Apocalyptic

Cassy had always felt different from others as if she didn't belong anywhere, and if it was because she didn't belong here but in another world, and if her destiny was more important than just going to college and getting a job after graduation. After a solar eclipse and apocalyptic visions, Cassy's destiny will be revealed to her, will she be strong enough to face the danger that will come her way. Fortunately, she won't be alone, her soul mate will always be there for her and so will her friends, together they will learn to fight and become strong enough to face the Demon God and his army. If you like fantasy novels about mages, warriors, shapesfithers, demons, travel between different worlds, systems, this novel is for you. WARNING, the main couple will be a straight couple and the side couple will be a gay couple (boys love), you have been warned. Update monday to friday For french people a french version is available on my personal website at https://celianayawebnovel.com/ in this website you can find all my stories :)

Trisha Redfern is a Vampire Lawyer who works in the court of King Damien Vandolff in a post apocalyptic New York. One of Damien's most trusted inner circle members and most talented lawyers, Trisha suddenly becomes the target for all Aristocratic Vampires when she chooses to fight against one Noble Vampire, Vandal Rudolf, when he tortures a human child. Several obstacles are led in her way as Damien himself comes after her to teach her a lesson. But Trisha is determined to stand by her decision even if it costs her, her life, for she cannot abandon a heart that was once human. When all hope seems lost, unexpected help comes in the form of Lucas Donovan, the Supreme Werewolf Alpha. But everything isn't always what it seems. Why does Lucas suddenly want to help his arch enemy? Why is Vandal so determined to get the child back at all costs? And most importantly, what's so special about that child that Trisha is willing to face the wrath of her entire race in order to protect him?

Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | 18+ | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Pace It started with a kiss I don’t remember giving. A rooftop. A moan. Someone’s fingers buried in my hair like they belonged there. A mouth on my throat that said I tasted like something they lost in another life. I wasn’t dreaming. The city was already cracking beneath me. Power grids flickering like dying stars. Tech failing. Screens static. The sky bruising in strange new colors. Everyone said it was coincidence. Collapse. Noise. But I knew better. The moment I felt her breath on my skin — even if I couldn’t see her — I knew the end had already arrived. And I had something to do with it. Ten butterflies followed me after that. Not literal ones. Not always. They shimmered in my periphery. Each the wrong color. Each too vivid. Each drawn to me like heat to blood. They touched me in dreams. They watched me when I undressed. They whispered without words. I could taste their want. Some called me cursed. Broken. Unstable. But the truth is simpler. I’m blooming again — and they all feel it. They don’t love me. They remember me. They remember what I used to be — what I still am, underneath the silence. One of them burned me with just a kiss. One broke my spine with kindness. One slid her hand under my shirt like it was always hers. One cries when she touches me. One never speaks, but her eyes dig. One wants to keep me. One wants to ruin me. And one just wants to finish what we started. They think I’m choosing. I’m not. My body already did. And now the bloom inside me is turning darker.

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.