hey guys, i’m currently working on my first book- it’s called “the rook” by awlelele. it’s a mafia dark romance.

it is currently ongoing, i just completed the first 3 chapters. i would love to know your thoughts. any and all feedback will be appreciated. thank you

its a gay ,bl story,i donot remember the names of the lead character so please bear with me

1st guy:16 year old ,orphan,been in several foster care but ran every time,he is adhd ,autistic doesn't talk much till i have read the story,he has stolen something so the officer(patrick i think his name is)asks him questions , he send him the the camp where he has to live till he becomes 18

2nd guy:16year old orphan,drug addict used to live in orphan with his friends but now he is going to the camp cus of his addictions.

they both become roomates ,i donot remember the title pr the names but please help me find this story i wanna read it,i also remember the officer giveing the 1st guy pizza in order to get ans from him,they were also m&m cholate which the 2nd guy was playing or eating with his orphan friends i think

CHAINED SNAKES

(I would love some interactions<3)

Hello so there was this book i devoured in under 24 hrs like it had almost a milion views nd these r all the things I remember about the plot

The ml was a ceo whose surname was most likely sharma

The fl had no parents I think they died or like abandoned her pretty sure they died and she has a younger brother who is this smart athelete in college and the girl who has a crush on him is ml younger sister

The fl also took care of her very young niece nd nephew and the nephew is like very introverted

And like this one time the fl is gifted gold earings from her brother who she thought was saving up for a bike

Pls pls help me find this 🫶🫶

Chapter 15: The Rain and the Candle

Kathmandu rain is not polite. It doesn’t drizzle; it attacks.

It was a Friday night in mid-July. The monsoon had officially arrived, and the sky had been pouring buckets since the afternoon. By 9 PM, the sound of the rain battering against our window and the tin roof of the neighbor's house was deafening.

Yurika was at her little table, frowning at a math problem. I was on the bed, pretending to read a book, but mostly just watching the back of her neck.

Suddenly, with a loud crack of thunder that shook the floorboards, the lights went out.

Pitch black.

"Ah!" Yurika gasped. I heard the sound of her pen dropping on the table.

"Stay there," I called out, my voice cutting through the darkness. "I have a candle."

I fumbled in the drawer of the bedside table, finding the emergency candle and a lighter. A flicker of flame sparked to life, casting long, dancing shadows against the green walls.

I walked over to where she was sitting. She looked pale, her eyes wide. She hated thunder.

"Come," I said, extending my hand. "No studying in this light. You’ll ruin your eyes."

She took my hand—her fingers were cold—and stood up. We moved to the center of the room, placing the candle on the floor on top of a steel plate for safety. We sat down on the carpet, cross-legged, the tiny flame flickering between us.

The world outside had vanished. The traffic, the neighbors, the city—everything was drowned out by the relentless drumming of the rain. It was just us, inside our little box, bathed in warm, orange light.

She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "It’s raining very hard," she whispered.

"It is," I agreed softly.

I looked at her. The candlelight softened her features, painting her skin in shades of gold and amber. Her eyes, usually so focused on her books, were now fixed on the flame. She looked ethereal.

"Yuri," I said.

She looked up. Her dark eyes met mine, and for once, she didn't look away. The air in the room suddenly felt heavy, charged with a static that had nothing to do with the storm.

I shifted closer. Just a few inches.

"You look..." I struggled for the word. "Different in this light."

"Different good or different bad?" she asked, a small, nervous smile playing on her lips.

"Beautiful," I breathed. "Always beautiful."

Her smile faltered, replaced by a look of vulnerability. She lowered her gaze to my lips, then quickly back to my eyes. Her breathing hitched.

My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I reached out and cupped her face. Her skin was warm now. She leaned into my touch slightly, her eyes fluttering shut.

"Hajur..." she whispered. It sounded like a plea.

I leaned in. Slowly. Giving her every chance to pull away.

She didn't. Instead, her hands moved up, clutching the fabric of my t-shirt at my chest.

I tilted my head and brushed my lips against hers.

It was barely a touch. A ghost of a kiss. Soft. Tentative. Testing the waters.

She gasped, a sharp intake of breath against my mouth.

Then, I pressed closer.

It wasn't like the movies. There were no fireworks. It was better. It was warm, and sweet, and smelled of rain and wax. Her lips were soft, trembling slightly beneath mine. For a moment, she froze, unsure of what to do, but then she relaxed, her lips moving awkwardly but eagerly against mine.

I pulled back just an inch, resting my forehead against hers. We were both breathing hard, sharing the same air.

"Yurika," I whispered, my voice rough.

She opened her eyes. They were shining, dilated and dark. She looked dazed.

"That was..." she trailed off, touching her lips with her fingertips.

"Our first," I finished for her.

She let out a shaky laugh. "We did everything backward. Marriage, living together, then dating, and now..."

"And now," I repeated.

I kissed her again. This time, there was less hesitation. My hand slid from her cheek to the back of her neck, tangling in her hair, pulling her closer. Her arms went around my neck, holding on tight. The kiss deepened, growing hungrier, pouring out months of unspoken longing, awkwardness, and hidden affection.

When we finally broke apart, the candle had burned low.

The rain was still hammering down, but inside, the silence was thick with anticipation.

I looked at her, searching her face. "Yuri."

"Yes?"

"The bed is warmer than the floor."

She understood. Her cheeks turned a deep crimson, visible even in the dim light. She bit her lip, looking down, but she didn't say no.

She nodded. A barely perceptible movement.

I stood up and offered her my hand. She took it, rising gracefully. I blew out the candle.

The room plunged into darkness, but I knew exactly where she was. I guided her into the bedroom. The streetlights were out too, so the room was wrapped in absolute shadow.

We sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under our weight.

My hands found her waist. She was trembling.

"Are you scared?" I whispered, stroking her back gently.

"A little," she admitted, her voice shaking. "But... not of you."

I kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered, her hands gripping my shoulders.

"We can stop," I murmured against her skin. "We can just sleep."

"No," she whispered firmly. "I don't want to just sleep."

She reached out and her fingers fumbled with the buttons of my shirt.

That night, nearly a year after our wedding, we finally had our suhagraat.

It wasn't about performance. It was about discovery. It was slow, clumsy, and incredibly tender. In the dark, stripped of our clothes and our defenses, we learned the map of each other's bodies.

I learned that she was ticklish near her ribs. She learned that I held my breath when she touched my chest.

There were moments of awkwardness—knees knocking together, tangled limbs—but instead of embarrassment, there were soft giggles and whispered apologies.

"I love you," I said it for the first time, my voice buried in her hair as I held her close.

She stiffened for a second, then melted. "I love you too, Hajur."

When we finally lay still, the storm outside had quieted to a steady drizzle. The room was cool, but under the blanket, tangled together skin-to-skin, we were burning warm.

She fell asleep with her head on my chest, her arm thrown possessively across my stomach.

I lay awake for a long time, listening to the rhythm of her heart beating against my own. I thought about the boy who wanted to run away from his wedding. I thought about the girl crying on the bus bench.

And I thanked every single god in the sky that I hadn't run away.

This was it. This was my life. And looking at the sleeping form of my wife in the shadows, I knew it was a damn good one.

Previous Chapters

Hello! I'm trying to find a webnovel (not sure if it was machine translated or not, but I'm assuming it was because it was removed from my reading site). The main details:

• MC gets reincarnated to several worlds that parallel Disney stories (Snow White, Wild Swans, Sleeping Beauty) as the evil stepmother and she works to spin her actions into good deeds (helping the princesses learn how to rule, etc.)
• MC is accompanied by a helpful male companion every time who is also reincarnated with her, and follows her back to her original world

That's honestly all I can remember right now, I'll add more details as time goes on. Please help me find it, it was a really good read. Thank you!!

Heyyyyyy guys I need your help plsssssssss I am writing a story which goes like

A man who was evil in his past life killed a girl and her lover. But fate brings all three of them together again after reincarnation.

This time, the evil man is kind, caring, and protective, while the man who was once good has become cruel, dangerous, and a gangster.

When the gangster evil man remembers his past life, he decides to save the girl instead of hurting her.

Now the girl is torn between two choices:

• the man who killed her lover in the past, but is good in the present, or

• the man who was her true lover in the past, but has become evil in the present.

Is this story idea intersting???