Novel & Cerita Short Story Lovers

Nicknames: Hollows, T Age: 26 Birthday: October 23 Zodiac sign: Scorpio Nationality: American Race: Originally human Hair color: Dark brown Hair style: Medium length middle part Eye color: Emerald green Birthmarks: N/A Scars: Scattered across his body Height: 6’2 Weight: 152 Skin color: Tan Sexuality: Straight and polyamorous Relationship status: complex Beauty marks: rose sleeve tattoo Jewelry : protection bracelet made by a witch Personality: Mysterious, dangerous, flirty, charming, mean Style: edgy cowboy Outfit: Medium wash blue jeans, black band t-shirt, black belt, boots, leather jacket Love interest: Iris Friends: N/A Prologue This story is about love. Not the lovey dovey type you see

I'm just getting started. From your lovely author ~~~LOVE ABOVE STORIES ^^

Hi, everyone! This is Curvy Writes, and first things first: I need to take a deep, dramatic bow and then just collapse on the nearest couch. Because, people, we did it! I just want to say a massive, soul-hugging, confetti-tossing THANK YOU to every single one of you who has been reading my short story, "In Her Skin." Seriously, from the bottom of my slightly exhausted but extremely grateful heart, thank you. You guys have been the absolute best audience a writer could ask for.

"So bold to stare at a Dagerstanteen warrior." "Bold? Or maybe I'm just in love with a Dagerstanteen warrior." "I love you too, Chasm." Rhylent chucked and then leaned into him. "I do not even know what love is, but this? This thing with you and Norwell? I want it for as long as I live." Chasm opened his mouth. He knew he wouldn't be truly happy until he shared his mind with Rhylent again.

If you’ve ever felt like love arrived late for you… If you’ve ever wondered whether you missed your chance… If you’ve ever believed that the past disqualified you from a beautiful future— This story was for you. Enemies to Lovers is about second chances, yes but it’s also about self-trust. Brielle had to trust herself enough to stay. Jaxon had to trust himself enough to change. Together, they built a life that was loud, messy, imperfect, and deeply, fiercely real. Thank you for loving them. Thank you for rooting for them. Thank you for feeling angry on their behalf, smiling at their quiet moments, holding your breath during the hard ones, and celebrating every victory—big and small.

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”

She feels less of a person since she has been sick and still weak. Charlie takes Logan out to dinner. She is surprised when he parks at the local Botanical Gardens. They walk hand in hand viewing all the beautiful flowers and trees. In the park is a wall of love. Couples put two locks interlocked on the fence. It is believed that if the locks are together the couple will be together also. Charlie whispered into Logans ear; I love you. That was a magical time for Logan. She knew then Charlie still loves her. She knew that every year they could return to see the locks of their love still together. This is how the future would be.

Then, she said, “You know what this sounds like, right?” Amelia narrowed her eyes. “Don’t say it.” Maya grinned. “Enemies to lovers.” Amelia groaned. “Maya, I swear—” “Just saying,” Maya sang. “It’s a classic trope.” “Not our trope,” Amelia shot back. Maya giggled. “We’ll see.” Amelia rolled her eyes. “Anyway,” she said, “enough about him. I have other news.” “Ooh,” Maya said. “Spill.”

The housekeeper murmured a welcome, but my attention had already drifted toward the wide living room. Lola huddled on the sectional, knees drawn up, a thin blanket twisted around her shoulders. Her eyes were rimmed red, cheeks shiny with tear tracks. She looked up as I crossed the room and folded her into my arms. Her shoulders shook against me while she whispered the story—her mother’s affair, the slammed doors, the suitcase wheels rolling across the foyer this morning. Divorce. I rubbed slow circles on her back, murmuring soft sounds of comfort, letting her talk until her breathing evened out. All the while, my gaze kept sliding toward the open terrace doors where a tall figure stood silho

He might be his past life, I wish. "Yeah, it's beautiful." He breaks the silence as he is smiling while looking above the sky. I see that he stands up and took a deep breath while stretching his arms wide. After that, he looks at me with a smile. "Do you want a push?" I nod, and then he hurriedly goes to my back. "I'll start pushing now." We play for a bit and tell our story about the stars. We both love the stories of the two lovers Sol and Luna, and it was a story told to children on how to accept your imperfections before loving someone. A few moments later, while listening to his stories, I feel a cold breeze touches my screen. It gives me a shiver, and I suddenly ask him to stop. "Wait,