Nobles And Misfits Novels & Stories

Though he was ugly and overweight, Sherry had chosen him because of his noble status. After a brief moment of panic, Sherry quickly calmed down and retorted, "So what? Back then, Ian was just some poor nobody. His talents couldn't have gotten him anywhere. Once he left college, he would've been some miserable loser without any resources or connections. "I'm not so stupid as to suffer alongside him for life. But now that he's climbed to the top, he has the greatest power and wealth. Go ahead and tell him everything if you want. Let's see whether he believes you or me."

The rest of the day went by in a blur and the last thing I remember was my weird conversations with the ghost, Jem and then there was this mysterious guy named Cyrus. Jem, a ghost that had died at my apartment. Why? I don't have the slightest idea. If he chose to tell his story he will. If he wanted. As for Cyrus, I didn’t know anything about him to trust that he meant any harm to me or anyone else at this moment. How did you know when someone was dangerous? How can you possibly know if someone's intentions are meant for good? I suppose given time their colors would possibly show but until then I will attempt to believe that this Cyrus guy was decent.

A reminder. So there I was, bruises still singing hymns across my ribs, balancing goblets of wine like the palace’s most sarcastic waitress. Steam from the kitchens still clung to me, blending with the metallic tang of my own half-healed cuts. The nobles didn’t see the blood, not really. They only saw the rogue wolf—tamed, chained, humiliated. Or so they thought. “Careful,” purred a blonde with eyes like polished coins, her hand snatching a goblet off my tray. “Try not to spill. Oh, but then… I suppose you’re used to being messy.”

"Hard not to know the Rogue Sovereign when he parades his filth across the Enorith Realm." "Filth? That’s a little harsh," I mused, crossing my arms. "I prefer ‘misfits.’ Or ‘free spirits.’ Has a nicer ring to it, don’t you think?" She scoffed, eyes flicking over me with thinly veiled disdain. "You collect the cursed, the unwanted, the forsaken. The ones who should have been erased from existence." My smirk didn’t waver. "And yet, here I stand. Breathing. Thriving, even. Annoying you."

“On the night of the party, all the nobles will arrive. From Nytheris and from the other tribes. They’re the wealthy and influential Rogues, the strongest warriors, and their beautiful wives. They’re the people you will be expected to associate with.” Her explanation, if anything, only tightened the coil in my stomach. The nobles she mentioned apparently couldn’t wait until the party, they’d already begun arriving yesterday. I had never seen them before, but I didn’t need an introduction to know they weren’t ordinary Rogues. Valtor greeted nearly all of them like old acquaintances and introduced me by his side. They smiled at me when he stood there. But the moment he walked away, they no lon

I had seen the embarrassment replace the ecstasy in her eyes, though the smile she had used on the outside to try to conceal what she had actually felt on the inside. And Jacob, whether he knew it or not, had silenced Leia, bringing her to think her passions are unwanted, that no one had cared. And if he hadn't noticed what he had done to her in that hallway, he was a fucked up guy. And when Jacob did that shit, he broke her spirit to share what she loved. He was honestly just a shitty boyfriend in general. I found Marcus near the baggage area, looking at something on his phone. He looked like he was really focused on whatever he was doing, clearly oblivious to me as I walked right up next t

The walls were adorned with carefully selected pieces of art, some dating back several centuries, a testament to refined taste and an appreciation for history. The ambience was further enhanced by a tasteful blend of antique and contemporary decor. A vast collection of books graced the mahogany bookshelves, symbolizing intellect and culture. In the midst of this lavish yet tasteful setting, Vivian sat, trying to gather her nerves, aware that every element around her reflected the wealth, class, and discerning taste of the Churchill family. Despite the luxury surrounding her, Vivian felt a disconnect, a sense of being an outsider entering this world of opulence. Her mind raced with thoughts o

Miss A sat behind her desk, her expression cold and unyielding as James stood before her, pleading his case. "Miss A, I understand your concerns, but I urge you to reconsider," James said earnestly. "These staff members have been with us for years. They're loyal and dedicated. We can't just discard them like yesterday's news." Miss A's lips formed a thin line as she regarded James with steely eyes. "I have taken over all of England with my company, James. I don't need sentimentality getting in the way of progress. If those staff members aren't contributing anything new, then they're expendable."

This is a story about a boy and a girl who tries too hard to fit into their group of friends but constantly failed. And when they found each other, they finally find a place they can fit into. The only mistake they made was that they broke themselves trying to fix each other.

They were not bound by the solemnity of the moment, nor did they grant the blood time to congeal before they began weaving their plans. In a far corner, the nobles huddled together, their opulent robes billowing around them, shielding them from the crimson testament to their rebellion. Their shoes, polished to a mirror-like gleam, remained unsullied, a stark contrast to the fallen king at their feet. It was as though they had shed the last vestiges of humanity, consumed by the ravenous hunger for power.