When smugglers raid the kingdom, Pure Vanilla Cookie is
sent to heal the wounded — and unexpectedly paired with Captain soldier
cookie, a gruff warrior with no time for sweet talk.
What starts as tense teamwork becomes something more: shared night
watches, festival booths, pepper-spice candy, and rumors neither of them
knows how to handle.
But in a kingdom of whispers and expectations, it’s not easy to reach
out. Especially when one of you carries old wounds, and the other still
thinks love is meant for everyone but himself.
A slash romance of firelight, quiet strength, and handbrushed confessions — because sometimes, healing takes more than magic.
Tatewaki
Kuno has always believed in honor, swordsmanship, and the radiant
glory of the pigtailed girl. Unfortunately, he just discovered she is
Ranma Saotome.
Unfortunately for Ranma, Kuno takes
this revelation not with horror… but with poetry.
And roses.
And one very dramatic love confession
mid-duel.
Between flying fists, flustered
denials, badly written haiku, and a kiss neither of them planned,
Ranma finds himself confronting a terrifying truth:
Kuno might actually have feelings.
And
worse—Ranma might have them too.
Rivals. Idiots. Maybe soulmates?
The way of the fist has never been so
emotionally confusing.
Ranma Saotome can dodge fists, fireballs, and fiancées—but not
feelings.
When a “Joint Discipline Training
Retreat” (thanks, Genma) strands him and Ryoga in a mountainside
temple with one futon, a trust obstacle course, and an emotionally
manipulative monk, they’re forced to confront the one battle
neither of them trained for: each other.
Between sparring with no insults,
blindfold trust-falls, and one regrettably memorable animal-form
kiss, rivalry starts to look a lot like… something else.
Punches are thrown. Secrets are
spilled. And under a red torii gate in the rain, Ranma learns that
not every counterstrike is physical.
Sometimes, it’s emotional.
And
sometimes, it ends in a kiss.
Saving
the world is easy. Talking about their feelings? That’s where the
real danger lies.
After an explosive argument during a League meeting (and the
tragic loss of a perfectly good table), Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent
are forcibly enrolled in couples counseling by the two most
terrifying forces on Earth: Lois Lane and Diana Prince.
Dr. Helen Sharp has worked with metahuman trauma, alien
catastrophes, and gods with complexes—but nothing prepared her for
a Bat and a Boy Scout who would rather wrestle a kaiju than admit
they care.
Between weaponized metaphors, color-coded worksheets, and one
extremely underused moon base, Bruce and Clark learn that emotional
vulnerability might just be the greatest superpower of all.
Yukio Okumura thought he’d seen the worst assignments the Order had
to offer—until he’s “volunteered” to accompany Mephisto
Pheles on a classified diplomatic mission. The job? Unclear. The
company? Infuriating. The dress code? Too much glitter.
As cursed hotels, demon politics, and
one very questionable bed arrangement pile up, Yukio finds himself
tangled in more than bureaucracy. And Mephisto—infuriating,
immortal Mephisto—seems far too pleased about it.
Between wine-soaked truths,
dangerous pacts, and one poorly timed kiss that changes everything,
they’re about to find out: some
contracts are written in blood—others in something riskier.
When
Mihawk invites Zoro to a high-society diplomatic dinner as his guest,
Zoro expects boredom, tiny food, and unbearable nobles. What he
doesn't expect is needing to wear a cravat, being mistaken for a
bodyguard, or deflecting flaming silverware with a butter knife.
Tensions rise, wine flows too freely, and one particularly
arrogant noble decides to insult both of them in front of the entire
ballroom.
Bad move.
Before dessert is served, napkins are ablaze, furniture is
airborne, and Zoro is kissing Mihawk in the middle of the chaos with
ash in his hair and fire in his grin.
Because sometimes, romance means setting the chandelier on
fire—and walking away from it in style.
After
everything—missions, battles, partings—Gon and Killua find
themselves walking the world with no destination. There’s no goal.
No map. Just a dusty trail, two sets of footprints, and a love that’s
still learning how to slow down.
Killua doesn’t know how to rest. Gon doesn’t ask him to.
Together, they wander through forests, share terrible soup, dodge
rainstorms, and find small meanings in silence. Somewhere between
quiet sunrises and soft confessions, they discover that love isn’t
just surviving side by side—it’s choosing to stay even when
there’s nowhere else to go.
A story about stillness, warmth, and the way lightning can settle
when it finds the right place to land.
After
a brutal mission leaves Gojo blinded and his cursed energy unstable,
the higher-ups send him into quiet exile at a remote inn in the
mountains. Megumi is “volunteered” to assist—though what begins
as obligation slowly becomes something else.
With no signal, no city noise, and no curses to fight, the two
fall into an unexpected rhythm of shared futons, sarcastic banter,
burned soup, and terrible novels. As the snow deepens, so does their
bond—until Gojo begins to see again, and not just with his eyes.
At the inn at the end of winter, they rediscover not only
themselves, but what it means to be seen—and to stay.
When the Hero Commission assigns Monoma and Shoto to lead a couples
retreat for pro heroes, it’s anything but relaxing. Between
fire-breathing grills, emotionally charged obstacle courses, and a
very unintentional ice wall that splits the entire camp in two, the
week quickly devolves into chaos—with marshmallows.
Monoma comes armed with
color-coded clipboards. Shoto brings exactly one duffel bag and zero
tolerance for bunk beds. But as storms roll in and staged villain
attacks get a little too
real, the couple’s bickering gives way to honesty, teamwork, and
rain-soaked declarations.
A romantic comedy of disaster
management, firefly kisses, and falling in love (again) somewhere
between the s’mores and survival drills.
Hobi
is a bard whose songs can soothe storms—or cause them, depending on
who’s listening. Taehyung is a stormcaller cursed with power he
can’t control, whose emotions shake the sky and threaten every
village he passes.
When a sudden tempest crashes down mid-performance, Hobi doesn’t
run. He plays.
The song calms the thunder. The storm pauses. And so begins a
journey neither of them expected.
Together, they search for the origin of Taehyung’s magic. Along
the way, there are bickering treks through wind-blasted hills,
magical caves that echo their innermost thoughts, and one kiss that
stills the sky.
Romantic, magical, and sometimes ridiculous, Lightning Beneath
My Skin is a story of emotional resonance, reluctant tenderness,
and the quiet power of choosing to stay.
I wrote a fantasy book. I
uploaded this to Wattpad before, but I removed it from Wattpad and self
published it on Amazon. The story has been edited a lot to improve it.
Here is the summary:
In the
ruins of an abandoned village, lanterns float endlessly in the
dusk—each one holding a fragment of a forgotten dream. When Jin Hee
stumbles upon the glowing lights, her stubborn curiosity nearly draws
her into their depths. She is saved by Shiman, a quiet god who has
tended the lanterns for centuries, guarding them so they do not
vanish.
But Jin Hee challenges him: why keep dreams locked away when they
are meant to live? Against his caution, she convinces him to release
the lanterns, and together they embark on a journey through forests,
deserts, and mountains—where the dreams they set free often
misbehave, sometimes with humor, sometimes with sorrow.
In laughter and in silence, they discover a balance between her
determination and his patience. And as the lanterns return to the
world, Jin Hee and Shiman realize that their work will never truly
end—for as long as dreams are forgotten, new lanterns will always
gather in the village where dreams rest.
I wrote a fantasy romance book. I
uploaded this to Wattpad before, but I removed it from Wattpad and self
published it on Amazon. The story has been edited a lot to improve it.
Here is the summary:
On a
wind-swept hillside by the sea,
Caelia Dorne,
once a storm-witch of great power, has retired to a quieter
life—keeping sheep, brewing tea, and pretending the weather no
longer listens to her.
Then Seo
Jae, a polite and
infuriatingly rational scholar, arrives in search of her forgotten
spells. His notebooks are precise, his logic unshakable, and his
umbrella deeply unnecessary. She warns him he’ll last two days
before the wind takes him. He lasts longer.
But when the long-banished
Sea-King
awakens to punish Caelia for abandoning her post, the two must work
together to calm the rising storm—his reason steadying her
power, her instinct teaching him to listen instead of measure.
Between laughter, thunder, and the rhythm of rain, they find that
balance is more than a magical art—it’s the beginning of love.
And sometimes, when the wind shifts, it hums with laughter—
as
if the storm itself remembers.
When
Jaskier accidentally gets blessed by a mischievous dryad, things take
a romantic turn—every time he sings, people nearby erupt into
dramatic confessions of love. It’s flattering at first… until the
chaos starts.
Towns fall into emotional uproar. Goats follow him. And
Geralt—stoic, grumpy, and extremely bad at feelings—becomes
Jaskier’s reluctant bodyguard against wave after wave of magically
lovesick villagers.
But when even Geralt starts acting strange, Jaskier begins to
wonder: how much of this is the curse… and how much was already
there?
The only way to break the spell? For someone truly in love to sing
back.
Geralt may not know the words—but he’s always had the
tune.
3 AM in Taipei, walking past the subway Damn, I missed it again (oh well) Guess I stayed out too late partying with my date Or was it somebody else? Doesn't matter It's all just chatter Nothing matters--Where is my hotel? 3 AM in Taipei, happy losing my way Under the lunar spell
Who would I be if I wasn't me? Just somebody who was born here-- Would I relate to the island waves And these houses full of mirrors? Looking at my world now (looking all around) Was I rooted in the wrong ground (could this be my crowd) Who would I be if I wasn't me Would my eyes see any clearer? (Who would I be)
Holed up in the bathroom, tryna find a friend to Kiss all the pain away Girl and boys keep drinkin, till the world is spinnin But they're still sad and gay Called up my mates back in the states But they can't escape their own families 3 AM in Taipei Still looking for my way A lone cherry blossom tree
Who would I be if I wasn't me? Just somebody who was born here-- Would I relate to the island waves And these houses full of mirrors? Looking at my world now (looking all around) Was I rooted in the wrong ground (could this be my crowd) Who would I be if I wasn't me Would my eyes see any clearer? (Who would I be)
Who would I be, who would I be? (Who would I be) Who would I be, who would I be? (Who would I be)
如果我沒飛 我的世界會有多美? 街上的行人 他能了解我眼神
Looking at my world now (looking all around) Was I rooted in the wrong ground (could this be my crowd) Who would I be if I wasn't me Would my eyes see any clearer? (Who would I be)
Who would I be, who would I be? (Who would I be) Who would I be, who would I be? (Who would I be) 我會是誰, 如果沒飛? (Who would I be) Who would I be, who would I be? Who would I be?
Take me back to love again, take me back to love To a place where I come from, where I belong
Hello again it's me I know I've been a bitch I am aware of this I just can't help it I've got a lot of shit going on Turns out my tendency to turn others away I learned in youth from what my mama would say I know I know I know it's wrong
Well, I'm working on it Being accountable Talking bout shit Makes me uncomfortable I'm not used to Being so vulnerable
Take me back to love again, take me back to love To a place where I come from, where I belong
I never wanted to be brave I just needed a way to turn my pain into a story One where I wasn't a sad cliche
Well, I'm working on it Being accountable Talking bout shit Makes me uncomfortable I'm not used to Being so vulnerable
Take me back to love again, take me back to love To a place where I come from, where I belong
I'm just a sensitive little boy Learning alphabets along with my cassette Could we just play pretend That we never lost the joy I've been looking for a place to lay my head
Take me back to love again To a place where I come from where I belong Take me back to love again To a place where I come from where I belong To a place where I come from where I belong
I wrote a fantasy romance book. I uploaded this to Wattpad before, but I removed it from Wattpad and self published it on Amazon. The story has been edited a lot to improve it.
Here is the summary:
When a wandering bard’s melody stirs forgotten magic, an exiled
enchantress is forced to confront the past she buried beneath
silence.
Gwon Hee’s songs can charm storms and wake sleeping hearts —
but when one of his performances accidentally unseals an ancient
curse, he finds himself at the doorstep of Elaria, the enchantress
who once ruled a kingdom and bound her grief into song.
She wants nothing to do with him or his music. He refuses to walk
away. Together, they journey across ruined kingdoms and whispering
seas to mend the spell that could unmake the world — and in the
process, they discover that harmony isn’t just found in music, but
in laughter, trust, and quiet moments shared by the fire.
A story of wit, warmth, and wonder, The Song Beneath Her
Spells is a fantasy romance about two brilliant souls learning
that love, like magic, is strongest when sung together.
In
a civilization strung across the luminous rings of a gas giant,
ancient lanterns keep entire cities alive—guiding ships, warming
habitats, and holding back the endless dark.
When those lanterns begin to fail, Riven Aer, a quiet apprentice
Light-Keeper, is sent on an emergency repair mission. He expects
malfunction. What he finds is sabotage.
And he’s stuck with Drax Calder—reckless navigator,
flight-certification menace, and far too charming for someone who
refuses to follow protocol.
As they chase the flickering failures from ring to ring, what
begins as bickering cooperation deepens into something warmer.
Together, they scale impossible towers, dodge storms, uncover
conspiracies—and, somewhere between the stars and the sparks, they
find each other.
This is not a love story they planned.
But the lanterns
aren't the only things worth saving.
A winter storm forces Geralt and Jaskier to take shelter in an
abandoned inn, where firelight reveals a truth long buried under
travel and time: they’ve grown lonely together.
Old jokes stumble back to life.
Old
wounds rise with the wind.
And two hearts who never truly parted
must relearn how to walk side by side.
In the quiet of snow-thick nights and
soft touches rediscovered, they find warmth again — not in the
dying embers of the fire, but in each other.
Because even when Geralt walks
ahead,
Jaskier’s footsteps are never far behind.
A story of returning, of thawing
winter, and of love that refuses to be left behind.
When Chandler’s painfully awkward blind date refuses to end, Joey
swoops in with the perfect rescue: pretending to be his boyfriend.
What starts as a spur-of-the-moment escape plan quickly spirals into
a “realism-required” performance involving hand-holding,
cuddling, and Joey calling Chandler every sweet nickname under the
sun.
The problem?
Chandler is falling for all of it.
And
Joey isn’t pretending nearly as much as he claims.
With Phoebe demanding proof, Monica
smelling gossip, and Ross shouting in confusion as usual, the line
between friendship and “fake dating” gets fuzzier by the minute.
One almost-kiss later, the truth becomes impossible to ignore:
Some relationships are real before you
ever admit them.
Because when Joey looks at Chandler
like he’s the best thing in the room…
Mrs. Hudson returns from Italy with a
“world-famous” artisanal cheese—one bite of which sends
Sherlock and John spiraling into a chaotic storm of brutally honest
confessions they never meant to say out loud.
Suddenly Sherlock can’t stop
complimenting John’s mouth, John can’t stop ranting about
Sherlock’s thighs, and Mycroft is deeply regretting showing up
unannounced.
Determined to undo the cursed dairy’s
meddling, the two chase down a flamboyant “culinary spellcaster”
who insists the cheese only reveals what their hearts have been
shouting all along. But the more they fight the magic, the harder it
becomes to deny what they’ve secretly wanted for years.
There’s a fine line between
investigating the curse…
and admitting they’ve finally run
out of excuses not to kiss.
A comedy of love, lactose, and the
world’s most dangerous fondue.
In an age long drowned by myth, a Water Dragon and a Frost Guardian
loved each other through the world’s final tide. One froze the sea
to save the other’s rule—and paid with his life. They swore to
find each other again, in any form the stars allowed.
Now, in modern Fontaine, Chief Justice
Neuvillette and Duke Wriothesley can’t explain why rain and snow
behave strangely when they’re together. Why their hearts react
faster than reason. Why a single accidental kiss feels like
remembering how to breathe.
Ancient visions resurface:
ice-winged
protection over raging seas,
a desperate promise beneath the
flood,
a vow unfinished.
Fate has reunited them.
Destiny
refuses to wait.
Because this life, no more
goodbyes—
and this time, the sea itself will make sure of it.
When a colossal whale rises beneath the Thousand Sunny—with an
entire ancient city built on its back—Luffy decides it’s
obviously a great new friend. And, of course, a perfect place for
adventure.
Sanji disagrees.
(At first.)
But the deeper they explore the
whale’s mysterious ruins, the clearer it becomes that the city
holds secrets of love, survival, and companionship—something the
Straw Hats know all too well.
Separated from the crew and dropped
into the belly of the living city, Luffy and Sanji must navigate
booby traps, and forgotten chambers…
while confronting just how head-over-heels they are for each other.
Danger, romance, and ridiculous whale
noises await.
Because on the Grand Line, even date
night can turn into a legendary tale.
With every step,
the soles of our shoes get dirtier.
In the same way, our souls
grow worn and dim.
When that happens, remember—
remember the reason you can’t give up.
I meant to save, but I was saved instead.
I thought I held on, but it was my hand being held.
Let there be light on every journey.
Strength and weakness can’t define it.
Every step you take to face forward—
that was already your brave victory.
Like drawing breath to shout,
like taking a run-up to soar high,
we cried so we could someday laugh.
That’s not defeat.
Long Hope Philia.
As time goes on, everything changes—
the town, the friends.
Most things, you only understand once they’re gone.
That loneliness is a clear kind of sadness.
And as for myself—
I carry the guilt of being unable to part from who I am.
So, my friend, please witness this:
I haven’t been changed—
I chose to change.
Let there be light on every failure.
Success or failure—those words mean nothing.
To the one who smiled in the final chapter—
may your happy ending be your trophy.
If you hadn’t wished, you wouldn’t have been hurt.
If you hadn’t hoped, you wouldn’t have been disappointed.
But it’s because you reached out your hand
that those scars deserve praise.
Long Hope Philia.
We gave up, doubted, shut ourselves away.
They called us “disappointments,” remember?
But what we lost became our weapon—
the flower that bloomed at the very bottom.
My faraway friend, now part of a blue constellation—
we’re alive, all the same.
If life is luggage, that’s more than enough.
Let there be light on every life.
You don’t need a reason to live.
Even if your head hangs low, if you stayed standing—
that’s what we call the starting line.
Because you smiled today,
even your defeats weren’t in vain.
So bloom, flower from the depths.
My friend, may your hope be everlasting— Long Hope Philia. Long Hope Philia. Long Hope Philia. Long Hope Philia.
Holdin' me back Gravity's holdin' me back I want you to hold out the palm of your hand Why don't we leave it at that? Nothin' to say When everything gets in the way Seems you cannot be replaced And I'm the one who will stay, oh
In this world, it's just us You know it's not the same as it was In this world, it's just us You know it's not the same as it was As it was, as it was You know it's not the same
Answer the phone "Harry, you're no good alone Why are you sittin' at home on the floor? What kind of pills are you on?" Ringin' the bell And nobody's comin' to help Your daddy lives by himself He just wants to know that you're well, oh
In this world, it's just us You know it's not the same as it was In this world, it's just us You know it's not the same as it was As it was, as it was You know it's not the same
Go home, get ahead, light-speed internet I don't wanna talk about the way that it was Leave America, two kids follow her I don't wanna talk about who's doin' it first
As it was You know it's not the same as it was As it was, as it was
It seems that in life,
we all have to drink at least one bowl
of despair-flavored soup.
A homemade disaster—
seasoned with laziness and complaints—
now sits before me, steaming,
its dangerous colors swirling together.
When I took a breath,
I could smell the roasted scent of outside voices.
Reflected in the silver spoon
was a distorted face glaring back at me—
as if to say, “You’re not good enough for this.”
I shut off every unnecessary sense.
My reckless ideals stab deep into my gut,
yet together with the bitterness of this modern age,
it’s strangely addictive.
I know I’ve got a “weird taste” for this kind of thing—
no one has to tell me that.
But with every thank you for the meal,
I want to reclaim what it means to be myself.
Shaking fingers, a sweaty collar—
pain, exhaustion, and failure.
Even if I grieve or reject them,
things won’t get any better now.
With every gulp, the thirst only grows,
raising a foamy, eerie toast—
I’ll drink it down to the very last drop, yeah!
The portions have grown larger
than when I used to live alone.
It’s not the kind of atmosphere
where I can just say “I give up,” is it?
But even if someone told me,
“You can live all on your own now,”
I wouldn’t choose that—
because I never want to go without these days with you.
With every thank you for the meal,
I want to house that feeling again:
a heat that can reboil a heart
that’s cooled by sighs.
Shaking fingers, a sweaty collar—
pain, exhaustion, and failure.
I’ve grieved them, I’ve rejected them,
but haven’t I grown tired of giving up by now?
With every swallow, the thirst increases.
Coughing on this eerie, bubbling toast—
isn’t that what life really is?
In the days that follow,
when worries and sorrows boil over,
when I feel like spilling them all across the table— don’t stop the spoon.
Keep going. Keep the thirst alive.
Raise a toast to every future to come.
Give me a shard of destiny—
hidden somewhere deep in this world—
I’ll scoop it up (and then)
drink it down to the very last drop, yeah!
Let’s go see that brilliance,
brighter than anything clear.
That’s how it all began—
with a reason so strong we sometimes forget it’s there.
When the cold rain falls,
let’s walk together, comparing our footsteps, laughing loud.
Instead of the sun, let’s sing—
with the voices of you, and me, and the world.
When I found you that day,
you found me, too.
Now when our eyes meet, we just smile,
beyond the reach of words.
The goal is surely still far away,
but I’m already in the place
where I want to stay until I die.
Beside you—right beside you—
my soul shouts, “This is where I belong!”
When you cry or laugh,
when your life trembles,
I want to breathe, too,
right there beside you—
in the best seat of all.
Oh, yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah), ah-huh
Your steps reach farther than mine—
and that’s what makes you amazing.
My footprints are more in number—
and that’s what makes me amazing.
When the pitch darkness scares us,
let’s compare our fears and joke our way through it.
Even without the sun, we can still walk.
I can see a world illuminated by us.
Leaving things unsaid, questions unasked,
never knowing what the scars that won’t fade really mean—
still, when our eyes meet, we can smile,
even through the tears.
Rather than lending me a hand when I fall,
rather than choosing gentle words for me,
I just want you—right beside me—
to believe
that we can go anywhere together.
When we finally reach that place,
when we touch the truth behind the dream,
I want to be there—closest to you,
in the scenery reflected in your eyes.
That radiance—
I could see it because I met you.
That radiance—
let’s go and see it again.
Oh, yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah), ah-huh
No matter what ending awaits us,
we’ve already joined hands that can’t be parted.
Beside you—right beside you—
my soul cries out, “Here is where I want to be.”
And when our reason for being begins to shine,
when that reason embraces us both,
I want to be closer than anyone,
in the front row,
to tell you about the you I’ve seen.
I want to tell you
that you exist.
That’s how it all began—
yes, that’s how it all began.
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