Book Stories

Vivien never thought her favorite mafia novel would become her prison-until she woke up inside it, trapped as the villainess fiancée who was supposed to die. She wasn't the heroine. She was the cruel woman who tormented Alina, the girl sold to Dante Moretti. A woman hated by everyone... and killed by the man she was promised to. But Vivien remembers every page. Every betrayal. Every heartbeat before her death. Determined to rewrite her fate, she avoids Dante and Alina, hoping to stay invisible. Only Dante doesn't look away. His icy gaze follows her like a predator's hunt. The cold, ruthless mafia king becomes dangerously obsessed-with Vivien She was never meant to be loved. Now she's his only desire. And in his world, obsession never lets go. At this point she wasn't running from the plot But his obsession.. ⚠️I claim this book is mine. If u didn't liked the storyline then please don't read. Don't be rude. Thank you⚠️

စာအုပ်ထဲကူးပြောင်းသွားတဲ့ကောင်လေးနဲ့ တာအိုဘုန်းကြီးလိုဧကရာဇ် ကလေးလေးလည်းပါပြီး အသည်းယားဖို့လည်းကောင်းပါတယ်

He has a plan. A plan built to tear a man's life apart - vein by vein, breath by breath. From that cursed day, all he's ever wanted was to ruin him beyond recognition. But death? Death is silence. Death is peace. And peace is mercy. He's not here to be merciful. To reach him, he will use his sister - make her the path, the bait, the weapon with no way back. He will step into her life out of nowhere, on a night so black the stars choke on their own light, and twist it until it screams. She will let him - at first. She will let him ruin her. Until she belongs to no one. Until she can't even belong to him. And that's where everything starts to burn. Because somewhere between the threats and the ruin, between the lies and the blood - something far more dangerous takes root. A love that tastes like vengeance. A love that kills as much as it keeps alive. A love that is both a weapon and a wound. Because yes, it's a tale of revenge. Revenge that will scar souls, ruin innocence, destroy lives, and expose secrets that will shatter their existence. She's not weak. She's not fragile. But she will scream. She will cry. She will bleed. He is strong. He is unbreakable. But he will shatter. He will fall. He will break. Because again, it's a tale of revenge. And of a love that will burn them to ash. But one question cuts deeper than all the rest - Revenge, but whose?

❝ Oh no, where I go? Now you see me, Now you don't. ❞ - Lucky, Renee Rap

Long story short. Eveline Died. Put into a book she have read. Became a Lady-in-waiting of Seraphina of whatever title she have read in the book, a villainess. Follow her as she jumbled the plot and their last names in her mind and to being the lady-in-waiting of the villainess.

WELCOME to The Storyteller Café. Here you get some short stories that will refresh your coffee time. Enjoy your coffee with some love filled moments from the romance casters. Menu is decided. Are you ready to relax with some simple stories? All stories are my original work. Thankyou.

18+ "...let me ruin me first." They say turning twenty-one is a celebration - but for Irina Morozov, it's a cage wrapped in tulle and tyranny. Beneath Londons elite, Irina blows out her candles and wishes for the one thing she's never had: freedom. But freedom doesn't come easy when your last name is Morozov - A union soaked in revenge and wrapped in legacy. And Irina? She's the sacrificial lamb dressed like a queen. In this dark and twisted enemies-to-lovers mafia romance, loyalty is a weapon, love is a liability, and Irina's about to discover just how dangerous she can be when the only person she can trust... is herself.

#5th series of Thakur Agastya Thakur A well-known name in politics, Agastya Thakur rose to power at an age when most were still finding their footing. He was a man of few words because for him, actions always spoke louder than speeches. Calm, composed, and unreadable, his silence often carried more weight than others' loudest promises. Despite the authority he commanded, Agastya remained deeply rooted in his values. His greatest strength was his family. He held immense respect for his Baba and Ma, not just loving them, but truly adoring them walking in their footsteps, guided by their principles. Power never distanced him from where he came from; it only made his roots deeper. Chandani Chandani was an innocent soul born into a cruel world. Raised watching her mother and grandmother live in quiet obedience, she grew up believing that women were meant to follow men's words without question. That belief wasn't taught it was lived in front of her every single day. She belonged to a small village so forgotten that most people didn't even know it existed. Her world was limited to the walls of her home; stepping outside was never an option, only a dream. Freedom was a word she had heard, never felt. At the age of eighteen, her father decided it was time to marry her off. Her fate was sealed early, though destiny delayed it for reasons unknown. Chandani was finally married at twenty one but by then, she had already learned that silence was survival. ⚠️book will in hinglish format with translation will mature too

So basically I'm writing this story of amnse when from lara flores stops this is a fanfiction story wrote by me and its my first story I hope u guys just enjoy It so after yuri and jay was at drew's house and yuri suddenly disappear..

this story starts where jay left drew's house. this is an imaginary story it my view on how the things proceded.

Blood on his hands. Soil under hers. A broken ring between them. Serenity Claveria used to sign death orders in diamonds, her wedding band flashing under chandelier light while she turned her husband's crumbling syndicate into an empire. Now that same ring lies split in two, buried beneath the Claveria garden she fled to where she spends her mornings with dirt under her nails instead of gunpowder, pretending the ghosts in her chest are just echo. At the gates, her past keeps knocking. Dario Valente arrives day after day with gifts that burn brighter than his apologies watches, cars, silk, all fed to the fire by Eli, the bodyguard who would rather die than let his former boss back into her orbit. Smoke curls into the sky like incense over a grave, and Dario watches the life he threw away turn his offerings to ash without blinking. In the treeline, another man waits. Salvatore Montenegro, once the bastard she insulted in this very garden, now a king in his own right, kneels in her soil like it's an altar. He plants the flowers she loves, reroutes wars away from her borders, and says nothing when her voice still shakes on her ex-husband's name. His devotion doesn't come with chains, only patience sharp enough to cut. The underworld thinks Serenity lost everything in that divorce. They don't see the moment her gaze shifts away from the man who broke her ring, and toward the one who's ready to guard the hand that wore it.

Requests are open!!!

on a warm summer afternoon, amara and benito cross paths as strangers. they brush past each other like shooting stars - brief, beautiful, and then gone.

The lecture continued, but her mind wasn't at peace. No matter how much she tried to ignore them, their presence alone was enough to make her feel caged. she focused harder, forcing herself to copy the notes, letter by letter, word by word, until something landed on her desk. A small, crumpled piece of paper. Her fingers hovered over it, hesitating. Every instinct screamed at her to leave it untouched, to pretend she hadn't seen it. But curiosity, foolish and reckless, got the better of her, slowly, she unfolded it. "You forgot to fold your hands in prayer too. Be careful, Little Temple Girl. Some Gods here demand a different kind of devotion." Her breath hitched. The handwriting was precise, sharp, elegant, almost too perfect. She didn't need to turn around to know who had sent it. A low chuckled from behind confirmed it. Advait. -------- Purnima Sharma X Advait Raisinghania Vedika Mishra X Neil kapadia

Just my crappy ideas for the exalted Flames characters. THE ART WILL BE SHIT AND NOT ALWAYS FINISHED. :) I might throw in some random art later but imma try to keep on subject. NOT MY CHARECTERS UNLESS SAID OTHERWISE! ALL CHARACTERS EITHER BELONG TO NITENDO/INTELEGENT SYSTEMS OR TO MY FRIENDS (Minus my oc's :)) COVER ART IS MINE!

Just a os book with our leader and oldest member of Cortis, enjoy ! ~ Fluff, angst, happy ending ( maybe sad sometimes )

This is us. This is Prioritizing Us We are the book club that offers you reads and votes. By the end of the week, your book will receive a numerous reviews and votes. But, ONLY IF YOU ARE A PART OF US. Feel free to check it out.

"I will make sure to give you every thousand reason to fall for me, so that you believe that this human is only made for this gorgeous goddess standing over here....." her head snapped towards me. "That means.... Prof. Garvit Singhania is only made for Prof. Sunidha Kashyap." I completed to which her eyes shone in delight after hearing me out. "Humein iss shadi se koi aitraz nahin hai." And here my heart who was throbbing because of fear soon began to do summer sault out of happiness. "And I would also love to write my name with yours." she said merrily, making me my scratch my neck of of shyness as I felt my ears grew hot and red.. ★ ° . *　°　.　°☆ 　. * ★ ° :. ★ ○ ° #1 in book of poems. #15 in best book ever

*دەڵێن مرۆڤ کاتێک هەموو شتێکی هەبوو، ئیدی هیچ شتێکی نییە بۆی بجەنگێت! لێرەوە بەتاڵی دەست پێ دەکات!! *ئەو وەک مانگی تشرین وابوو سارد و توند و پڕ لە هەور بەڵام کەس نەیدەزانی کەی باران دەبارێنێت.... *مرۆڤ دەتوانێت هەموو جیهان داگیر بکات و هێشتا لەناو خۆیدا ئاوارە بێت سەختترین جۆری هەژاری ئەوەیە کە گیرفانت پڕ بێت و ڕۆحت بەتاڵ! من هەموو شتێکم هەبوو بەڵام هیچم نەبوو... تا ئەو ساتەی تیشکێکی نادیار لە ناو دڵێکی غەریبەوە ڕێگەی ماڵەوەی نیشان دام!! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . لەناو زێڕ و دراودا، عومری خۆمم بە با دا هەرچی ویستم لە دونیا، بۆم کرا بە تەمەننا کەچی لەناو ئەو هەموو، ڕەنگ و دەنگ و تەلارا دڵم وەک دەشتێکی وشک، تینوو بوو بۆ دڵدارا نەمزانی چۆن و لەکوێ، ئەو کچە هاتە ژیانم بوو بە مانای ڕاستەقینەی، گشت وشە و بەیانم . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . هەموو مافێکی ئەو چیرۆکە لۆخۆم دەگەڕێتەوە، چیرۆکی کوردیە! . . . . . دەستپێک:13_2_2026 کۆتایی:؟؟

Just because you admire the fire does not mean you were made to burn in it. We are not meant to set ourselves alight for everything we adore. "Strings" is about healing without unraveling. A collection of poems about invisible threads that live within us.