his focus on her.

She was his, and he would make sure nothing would ruin their time together. Not now, not ever.

“You deserve it,” Alaric said, his tone softening further. “You've earned a moment of peace, away from all the weight you’ve been carrying. Consider it a break, a reward for all your hard work. You don’t have to think about anything except the night ahead.”

For a moment, the usual walls between them seemed to dissolve, and Alaric allowed himself to show just how much he cared for her. His hand gently brushed hers, and for a fleeting second, he hesitated, wondering if he should say more. But then he shook the thought away.

"I'll take care of everything. We’ll have some time alone, just the two of us. You can relax, enjoy yourself—there’s no need for anything else tonight.”

(Y/n) smiled, a mix of gratitude and confusion in her eyes. “I don’t know what to say, Alaric. This is… unexpected.”

He stepped closer, his voice low and inviting. “You don’t have to say anything. Just come with me. Let me give you a night to forget about everything else.”

The intensity of his gaze softened as he looked at her, and despite the storm of emotions he was hiding, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace knowing she would be with him. For tonight, at least, nothing else mattered.

“Let’s get you ready. It’s going to be a night you won’t forget.”

And as he turned to leave the room, (Y/n) stood in the soft light of the room, still processing his words, her heart thudding a little faster in her chest. There was something deeper in his words—something more than just a night out. She just didn’t know what it was yet.

The room was filled with soft candlelight, and the faint scent of lavender lingered in the air. (Y/n) sat in front of the vanity mirror, her hands nervously twisting the fabric of her dress. She had been in the process of dressing for what felt like an eternity. The gown was beautiful, but it wasn’t the clothes that made her anxious—it was the overwhelming uncertainty about the night ahead.

She had no idea what Alaric had planned, but she could tell it was something important. He had seemed insistent, even more than usual, about her attending the event tonight. She could feel his gaze on her whenever they were in the same room, a kind of unspoken pressure weighing on her shoulders. But she trusted him, and somehow, that made the unease easier to bear.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Elera’s voice followed. “(Y/n), are you ready? I was told you might need some help getting ready.”

“I’m fine, Elera,” (Y/n) called back, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles in her dress. She couldn’t help but feel a little out of place in the extravagant outfit, even though it was meant to make her feel special.

Elera didn’t wait for a response before entering, her usual confident smile gracing her lips. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ve already seen your battle wounds from the training sessions. Let me help.”

(Y/n) didn’t protest as Elera approached, sitting beside her and running a careful hand through her hair. “You look beautiful already,” Elera said with a grin, her eyes softening. “But we both know Alaric won’t let you out looking anything less than perfect.”

“I don’t know, Elera... I feel a bit... out of place in all of this.” (Y/n) gestured to the dress and the mirror, feeling unsure in her own skin. The thought of the night ahead only made the butterflies in her stomach worse.

Elera chuckled, her fingers moving expertly as she began to style (Y/n)'s hair, pulling it back into a soft, elegant updo. “You don’t need to worry about that. You’ve earned this, (Y/n). Alaric isn’t exactly the type to let anyone be anything less than perfect, especially you.”

As she worked, (Y/n) glanced at her curiously. “I don’t really know what’s going on tonight. Alaric was a little... secretive about it.”

Elera smiled, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Well, it’s not really my place to spoil the surprise, but I can tell you that you won’t be disappointed.” She paused for a moment before adding, “Ericsson asked me to the ballet, actually.”

(Y/n)’s heart skipped a beat. “Ericsson?” She couldn’t help the surprise that flashed across her face. Alaric had mentioned something about a potential political ally, but she hadn’t connected the dots yet. “I thought Alaric said we were going somewhere?”

Elera laughed, adjusting (Y/n)’s hair gently. “I’m sure Alaric has his reasons, but don’t worry. You’re the one getting the most out of tonight. He’s taking you to the ballet as well—although I can’t say he’ll be as pleased with the whole idea as you will.”

(Y/n) blinked, the news sinking in. “Wait, so this is a date?”

“More or less,” Elera answered with a playful smile. “I think Alaric wanted to surprise you with a bit of time away from all the... shall we say, usual activities. He wants you to enjoy yourself, even if he’s the one who’s overly protective about it.”

There was something in Elera’s voice that made (Y/n) pause. She couldn’t quite place it, but it was like there was something more she wasn’t saying. “What do you mean by ‘overly protective?’”

Elera grinned as she finished styling (Y/n)’s hair, giving her an appraising look in the mirror. “You’ll see soon enough. Just relax and have fun tonight. Trust me, it’ll be good for both of you.”

(Y/n) studied Elera’s face, sensing that there was more to her words than she was letting on, but decided not to press the issue. There was something about Elera’s easy confidence that made her trust her. Maybe she didn’t know exactly what Alaric had planned, but she was beginning to feel a little more at ease. A night to relax, away from all the tension and uncertainty, was something she could definitely use.

As she looked at herself in the mirror, seeing the elegant, polished version of herself that Elera had created, she felt a flicker of excitement. Perhaps, just for one night, she could forget about the heavy burden of her past and just... enjoy being (Y/n).

“You look stunning,” Elera said with a soft smile, her eyes lingering on (Y/n)’s reflection. “Now, go enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

For the first time that evening, (Y/n) smiled genuinely, a sense of calm settling over her. “Thank you, Elera.”

With that, she stood up and walked toward the door, where Alaric was waiting, his gaze intense as ever but tinged with something softer—a quiet anticipation. As he extended his arm to her, she hesitated for only a moment before taking it, ready for whatever night had in store.

The hum of the city softened as the sleek black car pulled up in front of an elegant restaurant, its golden lights casting a warm glow onto the cobblestone street. Alaric stepped out first, his sharp suit molding perfectly to his frame, exuding the quiet dominance he carried so naturally. The driver opened Y/N’s door, and Alaric was already there, extending a hand to help her out.

“Dinner first,” he murmured, lips curling into the faintest smile. “You deserve more than a rushed evening.”

Y/N glanced at the restaurant, blinking in surprise. It wasn’t just any place—it was the kind people booked months in advance for special occasions. The name glowed in elegant cursive above the entrance, a place she’d only heard about in passing. She hesitated.

“Alaric… this is too much.”

He leaned in slightly, his hand still holding hers. “Nothing’s too much for you.”

There was no arguing with that tone—the kind that brokered no disagreement, but it wasn’t sharp. It was soft, deliberate. As if this evening wasn’t just a date but a promise.

Inside, the atmosphere was intimate, candlelight flickering across white linen tablecloths. A quiet melody drifted from a pianist in the corner. Alaric led her to a private corner booth, away from prying eyes. It was clear he’d chosen the spot deliberately—where he could see everything, where nothing could sneak up on them.

“You’ve been working hard,” he said after they ordered, his gaze never leaving her. “Training with Elera. Exhausting yourself.”

Y/N shrugged, tracing the rim of her water glass. “I don’t mind. I want to be ready… just in case.”

Alaric’s jaw tightened. “I won’t let it come to that.”

She sighed, meeting his gaze with quiet determination. “And what if you can’t always be there?���

His hand reached across the table, covering hers. The warmth of his skin was grounding. “Then I’ve already failed.” His voice softened, almost pained. “Tonight isn’t about that. No training, no worries. Just you and me.”

The waiter arrived with their first course—something delicate and artfully plated. Y/N picked at it, while Alaric barely touched his. His focus remained on her, watching the way her expression shifted with each passing thought.

“You’re hovering,” she teased, finally breaking the silence. “Like you expect me to disappear if you blink.”

Alaric’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. “Can you blame me?”

Her chest tightened. She knew the truth behind those words. The shadows that clung to his past, the enemies that circled like vultures. But tonight, she didn’t want to think about that.

“Tell me about the ballet,” she asked, changing the subject.

He leaned back, finally sipping his wine. “It’s an old production. Classic. I thought you’d enjoy it.”

Y/N tilted her head. “You’re not exactly the ‘ballet’ type, Alaric.”

His smile sharpened. “No. But I’m the ‘you deserve a night of peace’ type.”

The courses came and went, though Alaric barely touched his food. His focus remained on Y/N—how she smiled at the delicate dessert, how her eyes brightened when the waiter mentioned the wine pairing. She was glowing, and for once, there was no tension lining her shoulders.

As they finished, he stood, extending his hand once more. “Shall we?”

“To the ballet?” she teased, slipping her fingers into his.

He chuckled, a rare, genuine sound. “To the rest of the night you deserve.”

But beneath his composed exterior, Alaric’s mind churned. He’d promised her a perfect evening, but the ballet was more than just a date. It was a trap—one he was walking into willingly, with her at his side.

As they stepped outside, the cool night air kissed Y/N’s cheeks. She shivered, and without a word, Alaric shrugged off his coat and draped it around her shoulders.

“You always do that,” she murmured, fingers brushing the soft fabric.

His gaze softened. “Because you’re always cold.”

They walked side by side to the waiting car, Alaric’s hand resting lightly on the small of her back. The city lights blurred past as they drove toward the theater, but Y/N barely noticed. She was too focused on the rare calm that settled over Alaric’s features.

He looked… content. Almost peaceful.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, not just for dinner but for everything he never said aloud.

Alaric glanced at her, his hand finding hers once more. He squeezed gently.

“Anything for you.”

And for a moment, he allowed himself to believe that tonight could be just that—a night of peace, untouched by the shadows of the past. Even if it was fleeting.

The grand theater was bathed in soft golden light as Alaric guided Y/N through the towering arched doors. Marble floors gleamed beneath their feet, the chatter of the well-dressed elite echoing through the expansive foyer. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen raindrops, casting fractured light over the plush crimson carpet leading toward the main hall.

Y/N couldn’t help but pause, her eyes widening as she took in the elegance around her. “Alaric,” she breathed, “this is… incredible.”

Alaric, standing beside her in his perfectly tailored suit, allowed a rare smile to tug at the corner of his lips. “You deserve incredible.”

He didn’t let her linger long, guiding her forward with a gentle hand at the small of her back. Heads turned as they passed—partially because of Alaric’s commanding presence but mostly because of Y/N herself, wrapped in a gown that shimmered subtly under the light. Elera’s doing, no doubt.

“Box seats,” Alaric murmured as they ascended a private staircase, avoiding the crowd below. “I prefer to watch from above. Less… crowded.”

Y/N hid a smile. Less crowded, yes. But more importantly, easier to protect. She knew Alaric’s habits by now.

Their private box overlooked the grand stage, the velvet curtains still drawn as the orchestra warmed up. The theater was breathtaking—golden filigree decorating the balconies, painted cherubs gazing down from the domed ceiling.

“Do you take all your dates somewhere this fancy?” Y/N teased as they settled into the plush seats.

Alaric glanced at her, one brow arching. “No. Just the ones that matter.”

Heat rose to her cheeks, and she looked away, pretending to examine the program in her lap.

Soft footsteps sounded behind them, and Elera swept into the box like a shadow, effortlessly graceful in an emerald dress that set off her sharp features. Beside her, Ericsson followed, looking far too comfortable in the lavish surroundings.

“Well, don’t you both look like a painting,” Elera drawled, sliding into the seat beside Y/N. “Alaric, you clean up nicely. Almost like you’re trying to impress someone.”

Alaric didn’t rise to the bait, his gaze fixed on the stage. “Ericsson,” he greeted coolly.

“Alaric,” Ericsson replied, equally smooth. His gaze flickered to Y/N, lips quirking in amusement. “I see you finally found a reason to leave the house for something other than bloodshed.”

“Careful,” Alaric said, voice deceptively calm. “I’m in a generous mood tonight. Don’t spoil it.”

Y/N glanced between them, sensing the undercurrent of tension but choosing to ignore it. The lights dimmed, saving her from the need to mediate.

The theater hushed as the conductor raised his baton. A breathless moment of silence hung in the air before the first note drifted from the orchestra pit—a delicate, haunting melody that wrapped around them like mist.

The curtains parted, revealing a moonlit forest painted in ethereal blues and silvers. The prima ballerina glided onto the stage, her movements fluid and otherworldly, as though she were a spirit dancing between worlds.

Y/N leaned forward, captivated. The way the dancers moved—light as air, perfectly synchronized—was nothing short of mesmerizing. She glanced sideways at Alaric, expecting him to be bored, but his gaze was fixed on her instead.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she murmured.

His eyes softened. “Yes. It is.”

She flushed, looking away quickly.

The story unfolded gracefully—a tale of love, betrayal, and sacrifice. The ballerina, dressed in shimmering white, danced with her partner beneath an artificial moon, their bodies weaving together like threads of silk.

Elera, surprisingly quiet for once, watched with sharp eyes, though Y/N suspected her mind was elsewhere. Ericsson leaned back, arms crossed, more interested in the audience than the performance itself.

Halfway through the first act, Y/N noticed Alaric’s hand resting lightly on the armrest between them. Without thinking, she reached over, her fingers brushing his. He froze for a moment, then turned his palm upward, inviting her hand into his.

“You’re tense,” she whispered, squeezing his hand gently.

He didn’t deny it. “Habit.”

The lights dimmed further as the scene shifted to the tragic climax—the ballerina, betrayed and heartbroken, collapsing to the stage as her partner reached for her too late. The music swelled, strings trembling with emotion.

Y/N’s breath caught. The vulnerability in the dancer’s performance struck a chord deep within her, stirring memories she’d rather leave buried.

Alaric must have sensed the shift in her mood. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, grounding her.

As the final note hung in the air and the curtain fell, the theater erupted into applause. Y/N clapped along with the crowd, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“That was…” she began, searching for words.

“Intense?” Elera supplied, stretching languidly. “Tragic love stories always are.”

Ericsson leaned over slightly, voice low but firm. “A moment, Alaric?” His gaze flicked toward the upper balconies, where the dim glow of chandeliers barely touched the shadows. “He’s here.”

Alaric’s jaw tightened. He’d felt it too—the oppressive weight of an old, familiar presence. Without a word, he stood, smoothing down his suit jacket as his eyes swept the room. The ballet continued, dancers twirling in perfect synchronization, oblivious to the predatory game unfolding above them.

Elera, sitting next to Y/N, caught the shift immediately. “You’re leaving?” she asked quietly, her sharp gaze darting between the two men.

“Stay with her,” Alaric muttered, eyes softening for the briefest moment as they flicked toward Y/N. She was watching the performance, blissfully unaware. He hated keeping her in the dark, but this wasn’t her fight. Not yet.

Ericsson was already moving, weaving through the crowd with the ease of a man who’d stalked prey for centuries. Alaric followed, his steps silent but purposeful.

Up the grand staircase, past velvet curtains and gilded mirrors, they found him.

Valen.

Perched on the edge of a private balcony, wine glass lazily dangling from his fingers, he looked down at the crowd like a king surveying his court. The faintest smile played on his lips, cold and calculating.

He didn’t turn to face them. He didn’t need to.

“I was wondering when you’d come find me,” Valen drawled, swirling the wine in his glass. “You’re predictable, Alaric. Always chasing ghosts.”

Ericsson’s hand twitched toward the knife hidden beneath his coat. Alaric didn’t move, eyes locked on the man who’d haunted his nightmares for centuries.

“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” Alaric growled.

Valen chuckled, finally turning to face them. His eyes gleamed crimson in the dim light. “You had your chance. You wasted it.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “And now? I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

Alaric’s blood ran cold. Instinctively, his gaze flicked down to the main floor, where Y/N sat beside Elera, still laughing at something the other woman had said.

Valen’s smile widened. “Tick-tock, Alaric.”

The moment Valen’s words left his lips, something inside Alaric snapped. A raw, primal instinct surged through him, drowning out reason, drowning out centuries of carefully restrained rage.

Before anyone could react, he moved.

A blur of darkness—too fast, too sudden. The very air seemed to shudder under the force of his movement. One second, Valen stood smirking, and the next, he was slammed against the cold stone wall with a force that cracked the surface behind him.

The wine glass slipped from Valen’s fingers, shattering against the marble floor. But he barely had a chance to care—Alaric’s hand was already at his throat, crushing, suffocating, pinning him in place like a predator tearing into its prey.

For the first time, Valen’s amusement flickered, replaced by something sharper. Wariness.

“You,” Alaric snarled, voice low, guttural—inhuman. His fangs bared, his eyes burning with a furious, molten glow. “You don’t say her name. You don’t breathe in her direction.” His grip tightened, nails pressing into flesh. “Or I swear to every god that still listens, I will rip you apart until there’s nothing left but dust.”

Ericsson took a slow step forward. “Alaric—”

“Stay out of this.” The growl that tore from Alaric’s throat was not meant for negotiation. It was the voice of something feral, something ancient and unforgiving.

Valen let out a strained chuckle, despite the pressure threatening to crush his windpipe. “Touched a nerve, have I?” His eyes gleamed, even as his fingers twitched at his sides, no doubt calculating an escape. “Didn’t take you for the possessive type.”

Alaric slammed him harder against the stone, making the entire balcony tremble. “She is mine.” The declaration was absolute. Unyielding. “And if you so much as look at her wrong, I will make what I did to Marquis look like mercy.”

Valen’s smirk wavered.

For the first time in a long, long time—he looked at Alaric and saw death staring back at him.

The tension shattered like glass as Valen slipped into the shadows, but Alaric was already moving. He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. Instinct screamed, and centuries of suppressed fury roared to life, drowning out reason.

“Alaric—” Ericsson’s voice barely registered as Alaric followed the faint trace of Valen’s presence, weaving through the opulent corridors of the opera house like a predator on the hunt.

Valen had underestimated him. They all did.

But this wasn’t just another political maneuver. This wasn’t about power or territory.

This was about her.

The moment Valen hinted at touching her—at taking her away—it was as if every lifetime of failure, of watching her slip through his fingers, came crashing down at once. Every scar, every moment of helplessness, ignited a rage so pure it burned away the centuries of restraint he'd built like armor.

Never again.

He burst through the side entrance, the cold night air slicing across his skin as he hit the dimly lit alley. Shadows danced across wet cobblestones under flickering streetlamps. Silence hung thick, save for the distant hum of the city.

Then—a whisper of movement.

“Tsk.” Valen’s voice drifted from above, lazy, arrogant. He stood on the rooftop’s edge, silhouetted against the moon, one hand adjusting his cufflinks like this was nothing more than an inconvenience. “Really, Alaric? Are we resorting to street brawls now? I expected more civility from you.”

Alaric didn’t answer. He was already there, faster than Valen anticipated, boots slamming onto the rooftop with enough force to crack the tiles.

Their eyes met.

And Valen finally saw it—the storm brewing within Alaric.

This wasn’t the cold, calculating tactician he’d known for centuries. This was something feral. Unrelenting.

“She’s not yours to take,” Alaric growled, voice rough with unfiltered wrath.

Valen chuckled, but there was an edge to it now, a flicker of uncertainty. “You’re acting like I’ve already stolen her away. Possessiveness doesn’t suit you, Alaric. Love makes you sloppy.”

Sloppy?

Alaric moved—blink and you’d miss it.

The first punch connected with bone-crushing force, sending Valen flying across the rooftop. He barely caught himself, boots skidding against loose gravel. The smirk vanished from his lips, replaced by something colder.

“Ah,” Valen muttered, touching the corner of his mouth where blood now trickled. His expression hardened. “So, it’s that kind of fight.”

He lunged.

Ancient strength met unyielding fury.

They collided like titans, each blow shaking the rooftop. Fists, elbows, knees—centuries of combat experience distilled into brutal efficiency. Valen fought with the grace of someone who’d lived too long, his movements precise, elegant, almost bored.

But Alaric?

Alaric fought like a man with nothing left to lose.

Every strike was fueled by lifetimes of failure. Of watching her die. Of holding her lifeless body. Of hearing her screams and being too far away to save her.

He wasn’t fighting for dominance.

He was fighting for her.

Valen’s defenses began to slip. He was fast, but Alaric was relentless, every movement a calculated assault, pushing him further toward the edge of the rooftop.

“Do you even hear yourself?” Valen hissed between ragged breaths. “You can’t protect her forever. She’s mortal. Fragile. It’s only a matter of time—”

CRACK.

Alaric’s fist slammed into Valen’s jaw, sending him sprawling. Before he could rise, Alaric was on him, boot pressing down on his chest, pinning him like an insect under glass.

“I will burn the world to ash before I let you touch her.” Alaric’s voice was ice, his face twisted into something dark and unforgiving.

Valen coughed, eyes narrowing. “You think this changes anything?” he rasped, blood staining his teeth. “You’re fighting fate, Alaric. And fate—”

Steel flashed.

Valen froze.

Alaric had drawn the dagger from his coat—a vampire’s dagger, ancient and deadly.

“…fate dies tonight,” Alaric finished, pressing the blade to Valen’s throat.

For the first time, true fear flickered in Valen’s eyes.

It wasn’t just about power. It was the realization that Alaric would do it. He would cross any line, break any rule, damn himself to the darkest pits of existence if it meant keeping her safe.

“Go near her again,” Alaric growled, his hand steady despite the fury burning through his veins, “and I’ll make sure you never walk away.”

Silence.

The city buzzed faintly in the distance, oblivious to the war waged in the shadows.

Then, slowly, Alaric stepped back, releasing the pressure on Valen’s chest but never lowering the blade.

Valen coughed, sitting up with a wince. His arrogance was gone, replaced by cold calculation. “You’re a fool, Alaric,” he muttered. “She’ll be your downfall.”

Alaric didn’t flinch. “Better my downfall than her grave.”

He’d tear it apart with his bare hands.

The streets were eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the city and the rasping sound of Valen struggling to catch his breath. Broken tiles and splintered wood littered the ground, evidence of the raw violence that had just unfolded. Blood—dark and glistening—pooled where Alaric had pinned Valen down moments ago.

Valen, the ancient, the untouchable, now leaned against a crumbling ledge, wiping the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand. His usual smugness was gone, replaced by something colder. Calculating.

And standing at the edge of the destruction, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in disbelief, was Ericsson.

He had followed the trail of chaos—the shattered balcony railing, the dented cobblestones in the alley below—and arrived just in time to see Alaric sheathing the vampire dagger, his face carved from stone.

“Gods above…” Ericsson muttered under his breath, boots crunching over debris as he stepped forward. His sharp eyes flickered between the two men. “What the hell happened here?”

Alaric didn’t answer immediately. His chest rose and fell with measured breaths, fists still clenched at his sides, knuckles bruised and bloodied. The rage simmering beneath his skin hadn’t cooled yet. It wouldn’t cool—not while the scent of Valen’s threat lingered in the air.

Valen chuckled bitterly, wiping more blood from his jaw. “Your friend here seems to have forgotten the fine line between possessiveness and madness,” he sneered, though there was no hiding the slight tremor in his voice. “All because I dared to mention the girl.”

Ericsson’s brows shot up. “Yn?” His gaze snapped to Alaric, and understanding dawned like a thunderclap. “…By the gods, Alaric. What did he say?”

Alaric’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look away from Valen. “Enough.”

“More than enough,” Valen muttered, pushing himself to stand. He winced, clearly favoring one side. “You should leash your hound, Ericsson. Or at least remind him that wars have been started over less.”

Ericsson ignored him, stepping closer to Alaric. His voice dropped to something edged with rare concern. “You lost control.” It wasn’t a question.

Alaric’s eyes flickered toward him, the crimson hue slowly fading, replaced by piercing, predatory gold. “I don’t care.”

Ericsson blinked, momentarily taken aback. Alaric was always composed, always calculating, the one who strategized ten steps ahead while others fumbled through the first. But now?

Now, he looked like a man standing on the edge of a precipice, ready to leap without caring about the fall.

“Alaric,” Ericsson tried again, voice firm but not unkind. “You nearly killed him.”

“I should have.”

The weight of those words hung in the air, heavy and final.

Valen scoffed, shaking his head as he straightened his collar. “You’re blinded by love, Alaric. It’ll be your undoing.”

Ericsson’s hand shot out, grabbing Valen’s shoulder and yanking him back before he could provoke Alaric further. “Enough. Walk away while you still can...”

Valen’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t argue. Not this time. He knew when the odds had turned against him.

“I’ll enjoy watching this crumble around you,” Valen muttered as he stepped past them, disappearing into the night like smoke on the wind.

Ericsson waited until the last trace of his presence was gone before exhaling sharply. He turned back to Alaric, studying his friend—the tension in his shoulders, the wild look that still hadn’t fully faded from his gaze.

“You’ve fought wars,” Ericsson said quietly. “Killed kings. Faced down entire armies without flinching. But I’ve never seen you like this.”

Alaric finally looked at him, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes made Ericsson’s breath catch.

“She’s not just another mortal passing through my life, Ericsson,” Alaric murmured, voice rough and low. “She’s the only constant. Every lifetime, every cruel twist of fate—she’s always the one taken from me.” His throat bobbed with the weight of the confession. “I won’t survive losing her again.”

Ericsson was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded, once.

“Then we make sure you don’t.”

Alaric didn’t wait for more words. He was already moving, boots striking the rooftop with purpose as he headed toward the edge.

“Where are you going?”

Alaric paused, glancing back. The answer was obvious.

To her.

To the only thing that kept the monster inside him from consuming what little of his soul remained.

Tags: @yune1337 @mybones537 @yourhornysister @lilyalone

[mysteriousxgirls]

Ella smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with warmth and something deeper, something that only he could see. "Well, if I look this good, you must be the reason," she teased, her voice a playful melody, but there was no mistaking the sincerity behind her words. She let her gaze drift over him, her smile widening. "And you, Rhett... you look incredible. Almost unfair, how good you look tonight."

Her heart raced, the chemistry between them undeniable. She was so ready for tonight—the excitement of finally meeting everyone else, but more than that, she was excited to be with him. The connection they'd built already had been unexpected and intense, and she wasn’t about to let anything or anyone come between that.

As she slipped closer to him, she let her fingers brush lightly over his chest, just a hint of possessiveness in her touch, making sure he felt it. No one was going to take him from her tonight. "I don't think I’ll be letting any of your old connections get too close to you," she whispered, her voice low and serious, but with an edge of playfulness that matched the spark in her eyes. She leaned in, brushing her lips against his briefly before pulling away with a teasing smile, already feeling the electric current between them. "They won’t be able to keep up, anyway."

And then, as she stepped back, Ella felt an overwhelming sense of confidence wash over her. The Maldives, the glamour, the tension of the evening—it was all a backdrop to the only thing that mattered to her in that moment: Rhett.

Rhett stood in the doorway, his frame filling the space in a way that made the air feel heavier, more charged. He had already showered after their scuba dive, the water still glistening on his skin in places where the towel hadn't quite dried him off. His hair, slightly damp still from the shower, fell in messy waves around his face, the loose strands curling slightly at the edges. There was a fresh, earthy scent about him—salt from the ocean mixed with the subtle musk of the cologne he had just spritzed on. His skin still carried the warmth of the sun, a golden sheen that caught the light of the room.

He was clad in a slate-grey short-sleeved shirt, the fabric soft but with a slightly rugged edge. The collar hung open, unbuttoned just enough to expose the faint lines of his chest, the hint of a tan line marking the spot where the scuba gear had rested against his body. The shirt billowed slightly with his movements, just loose enough to make him seem effortless, as if he hadn't tried at all, yet somehow looked perfect. His beige shorts fell just above his knees, their soft fabric creasing with each subtle shift of his legs. Brown sandals, simple but well-worn, completed the look—practical, yet still undeniably stylish.

His eyes moved slowly over Ella, tracing the contours of her figure with a reverence that was almost reverent. The fishnet dress she wore, loosely draped over her shoulders, fluttered like a whisper in the breeze. The fabric caught the light in delicate, fleeting flashes, turning her into something ethereal—like she was wrapped in the very essence of the stars themselves. A sharp breath caught in his chest, and for a moment, time seemed to bend around her. His gaze deepened, darkened, the magnetic pull between them growing, undeniable, as if the world had disappeared and all that remained was this moment, this her. He didn’t need to speak. His silence, thick with meaning, did all the talking. Each beat of his heart quickened, a warm, pure ache blooming across his chest—an emotion he hadn’t let himself fully surrender to in so long. The air between them was electric, thick with something that felt both ancient and new. Finally, his voice broke through, low and steady, each word laced with quiet affection. "You look so beautiful, Ella," he breathed, his smile a reflection of something deeper than desire—a kind of wonder. His heart hammered a little harder, a little faster, in time with the rising intensity.

Taking a few slow, deliberate steps forward, he pulled her close, his hands resting gently at her waist as if she might slip away if he didn’t hold her. His thumb brushed across her cheek, a tender stroke that felt like a promise, a reverence that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. His eyes locked with hers, steady, unwavering, as if daring her to read the depth of the feeling he could never fully express. "I cannot believe you're real, there's no way a woman should look this good" he smirked before leaning down to press his lips against hers.

[berscrk]

I finally updated my griffguts playlist to a roughly accurate order of how i imagine the songs playing out to the story 🤭 i hope you like it if you check it out