#Gilded Future Au

[galvatream]

First of the Main Character posts for my TFP Gilded Future Au, starting with Optimus' successor and the last Prime to ever arise, Jack.

Jack, like Miko and Raf, was returned to Earth to share in whatever fate befall all life on the planet during the cyberforming process. While Miko and Raf would end up elsewhere on the planet, Jack arrived at the outskirts of the Autobot base where he would be amongst the half of humanity that survived the transformation into a species that mimicked the Cybertronian people.

Jack would be the first amongst those who knew of the Autobots to join them, though only after a pep talk from Sierra. He would be the only Autobot to ever receive gold insignias. After making contact with Miko, he would rename himself Nova. (Seen below)

As Nova, he would go on to lead a group of Autobots towards a meeting point he'd agreed on with Miko where he would be reunited with both Miko and Raf, the latter of who had managed to listen in on their communications.

He would be chosen to become the new leader of the Autobots, proclaiming them as The Autobot Resistance and around a century after the cyberforming of Earth, engaged in a gruelling and deadly fight with Megatron during a battle known as The Battle for the Thanatos, he would reclaim the Matrix of Leadership and transform to become Novalis Prime, learning that he had been chosen by The Thirteen as the last hope of freedom across the universe. (Seen below)

As Novalis Prime, he would go on to engage in many battles against Megatron, now known as Galvatron, he would also go on to call his followers The Last Autobots and would order the revisit of an old project abandoned during the War for Cybertron several millennia ago, which would go on to bring them into the past.

As a leader, Jack/Nova/Novalis Prime would lean heavily on the teachings of the Thirteen to lead his followers, making tough decisions in order to achieve victory in the war, yet as a friend and fellow Autobot, he would be fair and soft, not once using his authority unless his hand was forced.

He would be recognised by Primus as a Prime, and would be bestowed a gift by the slumbering god, the Sword of Primus, a blade he only ever used twice. To best Predaking in combat and when he ultimately brought an end to Megatron in the past.

[gilded-7]

man thinking about ranlayclaire has given me a great idea for an UF au:

Clive, whilst researching everything he can about the professor in preparation to play the role of his apprentice, stumbles upon an article about one Randall Ascot, archaeology enthusiast and man of abundant wealth. He decides that Randall is an excellent candidate to kidnap into the future; having him would be a useful bargaining chip should things go wrong with the professor, and if nothing else his riches and status could prove useful to Clive’s plans.

What Clive doesn’t count on is Claire. Conducting her own investigation of Future London’s research facility, she stumbles upon Randall, a man she’s never met but knows all too well. She recognises him from the faded photographs that hung in Hershel’s flat, and from tipsy, late night conversations about the past, regret, and lost friends (read: loves).

Randall, who’d been biding his time whilst he thought up an escape plan, is more than happy to go with her - he may not know her in return but anyone close with Hershel is someone he could trust (it also helps that she seems to have a keen eye for puzzles). With his sharp mind, Randall is already wise to the fact that this Future London is not all that it seems, so the duo form an unlikely partnership to solve its mysteries.

The two form a strong bond, sharing in troubled pasts, even joking about their situations as the ‘undead lovers of Hershel Layton’. Randall’s heart aches for Claire knowing that she won’t get the same second chance at life he’d been given. He promises to do everything he can to help settle things so that she can return to her time knowing that the future is safer.

When the professor and the rest of the gang eventually meet up with the duo they are of course surprised to find that Randall is also in Future London. They don’t reveal everything they know for risk of jeopardising the investigation, cautious that ‘Future Luke’ is still accompanying them. Randall is somewhat surprised when Claire introduces herself as ‘Celeste’ however. He understands her wanting to avoid putting Hershel through any more pain, but encourages her to be honest with him so that they can enjoy their remaining time together. When they find the time to meet with the professor alone they reveal everything to him, and the three begin working on a plan to defeat both Dimitri and Clive, and ensure the safety of both Londons.

For the rest of their adventure together the three grow even closer. For the professor it’s a chance to reconnect with his two favourite people. In the case of Randall it’s the most time they’ve spent together since the events at Monte D’Or, and with the complicated feelings from the Masked Gentleman incident given time to heal they fall seamlessly back into their old friendship. Claire is the perfect addition to their dynamic; Hershel is of course already head over heels for her, and she and Randall get on like they’d been friends for years. He supposes it makes sense given their many similarities, both bold and confident, intelligent and inquisitive, shared terrible sense of humour and no, Hershel Layton does not have a type. He’s not sure what to make of what the three of them have, especially given the strange circumstances, but he knows it puts a warmth in his chest he’d been lacking for a while. If only they had more time to see what could happen.

When Claire’s inevitable departure finally arrives it happens much the same, though this time an additional heart is broken in the fallout. Randall, much like Hershel, had grown to love Claire deeply and had cherished the time they’d all spent together, however brief and unusual it was. She kisses each of them in turn before joining their hands, happy that the future is secure and that her boys will have each other. As she walks away, Hershel cradles his top hat to his chest with a pained smile and tears in his eyes. Randall simply stays there beside him, clinging tightly to the hand still entwined with his.

[sergeantsporks]

I'm being super normal and not thinking about Petro in the human realm right now.

[sunnywritesathing]

Would anyone care if I redid 'A Treason of Thorns' and made it better?

Maybe rename it?

[runariya]

🤫🥸👑

younger prince jjk whipped for his personal older maid reader

(smut+yandere+royal) part of the prompt game pairing: prince!Jungkook x virgin maid!female reader genre: royal!AU, yandere, dark romance warnings: yandere, obsessive JK, slight age gap, foul language, smut, rough unprotected sex, OC's a virgin, big cock JK, slight choking, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: 2.426

a/n: sorry for taking so long 🫣

The silent halls of the palace suffocate him. They always have, ever since he was a child. Jungkook thinks the place reeks of falsity—the opulence, the luxury, the endless corridors that wind around like the schemes of the nobles who haunt them. He reckons it’s all just a gilded cage, and he’s always hated it. His footsteps echo in the stone passageways as he walks towards his quarters, the coldness of the marble under his boots matching the numbness inside him. Or at least, what used to be numb.

Because now, there’s you.

His personal maid. Older than him, not by much, but just enough to make your place in the world seem worlds apart from his. He was a prince. He is a prince. The future king, they say. The one who will inherit the empire, rule the kingdom with strength, with dignity, with the coldness of royalty.

But he doesn’t care for any of that.

Not anymore.

No, his thoughts no longer circle around crowns or thrones or the weight of the empire resting on his shoulders. His thoughts, his every waking moment, every fleeting breath, are consumed by you. You. You’re all that matters now. And he wonders, as his hands flex into fists, how long it will be before you realise what you mean to him.

The thought of you slipping away—of you being pulled from him by duty, by the whims of others, by the wretched rules of the court—makes something dangerous stir not only in his chest but in his mind as well. He’s not naïve. He knows how people view him, how they expect him to carry on the family line with a perfectly selected queen. Some noblewoman who’s been groomed for the role since birth, someone who will help keep the balance of power in the kingdom.

As if he could stomach the idea of anyone else standing beside him.

As if he’d let anyone else have you.

The mere idea is enough to send his mind spiralling. He pictures them, the lords and ladies of the court, whispering behind his back, their thin-lipped smiles pretending to know what’s best for him. But they don’t know. They don’t know what he knows. They don’t feel what he feels. None of them understand the way you’ve burrowed into his soul, the way you’ve taken root so deeply that he can’t imagine life without you. Nor will he allow it.

Jungkook’s steps slow as he approaches his chambers, knowing you’ll be inside, as you always are, waiting for him. You belong to him in a way no one else ever could. Not in the way the maids belong to the palace, serving out of obligation, out of duty. No, you belong to him. You’re his. You may not have said the words aloud, but he knows it’s true. He’s certain of it.

And if anyone dares stand in his way, dares to suggest you aren’t worthy of him, he’ll burn the entire empire to the ground. He’d light the flames himself, with a smile on his face, and watch as the palace crumbles to ash, every noble who thinks they can control him turning to dust.

The door creaks open when he pushes it, the sound low and unassuming, like everything else in this world that tries to hide its ugliness behind a façade. But there’s no hiding from him. Not anymore. He knows what he wants, and he’s done pretending he doesn’t.

The soft shuffling of your movements reaches his ears before he even lays eyes on you, and something in him relaxes. Only slightly, but it’s enough to stave off the tightness in his chest. You’ve been tidying his room, preparing it for him like you always do, folding the linens with that careful precision he’s come to associate with you. But today, when he sees you, there’s something different. Something in the air between you that crackles undeniably.

You don’t look up immediately, your hands busy as you straighten out the edges of his bed. You’ve always been so diligent, so focused on your work, but Jungkook’s not interested in the bed or the state of his room. He’s only interested in the way you move, the way your fingers brush the fabric, the way your brows knit in concentration. Every part of you is a symphony, a perfect, quiet melody that plays for him and him alone.

But you don’t know that, do you?

You think you’re just another maid, doing your duty, keeping your head down in the presence of royalty. You don’t see the way his eyes follow you, the way his pulse quickens every time you enter the room. You don’t feel the way his thoughts darken when anyone else even looks at you.

He crosses the room silently, his gaze fixed on you, as though his presence might startle you if he were too loud. And maybe he wants you to be startled. Maybe he wants you to feel the same tension he feels every time you’re near him, the same overwhelming obsession that threatens to consume him and never let go. 

You must sense him there because your movements slow, and then, finally, you glance up at him. Your eyes meet his, and something inside him twists so violently he almost flinches. But he doesn’t. He keeps his expression carefully composed, though his mind races, his thoughts deafening him.

You look beautiful.

You always do.

But today, in the low light of his quarters, you seem almost unreal, like a vision conjured from his deepest desires. He wonders if you’ve always been this perfect, or if he’s just started to notice it more. You tilt your head slightly, a questioning look in your eyes, but you don’t speak. You never do unless spoken to first. Always so obedient. Always so good for him.

That’s why you belong to him. Why you need to belong to him.

“Your Highness,” you finally murmur, your voice soft, as though you’re afraid to break the quiet that settled between you.

But Jungkook doesn’t respond right away. His thoughts are too tangled by the sight of you, by the way you look at him as if he’s just a prince. As if he’s not the person who lies awake at night thinking about you. As if he’s not the one who will do anything to make you his, no matter the cost.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” His voice comes out sharper than he intends, and he sees the way you flinch ever so slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing over your face before you quickly mask it.

“I haven’t, Your Highness,” you say quietly, lowering your gaze. “I’ve been fulfilling my duties.”

“Your duties,” he repeats, bitterness seeping into his tone. “Is that all I am to you? A duty?”

You don’t answer right away. You don’t dare to. But the silence that stretches between you feels suffocating to him. Jungkook’s jaw clenches as he steps closer, and the room suddenly feels far too small, far too close. He’s so near to you now, so close he can see the way your breath quickens ever so slightly.

The way you try to hide it.

But he notices. He notices everything.

“I’m only doing what’s expected of me,” you whisper, and the words send a rush of fury through him. What’s expected of you? What about what he expects? What about him?

Jungkook grabs your wrist, and though he isn’t rough, the movement is sudden enough that you gasp softly, eyes wide as you stare at him. He can feel your pulse under his fingers, racing, and it makes something primal stir in his chest. You’re his. How can you not see that? How can you not feel it the way he does?

“I won’t let them take you from me.” His voice is low, a near growl, and he watches as confusion flickers across your face.

“I don’t—”

“They’ll try,” he continues, cutting you off, his grip tightening just slightly around your fragile flesh. “They’ll try to take you away, tell me you’re not fit to be by my side. That I need someone better.” The word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. As if there’s anyone better than you. As if there’s anyone else at all.

Your lips part, but no words come out, and he can see the fear in your eyes now. Not fear of him—no, you’d never be afraid of him—but fear of something else. Maybe you’re starting to understand. Maybe you’re beginning to realise what he’s known all along.

“You’re mine,” Jungkook says, his voice lowering to a whisper, as though it’s a secret only the two of you can share. “Do you understand that?”

He doesn’t let go of your wrist, even as you try to pull back, ever so slightly. His eyes bore into yours, searching, demanding. He needs you to understand. He needs you to see what he’s willing to do for you, how far he’ll go to keep you by his side.

“Your Highness, I—” Your voice trembles, just a little, but you stop yourself, as if unsure of what to say. As if you don’t want to say the wrong thing.

But there is no wrong thing. Not when it comes to you.

Jungkook’s grip loosens, but he doesn’t let go. His thumb brushes over your pulse, and he can now feel the soft, frantic beat of your heart. He wonders if it’s because of him, if you feel anything for him the way he does for you. And if not, well… he’ll make you feel it. He’ll make sure you understand just how deeply his devotion runs.

Because if anyone dares come between you, if anyone tries to stop him from making you his queen, they’ll pay. They’ll all pay.

“I’ll burn this place to the ground before I let them take you away,” he murmurs, and though the words are quiet, the conviction in them is absolute. He means every syllable. He’d destroy everything if it meant keeping you by his side. The palace, the court, the entire empire—it’s all worthless compared to you. None of it matters without you.

Your eyes start to tremble, and he can see the uncertainty in your gaze, the way your lips press together in shock. But you don’t pull away. You don’t protest. Maybe you’re starting to understand. Maybe, deep down, you’ve always known.

Jungkook steps closer, his breath ghosting over your delicate skin as he leans in, his lips dangerously close to yours now. He watches the way your eyes flutter shut for a moment, as if you’re trying to steady yourself. As if you’re waiting for what comes next.

And then, without another word, he closes the distance.

His lips press against yours, a gentle touch at first, but it quickly becomes more, so much more. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss as something dark and possessive roars to life inside him. You’re his. Finally, you’re his. There’s no going back now.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and for a moment, the world is silent. Peaceful. Like the storm inside him has quieted, if only for a moment.

“I’ll protect you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, but filled with a promise that he intends to keep. No matter the cost. No matter the consequences. “I’ll always protect you.”

There’s nothing stopping him now as he pushes you onto his perfectly made bed—nothing, not even you—as he lifts the layers of fabric from your skirt, baring your naked cunt to him. Transfixed by the sight of your leaking juices, Jungkook takes the back of your knees, pushing you further to the edge of the bed.

He doesn’t want to waste any more time, can’t waste any more time as he tears his trousers down, aching cock springing free from its confines, slapping against his abs. His impatience is so thin that it’s even shown in the way his cock twitches towards you, as if it knows exactly where it needs to be.

“My queen, my good girl.” Jungkook pulls you closer, pushing with all his might into your tiny, weeping hole, not caring that it’ll be a tight fit, knowing you’re made for him, made to take him as he pleases.

The yelp, followed by a long moan as he splits you in half, burying himself inside you, is everything he needs to completely lose his mind, fucking into you with no restraint. It doesn’t take long for him to notice the bit of blood coating his cock with your arousal, knowing that this is the ultimate sign—you’ve been waiting for him and him alone.

“Your Highness,” you cry, fingernails digging into his forearms as he can’t seem to slow down, his burning eyes not knowing where to look—your face full of need, your tits bouncing with every pounding thrust, or your cunt so perfectly sucking him in.

“You want more? Hm? Want everything I have?” Jungkook can’t hold back, can’t control himself as he leans down, pressing ever so slightly on your delicate neck.

Your eyes roll back at that, uncontrollable moans drowning out the squelching of your cunt, abused over and over again. And when your hand finds its way into his hair, tugging him like you know he needs it, Jungkook knows you’re meant to be.

“You’re mine!” he growls, high from all the emotions finally unleashed. “Fucking mine!”

“Jungkook,” you sob, and he knows he needs to show everyone that this is final, that you’re a part of him—a part never to be removed.

He releases your throat, hands gripping your hips, certain he can feel his cock hitting your navel, bringing him closer to paradise than he’s ever been.

“Fuuuuck.” Jungkook throws his head back, too overwhelmed by his high and your own orgasm, spasming around him, to hold back any longer.

As he paints your walls, he can’t bring himself to slow down just yet, the overstimulation adding the cherry on top of the dessert that you are.

Your cries and moans soon quiet to heavy panting as he pulls out, and he doesn’t care about the mess you’ve made. It’s perfect, a testament to the love you share. It has to be.

And while you lie there, nearly passed out before him, your eyes still locked onto his, he knows he’s invincible now.

[spookyserenades]

Sanctity Masterlist

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Vampire!AU, yandere!AU, horror, themes of the supernatural and mythology, historical topics, vampiric powers, religious themes, violence, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, toxic behavior including stalking, torture, and manipulation, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

The world revolves around powerful, deadly creatures, their every whim catered to– vampires. Humans with rare blood types are kept in large Sanctuaries around the world, where they can be hand-picked by vampires and their covens to become live-in blood banks. Y/N, who had been trapped in a Sanctuary for ten years thanks to her ultra-rare blood type, is acutely aware of just how vicious vampires are. Though she wishes for freedom she once had when she was fifteen, if it came at the cost of being at the mercy of terrifying beings, she would remain within the halls of the Sanctuary forever.

  Covens as large as seven individual vampires are exceedingly hard to come by, especially an all-male coven. Brought together by their skewed views of reality, twisted minds, strong powers and connections, and blood-soaked pasts, seven vampires move to a new city in search of their perfect human to feed from. Though the town of Newport, Rhode Island, is sleepy, it holds a secret past, one that’s perfect to set the stage for a complicated, dark future. With a particular taste for the rarest types of blood, the coven discovers an acolyte with irresistible pull in a nearby Sanctuary– and they can’t wait to see what she can endure.

TO JOIN THE TAGLIST PLEASE CLICK HERE!

Ko-fi 💜

MAIN STORY;

Find Sanctity on Ao3 and Wattpad, too!

Chapter One posted 10.3.24; 22.8k words

Teasers for Chapter One

DRABBLES;

coming soon! requests via ask box

EXTRAS;

Sanctity Playlist

Moodboards - Seokjin . Yoongi . Hoseok . Namjoon . Jimin . Taehyung . Jeongguk

My Pinterest

Rough character profiles

Tour of the setting

PREQUELS;

Marauder  Hoseok, coming soon!

Chiaroscuro Yoongi, coming soon!

Gilded Taehyung, coming soon!

Devotion Jimin, coming soon!

Taeja  Seokjin, coming soon!

Scarface Jeongguk,coming soon!

Hwando  Namjoon, coming soon!

[aisiedaisie]

hiiii ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ i just found your page this morning and read through your entire masterlist and i loveeee your writing! is it possible to get royal poly!marauders at a ball or something and they catch sight of the reader (can be whatever role you wanna give them) and they are like 'damn'

Hello hello~!!!

First of all, thank you so much for patiently waiting for me to get to your request. Life has been pretty hectic on my end, so writing had to take a back seat for a little while. But today, I finally had some time to sit down and write!

Now, let me just say— this idea is absolutely amazing! I’m completely in love with royal and historical AUs, so there’s a good chance I’ll revisit this concept and or turn it into a series of drabbles. (Not that I’m particularly skilled at keeping things short!!!)

I really hope you enjoy my take on your idea 💖

edit: I got a bit carried away-

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader WC: 3.7k

The night after the neighboring kingdom’s delegation arrives, the Griffyn Kingdom buzzes with anticipation. To honor their esteemed guests— especially the visiting princess —the King and Queen have announced a grand ball. This celebration is more than an act of hospitality; it is a shining declaration of unity, a glittering prelude to alliances and promises that will shape their shared future.

You find yourself standing in Princess Lily’s chambers, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows against the ornate walls.

 Before you, Lily examines herself in a floor-length mirror, her emerald-green gown a masterpiece of silk and embroidery. You and Mary fuss over the gathered fabric at her hips, smoothing it into place with careful precision.

“I can manage the rest,” Lily murmurs, her voice gentle but decisive. She steps away, gliding toward the gilded jewelry box on her dressing table. Its lid is open, revealing an array of jewels she brought for the journey— diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires glittering alongside an assortment of tiaras.

“You two should get ready as well,” she adds, her tone as light as the shimmering necklace she picks up, its facets catching the firelight.

You pause, caught off guard. “What?” The word escapes before you can stop yourself.

Normally, Marlene would stand guard in her knightly uniform, Mary would accompany Lily throughout the event, and you would remain behind— content to watch the festivities from a quiet corner of the castle, keeping a vigilant eye on the princess’s chambers.

“There’s no need for that tonight,” Mary says, her voice warm with reassurance. She steps forward, deftly fastening the diamond necklace around Lily’s neck. The glittering stones resting perfectly against the princess’s pale freckled skin. “We’re on excellent terms with the Potters. No one here will mean us harm.”

The words hang in the air, both an assurance and an invitation. Tonight is different, you realize. 

A diamond tiara rests atop Lily’s head, its intricate design sparkling like a constellation of stars nestled in her fiery red locks. She adjusts it briefly, her reflection regal and resplendent. “You rarely get a chance to enjoy yourself during visits like this,” she says softly, her tone kind but firm. “Go on, get ready.”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips, touched by Lily’s thoughtfulness. Her generosity warms you in a way words could never fully express.

With her gentle urging, you retreat to your own room to prepare. A quick bath washes away the lingering weariness of the day, and you do your best to ready yourself for the night ahead.

Despite your efforts, a sense of inadequacy lingers. 

For such grand occasions, it’s expected that the lady's maids and companions are impeccably dressed, each carrying at least one formal gown for travels like these. 

You do have such a dress— a blush colored piece gifted to you by your mother when you first joined the palace as Lily’s lady’s maid.

The fabric clings just a little too tightly at the waist, its once flawless seams now strained from years of careful reuse. The soft blush color, though elegant, has faded slightly with time, its original vibrancy dulled by repeated wear. The bodice is adorned with modest embroidery— delicate vines and blossoms stitched in pale gold thread that catches the light just enough to hint at refinement. The skirt, while gracefully cut, feels heavier than you remember, its weight pulling at your movements as if to remind you of the weight of high society.

It was the best your family could afford when you first came to the palace— a gift from your mother, its fabric chosen to honor both simplicity and a touch of nobility. Back then, it had been a symbol of hope, a token of pride for a baroness’s daughter stepping into the royal household. 

Now, however, standing before the mirror, you can’t help but feel its inadequacy in the face of tonight’s grandeur.

Even so, you smooth the skirt with steady hands, letting your fingers trace the faint ridges of the embroidery. This night, you remind yourself, is not about the richness of your gown, but the confidence you bring and the memories you make. 

Perfection may elude you, but presence—your presence—is more than enough.

When you step back into Lily’s chambers, it’s clear everyone is ready to go. Lily, as expected, looks effortlessly regal in her emerald green dress, the rich color complementing her fiery red hair that cascades down her back in elegant waves. Mary, ever composed, is radiant in a soft yellow gown that perfectly flatters her figure, her dark hair neatly arranged in a low bun at the nape of her neck.

“You look darling,” Lily murmurs, stepping forward to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your forehead. Her touch is as light as her tone, her emerald eyes warm with affection.

You roll your eyes playfully, unable to suppress a grin. “Says the actual goddess standing before me.”

“Truly,” Mary chimes in, her voice sweet as she adjusts the clasp of your necklace, ensuring it sits perfectly centered. “You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

Before you can protest their kind words, a knock at the door interrupts the moment. Marlene peeks her head in, her light blonde hair swept back into a tidy low ponytail. “Ladies,” she announces with a bright grin, “it’s time to head down.”

Excitement ripples through the room as the evening’s promise beckons.

_____

You weren’t quite sure what to do once you stepped onto the crowded ballroom floor. Back home, state balls were familiar territory, their routines and customs etched into your memory. But here, in a foreign kingdom, uncertainty clouded your thoughts. 

Was the etiquette the same? 

Would it be seen as rude to linger by the walls, content to watch the swirl of color and movement before you?

Must you be drawn into the heart of the celebration?

Apparently so.

You stand near one of the grand marble pillars circling the ballroom, the cool stone a comforting anchor amidst the overwhelming splendor. A glass of white wine rests in your hand, a half-hearted shield against your unease. From the corner of your eye, you notice movement—a man approaching with easy confidence. His dark hair is tied into a loose, messy bun, strands slipping free to frame his sharp features. His attire marks him as a knight of the Griffyn Kingdom, though the smirk curling at his lips carries a roguish charm and confidence uncommon in most knights you’ve met.

“You must be part of the delegation,” he says, his voice smooth, his smirk deepening as his gray eyes fix on yours.

You hesitate, biting back the urge to fidget. He’s handsome, undeniably so, but you can’t quite place why he’s chosen to speak to you. With a soft sigh, you nod. “I am.”

“I thought so,” he replies, a playful lilt to his tone. “I remember seeing you earlier, standing just behind the little princess. So, why aren’t you out there, dancing?” He gestures toward the center of the room, where couples spin and sway beneath glittering chandeliers.

“I’m not particularly fond of dancing,” you say, your voice quieter than intended. It’s not entirely true, but you hope the excuse is convincing enough to deter him.

“Nonsense,” he says with a laugh, his hand extending toward you. “Anyone can see you want to. Prove me wrong, if you’d like.”

The invitation lingers between you, daring yet strangely kind.

You hesitate for just a moment, glancing at the glass in your hand before setting it down on the corner of the nearest table. Then, with a small breath of resolve, you place your hand in his. “Don’t get mad if my heels end up on your toes,” you quip, a touch of nervousness slipping into your tone.

“Trust me, I’m quite nimble. Dodging danger is part of the job,” he replies with an easy smirk, already guiding you toward the dance floor with a confidence that leaves little room for argument.

Normally, you might have countered with a quick remark of your own, but your mind is too distracted. The pounding of your heart fills your ears, drowning out coherent thought.

The lull in the music amplifies every other sound—the clack of your heels against the polished marble, the low hum of whispered voices as heads turn to watch you pass. The weight of their gazes burns into your skin, and your hands tremble slightly as the knight clears a path through the crowd, his presence commanding in a way that both unsettles and reassures you.

Other couples filter onto the dance floor as the musicians shuffle their sheet music, preparing for the next song. The murmurs of the room settle, anticipation hanging in the air.

“Well,” you manage, your voice soft as you cling to anything that might distract you from the dozens of eyes still following your every move, “it seems you’re rather popular.”

“What can I say?” he responds, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I am rather handsome.” The smirk that accompanies his words is maddeningly self-assured.

Before you can respond, his hand presses gently against the middle of your back, drawing you closer. His other hand takes yours in a firm yet careful clasp, guiding you into the proper frame with a natural grace that makes it seem effortless. You barely notice the band striking the first notes of the song, your attention fixed on the storm gray eyes studying you with something close to intrigue.

You set your hand clumsily on his shoulder, your fingers brushing the smooth fabric of his maroon jacket. He doesn’t seem to mind your hesitation, his movements assured and steady as he begins to lead you through a simple waltz.

To your relief, the steps come naturally, your body quickly attuning to the rhythm of the music and the gentle guidance of his lead.

“What’s your name?” he asks, his voice soft, nearly lost beneath the rising swell of the orchestra.

You glance up at him, your voice barely above a whisper as you give your name.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he replies smoothly, his lips curving into a charming smile paired with a wink that, despite yourself, pulls a smile to your face.

“And you?” you counter, a touch of playfulness creeping into your tone. “Who might this oh-so-charming knight be standing before me?”

His eyes glint with amusement, their gray depths catching the light like polished steel. “Sirius,” he says simply, the name rolling off his tongue with a quiet confidence.

You nod thoughtfully, letting the music and his lead guide you effortlessly across the floor. “An attention grabbing star for an attention grabbing knight,” you muse aloud, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Seems fitting, I suppose.”

His laugh is low and warm, the sound wrapping around you like the melody. “Well, I do strive to live up to my name.”

“I doubt you have any trouble with that,” you say, a soft smile playing on your lips as you hold his gaze.

The music begins to fade, the elegant notes giving way to the quiet hum of conversations around you. As the dance slows to a stop, you take a small step back, though his presence still lingers like the warmth of the ballroom’s golden glow.

“So much for not being a dancer,” he teases, his smirk as effortless as the steps he led you through.

You turn to him, unable to suppress your grin. “Maybe you were just that good of a lead,” you say sweetly, your voice light with sincerity. But before he can respond, you catch sight of Mary and Lily across the room.

“I ought to check in on my lady,” you add, inclining your head slightly. “Thank you for the dance, Sir Sirius—”

“Sirius,” he interrupts gently, his tone almost playful. “Just Sirius is fine.”

You nod, your smile softening as you take a small step back. “Fine, then. Thank you for the dance, Sirius. It was... unexpected, but I truly enjoyed it.”

With a final glance, you turn and make your way toward Mary and Lily, weaving through the gathered crowd. The warmth of his hand on yours still lingers faintly, and his name echoes in your thoughts like the fading strains of the music— a memory you suspect will stay with you far longer than the evening itself.

_____

James and Remus stepped out of the nearest sitting room, the faint hum of ballroom music echoing down the corridor. Remus, ever meticulous, adjusted James’s slightly askew collar, his fingers deftly hiding the newly formed love bites that marked the prince’s neck—evidence of their brief but heated absence.

“We need to get back before anyone notices,” James murmured, his voice low but tinged with amusement as he fixed his tousled hair.

Remus smirked. “We’re already late. Let’s hope Sirius hasn’t set the place on fire in our absence.”

But as they approached the ballroom’s grand entrance, what they saw made both men falter. There, on the dancefloor, Sirius Black was leading a woman in a waltz.

The sight itself was striking. Her blush colored dress stood out in gentle contrast against the bold, jewel toned gowns of the others swirling around her. The simplicity of her attire only seemed to magnify her elegance, and for once, Sirius appeared utterly focused, his usual roguishness tempered by something softer.

“Sirius never asks a woman to dance,” a sharp voice cut through the hum of the crowd. James and Remus glanced toward a cluster of women, their faces half hidden behind delicate feathered fans. The speaker, a haughty looking noblewoman, tilted her head knowingly, her words drawing murmurs of agreement from those around her.

Remus’s brows knit together. Sirius was notorious for politely but firmly declining the endless stream of invitations to dance he received at events like these. Yet, watching him now, Remus found he could understand why Sirius had sought out this particular partner.

She was... radiant.

“Well, isn’t she a sight to see,” James murmured, his voice just low enough for Remus to hear.

Remus nodded, his hazel eyes tracking the woman’s graceful movements. “If I’m not mistaken, she’s one of Princess Lily’s lady’s maids,” he said, his tone thoughtful.

James’s eyes widened slightly in recognition, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Is that so?” he drawled, the spark of an idea lighting his gaze.

Remus sighed, already sensing trouble. “What are you thinking, James?”

The prince’s grin only grew. “I think,” he said, “we should pay a visit to the princess. Seems like her lady’s maid could use some... royal introductions.”

_____

After reuniting with a gushing Mary and Lily, a server approaches, bowing their head politely before handing you a fresh glass of wine. You thank them quietly, though you can’t help but find their deference a little peculiar. Still, you accept the drink, shifting your attention back to the princess as she launches into a spirited account of your performance on the dance floor.

“You looked absolutely stunning out there,” Lily exclaims, her cheeks slightly flushed from the excitement of the evening—or perhaps the wine.

“She’s right,” Mary agrees with a hum, a bright smile lighting her face. “Everyone was watching. You two were the talk of the room.”

Both women had taken their turns dancing with high-ranking gentlemen throughout the night. Suitors vying for the honor of even a single waltz. Yet, they seemed convinced that your dance was the highlight.

“He’s quite a talented dancer for a knight,” Mary observes, taking a sip from her own glass.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I figured he’d be good, considering how confident he seemed. But he led me effortlessly. I barely had to think about the steps.”

“Well,” Lily interjects with a soft laugh, her hand fluttering to her lips as though trying to stifle her amusement, “that’s hardly surprising. He’s a noble, after all.”

“What?” Both you and Mary turn to her in confusion, the notion catching you both off guard. Nobles rarely became knights, considering the station beneath them. Sirius hardly seemed the exception, yet here you were.

“He’s the son of Duchess Black,” Lily explains with a slight grimace, lowering her voice. “Her sons are far more tolerable than she ever will be.”

“Lily!” Mary scolds, her eyes darting around to ensure no one overheard the princess’s blunt critique. Fortunately, the surrounding hum of conversation seemed to swallow the comment whole.

“But...” you trail off, your brows furrowing as you ask. “Did you not just dance with the heir to the duchy?”

“That would be my younger brother,” a smooth, familiar voice cuts into the conversation, making you turn sharply.

Sirius stands behind you, his easy smirk firmly in place, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in his gray eyes. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you instinctively dip your head in greeting, murmuring, “Sir Sirius.”

“Sirius,” he corrects lightly, his gaze softening as it lingers on you.

“Sirius,” you murmur, correcting yourself softly.

His smirk softens into something warmer. “You danced with Regulus, Your Highness?”

“Lily,” the princess corrects, her tone mirroring his own.

Sirius chuckles, his attention shifting to her. “Of course, Lily. So, you danced with Reg?”

“As I always do, Sirius,” she replies with a sigh, clearly anticipating where the conversation might lead. Her expression brightens, however, as her gaze lands beyond him. “Oh, James, Remus! A pleasure to see you.”

Both Mary and you instinctively bow your heads, mirroring Lily’s graceful greeting as two men approach.

“Leave the formalities for the elders,” James teases, waving his hand dismissively. “Raise your heads, ladies.”

James Potter is every bit the image of royalty, dressed in a pristine white suit adorned with a red sash. The high collar adds to his regal air, but it’s his confident posture and easy smile —so warm and almost boyish—that truly captivate.

Beside him stands a tall, broad shouldered man with tousled brown hair. The scars that trace his skin catch your eye briefly before you hastily return your attention to the prince, unwilling to appear rude. Yet, the man’s hazel gaze, calm and piercing, seems to notice everything.

“Are you all enjoying the ball?” James asks, his voice warm and smooth as his signature smile graces his lips.

Lily answers first, her response polite and poised as ever. Her agreement prompts Mary and you to nod along.

“Glad to hear it,” James replies, his smile widening. “I know Sirius was enjoying himself not too long ago,” he adds with a teasing lilt, his hand clapping Sirius on the shoulder and lingering there in a way that seems deliberate.

“It was one dance,” Sirius groans, tilting his head toward the prince in exasperation.

“One dance more than usual,” Remus chimes in, his deep, steady voice carrying a hint of humor. His hazel eyes flicker to Sirius, glinting with quiet amusement as he observes his discomfort.

James turns his gaze to you, his teasing grin softening into something gentler. “He didn’t step on your toes, did he, my lady?” he asks, the mock solemnity of his tone bringing a smile to your lips.

You shake your head, your amusement showing clearly. “Of course not.”

James bursts into laughter, the sound rich and full, drawing a few curious glances from those nearby.

“Having women cover for your clumsy footwork now— what a shame,” Remus adds, his tone dripping with mock disappointment as he shakes his head.

Sirius turns to you, lips curling into an exaggerated pout. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve egged them on.”

You shrug, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Now, why would I do that, Sirius?”

“You’re killing me, doll,” he groans dramatically, prompting laughter to ripple through the small group.

The conversation shifts back to something closer to polite, though the teasing undercurrent remains. Mary moves subtly closer to you, her hand brushing comfortingly over your back. It’s then you notice the weight of the many gazes lingering on your group, a pressure you hadn’t fully realized until now.

Your eyes lower to the polished marble floor as you focus on listening to James and Lily’s easy banter, their words melding with the hum of the ballroom.

“You alright?” Remus’s voice pulls your attention. He steps closer, his question soft, laced with genuine concern.

You nod lightly. “It seems all of a sudden I’ve run out of energy,” you say, a polite fib. The truth is, this entire night has been draining, though you don’t want him to think he’s dull company. “I’m not used to parties like this,” you add quickly to clarify.

Remus’s lips curve into a smile, his expression warm and understanding. “We have lounges on the top floor for guests who need a break. You’d be welcome to rest there if you’d like.”

You shake your head gently. “I really shouldn’t, but thank you for the suggestion–”

“That’s a great idea,” Lily interjects with an encouraging smile. “Let’s rest our feet for a while.”

“I’ll let Marlene know we’re heading upstairs,” Mary offers before slipping away, likely toward one of the food tables where Marlene is undoubtedly stationed.

“We’ll escort you,” Sirius says smoothly, but Lily raises a hand, declining the offer with a polite smile.

“We’ll be fine on our own, but thank you,” she assures him.

“Of course,” James replies, bowing his head slightly.

Mary returns soon after, accompanied by Marlene, who carries a golden plate piled high with delicate finger foods.

“Enjoy your rest,” James says with a gracious nod, his tone sincere though his smile holds a trace of teasing warmth.

The women dip their heads in thanks before retreating upstairs to find a quiet lounge.

_____

As soon as they’re out of earshot, James turns to Sirius with a mischievous smirk. “Well, wasn’t she a sweetheart?” he asks, his teasing tone unmistakable.

“She’s polite but knows how to hold her own. I’d say you’ve chosen well, Sirius,” Remus adds with an approving nod.

“If you two hadn’t left me—” Sirius starts, a hint of irritation coloring his words.

“We did say you could join us,” James cuts in, raising his hand as if to defend himself.

“And you know damn well if all three of us disappeared, people would notice,” Sirius counters, arching an eyebrow.

James shrugs, entirely unbothered. “Your loss.”

“Not entirely,” Sirius says with a wolfish grin. “It just means we can take our time later.”

“No visible marks,” Remus warns, his voice carrying the weight of experience. “We’ll have guests for a while.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, his grin unwavering. “It’ll be fine—it’s never stopped us before.”

Remus sighs, his lips twitching upward despite himself. “Fair enough.”

[bratzkoo]

Merging Arrangments | wonwoo pt. 1

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: chaebol heir! wonwoo x chaebol heiress!/ nurse! reader Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut Rating: PG-15 to NC-17 Word count: 4k~ Warnings/note: for my Anna, my beautiful nurse. Happy birthday!

Everything marked with [M] have mature scenes and should not be read by minors.

summary: Jeon Wonwoo's been smitten with you for years, as the two of you enter an arranged marriage, he hopes you'll feel the same.

Arrange marriage! au

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive , @gyuguys , @gyubakeries , @tokitosun , @gaslysainz , @armycarat2612

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The Grand Hyatt Seoul stood majestically against the backdrop of Namsan Mountain, its glass facade reflecting the late afternoon sun. Today, the luxurious hotel buzzed with an energy beyond its usual five-star opulence. It was playing host to the wedding of the year—the union of Jeon Group and Kit Medical Group through their heirs, Jeon Wonwoo and Y/N Kit.

In the grand ballroom, staff members scurried about like well-dressed ants, making last-minute adjustments to flower arrangements and place settings. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over tables draped in silk, each centerpiece a small fortune of exotic blooms. The air hummed with anticipation and barely concealed gossip.

"I heard it was arranged just two months ago," a waiter whispered to his colleague as they adjusted the champagne flutes at the head table.

The other waiter nodded knowingly. "Chaebol marriages," he replied with a hint of cynicism. "Always about business, never about love."

"Shh!" hissed a nearby supervisor. "Less talking, more working. The guests will be arriving soon."

Outside, a fleet of black luxury cars began to arrive, disgorging a who's who of Korean high society. Cameras flashed as celebrities, business tycoons, and politicians made their way into the hotel, their designer outfits and dazzling jewelry a clear display of wealth and status.

---

In a luxurious suite upstairs, Y/N Kit sat before a gilded mirror, her reflection a picture of bridal perfection—and internal turmoil. Her raven hair was swept up in an intricate updo, adorned with tiny diamond-encrusted pins that caught the light with every slight movement. The wedding dress, a custom Vera Wang creation, hugged her figure before flowing out in a cascade of delicate lace and silk. Yet, her eyes, usually bright and determined, now held a hint of uncertainty, a stark contrast to the flawless makeup that adorned her face.

"Miss Y/N, you look absolutely stunning," her makeup artist gushed, stepping back to admire her work. "Like a princess from a fairy tale."

Y/N managed a weak smile, the effort evident. "Thank you," she murmured, her gaze fixed on her reflection, as if trying to recognize the woman staring back at her.

As the artist packed up her supplies, Y/N's mind drifted to two months ago, the day that had set this all in motion...

Y/N had just finished a grueling shift at the hospital, her scrubs rumpled and her hair in a messy ponytail. She'd been looking forward to a quiet evening at home, maybe catching up on some medical journals. Instead, she found her parents waiting in the living room, their faces a mix of excitement and stern determination."An arranged marriage?" Y/N had exclaimed, staring at her parents in disbelief. The words felt foreign on her tongue, like something out of a historical drama rather than her real life. "But I barely know Jeon Wonwoo!"

Her father's eyes had been steely, unyielding. "This union will secure the future of both our companies. It's your duty, Y/N. The merger with Jeon Group will allow us to expand our medical services, to help more people."

"But my nursing career—" Y/N had started, her voice trailing off as she saw the dismissive look in her mother's eyes.

"You can do charity work as a chaebol wife," her mother had interjected smoothly, reaching out to pat Y/N's hand. "It's time you left this nurse phase behind. Think of all the good you can do with the resources of both families at your disposal."

Y/N had felt the walls closing in, her carefully laid plans crumbling around her. "Don't I get a say in this?" she had asked, hating how small her voice sounded.

Her father's expression had softened slightly. "Sometimes, Y/N, we must put aside our personal desires for the greater good. This is one of those times."

A knock at the door jolted Y/N back to the present. She blinked rapidly, banishing the memory and the tears that threatened to form. The door opened to reveal her parents, her father resplendent in a bespoke tuxedo, her mother glittering with diamonds that probably cost more than most people's houses.

"Oh, darling," her mother cooed, gliding into the room with practiced grace. "You look perfect. Like a true Kit heiress."

Her father nodded approvingly, his eyes sweeping over Y/N with a businessman's attention to detail. "Remember, Y/N," he said, his voice gentle but firm, "smile for the cameras. This wedding is about more than just you and Wonwoo. It's about the future of both our families, and the thousands of people who rely on our companies."

Y/N felt her chest tighten at his words, the weight of expectation settling on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. She managed a nod, not trusting her voice to remain steady if she spoke.

As her parents left, murmuring about greeting guests, Y/N allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to center herself. The quiet was short-lived, however, as the door burst open again, admitting her best friends, Alexys and Ela.

"Wow, unnie!" Ela exclaimed, her eyes wide with admiration. "You look like a princess from a manhwa!"

Alexys whistled low, circling Y/N with an exaggerated appraising look. "A very expensive princess. I think your veil costs more than my apartment. Actually, probably more than my entire apartment building."

Despite herself, Y/N felt a laugh bubble up. "Alexys, behave!" she admonished, but there was no heat in her words.

"What?" Alexys grinned, striking a pose that was likely meant to be model-esque but came off more comical. "I'm just saying, if you need someone to carry that train, I volunteer as tribute. I could use a workout, and that dress looks heavy enough to count as weightlifting."

As they laughed, Y/N felt some of her tension ease. These were her people, the ones who knew her as just Y/N, not the Kit heiress or the future Mrs. Jeon. But as quickly as it had come, the moment of levity passed, and doubt crept back in, darkening her expression.

"I don't know if I can do this," Y/N confessed quietly, sinking onto a nearby chaise lounge. "It's all happening so fast. Two months ago, I was focused on my nursing career, on making a difference. And now..."

Ela sat beside her, squeezing her hand supportively. "You're the strongest person I know, Y/N. You'll get through this, and you'll find a way to make a difference, no matter what."

Alexys nodded, her face uncharacteristically serious as she knelt in front of Y/N. "And we'll be right here with you, every step of the way. Although," she added, a mischievous glint returning to her eye, "if you want to make a run for it, I've got a getaway car and a foolproof plan involving two wigs, a llama, and a hot air balloon."

Despite herself, Y/N giggled, the absurd image lightening her mood. "I think I'll pass on the llama plan. But thank you, both of you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably be a lot more stressed and a lot less entertained," Alexys quipped, standing up and smoothing out her bridesmaid dress. "Now, let's get you married, shall we? I've got a bet going with one of the groomsmen on whether I can catch the bouquet while doing a backflip."

As they prepared to leave the room, Y/N took one last look in the mirror. The woman looking back at her was a bride, yes, but she was also still Y/N. With her friends by her side, maybe she could face whatever came next.

---

In another suite, Jeon Wonwoo adjusted his bowtie for the thousandth time, his normally steady hands betraying his nerves. The sleek lines of his custom-tailored tuxedo accentuated his tall, lean frame, but it was his eyes that drew attention—dark, intelligent, and currently filled with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

"You'll wear it out if you keep fiddling," Mingyu, his best friend and best man, commented from where he lounged on a nearby chair. Despite his relaxed posture, Mingyu cut an impressive figure in his own tuxedo, his easy smile a stark contrast to Wonwoo's tense expression.

Wonwoo sighed, dropping his hands and turning to face his friend. "I just want everything to be perfect. This day... it means more than anyone realizes."

Mingyu's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. "You've been in love with her for years, haven't you? Y/N, I mean."

Wonwoo's silence was answer enough. His mind drifted to a charity gala five years ago, the first time he had truly seen Y/N Kit...

The ballroom had been crowded, full of Seoul's elite in expensive gowns and tuxedos. Wonwoo, then a university student being groomed to take over Jeon Group, had been making the rounds with his father, shaking hands and making small talk. That's when he had spotted her—Y/N Kit, still in high school, her eyes alight with passion as she spoke to a group of doctors.

"I want to be a nurse," she had been saying, her voice clear and determined. "Not just to follow in my family's footsteps, but to make a real difference. To be there for people when they're at their most vulnerable, to help them heal."

Wonwoo had found himself drawing closer, captivated by her enthusiasm, her compassion, her determination. In a room full of people discussing profit margins and market shares, she had been a breath of fresh air, talking about saving lives and making a difference.

That was the moment Wonwoo had fallen in love, though it had taken him some time to realize it.

"She doesn't know," Wonwoo said quietly, coming back to the present. "About my feelings, I mean. How could she? We've barely interacted outside of formal events."

Mingyu stood, clapping a hand on Wonwoo's shoulder. "Maybe this is your chance to show her, then. You're not just the Jeon heir, Wonwoo. You're a good man, with a lot to offer. Let her see that side of you."

A sharp knock interrupted them, causing both men to straighten instinctively. Wonwoo's parents entered, his father's eyes immediately zeroing in on Wonwoo's slightly askew bowtie.

"Fix that," he said brusquely, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The merger papers will be signed right after the ceremony. Everything must be perfect. The future of Jeon Group depends on this union."

Wonwoo nodded stiffly, adjusting his bowtie with practiced ease. "Yes, father. I understand the importance of today."

His mother, softer but no less focused on appearances, stepped forward to smooth an invisible wrinkle from his lapel. "You look handsome, Wonwoo-ya. Y/N Kit is a lucky girl."

As his parents left, likely to check on some other aspect of the wedding preparations, Mingyu let out a low whistle. "And I thought my parents were intense. Is it always like this?"

Wonwoo managed a weak smile, a hint of his usual dry humor showing through. "Welcome to the chaebol life, Mingyu-ya. All glamour and no pressure, right?"

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, if anyone can handle it, it's you. Just remember, behind all this..." he gestured vaguely at the opulent room and their formal attire, "you're still Wonwoo. The guy who stays up too late reading, who can't function without his morning coffee, and who once tried to adopt every stray cat in the neighborhood."

Wonwoo felt some of his tension ease at Mingyu's words. "Thanks, Mingyu. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably be a lot more stressed and a lot less handsome," Mingyu quipped, echoing Wonwoo's earlier smile. "Now, let's get you married, shall we? I've got a best man speech to deliver, and I promise only minimal embarrassment."

As they prepared to leave the room, Wonwoo took one last look in the mirror. The man looking back at him was the Jeon heir, yes, but he was also still Wonwoo. With his best friend by his side and hope in his heart, maybe he could make this arranged marriage into something real.

---

The wedding ceremony was a blur of camera flashes and murmured vows. The hotel's grand ballroom had been transformed into a floral wonderland, with thousands of white roses and lilies creating an enchanted atmosphere. Soft classical music played as guests took their seats, a mix of Korea's business elite, celebrities, and politicians all eager to witness the union of two powerful families.

A hush fell over the crowd as the wedding march began. All eyes turned to the back of the room, where Y/N appeared, a vision in white. She walked down the aisle with measured steps, her arm linked with her father's. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, her expression a carefully composed mask of bridal serenity.

In the front row, Alexys gave Y/N a subtle thumbs up, while Ela dabbed at her eyes with a delicate handkerchief. A few rows back, Choi Seung-cheol watched, his hands clenched tightly in his lap, his heart breaking with each step Y/N took towards another man.

At the altar, Wonwoo's breath caught as he saw Y/N. She was breathtakingly beautiful, the embodiment of grace and elegance. But it was the flash of vulnerability in her eyes, visible only for a moment as she took her place beside him, that made his heart ache. He wanted nothing more than to take her hand and tell her everything would be alright, that they could face this new chapter together.

The officiant began the ceremony, his words about love and commitment ringing with a hint of irony given the arranged nature of the marriage. As they exchanged rings, Y/N's hand trembled slightly. Wonwoo gave her fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze. For a moment, their eyes met, and something passed between them—a flicker of understanding, perhaps even a spark of connection.

"I, Jeon Wonwoo, take you, Y/N Kit, to be my lawfully wedded wife," Wonwoo said, his voice steady and clear, infused with a warmth that surprised even him.

"I, Y/N Kit, take you, Jeon Wonwoo, to be my lawfully wedded husband," Y/N replied, her voice softer but no less resolute.

Then the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, and the moment was gone, swept away in a tide of applause and camera flashes.

---

The reception was a whirlwind of congratulations, speeches, and thinly veiled business discussions. Y/N and Wonwoo moved through it all in a daze, playing their parts perfectly—the blushing bride and the proud groom, the perfect chaebol couple.

During their first dance, Wonwoo leaned in close, the scent of Y/N's perfume filling his senses. "Are you okay?" he murmured, genuine concern in his voice.

Y/N plastered on a smile for the cameras, her eyes scanning the room even as she replied. "I'm fine," she said, her voice barely audible over the swelling music. "This is what's expected of us, isn't it? To play our parts."

Before Wonwoo could respond, to tell her that it didn't have to be just an act, the dance ended and they were once again swept into the crowd of well-wishers and business associates.

As Y/N made her rounds, graciously accepting congratulations and deflecting questions about future heirs with practiced ease, she found herself face to face with Seung-cheol. For a moment, neither spoke, the air between them thick with unspoken words and missed opportunities.

"You look beautiful," Seung-cheol finally said, his voice rough with emotion. He looked dashing in his suit, a far cry from the casual attire she was used to seeing him in at the hospital.

"Seung-cheol, I—" Y/N began, not sure what she wanted to say but feeling the need to say something.

"Congratulations," he cut her off, unable to meet her eyes. "I hope you'll be very happy." The words sounded hollow, a social nicety that did nothing to bridge the chasm that had opened between them.

He walked away before Y/N could respond, leaving her staring after him, a mix of regret and longing on her face. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine a different world, one where she had followed her heart instead of her duty. But the moment passed, reality reasserting itself in the form of another well-wisher approaching to offer congratulations.

From across the room, Wonwoo watched the interaction between Y/N and Seung-cheol, his heart sinking. The look on Y/N's face as she watched Seung-cheol walk away spoke volumes. Wonwoo turned away, trying to quell the surge of jealousy and disappointment, only to nearly collide with Alexys.

"Whoa there, Mr. Chaebol," she said, steadying herself with a hand on his arm. "No need to sweep me off my feet. Save that for your bride." Her eyes twinkled with mischief, a stark contrast to the formal atmosphere around them.

Wonwoo blinked, taken aback by her casual tone. In his world of rigid formality, Alexys was like a breath of fresh air. "I'm sorry, I—"

Alexys waved him off. "No worries. I'm Alexys, by the way. Y/N's friend and designated baby girl." She leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "Between you and me, I think this party could use a little livening up. What do you say we spike the punch? I've got a flask of soju in my purse."

Despite himself, Wonwoo found a smile tugging at his lips. "I don't think that would be appropriate," he said, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

Alexys sighed dramatically. "You're right, of course. Guess I'll have to settle for embarrassing Y/N with my dance moves instead. Fair warning: I've been practicing my 'Gangnam Style'. It's not pretty, but it's enthusiastic."

As she sashayed away, hips swaying exaggeratedly, Wonwoo felt some of his tension ease. If these were Y/N's friends, maybe there was hope for them yet. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a place in this vibrant, genuine world so different from the one he'd grown up in.

The rest of the reception passed in a blur of faces and formalities. Mingyu gave a heartfelt best man speech, carefully skirting around any mention of his own secret marriage while still managing to both embarrass and honor Wonwoo. 

"I've known Wonwoo since we were kids," Mingyu said, his voice carrying across the hushed ballroom. "And I can say without a doubt that he's the most loyal, caring, and intelligent person I know. Y/N," he turned to address the bride directly, "you're not just gaining a husband today. You're gaining a partner who will stand by you, support your dreams, and probably bore you with random historical facts."

A ripple of laughter went through the crowd, and Wonwoo felt a surge of gratitude for his friend. Beside him, he felt Y/N relax slightly, a small, genuine smile playing on her lips.

As the evening wore on, business associates cornered both sets of parents, eager to discuss the implications of this new alliance. Talks of mergers, stock prices, and market expansions filled the air, a constant reminder of the true nature of this union.

Ela and Mingyu exchanged secret glances across the room, their own hidden marriage a sharp contrast to the spectacle around them. At one point, they managed to steal a moment together near the dessert table.

"How are you holding up?" Ela asked, her voice low.

Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's harder than I thought, watching my best friend go through this. Knowing what we have..." he trailed off, his eyes conveying what he couldn't say aloud.

Ela squeezed his hand briefly. "I know. But we have to trust that they'll find their way, just like we did."

Their moment was interrupted by Alexys, who appeared with a plate piled high with desserts. "Don't mind me," she said, noticing their startled expressions. "Just here for the cake. Carry on with your secret rendezvous."

Ela rolled her eyes fondly. "Very subtle, Alexys."

"Subtlety is overrated," Alexys replied around a mouthful of cake. "Unlike this dessert. Seriously, you two should try this before the chaebol vultures descend and devour everything."

Finally, as the evening wound down, Y/N and Wonwoo found themselves alone for a moment on a balcony overlooking the Seoul skyline. The city stretched out before them, a glittering tapestry of lights and possibilities.

"It's beautiful," Y/N murmured, gazing out at the city lights. For a moment, she allowed herself to drop the perfect bride facade, her shoulders sagging slightly with exhaustion.

Wonwoo looked at her, illuminated by the soft glow of the lanterns. The fatigue evident in the line of her shoulders, the wistfulness in her eyes as she looked out at the city – it all made her seem more real, more human than the porcelain doll she'd appeared as all day. "Yes, it is," he agreed softly, though his eyes never left her face.

Y/N turned to him, and for a moment, the masks slipped away entirely. They were just two people, thrust into an impossible situation, trying to make the best of it. The vulnerability in Y/N's eyes matched the uncertainty Wonwoo felt.

"Wonwoo, I—" Y/N began, her voice hesitant.

"Y/N, dear!" her mother's voice cut through the moment like a knife. "It's time to leave for your honeymoon. The car is waiting."

The spell broken, Y/N and Wonwoo shared a rueful look before making their way back inside. They said their goodbyes, accepted final congratulations, and made their way to the waiting car.

As they settled into the backseat of the luxury vehicle, a heavy silence fell between them. The partition between them and the driver offered a semblance of privacy, but neither seemed to know what to say now that they were truly alone.

From the steps of the hotel, Seung-cheol watched the car pull away, his heart heavy. He'd come to the wedding hoping for... what? A last-minute confession? A dramatic objection? Now, watching the taillights disappear into the Seoul traffic, he felt the finality of the situation settle over him like a weight.

Ela and Mingyu stood together, their hands brushing but not quite holding in deference to the watchful eyes around them. Their own secret weighed on them as they watched their friends drive off into an uncertain future.

Alexys stood with her arm around Ela, for once without a quip. "They'll be okay, right?" she asked, her usual bravado absent.

Ela leaned into her friend's embrace. "I hope so," she said softly. "I really hope so."

The parents watched with satisfaction, already planning their next moves. Mergers to finalize, press releases to craft, the future of their empires to secure.

As the car merged into the Seoul traffic, Y/N and Wonwoo sat side by side, not touching, each lost in their own thoughts. The future stretched out before them, uncertain and daunting. The weight of expectations, of duty, of their own conflicted feelings – it all seemed overwhelming in the quiet of the car.

But as the city lights blurred past the windows, something shifted. Almost imperceptibly, Y/N's hand moved closer to Wonwoo's on the leather seat between them. And after a moment's hesitation, he took it, giving it a gentle squeeze.

They didn't look at each other. They didn't speak. But in that small gesture lay the tiniest seed of hope for Wonwoo – a hope that maybe, just maybe, they could face this uncertain future together. That perhaps, in time, duty could become desire, and an arranged marriage could become something real.

As the car wound its way through the streets of Seoul, taking them towards their honeymoon and the beginning of their life together, that small point of contact between them seemed to hold all the possibility in the world.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Could you maybe make an AU with Carlos? Kind of a Romeo and Juliet vibe where they’re both royalty and aren’t allowed to be together but w a happy ending?

Happy Ever After

Anon: Could you maybe make an AU with Carlos? Kind of a Romeo and Juliet vibe where they’re both royalty and aren’t allowed to be together but w a happy ending?

Song: Love Story by Indila

Author’s note: Hey anon! I'm not used to the story of Romeo and Juliet so please bear with me! Please like, reblog and share this! <33

Word count: 8.6k

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Aragonia, nestled between towering mountains and winding rivers, lay a land of unparalleled beauty and prosperity. The kingdom was a tapestry of lush, verdant landscapes, where rolling hills were adorned with wildflowers that danced in the gentle breeze.

Majestic castles, their spires reaching towards the heavens, stood as a testament to the kingdom's rich history and the ingenuity of its people.

The citizens of Aragonia were a proud and industrious lot, known far and wide for their skilled craftsmanship and unwavering commitment to their community.

From the bustling marketplaces in the heart of the capital city to the quaint, charming villages that dotted the countryside, the people of Aragonia lived in harmony, their days filled with the laughter of children and the rhythmic hum of daily life.

At the center of this enchanting kingdom stood the grand palace, a sprawling edifice of gleaming marble and intricate stonework.

Here, the wise and benevolent ruler of Aragonia presided, guiding the kingdom with a steady hand and a deep understanding of the needs of his people.

Under the watchful eye of the monarch, Aragonia flourished, its reputation for prosperity and innovation spreading far beyond its borders, drawing in visitors from near and far who marveled at the beauty and wonder of this truly remarkable land.

Princess Y/N, known for your grace and beauty, was the eldest daughter of King Alfonso VII. You had inherited your father's intelligence and compassion, making you a beloved figure within the kingdom.

Prince Carlos, on the other hand, was the youngest son of King Ferdinand III. Despite his noble status, he possessed a rebellious spirit that drew him closer to the commoners.

King Alfonso and King Ferdinand were embroiled in a bitter feud that threatened to tear the kingdom apart. The two monarchs harbored deep-seated animosity towards one another, stemming from long-standing political and personal disputes.

This toxic rivalry manifested in a climate of tension and distrust, with the two men constantly vying for power and influence. The tension between them spilled over into their respective families, creating a rift that only served to exacerbate the already precarious situation within the kingdom.

As the conflict escalated, the people of the land found themselves caught in the crossfire, uncertain of their future and the stability of the realm. . . .

"Princess Y/N, are you ready for the party?" your servant asked you as you stared out of your oval-shaped window, revealing the endless sea and the docks.

"Yes Matilda, I am ready," you muttered.

You were not. You hated going to these parties that your father organized. The grand halls filled with nobility, the endless chatter about alliances and politics, and the constant pressure to present yourself as the perfect princess made you feel suffocated.

You'd rather stay here and watch the sea forever, losing yourself in the gentle rhythm of the waves and the distant calls of the seabirds.

As you reluctantly turned away from the window, you couldn't help but sigh. The ocean had always been your sanctuary, a place where you could dream of freedom and adventure far from the palace walls.

But duty called, and you knew you had to uphold your role, no matter how much it pained you.

Adjusting your gown, you took a deep breath and steeled yourself for the evening ahead, wishing that one day you might find a way to escape the gilded cage that held you.

Your father expected you to charm the guests, forge new alliances, and perhaps even catch the eye of a suitable suitor. He had always emphasized the importance of these gatherings for the kingdom's future, and he relied on you to play your part perfectly.

Despite your own desires, you knew that failing to meet his expectations could have serious repercussions for both you and the realm.

The thought of potential suitors filled you with a mixture of dread and resignation. You longed for a partner who understood your love for the sea and your yearning for freedom, rather than someone who only saw you as a pawn in their political games.

Yet, you knew that such a romantic ideal was unlikely in your world, where alliances were forged not by love but by necessity. . . .

"Carlos! Are you sure this isn't going to get us into big trouble?" Mercutio whispered as the three of them pushed through the overgrown garden of the Alfonso family.

Carlos grinned, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Relax, Mercutio. I've done this a dozen times before. The Alfonsos are too busy celebrating to notice a few extra guests," he replied confidently, ducking under a low-hanging branch.

"Besides, we blend in perfectly. Just act like you belong, and no one will question a thing."

Benvolio, trailing behind them, chimed in, "He's right, Mercutio. Remember last summer when we crashed the mayor's gala? We even got compliments on our outfits!" He adjusted his mask and smoothed his clothes, trying to muster up some of Carlos' bravado.

"Let's just have fun tonight. What's the worst that could happen?"

The garden was a labyrinth of lavishly manicured hedges and vibrant flowerbeds, with twinkling fairy lights strung overhead that cast a magical glow on the scene. Stone statues of mythical creatures peeked out from behind dense shrubbery, and a grand marble fountain stood at the center, its water sparkling like liquid diamonds.

The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming jasmine, adding an enchanting allure to the evening.

"Just blend in," Carlos finally whispered before slipping into the crowd, his movements fluid and confident. Mercutio and Benvolio exchanged a quick glance, then followed suit, mingling seamlessly with the other revelers.

The sound of laughter and music enveloped them as they made their way toward the heart of the celebration, hoping their disguises would hold up under the scrutiny of the Alfonso family and their guests.

Carlos was dressed in an elegant black suit adorned with intricate gold embroidery, his mask a matching black with delicate filigree that framed his eyes.

Mercutio wore a deep blue velvet coat with silver accents, his mask resembling a Venetian masterpiece with feathers that added a touch of mystique.

Benvolio, opting for a more understated look, sported a dark green ensemble with subtle bronze details, his mask simple yet sophisticated, giving him an air of quiet confidence.

Carlos, Mercutio and Benvolio all arrived at the mansion, eager to have a good time. As they mingled with the guests, no one had any idea that they were from the rival Ferdinand family.

They blended in seamlessly, sipping drinks and chatting merrily, their true identities hidden from the unsuspecting crowd.

The three friends revelled in the freedom of being anonymous at the party. They could let their guard down and truly enjoy themselves, without the constant tension and rivalry that existed between their family and the Alfonso.

For once, they were able to forget the long-standing feud and simply live in the moment, dancing and laughing without a care in the world. . . .

"Everyone! Please give your full attention to King Alfonso and his daughter, Princess Y/N who make their appearance tonight!" The announcer stated, catching everyone's attention and the room came to a silent halt.

The grand hall was adorned with opulent chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow over the elegantly dressed guests. Rich tapestries depicting scenes of royal triumphs hung on the walls, and an orchestra played softly in the background, adding to the regal atmosphere.

At the top of the imperial staircase, a majestic red carpet led straight to the throne, where King Alfonso and Princess Y/N stood in their resplendent attire.

King Alfonso, a striking figure with a commanding presence, wore a robe of deep crimson velvet trimmed with gold embroidery. His crown, encrusted with precious gemstones, rested regally upon his silver hair, which added to his dignified look.

His piercing blue eyes surveyed the room with a mixture of authority and benevolence, and a jeweled scepter in his right hand glinted under the chandelier's light, symbolizing his unchallenged power and leadership.

Princess Y/N, standing gracefully beside him, was the epitome of elegance and poise. Your gown, a masterpiece of delicate lace and satin in shades of royal blue, shimmered with every movement.

A tiara of diamonds and sapphires adorned your flowing locks, complementing your serene and captivating beauty.

Your eyes, a brilliant shade of green, radiated warmth and kindness as you acknowledged the gathered guests, while your calm demeanor and gentle smile hinted at the wisdom and strength that lay beneath your refined exterior.

Carlos and his friends were at the buffet, eagerly sampling the lavish spread of delicacies when the announcement echoed through the hall.

While his companions barely glanced up before returning to their plates, Carlos found himself captivated by the sight of you. Your graceful presence and ethereal beauty held him spellbound, making it impossible for him to look away.

The sparkle of your tiara and the gentle warmth in your eyes seemed to draw him in, as if you were the very embodiment of a fairy tale come to life.

As his friends continued their animated conversation about the best dishes at the buffet, Carlos remained rooted to his spot, his gaze fixed firmly on the princess.

He felt an inexplicable connection, a magnetic pull that made the noise and bustle around him fade into the background.

In that moment, nothing else mattered; all he could see was you, and all he could feel was the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, you might notice him amidst the sea of faces.

The first dance came soon after the announcement, and Carlos knew it was the perfect chance to make his presence known. As the music started, couples began to fill the dance floor, but Carlos's eyes never left you.

Gathering his courage, he approached with a respectful bow, extending his hand. "May I have this dance, Princess?" he asked, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him.

You smiled warmly, recognizing the sincerity in his gaze, and placed your hand in his.

As you both moved gracefully to the rhythm, the world seemed to blur around you. Carlos felt a sense of belonging and purpose, each step affirming the connection he felt.

In your presence, the grandeur of the ballroom faded, leaving just the two of you, sharing a moment that neither would soon forget.

"What is your name?" you asked, your voice as melodious as the music enveloping the room. Carlos hesitated for a brief moment, the truth perched on the edge of his tongue.

"My name is Charles," he lied. A slight tremor in his voice betrayed his nervousness.

You tilted your head slightly, a curious glint in your eyes as you continued to dance. "Charles," you repeated, testing the name on your lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Tell me, Charles, what brings you to our celebration tonight?"

Carlos swallowed hard, determined to maintain his composure. "I came with friends," he replied, gesturing subtly towards the buffet. "But now, I am grateful for this unexpected opportunity to dance with you, Princess."

Carlos and you danced gracefully before your father, the King. As the music came to an end, your father gave you a pointed look, signalling that it was time to separate and greet another potential suitor.

You leaned in to Carlos and whispered, "Meet me in the west garden in an hour."

Carlos' eyes widened momentarily, but he quickly regained his composure. "I'll be there," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

You made your way through the throng of guests, exchanging pleasantries with the various noblemen and women who sought your attention. However, your mind was focused on the upcoming meeting with Carlos.

As the appointed hour approached, you slipped away from the main festivities and hurried to the west garden. Carlos was already there, waiting for you under the moonlit sky.

"You came," You said, relief evident in your voice.

"Of course," Carlos responded, taking your hands in his. "I couldn't bear the thought of not seeing you, even if it's just for a moment."

"Carlos, I... I don't know what to do. My father expects me to entertain these suitors, but that's not what my heart wants me to do."

Carlos squeezed your hands gently, his eyes searching yours. "Sometimes, we must follow our hearts, even if it means defying expectations," he said, his voice filled with quiet determination.

"I know it might be difficult, but you deserve to be with someone who understands you, who cherishes you for who you are, not just for your title."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your father's expectations and the longing in your heart. "But what if my father never approves? What if he forces me to marry someone else?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Carlos stepped closer, his grip on your hands firm and reassuring. "Then we'll find a way to be together, no matter the obstacles. Love is worth fighting for, Princess. And I promise, I will fight for you."

"But how, you've only met me today," you started, your voice tinged with skepticism.

"It's something called love at first sight, Princess," Carlos teased, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "From the moment I saw you, I knew there was something special about you. It's not just about the title or the expectations—it's about the connection we share, even in such a short time."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, but doubt still lingered. "But what if this feeling fades? What if we regret defying everything for a chance that might not last?"

Carlos' expression grew serious, his eyes locking onto yours with unwavering intensity. "Feelings like this don't fade easily, Princess. Genuine connections are rare and precious, and I believe ours is one of them. We owe it to ourselves to explore this, to give our hearts a chance to truly know if it's real."

"Okay," you replied shyly, a blush rising to your cheeks. No one has ever spoken to you like this before; it has always been about fulfilling duties and consummating the marriage.

Your entire life, you were taught that love was secondary to alliances and obligations, but Carlos' words stirred something deep within you—a hope that maybe, just maybe, there was more to life than duty.

Carlos' eyes softened as he noticed your hesitation. "This world we live in often binds us with chains of duty and tradition. But sometimes, those chains need to be broken for us to truly live. Let me prove to you that what we have is real. Let me show you a world where love and happiness aren't just dreams but possibilities."

His words carried a promise, a vow that resonated with the unspoken desires in your heart.

You nodded, unable to speak any more, tears welling up in your eyes. Carlos' hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "Thank you for trusting me," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth.

He leaned in and placed a tender kiss on your cheek, the simple gesture sending a shiver down your spine. His lips lingered for a moment, and you closed your eyes, savoring the unexpected comfort and reassurance his presence brought.

As he pulled back, his eyes never left yours, a silent promise passing between you.

In that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing together against the backdrop of an uncertain future.

You took a deep breath, feeling a newfound strength and determination blooming within you. With Carlos by your side, you felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, confident that love, for once, would guide your path.

"Should your first job to court me be to kiss me on the lips?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. Carlos chuckled, the sound light and full of promise.

"If that is what the princess desires," he replied, his voice low and husky.

He leaned in slowly, giving you ample time to pull away if you wished. But you didn't; instead, you found yourself closing the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss.

The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant at first, as if both of you were savoring the moment's significance. Then it deepened, becoming a silent conversation of shared hopes and unspoken dreams.

When you finally pulled away, your heart was racing, and you saw the same exhilaration mirrored in Carlos' eyes.

"Consider it the first of many," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "Because this is just the beginning of our journey together."

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, a blend of excitement, nervousness, and an overwhelming sense of belonging. The kiss had unlocked a floodgate of feelings you had kept hidden for so long, and in that brief, magical moment, you felt truly seen and understood.

As you gazed into Carlos' eyes, you knew that whatever lay ahead, you would face it together, strengthened by the bond you had just forged.

"How will I communicate with you?" Carlos whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. "We'll find a way," you replied, your voice steady with conviction. "Whether through letters, messages, or the silent understanding we share, we'll always be connected."

Carlos nodded, his eyes filled with trust and determination. "I believe in us," he said quietly, his hand gently squeezing yours.

"Princess Y/N! Where are you?" you heard your maid, Matilda, yell out your name, her voice carrying a mix of urgency and worry.

You turned towards the sound, your heart sinking slightly at the reminder of your duties and the world that awaited outside this intimate bubble.

"I think that's the sign to leave, but don't worry, I'll be here tomorrow," Carlos said, letting go of you reluctantly. You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips.

"Promise?" you asked, your eyes searching his.

"Promise," Carlos replied, his gaze unwavering.

With one last lingering look, you turned and began to walk towards Matilda's voice, feeling Carlos' eyes on you until you disappeared from view. . . .

"Matilda, you saw who I was with, am I right?" you asked, staring out of your window as the evening sun cast long shadows across the room.

"Yes, Princess," Matilda replied, her voice hesitant but clear.

"Do you recognize him?" you pressed, turning to face her, your curiosity mingling with a touch of apprehension.

Matilda nodded slowly. "Yes, I do. He is the youngest child of our rival, King Ferdinand's child, Prince Carlos."

A gasp escaped your lips, and you felt a mix of shock and confusion grip you. "Prince Carlos? But how... why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Matilda's eyes softened with understanding. "I didn't want to alarm you, Princess. I saw how happy you were. But you must be careful; our kingdoms have a complicated history."

Your mind raced with conflicting emotions.

If Prince Carlos had lied about his identity, how could you trust anything else he had said

The promise he made to you felt sincere at the time, but now, doubt gnawed at your heart. What if his intentions were not as pure as you had believed?

The weight of the revelation pressed heavily on your shoulders, and the once-clear path ahead now seemed clouded with uncertainty.

Yet, there was a part of you that wanted to believe in the connection you had felt with him. Despite the rivalry between your kingdoms, there had been moments of genuine warmth and understanding in your conversations.

Could it be possible that he, too, wished for peace and a way to bridge the divide?

You knew you needed to tread carefully, but the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there could be more to his story than deceit kept a small flame of optimism alive within you.

Your heart ached with the weight of uncertainty. "Matilda, what should I do?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Matilda stepped closer, her expression filled with empathy. "Princess, you must tread carefully. Confront Prince Carlos and seek the truth. But remember, matters of the heart are never simple, especially when they are entangled with the affairs of state. Trust your instincts, but also be prepared for whatever truths may come to light."

A whirlwind of emotions swirled within you—fear, hope, and a lingering sense of betrayal. Matilda's words echoed in your mind, urging you to confront Prince Carlos yet cautioning you to brace for the truth.

Your heart beat erratically, torn between the desire to uncover the reality and the dread of what that reality might reveal. . . .

"Good morning, Princess," you heard Carlos say as he emerged from behind a bush, his mask still on from yesterday.

You were in your garden, the same place where Carlos had left you last night. His presence startled you, but you quickly composed yourself, determined to face him.

"Carlos," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

His eyes widened in surprise at the sound of his real name, betraying a flicker of vulnerability. "I see you know the truth," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

"I need to know the full truth. Why did you hide your identity from me?"

His eyes flickered with a mixture of guilt and resolve as he stepped closer, the morning light casting shadows across his masked face.

"I never intended to deceive you," he said softly.

Slowly, with deliberate movements, Carlos reached up and removed his mask, revealing a face that was both strikingly handsome and etched with sorrow. Your breath hitched at the sight, your heart skipping a beat as you took in the chiseled features and the intense eyes that had once seemed so distant.

It was as if a barrier had been lifted between you, and for a moment, the world around you faded into the background.

"I feared that revealing my true identity would ruin the connection we had built. Our fathers have a long history of conflict, and I didn't want that to stand between us. But now, I realize that honesty is the only way forward. I hope you can understand and find it in your heart to trust me once more."

You took a deep breath, letting his words sink in. "Carlos, this isn't just about our fathers' past. It's about the trust between us, the foundation of any relationship," you said, your voice trembling slightly.

"You should have told me the truth from the beginning. How can I be sure there aren't other secrets you're hiding?"

Carlos looked down, his expression a mix of shame and determination. "I understand your hesitation, but I promise you, there are no more secrets. I want to build a future with you based on honesty and trust. Please, give me a chance to prove myself," he implored, reaching out to take your hand.

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of deceit, but all you saw was sincerity and a deep longing. "Carlos, this isn't going to be easy," you said, your voice softening.

"Trust has to be earned, and it will take time for me to fully trust you again. But I want to try. I want to believe that we can overcome this, together."

Carlos's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope. "Thank you," he whispered, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I promise I will do whatever it takes to show you that my intentions are true. No more secrets, no more lies. Just us, facing the world together."

You nodded, feeling a cautious optimism bloom within you.

The path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, you both felt that it might just be possible to forge a future built on a foundation of truth and mutual respect.

"Good," you muttered, cupping his face to place a kiss on his lips.

The kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters of this newfound honesty. But soon, it deepened with a mutual understanding that this was the first step towards mending what had been broken.

Pulling back slightly, you looked into his eyes, seeing the determination etched in his gaze.

"Well," you said with a playful smile, "if we're going to start fresh, maybe we should celebrate with dinner tonight. How about you cook for me? I've been dying to taste your famous paella."

Carlos chuckled, a spark of mischief lighting up his eyes. "Ah, my culinary skills, eh? You know, I only bring out my best recipes for special occasions. But for you, I think I can make an exception."

"You'd better," you teased, giving him a light nudge. "And don't think you can win me over with just food. I'm expecting some serious effort on your part."

Carlos grinned, his confidence returning. "Challenge accepted. Just wait, by the end of the night, you won't have any doubts about my commitment to us."

You both laughed, the tension easing as you basked in the warmth of this new beginning, ready to face whatever came next, together. . . .

Carlos couldn't help but sneak another glance at the grand Alfonso mansion as he crept through the garden, his heart pounding with excitement and nerves.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered, finally reaching the veranda where you stood waiting.

"Absolutely," you whispered back, a smile playing on your lips. "I've thought about it, and I don't want to waste any more time. If we're going to build a future together, let's start now."

Carlos took a deep breath, looking deep into your eyes. "Then let's do it. Let's get married. I'll make Friar Laurence wed us tomorrow."

You nodded, feeling a rush of exhilaration. "Yes, Carlos. Let's take this leap of faith together. No more doubts, no more hesitation. Just us, united in a promise to face everything hand in hand."

"Until tomorrow, princess. I can't wait to make you my wife," Carlos said, kissing your knuckles.

Your heart raced as his warm lips brushed against your skin. The way he looked at you, with such adoration and longing, sent shivers down your spine. You knew in that moment that there was no one else you'd rather spend the rest of your life with.

"I can hardly contain my excitement," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "The thought of becoming your wife fills me with such joy."

Carlos smiled, his eyes sparkling with love. "Then it's settled. Tomorrow, in front of all our loved ones, I will make you mine forever." He brought your hand to his lips once more, sealing the promise with a tender kiss.

As he reluctantly pulled away, you already felt the loss of his touch. But the knowledge that soon you would be bound to him for eternity filled you with a sense of peace and belonging.

Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

The next day, under the cover of dawn, you and Carlos made your way to Friar Laurence's small chapel. The early morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the stone floor.

Friar Laurence stood at the altar, a knowing smile on his face as you approached. "Are you both ready to take this step?" he asked softly, his voice filled with warmth and understanding.

Carlos squeezed your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes, Friar," he replied with unwavering certainty. "We are ready to start our life together."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a swell of emotion rise in your chest.

Friar Laurence began the ceremony, his words a soothing balm to your anxious heart. As you exchanged vows, the world outside seemed to fade away.

Friar Laurence started, "Carlos and Y/N, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May your union bring an end to the conflict between your families."

Carlos said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thank you, Friar Laurence. With this marriage, I hope my father and Y/N's father can find peace."

"As do I, Carlos. Our love will show them that there is a way forward, beyond this senseless feud."

Friar Laurence smiled, "I pray that your marriage will be the first step towards reconciliation. May God bless you both."

For those precious moments, it was just the two of you, bound by love and the promise of a future together. . . .

Later that afternoon, Carlos met with Mercutio in the secluded garden behind his family's estate. The air was filled with the scent of blooming roses and the gentle hum of bees.

Benvolio, ever the jester, was the first to speak. "Carlos, you look like a man with a secret. Do tell, what has you so radiant today?"

Carlos couldn't suppress his joy any longer. "My friend, I have wonderful news. This morning, Y/N and I were married in Friar Laurence's chapel."

Benvolio's eyes widened in surprise. "Married? So soon? But what about the feud between your families? Do they know?"

Carlos shook his head, a determined look in his eyes. "Not yet, but we hope that our union will be the catalyst for peace. We believe that our love can end this senseless conflict. Now, more than ever, we need your support and discretion."

However, he is soon stopped when he sees Tybalt Alfonso, Y/N's cousin, there arguing with Mercutio. The tension in the garden was palpable, cutting through the serene atmosphere like a knife.

Tybalt's face was flushed with anger as he pointed an accusing finger at Mercutio. "What are you doing here, Montague?"

Tybalt spat, his voice laced with venom. "This garden is not for the likes of you."

Mercutio, ever the provocateur, smirked and replied, "Oh, Tybalt, must you always be so dramatic? We're simply enjoying the lovely weather. Besides, Carlos invited us."

Carlos stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation. "Tybalt, please, this isn't the time for old grudges."

Tybalt glared at Carlos, his eyes burning with fury. "You dare refuse my challenge?" he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "We are sworn enemies, and you will face me in combat!"

Carlos held up his hands, his expression calm and resolute. "I cannot, Tybalt. You are like family to me. I love you as a brother, and I will not raise my hand against you."

Tybalt's brow furrowed in confusion, his anger momentarily tempered by the unexpected response. "What madness is this?" he demanded.

"We have been at odds for years, and now you claim to love me as kin?"

"It is no madness, Tybalt," Carlos replied evenly. "My heart has changed, and I see now that our feud has been a foolish and pointless thing. Let us put aside our differences and embrace as family."

Tybalt's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "You mock me with your words, Carlos," he growled.

"I will not be swayed by your honeyed tongue. The time for talk is over - draw your sword and fight, or be forever branded a coward!"

"I cannot believe you refuse to fight like a true man," Mercutio spat, his eyes narrowed in frustration as Carlos once again declined the challenge.

"Do you not have the courage to face me on the battlefield?"

Carlos averted his gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. "I mean no disrespect, Mercutio, but I have no desire to engage in such violence. Perhaps we could resolve this matter peacefully."

Mercutio scoffed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Peaceful? Bah! You dishonour yourself and all those around you with your cowardice."

He stepped forward, his chin raised defiantly. "If you will not fight, then I shall take your place and show you how a true warrior conducts himself."

Before Carlos could protest, Mercutio had already turned to face Tybalt, his sword drawn and his stance ready.

"En garde, Tybalt!" he called out, his voice ringing with a mixture of anger and excitement. "Let us see who is the better swordsman!"

Tybalt and Mercutio drew their swords, the blades gleaming in the sunlight as they began to duel.

The sound of steel clashing against steel echoed through the streets as the two men traded fierce blows, their movements swift and precise.

Sensing the escalating tension, Carlos attempted to intervene, stepping between the combatants in a desperate bid to stop the fighting.

However, Tybalt, blinded by rage, lashed out with his sword, aiming to strike Carlos but instead catching Mercutio in the chest.

Mercutio cried out in pain as the blade pierced his flesh, crimson blood spilling onto the cobblestones. He staggered backward, his own sword slipping from his grasp as he clutched at the wound.

Tybalt, realising his mistake, hesitated for a moment, his expression a mix of shock and regret.

The brief pause was all Carlos needed to seize Tybalt's sword arm, wrestling the weapon from his grip and forcing him to the ground. Mercutio, his strength fading, collapsed to his knees, his laboured breaths echoing in the stunned silence that had fallen over the scene.

Mercutio drew his final, shuddering breath, his body racked with agony. He turned to his friend Carlos, pain etched across his face.

"Alas, dear friend, I fear my end is nigh," Mercutio said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This wound, it burns like fire, sapping my strength with every passing moment."

Carlo grasped Mercutio's hand, tears welling in his eyes. "Speak not of such things, good Mercutio. You shall recover, I promise you."

Mercutio managed a weak smile. "Nay, Romeo, my time has come. Promise me, promise me you'll not forget me." Romeo nodded solemnly, a single tear cascading down his cheek.

"I shall never forget you, my dearest friend."

Carlos's heart ached with unbearable sorrow as he held Mercutio's hand tightly. "Your memory will live on in my heart forever, Mercutio," he vowed, his voice breaking.

With a final squeeze, he watched helplessly as the light faded from his friend's eyes. . . .

Carlos felt furious at Tybalt for killing Mercutio. The death of his dear friend had left him overcome with rage.

How dare Tybalt take Mercutio's life in such a callous manner? Carlos seethed with anger, his fists clenched as he replayed the tragic events in his mind.

In that moment, all Carlos could think about was avenging Mercutio. The thirst for retribution burned within him, clouding his judgment.

He knew he had to confront Tybalt, to make him pay for this heinous act. Carlos was determined to ensure justice was served, no matter the cost. His grief had morphed into a fierce, unyielding desire for vengeance.

Carlos scanned the area, his eyes narrowing as he searched for Tybalt. The coward had fled, leaving chaos and heartbreak in his wake. Carlos's rage intensified with every passing second, knowing that Tybalt had not only taken Mercutio's life but had also escaped without facing the consequences of his actions.

The thought of Tybalt's cowardice fueled his resolve, and he vowed to track him down, no matter how long it took or how far he had to go.

Determined and unwavering, Carlos rose to his feet, his mind singularly focused on his mission. He would hunt Tybalt to the ends of the earth if necessary, driven by a mix of grief and fury.

The streets that once seemed familiar now felt like a labyrinth he had to navigate to find his enemy.

As he moved forward, each step was a promise to Mercutio: justice would be served, and the pain inflicted upon his friend would not go unanswered.

Carlos and Tybalt found each other in the dimly lit alleyway, the tension between the two palpable. They circled one another, eyes locked, hands gripping their weapons tightly.

Without warning, Tybalt lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air. Carlos parried the attack, the sound of steel clashing against steel echoing through the narrow passage. The two men traded blows, their movements quick and precise, each one trying to gain the upper hand.

The fight raged on, neither man willing to back down. Tybalt's attacks grew more frenzied, his desperation fueling his strikes.

Carlos, however, remained calm and focused, his counterattacks landing with devastating precision.

In a final, desperate attempt, Tybalt made one last lunge.

But Carlos was ready, and with a swift, decisive movement, he plunged his blade deep into Tybalt's chest. Tybalt's eyes widened in shock, and he crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Carlos stood over Tybalt's lifeless body, his chest heaving with the adrenaline of the fight. The rage that had fueled him moments ago began to ebb, replaced by a heavy, somber silence.

He glanced up at the darkened sky, a sense of emptiness washing over him as he realized that, despite his victory, the void left by Mercutio's death could never truly be filled.

Realising what he has done, Carlos fled in a panic. The weight of his actions overwhelmed him, and he knew he could not face the consequences.

The Prince arrived on the scene, his expression grave.

With a booming voice, he declared, "Carlos, your crimes for killing Tybalt are unforgivable. You are hereby banished from Aragonia, effective immediately. You must leave our lands at once and never return, lest you face the full extent of our justice."

Carlos trembled, knowing there was no arguing with the Prince's decree.

You crumpled to the floor, the news of your cousin Tybalt's death and your husband Carlos' banishment hitting you like a tidal wave. Tears streamed down your face as you clutched the letter that had delivered such devastating news.

The room seemed to spin, and you felt an unbearable weight pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

The love you had for Carlos was now intertwined with the grief and anger over Tybalt's demise, leaving you torn and shattered.

Days turned into nights, and the sorrow did not relent. You wandered through your home, haunted by memories of happier times, now tainted by the tragedy that had befallen your family.

Friends and family tried to console you, but their words felt hollow, unable to bridge the chasm of pain that consumed you.

The future seemed bleak, and you struggled to find a way forward, questioning how you could ever rebuild your life with the two most important people ripped away from you.

Each moment brought a fresh wave of anguish, the love for Carlos clashing violently with the grief and anger over Tybalt's death. You found yourself trapped in an endless cycle of longing and resentment, unable to reconcile the two.

At night, when the world was quiet, the memories of Carlos's gentle touch would surface, only to be shattered by the haunting vision of Tybalt's lifeless body, leaving you torn between the man you loved and the cousin you had lost.

"Y/N! Open the window door!" you heard someone too familiar say at your balcony at night.

You were about to sleep when you ran to the balcony to see Carlos, your husband who was supposed to be banished from the kingdom for killing your cousin.

"Carlos, what are you doing here?" you asked, opening the window for him, still angry for his actions.

"Y/N, my love, I had to come back. I couldn't live without you," Carlos pleaded, his eyes filled with desperation.

"I know what I did was wrong, but I did it to protect you. That cousin of yours was a threat, and I had to eliminate him."

You shook your head in disbelief. "Protect me? By murdering my own flesh and blood? Do you have any idea what you've done? You're a wanted man, Carlos. If they find you here, they'll kill you."

"I don't care about that," he said, reaching for your hand. "All that matters to me is you. I love you, Y/N, and I'll do whatever it takes to be with you."

You pulled your hand away, your heart torn between your love for Carlos and the weight of his actions. "Carlos, you have to leave. This is madness. I can't protect you, and I can't be with you, not after what you've done."

"They didn't tell anyone but your cousin killed Mercutio," Carlos muttered.

"What? That can't be true," You exclaimed, your heart racing. "My cousin would never do such a thing!"

Carlos shook his head solemnly. "I'm afraid it is true. I was there, I tried to stop them. They were trying to cover it up. I'm sorry I killed Tybalt but it was justice for Mercutio,"

You felt a sense of disbelief wash over you.

"Tell me everything, Carlos," you demanded, your voice trembling. "I need to know exactly what happened that night."

Carlos took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "It all started when I was telling Mercutio about our marriage. Tybalt suddenly came out of nowhere and challenged us to fight. Tybalt lost his temper and attacked him. I tried to intervene, but it was too late. When I saw Mercutio fall, I knew I had to act."

You could see that Carlos wasn't lying through his eyes, which made you feel even worse. You walked further into your room, your hand on your face, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions crashing over you.

Carlos followed you, quietly closing the window behind him to ensure no one would hear your conversation.

"Y/N, I know this is difficult to accept, but I had no choice," Carlos said softly, his voice filled with regret. "I couldn't let Tybalt get away with what he did to Mercutio. Our friend needed justice, and I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Carlos, despite the anger and betrayal still burning within you. The room felt suffocating, the weight of the truth pressing down on you both.

"Y/N, I didn't come here to discuss bloodshed and the past," Carlos said, his voice steadying as he took a step closer to you.

"Then what did you come here to discuss?" you asked, leaning against the nearest wall to face him, your eyes searching his for answers.

"Us," he muttered, looking down at the floor. "We haven't really consummated the marriage, have we?"

Your breath caught in your throat, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you. "Carlos, this isn't the time," you whispered, trying to hold back the storm of emotions. "Our lives are in danger, and all you can think about is us?"

Carlos raised his eyes to meet yours, determination etched in his features. "Yes, because despite everything, I love you. And I need to know if there's still a chance for us, if you still love me too."

You stood there, stunned by his confession. The love you once felt for Carlos was now tangled with the pain of recent events. "Carlos," you began, struggling to find the right words.

"I don't know if I can just forget everything that happened. Mercutio's death, the feud—it has all changed us. But I can't deny that a part of me still cares for you."

Carlos took another step closer, his eyes softening. "Then let that part guide you," he pleaded. "We can find a way through this, together. We can honor Mercutio by trying to build something better, something that isn't marred by hatred and violence."

You searched his eyes, longing to believe in the possibility of a future where love could triumph over the shadows of the past.

"Y/N, I want you," he said, his voice low and husky.

You looked up at him, your heart racing. You wanted him too, but you were still scared. . . .

"I don't know if I'm ready," you said, your voice trembling.

Carlos took a step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll be gentle, I promise," he said, his fingers tracing the outline of your face.

You looked up at him, and in that moment, you knew you couldn't resist him any longer. You took a deep breath and nodded, and Carlos led you inside.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Carlos pulled you close and kissed you, his lips hot and demanding. You responded eagerly, your body melting against his.

He started to undress you, his hands skillfully removing your clothes. You stood there, trembling with anticipation, as he kissed every inch of your body.

When he reached your breasts, he took one nipple into his mouth and sucked, his tongue swirling around it. You let out a moan, your body responding to his touch.

He continued to explore your body, his hands and mouth leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached your pussy, he spread your lips apart and started to lick and suck, his tongue delving deep inside you.

You let out a loud moan, your body writhing with pleasure. He continued to lick and suck, his fingers joining in to stimulate your clit.

You felt an orgasm building inside you, and you grabbed onto Carlos's head, pulling him closer. "Don't stop," you moaned. "Don't stop."

He didn't stop, and soon you were crying out in pleasure, your body shaking as you came hard against his mouth.

When you finally came down from your orgasm, Carlos stood up and kissed you, his tongue delving deep into your mouth. You could taste your own juices on his lips, and it only turned you on more.

He reached down and pulled out his cock, and you could see the desire in his eyes. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he entered you in one swift motion.

You let out a loud moan as he filled you up, your body adjusting to his size. He started to thrust, slowly at first, and then faster and harder.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. You could feel another orgasm building inside you, and you urged him on.

"Harder, Carlos," you moaned, "harder."

He responded by thrusting even harder, his cock hitting your G-spot with every stroke. You let out a loud cry as you came again, your body shaking with pleasure.

Carlos continued to thrust, his own orgasm building. He let out a loud groan as he came, his hot cum filling you up.

You collapsed against him, your bodies slick with sweat. You kissed him, your tongues intertwined, and you knew that you had made the right decision.

"Let's run away together," you muttered breathlessly, your lips still tingling from the intensity of your kiss.

Carlos looked into your eyes, his face softening with a mixture of surprise and tenderness. "You mean it?" he asked, his voice filled with hope and disbelief.

You nodded, feeling a surge of certainty wash over you. "Yes, let's leave everything behind and start fresh, just the two of us."

Carlos smiled, a glimmer of excitement flickering in his eyes. "I’ve wanted this for so long. We can go anywhere you want," he said, caressing your cheek. "Paris, Bali, or even a small cabin in the mountains. As long as I'm with you, nothing else matters."

You kissed him again, your decision cemented by the passion you shared, ready to embark on a new journey together.

"You stay here and rest, and I'll pack for you," he said, sitting up with a playful smirk. "I've gotten a good eye for fashion, you know."

You laughed, feeling a sense of relief and exhilaration wash over you. "Oh really? I'd love to see your choices," you teased, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

Carlos stood up and began gathering clothes and essentials, his movements quick and efficient. "Trust me, you'll look amazing in everything I pick," he said confidently.

You watched him, a smile playing on your lips, feeling a newfound sense of freedom. "I can't wait to see where this adventure takes us," you murmured, your heart swelling with anticipation.

Carlos turned to you, holding up a sundress and a pair of sandals. "How about this for our first stop in Paris? It's perfect for a romantic stroll along the Seine," he suggested with a wink.

You giggled, nodding your approval. "I love it! And maybe a hat to go with it? We don't want to look like typical tourists," you added with a playful grin.

He chuckled, placing the outfit in the suitcase. "Consider it done. And for the mountains, I've got just the thing—cozy sweaters and boots for those chilly nights by the fireplace," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You felt a rush of warmth and affection, knowing that no matter where you went, as long as you were together, it would be perfect.

"Here's to new beginnings," you said, raising an imaginary glass, and Carlos joined in, the two of you basking in the glow of your shared dreams and the promise of endless possibilities. . . .

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, Matilda burst into your room, her face pale with panic.

"Where are you?!" she screamed, her voice trembling with fear. She tore through the room, throwing open the closet doors and rifling through drawers, but all she found was an empty suitcase and a note left behind.

Matilda's hands shook as she unfolded the note, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. "Dear Matilda, I've decided to start a new chapter with Carlos. I hope you understand. Please don't worry about me; I'm finally following my heart. Love, [Your Name]."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she knew deep down that you were doing what was best for you. She took a deep breath and whispered, "Be happy," sending her silent blessings to wherever your adventure was taking you.

Matilda took a moment to collect herself, then resolved to support your decision despite her initial shock. She decided to focus on her own journey, finding solace in the thought that you were finally pursuing your happiness.

Matilda knew that breaking the news to your family would be difficult, so she opted to tell a little white lie.

Over breakfast, she calmly explained to your parents that you had taken a spur-of-the-moment business trip and would be out of touch for a while.

"It's a great opportunity for her," she said, forcing a smile. "She didn't want to worry you with the details but assured me she'd be back soon."

Your parents exchanged concerned glances but ultimately trusted Matilda's explanation. As the days turned into weeks, she continued to cover for you, providing updates and reassuring them that you were doing well.

Deep down, Matilda felt the weight of the secret she was keeping, but she knew it was what you needed.

She found strength in the hope that one day, you would return to share your incredible journey with everyone. . . .

[jacesvelaryons]

The Reluctant Empress (Jacaerys Velaryon x Female!Reader)

Act II. Burgeoning

(19th Century Imperial Austria AU)

summary: crown prince jacaerys gets to know his prospect betrothed and future bride whom he has been arranged with to marry, your sister helaena targaryen, but true to your wild spirit, you cannot help but wonder what awaits in the world behind gilded castles and royal splendour.

word count: 2.4k words

a/n: i'm so sorry this took an entire year before an update but it is finally here! i apologize as I had some health things to settle, and with brain fog and got more distracted by other fandoms but here we go! once again, please comment and share what you liked, what you'd want more for me and request and let me know as my inbox is always open <3 let me know if you want to be on the taglist or not getting tags!

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previously: prologue | act i

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“Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.” ― William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

Seated between her mother and sister, Y/N eyes roamed around the dining hall in the palace that hosted the royal family and her covey. Changed into an emerald green gown, wearing the necklace and earrings her father gave her on the last name day before his passing, she paid no mind to the significance of the occasion and was just glad to be there, surrounded in the splendor of the castle walls.

She knew that it was Helaena’s time to shine, and she would not want to rob her of her light, of the opportunity that would change their fortunes and not have Alicent scrabbling and worrying over the last penny of their expenses.

Twirling her fork on the pesto noodles in front of her, Y/N remained silent and just patiently listened to all the conversation around her, between her mother and her childhood friend the Queen, who inquired about Helaena’s well being, her lifestyle and assessing on how she would adjust becoming the next consort upon wedding Jacaerys.

Dazed out in a world of her own, Y/N did not hear Jacaerys reverting his attention to her aptly, until her sister nudged her ankle with her shoe, repeating her name on his tongue like it was the sweetest honey, curiosity and amusement on his features.

“Lady Y/N, what do you do in your free time, my lady?”

Stammering like a cat bit her tongue, she cleared her throat as she gathered herself and make her look and sound presentable.

“I ride horses, my prince. I hunt and I have picked up the sword a few times.” Lady Y/N bluntly replied, already feeling the burning glare of your embarrassed mother. Queen Rhaenyra only watches in amusement, how her confidante could have a daughter who was nothing like her mother.

Jacaerys was intrigued, leaning forward to hear Y/N better and scooch closer over to Her. A curious smile on his handsome, chiseled face, his curly brown hair starting to grow out and neatly groomed behind his ears.

Plates and utensils remained untouched as Y/N and Jacaerys were engrossed in an engaging, animated conversation, passionate replies to uncontrollable laughter.

The older women present at the table watched with trepidation, Lady Alicent’s habits of digging into her fingernails returned while the silver-haired queen’s expression turned unreadable.

Helaena swallowed her wounded pride of being ignored and not found as an interesting companion, playing with her knife and fork, digging at the roast beef the same way her young daughter would.

As the servants gather the finished main course meals and replace them with fresh fruit and lemon cakes for dessert, Rhaenyra swiftly suggests for the elder Targaryen sister to read out some of the poetry her mother praised earlier.

“You must share with us your talent in verse and poetry, Lady Helaena.”

Relieved, the indigo hued girl stood up at the end of the table, grabbing her little booklet hidden in the pockets of her skirt. Flipping through its parchment pages, she settles to a recent entry close to the end of the worn out leather bound book, covered with an embroidered beetle.

To want is the most natural thing Inherent in the blood through our veins The very primal urge of our being Yet we will always want, and want With no end like a black hole What better to want what is not ours? To covet what the other possesses To take away what is given as easily as it was owned?

Her raspy voice echoed through the halls mellifluously in perfectly rehearsed High Valyrian. Yet you could not help a guilty perception weighing on you, blossoming at the pit of your stomach and you could not shake it off. You were doing nothing wrong, you told yourself, wanting to believe in it but it felt wrong.

Y/N’s fears arose to the surface when she could feel a burning stare on her face intensely, as if memorizing her very form and that she would disappear into nothing anytime. You were listening as intently as you could, yet when you turned, Jacaerys did not pay mind to a single word Helaena said as his focus was fixated on you.

No, no, no. Nothing was going as planned. Everything was going wrong. She praises whatever gods intervened when the heir’s brother Prince Lucerys gracefully diverted the topic into the new cuisines created by the cooks of the Keep with the freshest catches of seafood from Driftmark.

…

“Y/N, what do you think you were doing out there?! Do you think I do not notice your need to always be the centre of attention?” The shrill shrieking of her mother’s voice pierced through her ear drums, yet Y/N was unsurprised and used to such altercations with her mother.

Following the uneasy supper, the three ladies from Dalston Keep returned to their chambers to change midday in preparation for the tour around the gardens with the queen and her heir again after a few hours of respite.

Silently humiliated as they reconvened in private, the illusion of propriety that Lady Alicent carried in front of the queen and prince ripped away, unleashing a ferocity unrestrained like never before.

“I did nothing, mother. I was polite and engaged in a conversation when I was spoken to.”

“You did more than that, you foolish girl! It was about your sister. All of this was about her, not you! Is it so difficult for you to tone down your tendencies for once so we can go according to the arrangement? You put our fortunes up to be desolated. You are as careless as your father!” The sting of her final words hung in the air, salt over the open wound for such a loss. Y/N knew her mother did not love her father, who was older than her own father, and only did her duty to her ailing, troubled, aging husband.

“Mother, that is enough! Do not bring father into this.” Helaena countered exasperatedly, holding onto her sister by her shoulders in defense. “Y/N did nothing wrong. It was..it was me. I should have engaged with the prince more. She did me a favour.”

Y/N gasps in disbelief, astonished her beloved sister would keep taking her side when it was clear she was the wounded party.

“Do not worry about it, mother. I promise I will remain silent from now on. I want this to be Helaena’s night.” Y/N swears sincerely, wanting to defend Helaena and stay away from any trouble from now on.

Alicent does not fully believe her youngest, but nods solemnly as she seeks to move this behind them, returning to her dignified, contemplating gaze with her perfect posture and arms clasped at her waist.

Subsequently, a drove of maids and seamstresses poured in, as Alicent went to her solitary room while the sisters shared a larger room. Each stepped on the raised wooden platform. Taking lush gowns from the closet, they plucked out a rich emerald green gown with fitted sleeves for Helaena.

Meanwhile, a muted seafoam gown was placed on Y/N, as maids scuttered behind her to tighten the corset and laces. Y/N whimpered quietly in discomfort, never finding any gratification in restrictive court dress upheld by centuries of protocol and conduct. It barred her sense of freedom, clipped off her wings from flight and reminded her of a bird in a cage.

Heirloom pieces of emerald silver lined jewelry were given to Helaena, designed to accentuate her beauty and prepare her for her upcoming role and ascent into her duty. As the daylight trickled in through the lace curtains and open windows, she looked like a future queen. A role she was raised to be. Otherworldly and ethereal, while Y/N was grounded to the earth, locks like flames and soil.

Y/N beamed in delight for her older sister, squeezing her hands in reassurance. Helaena reciprocated not as enthusiastically, the nerves still getting to her as her palms were sweating and shaking.

“You have nothing to worry about, Hel. We would not get this far if he did not consider you his bride already.”

“Truly, do you really think so?”

“I do. Without a doubt. You already look the part. It is only the formality left we are waiting for at the ball.”

The elder genuinely chuckled this time in relief, her joy finally meeting her eyes from the comfort and encouragement of her sister.

“Now, all that is left is for you to step into your destiny.”

…

Manicured gardens flourished in the peak of spring, cicadas chirping from the branches of oak trees. Lilies and carnations in hues of apricot and blush, while the outlying paths were paved in blue hydrangeas and violet peonies.

Queen Rhaenyra adorned a lapis lazuli blue gown adorned in gold trimmings and sapphires sewn onto her bodice, matching the stone necklace of the color on her neck and matched her tiara, a reminder of her late mother and former queen.

She pleasantly strolled with a natural confidence, carrying herself with an ease afforded by one who has known privilege and power all her life. Guiding a tour around the Red Keep at the height of its social season, Rhaenyra proudly showed off her domains, and subtly if so, the lands that Helaena would take care of as its hostess after she marries Jacaerys and becomes his queen when the time comes.

Behind her was her eldest Crown Prince Jacaerys, always without a hair or trivet out of place, the picture of perfection that she had groomed since his birth. Dressed more casually in teal with the seahorse emblem on his chest, he honoured his late father Lord Laenor Velaryon, further dispelling any rumours or uncertainty around his paternity.

Although he did not directly resemble his father, he has begun to share features with his paternal grandmother Princess Rhaenys with her Baratheon colouring, and the shape of his nose and chin mirrored her father, who was another Prince of Dragonstone, Prince Aemon the Pale Prince. As rider of Vermax, it was undeniable he was the prince long awaited by the realm, whom millions of hopes and dreams were instilled in.

Standing beside him was Lady Helaena Targaryen, his expected betrothed in everything but formality. Raised with the intention of becoming a princess consort, she was demure, shy, obedient and trusting, exactly what the people of Westeros wanted of their model future queen. Proven in her success of childbearing, onlookers examined her critically on baited breath as they wanted to know who will bear the next generation of Targaryen rulers on the Iron Throne.

Their chaperons trailed behind them, Lady Alicent arm in arm with Lady Y/N, in the same shade of muted green, but her mother had visible symbols of the Faith of the Seven from her necklace, her dark headdress and veil, and on the cuffs on her wrist and belt. Y/N distractedly took in her sights, studying every nook and cranny of the storied palace with eagerness and pursuit.

“This garden still follows the design plan created by Queen Rhaenys the Conqueror herself, yet it was only finished years after her passing in Dorne.”

The queen continued the tour of the keep, while she discreetly eavesdropped on the conversation between her heir and his expected betrothed. The two were engaging pleasantly yet amiably on the surface level, their dialogue not reaching too far. Unaware of a figure parting at the fork and heading another direction.

…

When she is assured she’s clear and no one can find her, Y/N Targaryen smirks victoriously as she heads straight and turns left towards the barn, near the dragonpit, where the horses and grazing animals were located.

On nimble footsteps, through the mud and manure, she makes a run for it as two stableboys turn the corner and miss her, as they forgot to close the stables and she sneaks in.

As the afternoon light trickles in, Y/N looks around curiously, before her attention is caught by this white mare, with its freshly brushed mane and shining horsehair, an anomaly among ebony and hickory. Not wanting to startle the majestic creature, she prances until she’s in front of the horse, hushing and cooing at them as she latches onto the reins.

She holds the mane by her reins, tugging gently as she walks through the barn and the empty backwaters of the ancient castle. It is quiet, with most servants resting for their annual nap and their morning duties finished, so Y/N is able to ride the stallion undiscovered.

The lingering scent of the manure and greenery turns into salty waters of aegean and spruce and the earthy, musty petrichor from the rain on the fir and cedar trees earlier in the morning.

A hint of the cool breeze tingles through her skin, a dress and not proper riding gear in its leathers and furs, but she brushes it off, as King’s Landing in the spring at this time of the year has turned warm and the rain from earlier is long gone.

She rides as far as her companion will allow, until the peripheral view of the Red Keep grows distant from over her shoulder. Y/N stops at the fork of the road before it joins the greater Kingsroad, diverting by the forest with towering trees and fallen logs. Sitting by the foot of a trunk, Y/N pauses for some stillness, her back pressing against the hard trunk as she closes her eyes, before grabbing an apple and vial of water to share with her stallion.

As she and the mare finish the fruit, she stands up to brush off any leaf and dirt on the back of her skirt, about to mount once again before she hears echoes of confrontation growing closer. Y/N has barely begun to leave the forest and return to the artery before she is surrounded by hooded, disheveled men with smug expressions.

Unable to avoid contact, she politely acknowledges them and pulls her cape over her flaming locks before she is stopped from moving in either direction. “Good morrow, sirs.”

She yelps as she’s grabbed by her wrists by the men, struggling to stay on her saddle as the mare turns skittish. “Not so fast, my lady. We need something from ya, and you gotta pay up for our silence. Comes with a price.” The men smirk, distant galloping approaching them.

Y/N yelps as she is knocked off her horse, hitting her head against the rock and all turns into darkness around her. She hears a distant echo of another mount heading her way, furious yelling and clattering swords. Her head throbs, feeling the blood dripping down her nape, as her eyes flutter closed.

[hederasgarden]

Sins of the Father - Part 2

Summary: When the Greens win the Dance of the Dragons, your father must answer for his support of Rhaenyra. (AU) Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lady!Reader (house unspecified) W/C: 1.3K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. AU, forced/arranged marriage and reference to canon level violence. Future chapters will be explicit.  A/N: Thank you to @mythic-rose for beta’ing! The fantastically talented @writercole created the beautiful graphic! 

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day. 

Part 1 | House of the Dragon Masterlist

After your audience with the Alicent, you and your father are escorted to accommodations in Maegor's holdfast. Both rooms are opulent and luxurious, befitting of your station but you see them for what they truly are. A gilded cage that will be your home for the next two months until you’re wed to Prince Aemond. 

Once the guards leave, your father speaks, his hushed voice vibrating with anger. “I never should have brought you here. When they asked for me to bring my heir I did not ever consider…”

“You could not have known they wanted more than your coin,” you assure, reaching for him. “We knew there would be a cost to pay for supporting Rhaenyra. My brother paid with his life. Marriage pales in comparison. The rest of the family will be safe.”

“Aemond is a monster. At best a Kinslayer,” he hisses. You raise your hands to quiet him, aware of the two guards outside the door. 

“Father, please….”

He deflates at your words. “I wanted better for you. A gentle, honorable husband to protect and care for you as you deserve.”

He pulls you into his chest to press a kiss to your brow. A strong wave of emotion climbs up your throat  Even as your eyes sting, you force your tears not to fall. Grief has made your father wild and you worry what he might do if you showed him the depths of your fear.  All you can do is wrap your arms around his middle, taking comfort in his familiarity. Soon he will be gone and you will be alone in a den of dragons. 

“It is done,” you say finally, covertly swiping at the dampness on your lashes when you pull away. You clear your throat and steady your voice. “I will write a letter to mother and my sisters for you to bring home. Yo wi’ll need a list of my personal effects to bring back too.”

“Even now, you are thinking ahead,” he says, cupping your face. He carries so much love in his expression it hurts. “Any future correspondence will be monitored.” 

“It will. I think we should prepare for the chance…” you begin, only to trail off when you hear the doors open.

Otto Hightower sweeps, the golden highlights woven into his green robes catching in the candlelight. Behind him trails Prince Aemond like a dark shadow. He stops at the threshold of your room, hands clasped behind his back. 

“Pardon our interruption,” the Hand begins with that same false smile Alicent wore earlier. “Prince Aemond has kindly offered to show you the Red Keep while I speak with your father.“

“That is kind of him,” you acknowledge. 

“If there are important matters to discuss, my daughter should be present,” your father says.

“Oh, it is only the matter of the dowry and a few other issues she need not concern herself with,” he tells your father with a dismissive wave.

“I am my father’s heir.” Otto shifts his attention to you with a raised brow and you know then that you’ve spoken too harshly. “It is only that I wish to ensure everything with the betrothal goes smoothly,” you add hurriedly with a demure smile. 

“Such dedication,” the Hand praises. “Dutiful daughters make for obedient wives,” he notes, looking meaningfully at you.  

There is no mistaking the subtle message underneath the compliment he gives you. A reminder of your place.

“You are kind to say, Lord Hand.” 

You drop your gaze and wait until your father touches your shoulder. When you look up through your lashes, you’re surprised to see Aemond mere inches from you. 

He offers you his hand, palm rough against your soft skin. As you walk, Aemond guides your hand to rest on his bicep and pulls you closer to his body. You glance back behind, relieved to see an older Septa fall in step behind you at a respectable distance. Aemond follows your gaze with a smirk that you suspect might be part of his natural expression. 

"Tell me," he begins as you walk together, "do you agree with my grandsire's assessment that a wife should be dutiful and obedient?" 

The directness of his question surprises you. 

“The seven teach us there are many virtues a good wife should possess,” you respond carefully, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction to your words. You’re unsurprised to find him watching you closely. It’s unnerving to be the sole focus of his sharp attention. “I think the more important question is what virtues do you desire in a wife, Prince Aemond?”

“Obedience is a desired attribute in hounds, not a wife," he reveals. "I am more interested in loyalty.”

Fear coils in your belly in response to his words, a cold knot that tightens with every step you take beside him. Loyalty was a demand that cut deeper than obedience, especially with your own family’s fidelity in question. 

“It is an admirable trait,” you agree, choosing your words with care. Your father’s gold could only ease so much doubt. They would always remember that your family chose Rhaenyra over them. No pretty words you might spin for Aemond would change that. 

“I have heard dragons are loyal creatures,” you add, hoping to direct his attention to a less volatile topic. “They say you ride the largest one that ever lived.”

“Her name is Vhagar.” 

“A dragon worthy of a prince,” you reply. That comment earns you a quick look you can’t quite decipher. Then Aemond hmms, returning his attention ahead. “Where are we headed?”

“The gardens. My sister is fond of them. Or perhaps we can see the new tapestries my mother had made in Essos.”

“Oh,” you reply, quick to hide your disappointment. You suspected most women would have found a stroll through the beautiful flowers with a Prince romantic, but there were other parts of the keep you were keen to explore.“I have heard the gardens of the keep are unmatched, even compared to the Reach.”

A hint of your true feeling must show because Aemond looks curiously at you. “You wish to see something else?"

“No, my prince,” you murmur, gaze downcast. “The gardens sound lovely.” 

Aemond stops abruptly, stepping in front of you.

“Do not lie,” he hisses, grasping your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. His long fingers span the length of your jaw and an anxious sort of energy skitters down your spine at the look on his face. “You may spin pretty words to tell others what they want to hear, but never me.” 

You search frantically for the right words to appease him or redirect his attention. In your experience, men wanted you to be agreeable, deferring to their desires and whims. “Forgive me your grace,” you stutter. “I promise to be forthright in the future when asked for my opinion.”

He watches for one long, agonizing moment, his one-eyed gaze searching for something beneath the surface. It isn’t until the Septa behind you coughs politely that Aemond’s attention leaves you. The look he offers her is less-than-kind.

“Now,” he says softly, his focus once more on you, “what do you wish to see?”

There is nothing to give him but the truth. “The library.”

If Aemond is curious about your choice he does not show it. He offers you a curt, “very well,” and guides you back to his side with a hand on your wrist.

You continue on in silence as the stone walls adorned with tapestries and flickering torchlight give way to a large, open courtyard. It’s busier in this part of the keep, servants and nobles alike stopping as you pass to bow or curtsy. Aemond pays them little mind, but you can’t look away, all too aware that they will bow to you as well once you become a princess of the realm. 

The weight of that expectation settles on your shoulders like a heavy yoke and with each step forward you find yourself more and more uncertain of how the future will look beside Aemond. 

♡

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[galvatream]

Thought it was time I began sharing my Gilded Future Au, a TFP Au where things didn't exactly go well for Team Prime during the battle for the Omega Lock in Darkest Hour resulting in Earth being cyberformed and its population being completely altered to mimic that of Cybertronians.

Will do several posts on the vast cast of characters featuring in the au, but feel free to ask me about the Au in the meantime.

[gilded-7]

ranlay rivals au because i can:

basic overview is that randall and hershel are both professors of archaeology at gressenheller. they have offices next door to each other, work closely as members of the same department, and they do not like each other, resulting in a sort of rivalry between them. the games all happen mostly the same (except miracle mask) but this time a spite-fuelled randall tags along and they bicker constantly.

the set up for this au has the two of them as best friends in stansbury in the same way as canon. randall struggles with the other town’s people, his family and close friends not believing in him and his ambitions, but finds comfort in the support of his best friend hershel.

the key difference in this au is hershel refusing to go to akbadain with randall, refusing to support the idea even. randall has had some wild ideas before but an expedition like this is way too far; at best it’s risky, at worst it’s madness. fearing for his friend’s safety, he refuses to condone the idea in any way. already wounded by the dismissal and contempt from everyone else in his life, randall sees this as a massive betrayal and the two have a big argument over it, causing a major rift between them.

randall storms off to akbadain alone and miraculously somehow doesn’t get himself killed in the ruins. i’m undecided on if he’d go public with his findings at this point, perhaps he’d suspect a wider mystery relating to the azran and choose to continuing researching privately. either way he feels vindication of everyone who looked down on him or doubted him in his home town. he never returns to stansbury, believing there to be nothing and no one left for him there, and goes on to study archaeology at university.

meanwhile in stansbury, hershel feels guilt over the disappearance of his former friend, with no way of knowing his fate. compared to canon it’s a less personal responsibility than letting him fall to his supposed death, but the loss of randall weighs on hershel all the same. not wanting to let randall’s grand ambitions go to waste should the worst have happened to him, and unsure of anything else he’d rather pursue, hershel goes on to study archaeology at gressenheller.

through his years of study and hard work, hershel does grow an affinity and love for the subject, becoming the professor layton we know and love. he’s most excited when his first day as professor of archaeology rolls around, that is until he is introduced to the other newest professor at gressenheller.

at the door of the office next door to his, he is greeted by a familiar pair of thick-rimmed glasses sitting below bright red hair, styled a bit neater than before though still just as vibrant. his initial reaction is shock followed by relief and joy to see his friend alive and well. this is cut short when the man opens his mouth. this randall is very bitter, all snarky comments and disdain (i imagine his personality in this au as a toned-down version of how he is in the climax of miracle mask, and also somewhat similar to sycamore, minus the tragic backstory, plotting for revenge and maniacal alter ego). hershel does his best to remain civil - he is trying his best to be gentlemanly these days after all - but randall is making it very clear he doesn’t want to be friends in a way that is oh so infuriating.

over the years of working next door to each other they settle into a comfortable mutual dislike of each other. they are competitive in both their work place and archaeology careers, their relationship developing into a fierce rivalry. this remains constant for several years, until one day hershel is summoned by an old friend to aid with a troubling situation involving a spectre. randall insists on tagging along, forming a most unlikely investigative duo. little do they know this will be the first in a series of perplexing and exciting mysteries, incredible archaeological finds, and perhaps some reconciliation for the pair.

highlights of this au include:

bickering. constantly and unendingly. hershel tries not to rise to it at first but his resolve breaks very quickly. their students joke about it a lot.

they frequently try to outdo each other in their research work, to the point where any and all arguments can be trumped by ‘yeah, well i discovered ___ so…’

randall’s insistence on tagging along out of spite causing even more problems for the uni because now they’re down two professors and dammit you two, someone has to teach the classes.

post- last spectre, luke spending time at gressenheller often finds himself in randall’s office. cue them competing to be luke’s favourite. luke is now the apprentice of not one professor but two.

randall interacting with emmy. randall interacting with clark. randall interacting with sycamore. basically randall with everyone.

possibly even randall meeting claire? and being around whilst hershel is grieving her death. they still don’t get on in this time but there are small moments of concern when needed - they may dislike each other but randall isn’t completely heartless.

miracle mask would be entirely different. i’m not really sure what the plot of it would be and who it would involve, but it should still involve as akbadain as this would have them confronting their past and bad feelings for each other, acting as the turning point in their dynamic towards a more positive one.

it’s enemies to lovers because it’s my au and i get to choose the tropes i cannot be stopped >:)

randall being present for azran legacy and witnessing the truth of the azran civilisation first hand.

this got super long but if i have any more thoughts i might post some more about it (and if anyone wants to add anything that would be awesome i’d love to hear more thoughts 👀)

[sergeantsporks]

Cherry needs more love, he's such a good bro to his many younger brothers.

:)))))

[sunnywritesathing]

Chapter One Notes

Oh my gosh I can’t believe I actually started to post it.  Its not done yet and I am short of writing it as I go but hopefully with the short of outline I have things will be okay?

Ahem.

Anyway, the first chapter is the start of the new school year at Hexside for everyone!  The kids are starting new classes as the world continues to change around them.  Hunter doesn’t know if he is quite ready for it but then again, who is?

He was just fighting in a war after all.  He isn’t a Grimwalker.  There is a lot of new on his plate.  Hopefully his friends can help him adjust?

(Also because of the time travel stuff, King is technically the oldest of the cast now lol)

[bellamioneotp]

Most Famous Bellamione Fics

This fic list got voted on my poll, so here it is! The fics that the Bellamione nation was built on.

All fics are on Fanfiction.net as it was the OG site for our Bellamione foundations.

Those Gilded Chains we Wear- This fanfic was published around 2012 and basically launched the Bellamione fandom into the stratosphere. The popularity of the ship began to pick up and more long form fics began to be published. It's considered a cornerstone of Bellamione culture and has inspired countless fics no doubt.

Impossible- This fic predates Those Gilded Chains and is very well written as well. It leans a bit more heavily on Hermione and Bellatrix not getting along at the start but still presents growth in their relationship. I feel this fic does not get as much recognition in the community despite it being one of the rare long fics in 2011 for the ship.

The Dark Corners of the Earth and Murder Most Horrid- Both written by the same author, this writer is still present in the Bellamione community today and writing more. The first fic presents eldritch horror in it and the second one is detective story. Both stories are long and include much worldbuilding. They kept the Bellamione community fed for long stretches of time.

Fractures, Fractures The Last Champion, and Turn Time Series,- All written by the same author, the first and second one feature the OG professor Bellatrix and student Hermione relationship that was fully fleshed out. Their back and forth was always a treat a read, as was the competition and the plot around it. The Turn Time series is also a fun read and though it can be confusing at times trying to figure out what is going on with the plot in connection to all three fics, that is part of the appeal.

Our Mercurial Selves- No longer up, RIP.

No Good Deed- No longer up on any site, this story was intense and very well written. There was always a lot of interaction between the characters and the story unfortunately cut off at a really good climax point.

Lotus Flower- A soulmate AU that sadly is not finished. But it had a good amount of tension in it that would made seeing it unfold fun to read.

Metamorphosis- A fic that has similar vibes and shares story beats to Those Gilded Chains in a good way. It is completed. Not as super popular as the other ones but still worth a read because the reveal of Hermione dating Bellatrix is satisfying.

Future Shocks- Very action based and not much Bellamione until the end, but it still packs quite a punch when reading it. A good example of how to write the horrors of war.

Reign Down- I consider this the dark au fic of all dark au fics. The world building is fantastic and reading the story unnerves me which means it's doing a great job with how it's unfolding. It has not been updated in a while but if you're looking for how a dark au should be structured for Bellamione, this is it.

Time Heals All Wounds- This fic utilized Time Travel in a way not seen in Bellamione fics before and popularized time travel fics as a way to help redeem the relationship between the two of them.