Romans & histoires Post Timeskip Robin

While on vacation, I return to my hometown to help my parents harvest pears. After seeing my Instagram post, my son's homeroom teacher, Ernest Dugan, sends me a private message. "So you sell pears, Mr. Miller? The kindergarten hasn't finalized next month's fruit supplier yet, so we'll order from you. You won't suffer any loss from this deal. I'll pay five dollars per pound. You just need to arrange transportation and deliver them to the kindergarten." I almost laugh out loud. My family's pears are the famous Green Jewel variety; they are known as the "Hermes of pears". They sell for over 100 dollars per pound on average. Five dollars wouldn't even cover the cost of a single pear. Even though Ernest is being ridiculous, I still reply politely, "Sorry, all of our pears are reserved. You'll need to find another supplier." To my surprise, Ernest immediately posts photos of my family's pears in the parent group chat. He writes, "Next month's fruit selection for the kindergarten will be upgraded to Green Jewel pears. If anyone wishes to buy some for personal consumption, feel free to place orders below. The price is five dollars per pound." The chat group buzzes with activity as parents rush to place orders one after another. Three days later, they block the truck carrying my shipment to Windford. Determined to force the sale, they surround the vehicle and refuse to let it leave. Before they can ransack the truck, several military-plated vehicles arrive and seal off the road. A group of officials steps out with stern, angry expressions. One of them coldly demands, "These are pears specially ordered for this weekend's state banquet. Who said you could lay a finger on them?"

The new Consigliere wanted to restructure the Mafia family’s affairs by sinking her claws into me. My boyfriend, who was a Mafia Don and wildly in love with me, wanted to get revenge on her for me. He planned to raise her status to the skies and make her suffer a horrific downfall when the right time came. He kicked me out of the family and gave all my responsibilities to the new Consigliere. She received luxury cars and jewelry from him as gifts, but he told me to tolerate it as part of the plot. When my younger brother's kidneys started to fail, I begged my Don boyfriend for the surgery fees, which he agreed to give me. On the day of the surgery, I waited from daylight to daybreak for the money, but nothing came. That was when I saw an Instagram post from the new Consigliere, taunting me. "My family's Don is such a wonderful man. Someone who was kicked out of the family was brazen enough to ask him for money. What if she can't repay us? I had to stop the money transfer. I hope this woman will find a better excuse the next time she tries to scam him." The mess ended with my brother dying. My Don boyfriend called me later in an attempt to cajole me. "Don't be mad. Joey can have his surgery later. I'm just tolerating Rosetta to encourage her to become full of herself. The higher she climbs, the harder she'll fall. Don't worry! Her birthday will be in a few days. I'll humiliate her, then make her lose everything. We'll have our wedding after that. That will cheer Joey up!" However, I knew that his so-called plot was the start of him falling in love with another woman. That was when I no longer wanted him.

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.

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.

On Valentine’s Day, I went skiing for fun. I never expected my younger sister, Fiona White, to get into an argument with our parents and run away. She came to find me. The hotel receptionist made her register as a guest despite sharing my room. I said, “She’s my sister. She ran away from home after an argument and did not bring her driver's license. She’s only staying one night. I’ll send her home tomorrow.” However, he looked at us menacingly. He gave Fiona a lewd wink and acted like he knew what was really going on. “Sure.” He smiled. “It’s Valentine’s Day, so I get it. No need to be shy.” Seeing how tired Fiona was, I took her upstairs without making a fuss. However, I found a post online later that night. [Some men are really so brazen. He brought a prostitute to the hotel and denied it when I called him out. He insisted that she’s his little sister. Does he think I can’t tell?] Some netizens questioned him and told him that maybe he was wrong in his assumption. [I’ve been in this field for more than a decade. I know what I saw! He didn’t dare to register her. That means he was afraid his wife might find out about his actions! I’ll go to their room and record just how loudly that woman moans. I’ll livestream it!] I was stunned. I thought it was just a coincidence. I clicked on the photo the receptionist had sneakily taken and froze. That was me! Did he think Fiona, who was lying on the couch, was a prostitute? But she was really my little sister!

This book is authored by G O A. Why Tech Billionaire Artemis Rhodes would post such a thing?! "Everyone is talking about the hashtag that just went viral in less than a few hours. Nevertheless, this girl has become a mystery everyone wants to solve. In fact, we have pictures from several people who have seen the girl in person." The screen of the phone is small but I catch several pictures of me flashing on the screen. This can't be happening! You know that panic attack I had been pushing down? Well, that thing comes back with a vengeance. It feels like all the air is sucked out of me and my chest gets tight. My vision blurs and I register I'm falling just before things go dark. "Relax Miss Riley, this is Mr. Rhodes a donor to our hospital. This woman is his fiancee. I'll take things from here." The doctor says and steps aside to let the nurse out. I watch her scurry away before I focus on the doctor. He's an older man with white hair and a friendly face but he gives me weird vibes. Wait...did he just say, fiancee? "I'm sorry what did you say?" I ask. "I have a proposition for you." The man says. "A proposition for me? What do you mean?" "A proposition? It means-" I wave my hand. "Not that! I'm not an idiot. I mean what proposition?" "I want you to marry me." He says with a straight face. So I bet your wondering how a woman who lives in an abandoned train car ends up married to a big tech billionaire. Well it's simple. We ran right into each other, locked eyes and the rest is history.

During the holidays, my boyfriend, Felix Zimmerman, insists on bringing his female best friend, Cassidy Crowther, home for dinner. Everyone keeps fussing over Cassidy. Even Felix's mother, Helen Danes, takes Cassidy's hand and asks her about her life. Her eyes are already crinkling from how wide her smile has become. But when Helen notices me being ignored by everyone else, she's quick to frown at me. "Sienna, if you have nothing to do, you might as well help out in the kitchen." At the dining table, Felix keeps placing food on Cassidy's plate. When I mutter to Felix to help grab me a piece of crab due to how far the crabs are from me, he goes impatient immediately. Heck, he doesn't even bother glancing at me. "Can't you see that I'm busy? You can go get it yourself!" Left without a choice, I can only rise to my feet. But Felix's dad, Andrew Zimmerman, quickly stops me when he spots me reaching for the plate of crabs. "The act of peeling crabs is very unlady-like, Sienna. That's why you shouldn't have any." I'm pissed, to say the least. So, I dig out my phone and upload a post on my social media feed. "Does anyone want to invite me to their family dinner tonight?" Numerous text messages blast up my phone the next moment. Countless scions from various wealthy and influential families in Hillsbury quickly leave comments on my post. "Ms. Winslow, may I have the honor of inviting you to dinner with me?" "My home works too! My parents keep telling me that they haven't seen you in such a long time!"

Kimberly Wilson had been married to Steven Smith for two years. When Steven proposed a divorce, she agreed without hesitation. Holding a huge fortune, she began to wealth freely. The Wilson family had only one child, so who would be family continuity? Simple, she said, 'Help me post a message offering a high reward for pregnancy.' It read, "Due to my husband's car accident rendering him infertile, seeking a healthy male for surrogacy. Generous compensation." As for the requirements, 'Must be handsome, have an excellent physique, graduated from an Ivy League school, and be good in bed. Price is negotiable.' Her highly efficient personal assistant, whom she had hired at great expense, sent over photos of applicants the next day. One ultimately met her criteria and even exceeded her expectations. The side profile in the photo, noble and aloof, looked familiar. She immediately decided, 'Okay, It's him.' 'He's available anytime, but he has one prerequisite.' her assistant informed. Kimberly raised an eyebrow, 'What requirement?' 'He's a bit shy, so the lights must be off.' Only later did she realize what trouble she had gotten into. The man was not only the sole heir to the multi-billion luxury goods group-Garcia group but also the best friend of her ex-husband. Steven didn't wait for Kimberly to reconcile as usual but instead heard the news of her new romance. Despairing, he said, 'I can live without her. Don't try to persuade me.' But later, drunk, he called in the middle of the night. 'Kiki...' His voice was choked up. A cold male voice responded from the other end, 'May I ask why you're calling my wife in the middle of the night?' '......'

I always thought my husband, Ryder, was forced to marry me. For six months, he wouldn't touch me. I tried everything. I wore my sexiest lingerie. I guided his hands over my burning skin. I could feel how hard he was, completely out of control. But at the last second, he'd always push me away, gasping. He'd finish me with his fingers instead. My hope died. I decided to leave him. I was ready to accept a top dog trainer position in Europe. The night before I planned to hand him the divorce papers, I heard voices from his study. Ryder, talking to his best friends. "Ryder, you're dying for her, man. So why won't you touch her? Another man's going to snatch her up!" "But she's so fragile..." Ryder's deep voice was filled with pain. "You know... I'm a monster. If she sees what I really am... it will terrify her." His voice dropped to a raw whisper. "If she really needs... comfort... from another man... I can take it. As long as she comes home to me in the end." His friend growled. "Stop! Then maybe stop posting on that encrypted dark web forum, asking for help!" Monster? What did that mean? Late that night, I used his computer. I found a hidden forum called "The Den." A pinned post at the top. Thousands of replies. User ID: Midnight_Howler. One sentence. Dripping with desperation and frantic obsession: "I finally married the girl I've loved for years, but I'm terrified to touch her. How can I survive my rut without hurting her, without her discovering my secret?"

My parents had always played favorites. On my birthday, the house was completely empty. Meanwhile, my older brother, Howard Moore, posted a nine-photo grid on social media, showing off a huge birthday cake. In every picture, Mom and Dad were gathered around him, smiling like they couldn’t be prouder. I called them. Laughter poured through the phone from the other end. Still, I gathered every bit of courage I had and asked softly, “Why didn’t I even get a happy birthday?” The line went silent for a second. Then Mom’s bright, smiling voice came through. “Because Howard is handsome. Taking him out makes us look good. But you? Those hooded eyes and that bulbous nose. Honestly, if we didn’t feel sorry for you, we would’ve gotten rid of you a long time ago.” Howard took the phone from her and said gently, “You know you’re adopted, right? Did you really think you were one of us?” I stood there for a long time, too stunned to move. After that, I stopped talking. But deep down, I still craved the love of my biological parents. So I secretly made a post online, looking for my biological family. I didn’t expect Howard to find it. He took a screenshot and sent it to the school’s anonymous gossip account. “The fake Moore kid is looking for his parents. Anyone lose an ugly little kid?” I cried for a long time. Then late that night, I walked past their bedroom door, which had been left slightly open. Howard’s laughter floated out, clear and bright. “He actually believed it! This is hilarious! Let’s hire someone to pretend to be his parents. I can’t wait to see him on his knees, begging us.” Dad took a sip of his tea. “Do whatever you want.” Mom added, “Just don’t go too far.” Outside the door, my fingers slowly loosened around the doorknob.