Hangover Square Novels & Stories

He had no‌ personality. I‌t feels like a saf‌e‌ hou‍se, no⁠t a home. I find him on the couch, hu‌n‍ched over‍ a mug of coffee like it’⁠s the only‌ thing k⁠eepi‌ng him upright. His eyes‌ are bloodshot and his skin pale. The hangover is obvi⁠ous, It’s not⁠ even f‍ive o’clock.

My mouth tasted like cotton wool soaked in acid, and my stomach churned with a nauseating mixture of emptiness and regret. I groaned, burying my face into the pillow, trying to escape the light. "You alive over there?" Clara's voice floated from the other side of the room, far too cheerful and far too loud. "No," I croaked. My voice was a rasp, barely audible. "I'm dead. Please plan my funeral. No lilies. I hate lilies." Clara chuckled, "Welcome to your first hangover, Sofi. Drink water. Take ibuprofen. You'll survive."

ordered Edwin, the board members were getting on his nerves and that's why he returned home early today, they like to create a mountain out of a grain. "Yes father, mom I'll get going now" he nodded at her and left. Suddenly the buttler came down running and panting "What is it Solomon?" Asked Edwin with a frown, he was already having a BP and now what was going on?. "Second…Second young master! He fainted!" He blurted making all of them ran upstairs to his room. He was lifeless laying on his bed, Kylie and Loreen started to weep as they shook him to wake up. "He is burning!" Said Kylie, "Call the doctor Solomon! Don't just stand here!" Shouted Edwin getting confused at what was happening in

Isabella woke with a start, the dull throb in her skull pulsing in time with the morning sun creeping through the curtains. Her mouth tasted of stale alcohol and regret. She groaned, clutching her forehead as fragmented images from the night before danced behind her eyelids—too loud, too messy, and far too public. She staggered out of bed, wincing as each step reminded her body of its hangover. The house was quiet, but not peaceful. A tension hung in the air like smoke after a fire.

Fear gripped me, I looked around my room to see if it was real but I was alone – no dead body, and no one was covered with blood. I woke up to a sharp pain piercing through my temples. The throbbing in my head intensified, a feeling that can only mean one thing – the hangover has arrived with a vengeance. As I groggily blinked my eyes open, memories flooded back like a tidal wave. I remembered everything from the night before, and the weight of that knowledge felt heavy in my chest. I recalled the heated argument with Alpha Ambrose, the hurtful words that he said to me hit me like jagged shards of glass cutting into my soul.

POV: Connor Hangovers at Northpoint aren’t just a consequence—they’re biblical. It’s the kind of punishment that makes you want to call your mother and apologize for everything you’ve ever done, even the stuff you haven’t gotten caught for. My mouth tastes like stale beer and regret. My head feels like a hockey team used it as a shooting target. Light stabs me right in the eyes, a personal vendetta from the sun itself, and my phone is buzzing with more notifications than a Vegas slot machine on a hot streak.

At the end of a full day of torture, I had nothing left in me to even utter a word. Tara forced Cameron’s miracle pill down my throat but dumped the vial for killing the pain to the ground. Before I could voice my curiosity about Tara’s intent to torment me, she broke out in laughter. “I’m sure this is eating you up inside. “Why did you have to come back? I am the daughter raised by House Thornfield. What right do you have to take what belongs to me?