"You're atheist," I remind him. "You don't believe in god." "I believe in you," He murmurs, letting the cigarette hang from his lips. "I believe in whatever you believe." He says, letting the confession roll off his tongue as if it were that simple. As if god, the devil, heaven, hell-as if none of it really had meaning to him. "That's not how it works," I mutter as we walk down a few more alleyways-the city of Manhattan coated in a light blanket of snow. Henry Vitiello had never had anything to pray for, that is, until he met me-the only thing that had ever opened his mind up to the possibility of religion "Isn't it?" He argues, taking the cigarette by his middle and pointer finger before blowing the smoke out. "I'II dip my hands in holy water if it means I could touch you." "You'd probably burn." 𓆩♡𓆪 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, the reaper. He's a prick. An asshole. A pretentious son of a bitch. He's not perfect. He's not even decent. But he's hers. She could be a bottle labeled poison but he was an alcoholic, and he had drunk her empty. Now he was hungover. 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, the healer. She's known to be the perfect good girl, with perfect grades and a perfect life with a perfect family. They didn't know that behind the gated doors of their billion dollar estate, she was strapped down to a chair every night and picked apart just to be put back together in time for supper. 𓆩♡𓆪 star-crossed; adjective (of a person or a plan) thwarted by bad luck. 'star-crossed lovers' and that, they were. So they fucked under those very stars that tried so desperately to break them apart. 𓆩♡𓆪 ‼️DISCLAIMER ‼️ BOOK REFERENCES TO MARA DYER, SHATTER ME, MIND FUCK, ETC ARE ALL INTENTIONAL SO DONT BE RUDE. AS FOR TRIGGER WARN

Feeling his tall frame behind me he wondered to my zipper and helped me putting it down. With my dress now on the floor I felt his rough hands on my shoulders and his hot breath down my neck. "Turn around for me." He said softly. Doing so I looked up into his beautiful hazel eyes that sparkled with desire. "Tell me what you want me to do Evangeline." He didn't deserve this. Someone like me. But I needed him and I couldn't resist him any longer. "Fuck me, Vince". I whispered seductively finally giving up. covers by design.with.tijana (on insta) ...................................................... Evangeline Bianchi runs away from her father, the man who destroyed her soul in an attempt of creating a Queen worth of his legacy, seeking the only thing she truly desired. Freedom. After her successful scape she starts her journey, leaving behind everything she ever knew. But it all goes south when he appears into her life, the only thing she never planned. Vincent Castellano was everything she couldn't control. A force of nature that forced his way in accompanied by a deal. The deal that changed everything.

She's a wild, free spirit who sees the good in everyone, and he's the hardened, bad-tempered loner who wants nothing to do with her-yet no matter how hard he tries to push her away, she's the one temptation he can't escape. *** He's never met someone with such a bubbly personality. Not to mention the wildness and odd phrases she says every five minutes. He hates it. He hates how he can't stay away from it. He hates what she does to him; it's not like him to chase after some girl. She gets under his skin like no other. She's never met someone with such a bad attitude. He's ill-mannered and menacing. The glare never seems to leave his face. Considering it all, she can't help but feel the attraction toward him. Dangerous attraction toward a seemingly dangerous man. Maybe it's the tattoos on his arm that gets her attention. Or maybe it's because she can tell there's hope for good under his rough exterior. And she's about to find it, whether he likes it or not. It's no secret that the two of them are complete and total opposites. *** "You like being called Sugar, don't you?" I tease, placing my toothbrush back after finishing. He does the same and gives me a side-eyed scowl. He grips my chin harshly and kisses me. My body temperature raises a good ten degrees and my right leg goes all wiggly. He pulls away. "You like it when I kiss you, don't you?" He teases the same way I did to him and I'm left blubbering. "I think both of our questions are rhetorical," I lower my voice up at him. His lip curls up into a smirk. *** #1 in Young Adult #9 in Badboy #1 in Cold #3 in Goodgirl #1 in Sweetheart #14 in Love *** *Warning* This story contains mature themes (language, scenes)

Marinette is thrilled. She's spending her afternoon at the museum with Adrien, and even Manon's unexpectedly tagging along with them can't tarnish her happiness. After all, what can go wrong for two seventeen-year-olds watching over a seven-year-old? Turns out, a lot of things. ------ This is an illustrated fanfiction collaboration by Maerynn and EdenDaphne ------ This work is intended for readers ages 13 and up

"How did we go from pretending we're in love, to you actually falling head over heels for me?" Cara cocked her head as she studied him. This boy will be the death of her. "W-whoa whoa whoa, head over heels?" Darius raised his hands in mock defeat. He was perfectly aware of how serious she was, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity to tease her. "What do you see in me? Why are you so nice to me? Hell, I kicked you in the nuts." Cara pressed further. "Nobody should be this perfect," her voice lowered to a soft whisper. Darius took a step towards her, closing the distance between them. He tipped her chin up to meet her gaze. "Then I guess you haven't met the right person." "Until now." He pressed his lips to hers. It was an age old marriage of convenience between them - Darius Alexander Clemonte, the sexy, playful millionaire who has to shed his playboy image to protect his legacy; Cara Jefferson, the daughter of a struggling businessman who happened to be a convenient family friend of the Clemonte's. They should be opposed to the idea of each other... except Cara, the girl who doesn't believe in love, drives Darius wild. In a good way. WARNING: This story contains mature scenes.