Harry Potter House Name の小説・ストーリー

It’s not unknown for vampires to raise their own mates, it happens, they are immortals, they live forever. Anna is a kitten shifter, being raised by her own daddy, James, a vampire lord, he’s ancient, the master of his house and family. Mathew joined the coven newly, he belong to the family but been staying with his mother until now. Moving in, he knew nothing about the house, the rules, but he did find out his mate or maybe two. This is a ddlg/cgl/age regression. Whatever you wanna call it, you’ve been warned. Apologies for any misspellings and grammar mistakes. Enjoy!

She was never meant to be chosen. She was meant to be a debt repaid and forgotten. But Alpha Damien saw something in Hazel Voss that her parents spent eighteen years hiding. He placed her in his heir's house like a secret weapon nobody has learned to fear. At eighteen and unshifted, Hazel is powerless in a world that respects only strength. She arrives at the Ironveil pack house believing she is a chosen bride. Four days later, she learns the truth: she was bought. Alexander Ironveil is everything unchecked power creates: cold, commanding, and ruthless. He can hear the thoughts of every wolf around him, and the moment Hazel enters his house, he can hear hers too. Her fear. Her anger. Her secrets. He uses every word against her, yet one question remains: What is Hazel truly hiding? Deep within her blood, an ancient power is awakening, one older than the packs and stronger than their laws. But when the inevitable happens and the one voice Alexander has relied on from the beginning goes permanently silent, he will finally understand what it costs to hear everything and do nothing. In a house built on dominance, a silent war is about to begin. Hazel was never his to break. She was always his to protect. But will she survive long enough to unleash her true power, or will Alexander destroy her before he discovers what she was meant to become?

In the glittering world of power, blood money, and deadly secrets, love becomes the most dangerous weapon of all. After her mother’s mysterious murder, Oren Gallamor is dragged into the ruthless empire of billionaire kingpin James Reeves, the cold, obsessive man she believes destroyed her family. Sold by her father and forced into a twisted arrangement that pulls her deeper into his world of violence and control, Oren vows to destroy him from the inside. But the closer she gets to James, the more the truth begins to unravel. Behind the lies stands Harry Vida, a master manipulator who orchestrated everything from the shadows: her mother’s death, her father’s betrayal, and even the toxic obsession binding Oren and James together. What began as revenge soon spirals into a deadly game of deception, desire, and survival. Now trapped between hatred and irresistible attraction, Oren and James must decide whether to kill each other… or burn the world down together. As enemies close in and betrayal lurks behind every promise, one thing becomes terrifyingly clear: Their love story was never meant to save them. It was designed to destroy them both.

"If you like sexy fantasy, and I do, this is one great read." -Piers Anthony, author of the Xanth series When Mike Radley inherited a mysterious old house from a long-lost relative, he wasn't sure what to expect. He didn't expect a sexual encounter with the nymph in his bathtub. He really didn't expect to discover a house full of affectionate monsters. And he definitely didn't expect a pair of witches bent on stealing the home's magic from him. Welcome to Home for Horny Monsters. Expect the unexpected.

*Story on hold* Sarah attended a ball, her parents had forced to go to the yearly pack’s masked gala. She got drunk and hooked up with the pack’s Alpha. She got pregnant and her father sent her out of his house because she wasn’t going to say who impregnated her. She had her reasons for keeping it from her dad. On getting to the Alpha’s house, she met him pounding hard into Valerie, the pack’s bully. He sensed her presence, and rejected her as his mate on the spot…

Aria Laurent was supposed to be the ghost in the Devereaux estate—a convenient substitute for a sister who fled, a nameless bride in a house built on secrets. But in the cold, suffocating grip of Luca Devereaux’s world, being invisible is no longer an option. Bound by a forced marriage and watched by eyes that never blink, Aria must navigate power and silent threats. In this house, walls have ears, and the man she calls husband is a shadow she can’t escape. As the line between protection and possession blurs, Aria discovers that the darkest secrets aren’t hidden in the cellar, they’re reflected in the eyes of the man who owns her.

He's carrying a name no one hasn't heard of. A name written in books. A name defined by history. And no one can reject him except the girl with a yellow ribbon in her hair. Will history repeats itself? Or a new story will be written?

The day I announced I was quitting writing, the entire internet celebrated. Everyone except my girlfriend's rumored boyfriend, the famous mystery author, Bryan Vega. In a short video, he looked genuinely regretful. "This is all a misunderstanding. I’ve always admired Kobi’s work, and I hope he’ll come back for the sake of his readers." I turned off my phone and ignored him completely. In my previous life, the web novel I wrote was identical to the mystery novel he published. People online called me a plagiarist and wished death on my whole family. I tried to defend myself, posting my drafts, outlines, and timestamps. Yet, it didn't matter. The last edit timestamp on his document was ten minutes earlier than mine. Just those ten minutes destroyed me. The messages never stopped. Strangers flooded my inbox with insults. Some even showed up at my house and threw paint on the walls. Years of nonstop harassment dragged me into depression. My parents tried to clear my name, but obsessed fans hunted them down and murdered them using methods copied straight from his novel. In the end, on the very day his book won a major award, I sealed my windows and burned charcoal, ending my life. And then, I opened my eyes again. I had returned to the day my new book was supposed to be released.

In the VIP lounge of an underground casino, Maeve, the Falcone family's princess, had been plied with too much hard liquor. Fueled by alcohol, someone goaded her into revealing the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win over the Don. She swirled her glass, pointed at me dealing cards behind the table, and threw her head back with a laugh. "Seven years ago, when Declan was in a coma after a shootout, I took his private phone. And I deleted the distress message that bitch sent him. Every last trace of it. Then I replied in his name: You're a burden. Go die." "You'll never guess what happened next. That idiot stood outside the safe house all night in a downpour, like a stray dog. I almost died laughing…" The room erupted in crude laughter. Only the man enthroned at the head of the table remained silent. The crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack. Blood mixed with the amber liquor, trickling over the veins on the back of his hand before dripping onto the carpet. His murderous, bloodshot eyes were locked on me. I calmly dealt the last hole card in front of him and offered a clean, white silk handkerchief. "Don Declan, you should wipe your hand. Blood on the felt is bad luck." After all, some stains never wash out.

A dark and gloomy villa stood in the middle of the barren landscape, hidden from sight by a perched hedge. It was phenomenal and spectacular, but it makes it appear to have succumbed to a sullen and ominous atmosphere, both inside and out. A lanky hedge and gnarled shrubs give off the impression that the house has indeed been overlooked. The rainstorm seeping from the sewer pipes made the place appear miserable and dispirited. Needless to say, the house appeared razed to the ground and devoid of life. The house was made of rune stone that had been smeared darker in spots by downpours, sending it an insidious demeanor even during the day. The window frames were all padlocked and bricked up in steel frames and woods, as if what was inside would have been too grotesque to see, trying to give the impression that someone must have attempted to prevent something horrible from escaping. People have claimed that the residence was plagued by the witch who died there, but there has been no tangible evidence to substantiate their claims. It was even widely speculated that the villa was venomous and mowed down the leaves of trees that come into direct contact with its concrete pillars. People also construed a terrifying presumption that whoever tries to enter the house will never make it out alive because there is something inside that you would never dare to see with your very own eyes. Whatever was real or not, it was unmistakably foreshadowing, exponentially cold and savage at a hundredth of a thousand glances. A breathtaking doll sat competently on a rocking chair inside the house. Waiting complacently for someone brave and heroic enough to unravel the abominable and ghoulish mystery and paradox behind her enchanting, spine-chilling smile.