"Forever is the sweetest con." - Taylor Swift. It's been 3 months since the 2nd battle of Hogwarts. Things are still tense, harsh words are thrown at one another but most of all, things don't seem to be over. There's a chilliness in the air. The skies are grey with no sun in sight. The corridors are never full and people keep to themselves. Something feels wrong. Draco Malfoy and his tarnished reputation is trying to fulfil his last year in school. Keeping out of harms way and never speaking to anyone, it all seems to be going well until a certain sassy blonde falls into his lap on the first day back. What could happen? Slytherin x Slytherin | 8th year | Characters of mine are Willow Hastings (to be added) | Smut ( a lot of it ) Updating weekly.

Love. As 'beautiful' as love can be it hurts and bleeds. If you're unlucky you may even love the very person you know you can't have. The best friend, The distant boyfriend, The sisters friend, The brothers friend, The ex best friend, Love isn't always given back the way you gave it. Leaving you with half a heart as the person you gave your half too never gave you their half back. But what if someone else has another half to make yours whole again?

"You're atheist," I remind him. "You don't believe in god." "I believe in you," He murmurs, letting the cigarette hang from his lips. "I believe in whatever you believe." He says, letting the confession roll off his tongue as if it were that simple. As if god, the devil, heaven, hell-as if none of it really had meaning to him. "That's not how it works," I mutter as we walk down a few more alleyways-the city of Manhattan coated in a light blanket of snow. Henry Vitiello had never had anything to pray for, that is, until he met me-the only thing that had ever opened his mind up to the possibility of religion "Isn't it?" He argues, taking the cigarette by his middle and pointer finger before blowing the smoke out. "I'II dip my hands in holy water if it means I could touch you." "You'd probably burn." 𓆩♡𓆪 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, the reaper. He's a prick. An asshole. A pretentious son of a bitch. He's not perfect. He's not even decent. But he's hers. She could be a bottle labeled poison but he was an alcoholic, and he had drunk her empty. Now he was hungover. 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, the healer. She's known to be the perfect good girl, with perfect grades and a perfect life with a perfect family. They didn't know that behind the gated doors of their billion dollar estate, she was strapped down to a chair every night and picked apart just to be put back together in time for supper. 𓆩♡𓆪 star-crossed; adjective (of a person or a plan) thwarted by bad luck. 'star-crossed lovers' and that, they were. So they fucked under those very stars that tried so desperately to break them apart. 𓆩♡𓆪 ‼️DISCLAIMER ‼️ BOOK REFERENCES TO MARA DYER, SHATTER ME, MIND FUCK, ETC ARE ALL INTENTIONAL SO DONT BE RUDE. AS FOR TRIGGER WARN

HEA ✔ no OWD/cheating 7 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 7 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 7 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙝𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙤𝙯𝙚𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙛𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙍𝙪𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙨' 𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙗𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙄𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙄𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙍𝙪𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙨, 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙮 𝙜𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜? 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩. 𝘼𝙗𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙'𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢. He's the boss of the Russian Bratva seeking a glorified retribution for his father and Bratva. Her past belongs to the Italians whom she worked for and held a high position. But now she's a regular Cambridge graduate of medical school ready to play in the field... but maybe a similar field to his. A doctor is just what he's searching for. And there's an undeniable connection from the moment he set eyes on her. Despite her past being erased from existence completely, there's a trail of blood behind her with every step she takes. And people are noticing. The truth may shatter his illusion of her. It'll shatter him even more. But it's okay, as long as she can heal him. Rankings it has got: #3 fiction- 20/05/23 #25 money #133 secrets #93 mentalhealth #45 mobboss #17 lovers Copyright © 2022 by euphoric

She's a wild, free spirit who sees the good in everyone, and he's the hardened, bad-tempered loner who wants nothing to do with her-yet no matter how hard he tries to push her away, she's the one temptation he can't escape. *** He's never met someone with such a bubbly personality. Not to mention the wildness and odd phrases she says every five minutes. He hates it. He hates how he can't stay away from it. He hates what she does to him; it's not like him to chase after some girl. She gets under his skin like no other. She's never met someone with such a bad attitude. He's ill-mannered and menacing. The glare never seems to leave his face. Considering it all, she can't help but feel the attraction toward him. Dangerous attraction toward a seemingly dangerous man. Maybe it's the tattoos on his arm that gets her attention. Or maybe it's because she can tell there's hope for good under his rough exterior. And she's about to find it, whether he likes it or not. It's no secret that the two of them are complete and total opposites. *** "You like being called Sugar, don't you?" I tease, placing my toothbrush back after finishing. He does the same and gives me a side-eyed scowl. He grips my chin harshly and kisses me. My body temperature raises a good ten degrees and my right leg goes all wiggly. He pulls away. "You like it when I kiss you, don't you?" He teases the same way I did to him and I'm left blubbering. "I think both of our questions are rhetorical," I lower my voice up at him. His lip curls up into a smirk. *** #1 in Young Adult #9 in Badboy #1 in Cold #3 in Goodgirl #1 in Sweetheart #14 in Love *** *Warning* This story contains mature themes (language, scenes

When Emily applies for a position as a caregiver for Daniel, a boy with a permanent spinal cord injury, she never thought she'd also be dealing with his brash fighter of a brother, Lucas. Emily soon becomes involved in the world of fighting that seems to constantly surround Lucas as he attempts to find retribution for his brother. Can Emily help heal the relationship between the two brothers while also caring for the seemingly brute professional fighter? Will Lucas lower his barriers enough for Emily to do so?

DISCLAIMER: This story is completed, however it is unedited. I wrote this story when I was very young, and it is reflected in the work. If you are looking for the edited version of Love, Emma as seen on my Instagram or Facebook, this is NOT it. . . . . . . . . . . "E-Emma? It's okay y-you know. I-I'm used to i-i-it." "You shouldn't have to be, some people disgust me, the nerve of them." "I can't blame t-t-th-them, I m-mean l-l-l-look at m-me." He sounds so defeated, even though I can tell he's trying to hide it, so hurt and broken and utterly defeated. And that, to me, is absolutely heartbreaking. Whipping around, he bumps into me, clearly not expecting my abrupt stop. "I am looking at you, and you're beautiful Nathan Walker, beautiful." There's tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat the size of a basketball, and my eyes are burning, and my heart hurts but it's so fast, pounding a beat against my chest---because he should know. People like Nathan deserve to be told how unequivocally, unconditionally, completely beautiful they are. . . . . . . . . . . Emma Dawn is a sixteen year old girl in the big city of Toronto who befriends her school's social pariah, Nathan Walker. Outcast for his looks, Nathan's a very quiet, very gentle, giant, but everything's not that simple; the tough guy one might assume him to be is nothing like what he actually is, not with his stutter, continuous insecurities, and his social anxiety. While their friendship develops, both at school and at his families Italian-style Cafe, Emma slowly starts to tear down his walls, finding herself deeply caring for the boy she finds behind them---a boy so caught up in his life's worth of ridicule, he has no idea of how beautiful he is. Read on into the story of Emma and Nathan, where she helps him come to terms with his anxiety, breaks his insecurities, and every other social standard set to define something beautiful. . . . . . . . . . .