coolguy

Samantha never expected to find magic in her hometown, let alone in a dimly lit bar on a rainy Tuesday night. Yet here she was, perched on a barstool at the Black Swan, her world about to tilt on its axis. The air thrummed with an otherworldly energy she couldn't quite place. Ethereal dancers moved like smoke across the floor, their bodies fluid and mesmerizing. As Samantha nursed her drink, she felt the weight of curious stares prickling her skin. That's when she saw him. Marcus. A name she didn't know yet, but one that would soon be etched into her very soul. Their eyes locked across the crowded room, and Samantha's breath caught in her throat. He moved with predatory grace, all lean muscle and barely restrained power. Their first interaction was as intoxicating as it was bewildering. One moment, he was her gallant protector, rescuing her from an overly aggressive drunk. The next, his eyes hardened to chips of ice as he snarled, "Stupid girl," before melting into the shadows. Samantha's mind reeled, but her body hummed with an excitement she couldn't explain. Little did she know, this encounter was merely the first step into a world beyond her wildest fantasies – a realm where vampires ruled the night and pain blurred exquisitely with pleasure. As she delved deeper into this hidden society, Samantha found herself drawn to the intoxicating blend of power, submission, and supernatural allure. The crack of a whip, the whisper of leather, the exquisite sting of fangs – each sensation pushed her boundaries and ignited desires she never knew existed. But with every ecstatic high came the sobering reality of danger. Vampire politics were as deadly as they were intricate, and Samantha soon realized she was a pawn in a game where the stakes were life, death, and eternal servitude. As she left the Black Swan that night, Samantha couldn't shake the feeling that she stood on the precipice of something life-changing. She had no idea how right she was, or how deeply she would fall into a passionate, dangerous dance with forces beyond her imagination. The real question was: in this world where pleasure and peril intertwined so intimately, would she emerge empowered... or lose herself completely?

Why'd I have to be born the oldest? ​Nazma stared blankly at her wardrobe, all alone on a bed that felt way too cold for someone her age. While other girls her age were stressing about homework and first crushes, Nazma had to carry a weight much heavier: the survival of her family and the silence of her own heart. ​“God… if I get born again, can I please be the second kid?” ​She desperately wanted to know what it felt like to have a big brother. Someone to stand out front, not behind. Someone to protect her. Someone to lead the way—so she wouldn't have to be strong all by herself every single day. ​But in the real world, she is the firstborn. The one who must lead. The one who must endure. And when she finally finds the courage to speak up against the world's unfairness, she realizes the harshest truth of all: ​It is a story of a girl's voice in a world that refuses to listen. ​Between the dusty halls of village meetings and the secret screams on her digital screen, Nazma navigates the messy layers of angst, broken friendships, and the suffocating social order. She is tired of being "the strong one." She is ready to be heard—even if she has to disappear from the circulation of their "normal" world to do it.

Soo Jin thought his life was boring until he discovered a shocking truth: his mother was murdered, and his father married to his mother's killer. Soo Jin wants revenge, but as a high school student, there's little he can do, until he learns that the murderer has a son: Mi Young. Soo Jin then enters his school with one goal: destroy him. But he would never know that, Mi Young's best friend, Ji Woo, would becomes the only light in Soo Jin's dark world. Will Ji Woo still choose him after discovering he was trying to ruin Mi Young's life?”

Olivia, just a girl from the province trying to survive Asteria University. But everything changes the moment I crash into Ryan Vale—the rich, arrogant, impossibly charming guy who thinks life revolves around him. My phone? Crushed. My pride? Challenged. My heart? Confused. He’s everywhere—campus paths, milk tea shops, even group projects—teasing, testing, and refusing to back down. Olivia isn't not about to let him win… but maybe standing my ground will lead to something neither of us expected. No games. No pretenses. Just us.

In the feudal dukedom of Parravon, a peasant’s life is cheap—and a woman’s is worth even less. When a savage Orc raid slaughters her village and burns her world to ash, Geneviève is left broken in the mire. The noble knights meant to protect her people were nowhere to be found. But where others would see an end, she finds a new beginning. Defying the strict laws of Bretonnia that forbid commoners from bearing arms, she rises from the wreckage with a single, dangerous resolve: to become strong.

A Don's daughter Francesca moved from Italy with her parents to France due to an unexpected attack. She had to continue her studies in a boarding elite school where she meets a calm yet dangerous Étienne who from a corner after their first encounter first encounter fell in love. But after their family's past rivalry comes up and truths unfold will the love still hold? Other Info

Who is she in this life? A bride, a pawn… or just a substitute for someone who will never come? Rosy, a girl cast out by her own family, had her identity switched to be married into a noble household. A wedding with no invitations, no blessings only the cold binding from a man named Captian Anderson, the ruthless CEO behind the largest corporation holding the key to the entire banking and finance industry. Forced into marriage to save her family’s failing company, Rosy had no idea she was stepping into a maze of conspiracies, deceitful pasts, and chilling secrets no one had ever spoken of. She must live with a man rumored to be incapable of feeling, someone whose eyes reflect no emotion, yet always see through her as if he has known her for a very long time. Between love and control, trust and lies, Rosy has no choice but to stand up and reclaim herself, even when the love that begins to blossom may become the greatest threat of all. "To survive this velvet prison, she must learn how to make her captor love her to death." ... Umee say that: Hi there! First of all, thank you for the interest and for the enthusiasm. Truly. Every time I open my comments and see new invitations to add Discord, buy promotion packages, commission comic adaptations, or “have a quick chat,” I’m reminded that my story has somehow wandered into a very busy marketplace. That said, I should probably set expectations gently before anyone invests too much energy. I’m not looking for promotion services, paid advertising or commissioned artwork. Not because they’re bad ideas, just because they’re not ideas I currently need. I don’t have the budget, the urgency or the illusion that my story is secretly one step away from becoming the next global phenomenon. I’m very aware of where my work stands. It’s doing okay. Respectably okay. Not “adapt-everything-immediately” okay. My passion for writing exists but it hasn’t reached the stage where common sense quietly exits the room. I promise I’m not underestimating myself, I’m simply being realistic, which is a personality trait I’ve grown quite attached to. Another small but important thing: I’m not really interested in chatting, exchanging ideas, networking, or building creative alliances in private messages. I write best when left alone. I think best when no one is pitching anything to me. And I function best when my inbox is not screaming for attention. So if I don’t reply, please know it’s not personal, it’s just me choosing silence over small talk. That being said, if you’re genuinely curious about me rather than what I can potentially become or produce, if you want to see my everyday life, random thoughts, quiet moments and the unmarketable parts of my existence, I do have my Instagram linked in my bio. You’re welcome to follow it. No proposals required. No introductions needed. Just observation, at your own pace. I truly wish you the best with your creative work, your art, your promotions, and your ambitions. Creating something and trying to get it seen is hard, I respect that deeply. I just prefer to walk my path slowly, quietly, and without turning every interaction into a business opportunity. Thank you for understanding, for stopping by, and for letting me return peacefully to my writing corner, where the only thing I’m selling is words.

Warning: 17+++ only. This isn't some cute Alpha omega story, it involves a ML Alpha who's a dick and an omega who's an obsessed fucker. *** Lee Ji ho is a shameless, dick-obsessed cumslut. Every night he impales himself on a massive, ridged dildo that leaves him gaping; by day he struts around with a throbbing remote egg buried in his greedy hole; come weekends, he prowls dimly lit gay dens chasing after hung alphas for brutal, no-strings poundings. His deepest craving? A throbbing shaft stuffing his throat nonstop, morning till night. One scorching night he bags a stunning, girthy beast of a thing that knows exactly how to wreck a hole. Right as the tidal wave of bliss is about to crash over him… blinding white flash. Temporal displacement achieved. The newly arrived Lee Ji ho whines in pure frustration: “Nooo, I was literally seconds from exploding…” [System: Gather “500ml of thick seed” directly from his stretched rear.] Jackpot. This is his natural habitat. Time to turn every cock in this new age into his personal milk factory!

“I don’t date idiots.” he said “Oh,” she says calmly. “Then I’ll stop being one.” At Haneul Private High School in Gangnam, Han Ji-woo is untouchable. Star basketball captain. Academic rank #1. A future already written in trophies and acceptance letters. He doesn’t make mistakes. He doesn’t fall in love. Until Choi Seo-ah. She’s rich, loud, affectionate and everything his world doesn’t allow. When her devotion becomes public, Ji-woo does the only thing he believes will protect them both. He humiliates her. In front of everyone. He calls her stupid. He says she’s embarrassing. He tells her to leave. She doesn’t cry. She asks for time. Three months. Ji-woo gives her rules designed to break her perfect grades, no money, no makeup, no him. What he doesn’t expect is her answer. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll prove it.” Everyone thinks Han Ji-woo is heartless. Only he knows the truth.

Princess Lydia Valenrose has everything: status, beauty, and three perfect suitors chosen to secure her kingdom’s future. But as the day of her engagement draws near, she uncovers the dark secrets of the men who claim to love her unconditionally. Faced with a choice she never wanted to make, Lydia decides to defy everyone’s expectations. On the day she was meant to choose her partner for life, the princess disappears.

After three years of marriage, Evelyn finally got pregnant. She thought it would be the happiest day of her life until her own husband’s hands pushed into hell her. Evelyn went to the company to inform Alain about her pregnancy, only to be met with the sight of him having sex with his secretary. Alain had betrayed her. “Let’s get a divorce,” he said, the three years of affection crushed like worthless paper. He showed no shame as he continued his affair right in front of her, under the guise of nakedness. “Fine,” Evelyn agreed. She looked proud and aloof. She swallowed the news of her pregnancy, holding it tight in her throat without uttering a word. But as she turned away, she burst into tears. She returned home, prepared the divorce papers, signed them, packed her belongings, and left. But on the way, Evelyn fainted because of her foetal derangement. A kind man took her to the hospital and left her with a beautiful wish. Other than that, she knew nothing about him. Five years later, Evelyn had a successful career and a peaceful life with her young son - Dennis. But one day, her son brought a strange man home, none other than Alain! Evelyn was stunned. Her ex-husband had returned, shamelessly begging her for forgiveness, wanting to regain her and Dennis. He wanted her to come back to him. But Evelyn didn’t agree. Despite Alain’s coercion, she refused. And at that moment, “he” suddenly appeared, unexpectedly and silently as he did five years ago. He pulled her up from the depths and slapped her ex-husband directly in the face with one sentence: “You’re not worthy of her.” ... Umee: Hi there! First of all, thank you for the interest and for the enthusiasm. Truly. Every time I open my comments and see new invitations to add Discord, buy promotion packages, commission comic adaptations, or “have a quick chat,” I’m reminded that my story has somehow wandered into a very busy marketplace. That said, I should probably set expectations gently before anyone invests too much energy. I’m not looking for promotion services, paid advertising or commissioned artwork. Not because they’re bad ideas, just because they’re not ideas I currently need. I don’t have the budget, the urgency or the illusion that my story is secretly one step away from becoming the next global phenomenon. I’m very aware of where my work stands. It’s doing okay. Respectably okay. Not “adapt-everything-immediately” okay. My passion for writing exists but it hasn’t reached the stage where common sense quietly exits the room. I promise I’m not underestimating myself, I’m simply being realistic, which is a personality trait I’ve grown quite attached to. Another small but important thing: I’m not really interested in chatting, exchanging ideas, networking, or building creative alliances in private messages. I write best when left alone. I think best when no one is pitching anything to me. And I function best when my inbox is not screaming for attention. So if I don’t reply, please know it’s not personal, it’s just me choosing silence over small talk. That being said, if you’re genuinely curious about me rather than what I can potentially become or produce, if you want to see my everyday life, random thoughts, quiet moments and the unmarketable parts of my existence, I do have my Instagram linked in my bio. You’re welcome to follow it. No proposals required. No introductions needed. Just observation, at your own pace. I truly wish you the best with your creative work, your art, your promotions, and your ambitions. Creating something and trying to get it seen is hard, I respect that deeply. I just prefer to walk my path slowly, quietly, and without turning every interaction into a business opportunity. Thank you for understanding, for stopping by, and for letting me return peacefully to my writing corner, where the only thing I’m selling is words.

“Only those who have suffered know what true pain is.” Those were Silence’s words to me. At the time, we did not understand the weight of that sentence. And because we did not understand it, we chose to return to the past. Again. And again. We believed that if we relived that pain, we could reclaim what had been taken, that we could exchange suffering for the ones we lost. It was only when we stood in that place once more that we finally understood— Beneath pain, there is not always hope. Sometimes, there is only another choice that was already wrong. The Veil’s Mark — Book II begins.

Thirteen generations ago, two powerful orders of sorcerers created twin bracelets to stop a prophecy— whoever wears both would become the greediest ruler of the Parallel Worlds. The story begins with Luna, a book-loving girl who has just gained her independence after her aunt’s marriage. Her quiet life changes the moment she steps into the small library on her street. There, she meets Leo—a mysterious boy who hides all his sadness behind a crooked smile. But some smiles protect secrets… and some are the beginning of a disaster

Lucia Watts was once the golden daughter of Tomasso City, born into an illustrious family, raised in love, and destined for brilliance. But at seventeen, she made one fatal mistake: she brought a stranger named Anna Smith into her home. That mistake destroyed everything. Betrayed by the woman she trusted, Lucia’s father was framed and sentenced to life imprisonment. Her family collapsed overnight. Her father died under the wheels of oncoming traffic. Her mother lost her sanity. The hospital that carried her family’s name was stolen. Lucia died that day. And Emma Wilson was born. Four years later, Emma returns as the elegant and untouchable director of a Swiss cosmetics empire. Beautiful, ruthless, and patient, she has only one purpose: to drag Anna Smith and everyone who helped her into hell. Her path of revenge leads her straight to Ricard Anderson, Anna’s fiancé, a powerful CEO, and the perfect weapon. Lucia approaches him knowingly, seduces him deliberately and lets him fall in love with her step by step. She uses his desire, his influence, and his devotion as pieces on her chessboard. Ricard knows the truth. He knows she is using him. He knows her love is a lie. And yet, he chooses to stay. “I know I’m just a pawn,” he says. “But I’m willing.” As secrets are exposed, traps are set and blood debts are repaid, love becomes the most dangerous variable. Lucia wins her revenge but at the cost of everything else. Because some love stories are never meant to be saved. And some women choose revenge over redemption. ... Umee say that: Hi there! First of all, thank you for the interest and for the enthusiasm. Truly. Every time I open my comments and see new invitations to add Discord, buy promotion packages, commission comic adaptations, or “have a quick chat,” I’m reminded that my story has somehow wandered into a very busy marketplace. That said, I should probably set expectations gently before anyone invests too much energy. I’m not looking for promotion services, paid advertising or commissioned artwork. Not because they’re bad ideas, just because they’re not ideas I currently need. I don’t have the budget, the urgency or the illusion that my story is secretly one step away from becoming the next global phenomenon. I’m very aware of where my work stands. It’s doing okay. Respectably okay. Not “adapt-everything-immediately” okay. My passion for writing exists but it hasn’t reached the stage where common sense quietly exits the room. I promise I’m not underestimating myself, I’m simply being realistic, which is a personality trait I’ve grown quite attached to. Another small but important thing: I’m not really interested in chatting, exchanging ideas, networking, or building creative alliances in private messages. I write best when left alone. I think best when no one is pitching anything to me. And I function best when my inbox is not screaming for attention. So if I don’t reply, please know it’s not personal, it’s just me choosing silence over small talk. That being said, if you’re genuinely curious about me rather than what I can potentially become or produce, if you want to see my everyday life, random thoughts, quiet moments and the unmarketable parts of my existence, I do have my Instagram linked in my bio. You’re welcome to follow it. No proposals required. No introductions needed. Just observation, at your own pace. I truly wish you the best with your creative work, your art, your promotions, and your ambitions. Creating something and trying to get it seen is hard, I respect that deeply. I just prefer to walk my path slowly, quietly, and without turning every interaction into a business opportunity. Thank you for understanding, for stopping by, and for letting me return peacefully to my writing corner, where the only thing I’m selling is words.

After being betrayed, framed, and tortured until she was blinded and her limbs shattered in her previous life, Judy Johnston was reborn. She returned in a frail, sickly body, haunted by the blood-soaked nightmare that had stolen her entire family but this time, she was no longer alone. By her side stood Nick Bateman, a solitary boy with pure Lycan blood, a predator’s cold instinct, and an absolute loyalty reserved for Judy alone. To the world, Nick was nothing but a nameless orphan. But to Judy, he was the only darkness that shielded her, the pair of hands that pulled her from the abyss, and the eyes that always looked at her with endless tenderness and indulgence. Nick could obey her to the extreme. And he could also kill without blinking, if it was for her. Anyone who dared touch Judy would simply disappear from the world. After coming back to life, Judy wanted only to protect her adoptive family and stay far away from all power struggles. But fate would not let her stand aside: the Spring Gala in the Lycan King’s palace, rival clans, the vicious schemes of her uncle and cousin, and countless secrets buried in blood. Most terrifying of all… was the secret surrounding Nick, the one who once cried beside her bed, the one who saved her from death, and perhaps… the one who had loved her across both lifetimes. In a Lycan royal court filled with lies, darkness, and bloodshed, Judy must survive and find the one who loved her to the point of despair in her past life. She never imagined that person had been by her side all along. And this time… he refuses to let her leave his arms, not even for a single step. Update schedule: 2 chapters per day, no updates on Sundays. ... Umee say that: Hi there! First of all, thank you for the interest and for the enthusiasm. Truly. Every time I open my comments and see new invitations to add Discord, buy promotion packages, commission comic adaptations, or “have a quick chat,” I’m reminded that my story has somehow wandered into a very busy marketplace. That said, I should probably set expectations gently before anyone invests too much energy. I’m not looking for promotion services, paid advertising or commissioned artwork. Not because they’re bad ideas, just because they’re not ideas I currently need. I don’t have the budget, the urgency or the illusion that my story is secretly one step away from becoming the next global phenomenon. I’m very aware of where my work stands. It’s doing okay. Respectably okay. Not “adapt-everything-immediately” okay. My passion for writing exists but it hasn’t reached the stage where common sense quietly exits the room. I promise I’m not underestimating myself, I’m simply being realistic, which is a personality trait I’ve grown quite attached to. Another small but important thing: I’m not really interested in chatting, exchanging ideas, networking, or building creative alliances in private messages. I write best when left alone. I think best when no one is pitching anything to me. And I function best when my inbox is not screaming for attention. So if I don’t reply, please know it’s not personal, it’s just me choosing silence over small talk. That being said, if you’re genuinely curious about me rather than what I can potentially become or produce, if you want to see my everyday life, random thoughts, quiet moments and the unmarketable parts of my existence, I do have my Instagram linked in my bio. You’re welcome to follow it. No proposals required. No introductions needed. Just observation, at your own pace. I truly wish you the best with your creative work, your art, your promotions, and your ambitions. Creating something and trying to get it seen is hard, I respect that deeply. I just prefer to walk my path slowly, quietly, and without turning every interaction into a business opportunity. Thank you for understanding, for stopping by, and for letting me return peacefully to my writing corner, where the only thing I’m selling is words.

Joseph, the head of the Anderson family was born beneath the brilliance of the aristocracy, a man whose very name was enough to make the entire Blue Moon Pack fall silent. Talented. Disciplined. Rational. The most trusted strategic adviser of King Lycan. In the world of commerce, he was an icon. On the streets, he was a symbol of pride. Yet his illustrious reputation carried one glaring “flaw”: His wife, a simple girl from a remote countryside, with no ties to nobility or high society. Their marriage was never born from love. When he was seven, his grandfather tipsy on strong wine agreed to a marital alliance with an old acquaintance. By the time Joseph came of age, that childish promise had turned into a chain binding him. He brought her into his home simply because he could not defy the wishes of his elders. From the very beginning, he set a clear boundary: They would live like polite strangers, civil, distant, and completely separate. But life had its ways of mocking certainty. She never fought, never demanded, never asked anything of him. She lived quietly, like the shade of a gentle tree, doing small, unnoticed things each day: tidying the pens and notes he left scattered, refreshing the flowers in his office, organizing the reports he had yet to finish… A presence so soft it became impossible to ignore. One day, he found himself returning home earlier than usual. Another day, he stood outside her room longer than necessary. And on a certain evening, the man known for his austerity returned with her favorite wine without knowing why he had bought it. Just when he began growing accustomed to her presence, the government erupted in turmoil. A storm of conspiracies, treason, criminal networks… and Joseph was pulled into its center. During a covert investigation, every lead pointed toward his gentle wife waiting quietly at home. He stood beneath the porch light, its swaying glow reflecting off the ice-cold sharpness in his eyes. Just a few more steps, and he would know everything: Who she truly was. What she had been hiding. Whether she was connected to the secrets he had been chasing. He could walk in, question her, tear apart every layer of truth. But if he did… he feared he would destroy the one thing that made him want to come home each night. The faint trace of the wine she’d shared with him the night before still lingered on his tongue. Joseph closed his eyes, tightened his grip, and stepped back. Because sometimes, the most terrifying truth is not that she might be lying to him but that he might not survive knowing the answer. Update schedule: 2 chapters per day, no updates on Sundays.

Three years ago, Vincent's world fell apart when his soulmate, Majori, cruelly rejected him in front of everyone, choosing another man—his best friend, Brian. Heartbroken and confused, Vincent watched as the love of his life walked away, seemingly severing every bond between them. Now, Vincent has risen to power as the formidable Lycan King of the Blue Moon Pack, leaving his tragic past behind or so he thought. Fate intervenes when he finds Majori once again, this time bloodied and broken, being hunted by a rogue pack. Torn between vengeance and the flicker of hope he dares not acknowledge, Vincent rescues her, only to imprison her in his own kingdom. But Majori is not the same carefree, mischievous girl he once knew. Hiding a dark secret that kept her away, she has suffered in silence, bearing the scars of a brutal past. As the tension between them rekindles the embers of their shattered bond, a web of lies, betrayal, and dangerous power struggles threatens to destroy them both. With old enemies closing in and Brian emerging as a formidable threat, Vincent must confront not only the truth about his mate but also his own tortured heart. As Majori’s health deteriorates and the stakes escalate, Vincent faces an impossible choice: let go of the past and fight for their future, or lose Majori forever. Yet, the biggest secret of all, the one Majori has been hiding for years could turn Vincent’s entire world upside down and change the fate of the packs forever. In a battle for love, power, and survival, can Vincent and Majori overcome their painful past or will the flames of betrayal consume them both? Update schedule: 7 chapters per week, but with no fixed days. ... Umee: Hi there! First of all, thank you for the interest and for the enthusiasm. Truly. Every time I open my comments and see new invitations to add Discord, buy promotion packages, commission comic adaptations, or “have a quick chat,” I’m reminded that my story has somehow wandered into a very busy marketplace. That said, I should probably set expectations gently before anyone invests too much energy. I’m not looking for promotion services, paid advertising or commissioned artwork. Not because they’re bad ideas, just because they’re not ideas I currently need. I don’t have the budget, the urgency or the illusion that my story is secretly one step away from becoming the next global phenomenon. I’m very aware of where my work stands. It’s doing okay. Respectably okay. Not “adapt-everything-immediately” okay. My passion for writing exists but it hasn’t reached the stage where common sense quietly exits the room. I promise I’m not underestimating myself, I’m simply being realistic, which is a personality trait I’ve grown quite attached to. Another small but important thing: I’m not really interested in chatting, exchanging ideas, networking, or building creative alliances in private messages. I write best when left alone. I think best when no one is pitching anything to me. And I function best when my inbox is not screaming for attention. So if I don’t reply, please know it’s not personal, it’s just me choosing silence over small talk. That being said, if you’re genuinely curious about me rather than what I can potentially become or produce, if you want to see my everyday life, random thoughts, quiet moments and the unmarketable parts of my existence, I do have my Instagram linked in my bio. You’re welcome to follow it. No proposals required. No introductions needed. Just observation, at your own pace. I truly wish you the best with your creative work, your art, your promotions, and your ambitions. Creating something and trying to get it seen is hard, I respect that deeply. I just prefer to walk my path slowly, quietly, and without turning every interaction into a business opportunity. Thank you for understanding, for stopping by, and for letting me return peacefully to my writing corner, where the only thing I’m selling is words.

Mei and Otis once loved each other during the most innocent years of their youth, only to break up in the middle of a heavy storm, leaving countless words unspoken. Years later, fate forces them quite unwillingly to become… roommates. A girl who’s cold on the outside but warm on the inside, sharp-tongued yet soft-hearted; A guy who’s rough around the edges but deeply loyal... The two of them crash back into each other’s lives amid hectic summer days, torrential rain, and the smallest moments of daily life. She says she doesn’t like him anymore. He says he’s long forgotten their past. But neither of them has ever changed their phone wallpaper, their old habits remain, and every time they face each other, their hearts skip a beat. From petty arguments, endless teasing, to sudden moments of quiet tenderness— there is still something between them that hasn’t ended. A storm arrives, dragging up all the feelings they buried. A silly blue penguin raincoat. A late-night phone call. And a truth both of them stubbornly refuse to say aloud: “I still like you.” A gentle, humorous, heart-achingly sweet urban romance about two people who once lost each other and slowly learn how to find their way back to each other’s hearts. ... Umee say that: Hi there! First of all, thank you for the interest and for the enthusiasm. Truly. Every time I open my comments and see new invitations to add Discord, buy promotion packages, commission comic adaptations, or “have a quick chat,” I’m reminded that my story has somehow wandered into a very busy marketplace. That said, I should probably set expectations gently before anyone invests too much energy. I’m not looking for promotion services, paid advertising or commissioned artwork. Not because they’re bad ideas, just because they’re not ideas I currently need. I don’t have the budget, the urgency or the illusion that my story is secretly one step away from becoming the next global phenomenon. I’m very aware of where my work stands. It’s doing okay. Respectably okay. Not “adapt-everything-immediately” okay. My passion for writing exists but it hasn’t reached the stage where common sense quietly exits the room. I promise I’m not underestimating myself, I’m simply being realistic, which is a personality trait I’ve grown quite attached to. Another small but important thing: I’m not really interested in chatting, exchanging ideas, networking, or building creative alliances in private messages. I write best when left alone. I think best when no one is pitching anything to me. And I function best when my inbox is not screaming for attention. So if I don’t reply, please know it’s not personal, it’s just me choosing silence over small talk. That being said, if you’re genuinely curious about me rather than what I can potentially become or produce, if you want to see my everyday life, random thoughts, quiet moments and the unmarketable parts of my existence, I do have my Instagram linked in my bio. You’re welcome to follow it. No proposals required. No introductions needed. Just observation, at your own pace. I truly wish you the best with your creative work, your art, your promotions, and your ambitions. Creating something and trying to get it seen is hard, I respect that deeply. I just prefer to walk my path slowly, quietly, and without turning every interaction into a business opportunity. Thank you for understanding, for stopping by, and for letting me return peacefully to my writing corner, where the only thing I’m selling is words.

He came to Earth wearing another man’s name. Wounded, hunted, and unable to return home, he hid inside a borrowed uniform and a fragile lie. She saved his life without knowing who he truly was and in doing so, changed the fate of two worlds. She believed he was a soldier. He knew she was his destined bond. Between quiet conversations, shared silences, and truths left unspoken, love grew where it was never meant to exist. He listened to her heartbeat and learned what peace felt like. She trusted the man behind the uniform, unaware that loving him meant standing on the wrong side of the sky. When war began to reach for her, he was forced to choose between the world that created him and the woman who taught him how to stay. Because some loves are written into gravity itself. And even across stolen names, broken loyalties, and falling stars, the heart always remembers where it belongs. ... Umee: Hi there! First of all, thank you for the interest and for the enthusiasm. Truly. Every time I open my comments and see new invitations to add Discord, buy promotion packages, commission comic adaptations, or “have a quick chat,” I’m reminded that my story has somehow wandered into a very busy marketplace. That said, I should probably set expectations gently before anyone invests too much energy. I’m not looking for promotion services, paid advertising or commissioned artwork. Not because they’re bad ideas, just because they’re not ideas I currently need. I don’t have the budget, the urgency or the illusion that my story is secretly one step away from becoming the next global phenomenon. I’m very aware of where my work stands. It’s doing okay. Respectably okay. Not “adapt-everything-immediately” okay. My passion for writing exists but it hasn’t reached the stage where common sense quietly exits the room. I promise I’m not underestimating myself, I’m simply being realistic, which is a personality trait I’ve grown quite attached to. Another small but important thing: I’m not really interested in chatting, exchanging ideas, networking, or building creative alliances in private messages. I write best when left alone. I think best when no one is pitching anything to me. And I function best when my inbox is not screaming for attention. So if I don’t reply, please know it’s not personal, it’s just me choosing silence over small talk. That being said, if you’re genuinely curious about me rather than what I can potentially become or produce, if you want to see my everyday life, random thoughts, quiet moments and the unmarketable parts of my existence, I do have my Instagram linked in my bio. You’re welcome to follow it. No proposals required. No introductions needed. Just observation, at your own pace. I truly wish you the best with your creative work, your art, your promotions, and your ambitions. Creating something and trying to get it seen is hard, I respect that deeply. I just prefer to walk my path slowly, quietly, and without turning every interaction into a business opportunity. Thank you for understanding, for stopping by, and for letting me return peacefully to my writing corner, where the only thing I’m selling is words.