Noctus Aeturnum was an academy for werewolves. All kinds. Alphas, omegas, betas. Every werewolf had to attend at some point. It was most wolves best times of their lives. Parties, hooking up, finding your mate, not taking life or responsibility seriously yet. And at the top of the hierarchy were Xavier and Caelus. Prince Alpha twins. Heir to the thrones. They were ruthless and cold leaders but at Noctus…they were partiers. Fuckinh anything in a skirt- sometimes together-, captains of the Wereball team, throwing ragers. They had their own dorms. They were gods…until y/n.
After centuries of waiting for mates who never came, Azriel and Cassian turn to a forbidden spell hidden in Amren’s memoir—one meant to summon fate itself. Instead of a Fae female, a human woman from another world appears… and the bond snaps into place anyway. Shared. Impossible. Unavoidable. Now destiny has made a choice none of them expected, and Prythian will never be the same.
Benedict Bridgerton was a known rake. An artist. A libertine. While both his brothers had gone off and found wives he was too busy at pleasure houses and art studios. Stumbling home at all hours of the morning, most times with a different lady on his arm. In his defence, he had TRIED to talk to some respectable ladies of the ton in the past but they were all dreadfully boring. None of them shared his love for life, for art, for literature. Their only goal was to be married. No passions. No desires or desires. So, much to his mother’s distress, he’d accepted his Rake tittle and embraced it.
Xavier Sinclair has ruled the lycanthropy world for five hundred years. He’s watched empires fall and rise, he’s watched people die. He’s watched mates find eachother over and over again while he stays alone. Some say it’s a curse, that his bloodline will end with him. Over the years he grew bitter, being alone will do that. So he turned to parties, drinking, killing without mercy, fucking anything in a skirt just to fill the void for an hour, a moment. Noctus academy is his. An academy for all wolves. He rules the school. He longs for a mate, for someone to share with.
Y/n and James had been bestfriends since forever. They knew everything about eachother. She knew the pressures he faced from his dad, he knew the problems she had with her parents. They weren’t your average bestfriend. They slept together most nights, finding comfort in each others presence, they were always touching. He treated her like a precious treasure. She treated him like her saviour. But James has always wanted Lily Evans.They have an almost unhealthy co-dependency on one another. The only issue? Everyone except for y/n could tell that Sirius black loved her too, secretly, quietly, achingly.
Sirius black has always hidden behind his ‘bad boy’ ‘prankster’ ‘always up for a good time’ facade. Hiding a truly troubled young boy underneath. What happens when y/n happens to be at the same party as him?
She was his very bestfriend when he was a child. He didn’t speak much, she spoke enough for the two of them. She wasn’t gentle or sweet or particularly kind, she was petulant and tempermental and he often had to snap at her to put an end to her whining. But he would not have another friend. Not the beta’s sons his father tried to force on him, not the sons of respected Alphas. And she would not allow it either. ‘You are mine, Xavier’ she would say. And that was that. And it was true. With his looming throne and the weight of his duties bearing on his shoulders, she was his reprieve. Then she was taken from him. Her family moved her away. She kicked and screamed of course, as was her way. But now that he is Alpha king of lycanthropy. Known for his cruelty, his coldness, his silence. He kills and fucks and drinks as he pleases. The girls he chooses are always brunette with brown eyes, he takes them from behind and imagines it is her. His obsession. When fate brings her return many years later, grown and gorgeous, he is not at all surprised when the mating bond clicks into place.
The Bridgerton family and Bellrose family have always been close. Edmund and Henry Bellrose had often joked that their first son and daughter would marry. So, when Edmund died, to honour that, they arranged it. Anthony was 18. Y/n was twelve. It wasn’t uncommon in the ton for men to be much older than their brides.
Y/n works as a professor at a college. She is aware that she is young, only a few years older than the students themselves, and that she is hot. She hears the boys talking about her, whispering. But only one student in particular catches her attention.
Y/N has always been part of the Marauders—not invited, not added, but embedded. The only girl in a group that’s been inseparable since first year at Hogwarts College. Back then, she hid behind fuzzy, untameable curls, braces, thick glasses, and clothes two sizes too big. She was brilliant—top of every class, sharp-minded and unapologetically nerdy—while her best friends lived for rule-breaking and rebellion. Sirius Black and James Potter weren’t playful troublemakers; they were dangerous. Rich, reckless, magnetic. Quidditch legends with reputations for leaving chaos and bodies in their wake. Men people admired from a distance and feared up close. Yet with Y/N, they were different—quieter, possessive, instinctively protective. She was theirs in a way that never needed words.
The king of Ranovia is known for being cruel. Heartless. Powerful. Some say he isn’t man at all but a beast, the name parents whisper to keep their children in line. He rules with an iron fist. Your father is the king of Celerak. When they sign a treaty saying the king must marry one of his daughters to join their kingdoms, the fearsome king visits for a few weeks. To get to know and eventually choose between you and your older sister Elentia.
Xavier is a royal gaurd, the personal knight of the princess. To the world their relationship is strictly professional. He is the devoted knight, she is the spoiled, beautiful princess. But behind closed doors they are more.
Mattheo riddle was a bad boy. Everyone at hogwarts knew that. With his leather jackets, devilish grins and bad habits, he was trouble. Every girl wanted him and every guy wanted to be him. He got into fights daily, drank too much, smoked. His motto was if everyone already thinks he’s bad, prove them right. His grades were shit, his family issues off the rails. So when Theo and Lorenzo bet him he can’t make the sweetest girl in hogwarts fall for him before the Yule ball in two months? He has no problem agreeing.
At hogwarts, everyone knew the same thing about the Marauders: they moved through life like a pack. James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter—inseparable, loud, impossible to miss. Their presence filled lecture halls, crowded the campus café, and dominated every social event worth attending. If one of them was there, the rest weren’t far behind.
In a world where men have mostly been eradicated. Women now turn to monsters. The government offer appointed monsters when a girl turns eighteen for free or she has the option of denying that and looking for her own monster. Markets and auctions are held to sell them. Monsters of every kind. All different colours, builds, some wig fangs or tails or claws. All shackled and all with impressive… manhoods.
The king is known for his cruelty, for his ruthlessness and hatred. He was a legend told to children to make them behave. A name whispered in the dark. He has ruled for centuries, his empire thrives but his court is terrifying. He wears only black, his punishments are swift and without mercy. His enemies are slaughtered without remorse. He took a wife many years ago because the crown requires it but he never loved her. He fucked her only if completely necessary. They stay in separate chambers. He is a powerful man. Strong. He has led lesions to victory. He is not loyal to his wife, he spends time in pleasure halls. He is strict, firm, not to be disobeyed.
The academy stood at the edge of the world—where the sky was neither fully night nor day, but a permanent twilight stitched together by streaks of violet lightning. Black spires clawed at the heavens, their jagged tips vanishing into low-hanging clouds that never moved. Gargoyles lined the parapets, not carved—but petrified. Watching. Waiting.
Born in the rotting underbelly of a forgotten city, Y/n never had the luxury of innocence. Abandoned before she could walk, she learned instead how to disappear into shadows, how to steal without being seen, how to survive without being loved. Hunger sharpened her. Loneliness hardened her. By nine, she was no longer just another street child — she was a spectacle.