Interstellar Bookshelf Scene Novels & Stories

I fell in love with a cold, taciturn tattoo artist named Henry Kane. So I deliberately damaged my tattoo again and again, picking at the skin and reworking the design, just to see him a few more times. By the third visit for touch-ups, scrolling comments suddenly appeared before my eyes: “I’m dying of laughter. This desperate female lead literally destroyed her freshly tattooed skin just to see the male lead again, and she still didn’t dare confess her feelings.” “Henry Kane is actually the embodiment of an ancient ferocious beast who sat on mountains of gold and silver but refused to spend them, choosing instead to open a tattoo studio to experience mortal life.” “He looks icy and distant, but his possessiveness has long since maxed out.” “He was just afraid his violent nature would scare his woman away.” I looked at the man in front of me, who was lowering his head as he wiped down the tattoo machine, and he did indeed give off an unmistakable keep-your-distance aura. But the comments claimed that he wanted to possess me? “Um… Excuse me?” The man tilted his head slightly, and under the weight of his deep gaze, the confession lodged in my throat. My mind short-circuited, and I blurted out, “I… I wanted to tattoo it on my lower back this time.” In an instant, the comments exploded in joy. “Woohoo! We’re taking off!” “Lower back, you say? That’s a sensitive spot! Can this pure-hearted ferocious beast really hold back?” “Good grief, straight to the undressing scene! This cunning move by the female lead is operating on a whole other level!” The man’s hand gripping the tattoo machine jerked to a sudden stop, and the air seemed to freeze for a few seconds. Then he answered, his voice slightly hoarse and unreadable, “Alright.”

I become a firefighter after getting abandoned by my ex-wife, who's a domestic abuser. At first, I thought the heroic Captain Cassadee Flack will be my salvation. But at the blazing scene, the warehouse explodes for the second time due to the scorching temperature. What makes things worse is that the oxygen in my tank will deplete soon. I reach out to Cassadee for help, only to witness her passing the last spare oxygen tank to Colin Halfpenny, the teammate standing next to her. "This is Colin's first time entering a blazing scene. He's terrified, whereas you have enough experience under your belt to deal with this situation. You should hang on for a while longer." I'm choking on so much thick smoke to the point that I almost suffocate from it. Angered, I point at the blinking red light on the control panel. "If I keep suffering from the lack of oxygen, my brain will eventually die! This is the standard procedure of a rescue mission!" Cassadee wears an impatient look. "Why are you being this petty? I promised Colin's dad, who sacrificed himself for me, that I'd take good care of Colin! Can't you be more empathetic? "I thought you could endure pain the best! Back then, you didn't even let out a groan when your ex-wife broke your rib! How is it possible that you can't endure such a small difficulty in this mission? "I finally understand what kind of person you actually are! Someone who's grown up in nothing but pain and misery is bound to be selfish!" I no longer utter a single word to Cassadee. Instead, I use all of my strength to press the emergency SOS button on my helmet. "Command center, please send help immediately. The on-site commander has demonstrated severe misjudgment in handling the situation. I request compulsory intervention."

At the company team-building event, I got called out by my colleague Samantha Rowler for not removing my price tag—she accused me of being a "freebie chaser." "Oh wow, Carla, you drive a BMW 5 Series. Are you seriously planning to return your clothes within seven days too?" she sneered. I tucked the tag back in and ignored her snide remark. But after the event, as soon as I got home, my phone started blowing up. My chat apps were going insane. A friend had sent me a link: [Luxury-Car Executive Turns Out to Be a Return Addict!] Someone had filmed me leaving the price tag on and posted it to a short-video platform. I opened the comment section and was met with a barrage of insults. [Can't afford to live, huh? Tag warrior.] [Is this car a sugar-daddy gift? Those who know, know.] [OMG, does this woman have some kind of illness? Which brand is this so I can avoid it!] I immediately knew Samantha was behind it. I messaged her to delete the video. Instead, the next second, she blocked me—and pinned a comment to the top of the thread: [You can know a person's face but never their heart!] I was about to post a statement to clarify, my finger hovering over the send button, when I noticed the video's likes had already shot past ten thousand. I laughed. If they wanted a scene, fine—let's make it bigger. I quickly posted a new update: [The outfit is really nice. I'll wear it again next time.] The netizens erupted. The insults doubled, the heat skyrocketed, and the post shot straight to number one trending. I just put my phone down and went to sleep.

Years had passed since Helena first walked through the imposing gates of Brentford Academy—a school of wealth and whispers, luxury and secrets. The memories of those early days—of cold stares, whispered mockery, and relentless bullying from Greg and Bianca—still lingered in her mind, but they no longer held the power to hurt her. Levenon had once felt like a place of exile, a strange city after her parents’ divorce. But beneath the glittering surface of privilege and cruelty, Helena found something unexpected: strength, and even a fragile kind of hope. Greg, the billionaire heir who had wielded his wealth like a weapon, had surprised everyone—including himself. What began as rivalry and harshness slowly turned into something more complicated. Beneath his arrogance, Greg saw something in Helena he had never noticed before—her courage, her kindness, her refusal to be broken. As seasons passed, his animosity faded into admiration, and admiration blossomed into love. It was a quiet, confusing love, born from moments stolen between tension and vulnerability. Helena, though wary at first, eventually saw past Greg’s tough exterior to the boy struggling with his own expectations. Bianca, once the unchallenged queen of Brentford’s social scene, faded into the background, losing her grip on power as both Greg and Helena forged their own paths. Helena graduated at the top of her class, her scholarship the key to a future she had fought hard to claim. Universities lined up with offers, eager to welcome the girl who had risen above Brentford’s shadows. Now, standing once more before the academy’s grand gates, Helena no longer saw the school as a place of cruelty but as the crucible that shaped her. Brentford had been a battlefield—and a forge. With Greg by her side, no longer a bully but a partner, Helena ---

Please... don't do this." Only he could hear me. but he ignored my plea . i know he can hear but he didn't listen. god please stop this I don't want to be with him please god but seems like god also couldn't hear me or he doesn't want to hear me . The priest's voice echoed through the quiet hall, solemn and commanding "Do you take Mr. Advika Rathod to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love, honor, and cherish her for as long as you both shall live?" "Yes, I do." The priest then turned to me. . "Do you take Aviraj Ranawat to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love, honor, and cherish him for as long as you both shall live?" I opened my mouth to deny, to scream, but his cold, piercing stare froze me in place. My heart thudded violently in my chest, and my voice came out as a broken whisper: "Ye... yes... I... do..." The priest pronounced, "You are husband and wife. You may now kiss." --------------------- Author's Note This book is a work created entirely by me. Every character, scene, emotion, and storyline comes from my own imagination and effort. Please do not copy, reproduce, or claim any part of this work as your own. Respect the time, creativity, and dedication that went into building this story. Content & Age Warning (18+) This book is strictly intended for mature readers aged 18 and above. It contains intense themes, emotionally heavy situations, dark elements, and mature relationship dynamics that may not be suitable for younger audiences. Reader discretion is strongly advised. If you are sensitive to possessive behavior, morally grey characters, psychological tension, violence, or mature romantic situations, please proceed with caution. you acknowledge that you understand the nature of this content and are comfortable engaging with mature themes.

prologue She turned towards him. With a seductive look on her face. She came close to him. Wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her with all his myth. He felt like he got his world in her. " you know what, once in these streets we crossed each other's path, and now in these vary streets it's gonna end," she said with a blank look. " I love you, Ishani! " Mujhse Pyaar tum Karte Ho par tumhari Zindagi ki zaroorat main banugi, Tumhe pata bhi nhi chalega kab tumhare dil, jaan mei sirf Mera naam hoga' she thought in her mind (you love me, and I'll become the need of your life, you would not even know when I'll become your heart, life... You'll only have my name in your heart) " you love me? " she asked. He nodded with a smile " then jump from here or I will," she said with seriousness in her words. Second scene " you thought I love you," she said with a laugh. " with an idiot like you... Babe, sorry but better luck next time " she said waving her hand in the air. Suddenly she collapsed with a hard chest. He looked into her eyes .he eyes show hurt and betrayal. " if you didn't want me... If you never loved... Then why? " he said with hurt in his words. His arms wrapped around her in a painful manner. " if was all just. A daring babe... Just a dare " she said in a chocked voice. She had a hard time dealing with her feelings. He left her and went away. Suddenly she lost her balance and collapsed on the floor. " I love you Vansh," she said to herself and out loud.

Five minutes before the ceremony, I called off the wedding. In my last life, right in the middle of our vows, Sandra Crowe suddenly demanded another 300 thousand dollars as a "marriage guarantee." She pulled out her phone in front of everyone, chin tipped up, a payment screen glowing. "Three hundred thousand! Not a dollar less, or I'm not putting on that ring." Ten years together, and we were right at the finish line. I forced myself to go through with it and transferred the money. It was what Dad had scraped together over two years for his kidney transplant. That same night, his condition crashed. I went to Sandra and asked if she could lend me the money back for his treatment. She yelled at me instead. "You're asking me for money on our wedding night? Seriously? That 300 grand is mine! Don't even think about touching it!" Dad missed his window and died in the hospital hallway. The day he died, Sandra was out shopping with her friends, dropping thousands on a Chanel bag without a second thought. "Good. One less burden. At least he won't drag us down anymore." When I filed for divorce, she brought her guy friend to the funeral and made a scene, knocking over Dad's urn and damaging the headstone. Then she turned around and accused me of sexual assault, demanding 500 thousand in damages. Mom couldn't take it. She drank pesticide and died. On my way to pursue the case, I was hit by a car. When I opened my eyes again, I called off the wedding. Then Sandra stepped closer, already pulling up her payment screen. "Transfer me three hundred thousand as a marriage guarantee, or we're not getting married." I tossed the ring into the trash. "Works for me."

My daughter, Elise Dolton, got sick, so I rushed over to take care of her. The moment I stepped inside, a rotten stench hit me right in the face, so I offered to help clean the place up. Her roommates' faces dropped right away. "What smell, Mrs. Dolton? The place is fine." "If you think it's such a dump, then have Elise move out. Don't come in here acting like you're better than all of us. We're not putting up with that!" Even Elise shoved me impatiently. "If you’re here to visit, then just act like it. Stop making a scene and embarrassing me, okay?” They were all college roommates, splitting rent on a run-down unit in an old complex. When I went in, I noticed them gathered around a pot of spicy stew. The room was thick with steam and smoke, but it still couldn't cover that awful stench. Strangely, none of them seemed to notice it. Had something gone wrong with my sense of smell? That night, the smell was so overwhelming that I couldn't fall asleep. In the end, I realized the odor was coming from Elise herself. I hurried her into the bathroom and scrubbed her down over and over, but the smell didn't fade at all. It stayed just as strong. With no other option, I called a cleaner, planning to disinfect the entire place inside and out. But Elise's roommates felt offended and started arguing with me. In the chaos, someone shoved me. My temple slammed into the sharp corner of the coffee table, and I died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I first walked through the door. The stench rushed at me all over again...

In my past life, my mate Marcus ran off to the forest to make love with my best friend Scarlett, who was eight-month pregnant. That’s when they'd be surrounded by a pack of rogue wolves. Scarlett, heavy with child, started bleeding heavily. Both of them desperately called for the Border Guard. As the Chief Warrior, I had risked everything to fight those rogue wolves. But Scarlett still died along with her unborn pup. My mate Marcus led others to accuse me of using my position for personal revenge. He personally severed both my hands with a silver blade. "A warrior without morals like you deserves to burn in hell!" he snarled. But I remembered clearly—when I drove off the rogues and got the pack healer to Scarlett, she barely had a scratch on her. Finally, Scarlett's parents arrived. I begged them to examine her body and investigate the truth. Instead, they reported to Alpha that I had neglected my duties. They claimed I was high on wolfsbane while guarding the border. Alpha exiled me for fifteen years. With both hands severed, I had no way to fight or shift properly. I survived by begging scraps from neighboring territories. Fifteen years later, I returned to the pack. I saw my mate Marcus walked through the airport's first-class terminal with Scarlett and their son. They were using my inheritance to fund their luxury vacation to the Maldives. They spotted me. Without hesitation, they pushed me into a silver pit to destroy all evidence. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Scarlett faked her death. This time, I took one look at the scene and declared them beyond saving. I told my assistant to send them to bury them directly.

Reputation is more like a currency in Minerva's high. But ‘perfect’ Vienne Reyes seem to be going bankrupt recently, especially since her boyfriend chose to humiliate her by through a public breakup. As though that wasn't enough, he got together with her spiteful ex-best friend who would do anything to get her trampled on. Beautiful, good grades, perfect social standing, big family name, but these all seem to be mocking her after Ryan Knox broke up with her and gave the elite students of Minerva's high school chance to gossip about her. Mortification and emotional disruption had lead her to the club where she got ‘entangled’ with a boy and the scene got captured. Key in Damon Calloway; blunt, cold and nonchalant. One of the school's brooding scholarship kid and basketball star who wouldn't want to have anything to do with the elite kids and their drama; infact he looks down on them even with his tanking grades. Vienne wouldn't back down with a fight; she wants her boyfriend back, hence the fake-dating proposal with Calloway as a result of the pictures. Fake dates, hangouts, pictures, and all in exchange for tutorial sessions. Through snide remarks, playful bants, jabs, inevitable proximities, no one knew when the line between fake and reality began to get blurry. Gossips, aristocrats, schemes, romance, twists and secrets, would the two be able to get through? ‘ Ryan was looking over? Was he really? Right at the moment, I could truly feel the heat of his gaze on the back of my neck. “Is he still looking?” “Yeah” I adjusted my hair, not knowing why I was getting unnecessarily giddy. “I don't have a food scrap on my lips right? Do I look pretty enough?” A few seconds passed before his deep low voice rasped out. “Gorgeous…” ‘