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2 stories
The Girl in the Hoodie by SarcasticallyWitty
SarcasticallyWitty
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{FIRST BOOK IN 'THE GIRL IN THE HOODIE' SERIES} {2014-2018} A girl moved to California two years ago. No one knows what she looks like. All they know is that she wears a hoodie. *~*~*~* "HOLY SHIT, NOAH! WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU LET THE TROLLEY GO?! COME BACK! OH MY FUCKING LIFE, FIZZY DRINKS UP AHEAD--" BANG FIZZ POP "...am I dead?" I'm suddenly grabbed by the back of my hoodie and pulled up from the ground and out of the mess of the opened bottles of fizzy which had exploded when the trolley and I crashed into them. My hands instantly go to my hood and I sigh in relief to find that it hadn't fallen off through all of that. I turn my head and look the the employee who's holding me, his face completely red and the vein in his neck throbbing. "Wassup, dude?" I smile sheepishly. *~* {HIGHEST RANKINGS: #1 in Funny #1 in Sad And #1 in Cancer apparently }
πƒπ‘πŽπ–ππ„πƒ ππ‹πŽπŽπƒ  by kehlanidark
kehlanidark
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𝑫𝑹𝑢𝑾𝑡𝑬𝑫 𝑩𝑳𝑢𝑢𝑫, Book 1 in 𝐓𝐇𝐄 πƒπ‘πŽπ–ππ„πƒ π’π„π‘πˆπ„π’ a dark enemies-to-lovers gang/mafia romance by 𝐊. πƒπ€π‘πŠ. π„π‚π‡πŽπ„π’ πŽπ… πŽπ‹π˜πŒππ”π’ One of the most feared and deadly syndicates in all of Italy. Whispers of their names alone sent shivers down the spines of even the boldest criminals. But among them all, none cast a longer shadow than πŒπ„πƒπ”π’π€-the leader, the weapon, the son of the oldest Russo, and the most brutal soul in the underworld. He wasn't a monster carved from myth. He was worse-human. A man built like a god, carved by rage, and cursed with eyes like the original Gorgon. They didn't turn people to stone anymore... but they froze them just the same. An arms trafficker. A tactician. A tyrant. Medusa wasn't born from the Echoes of Olympus-he forged them with blood and fire. But he wasn't the only myth walking in flesh. She had spent a year running from her past, a year choosing every day not to end it all with a blade across her veins. She could have vanished. But instead, she reached out with bloodstained hands-back into the shadows where it all began. Her name was spoken in the underground like a curse. 𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄-the black-haired goddess. Unpredictable. Unyielding. A tormentor of tormentors. And a woman with nothing left to lose. Now, both rulers of the dark are forced into a fragile alliance-two myths wrapped in flesh, carrying fire and fury in their veins. And they just happen to share the same enemy. π–π€π‘ππˆππ†π’ - Strong langue - Sexual content - Violence