The Costantino Sequel - Featuring Costa, Millie, the twins, and all the Accardi madness readers know and love, ROCCO is a slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers descent into obsession, loyalty, and fire. The Accardi family is back. And this time, it's Rocco's turn. At 30 years old, Rocco Accardi is known for a lot of things-his temper, his recklessness, his complete disregard for consequences. As the future underboss of Sicily's most feared family, he was never meant to feel anything. Until her. Alessia Russo, 26, Palermo's top real estate agent, has spent the past three years keeping things strictly professional. Which is hard to do when your most dangerous client spends every meeting flirting like it's a sport-and you've had a crush on him since day one. He's chaos. She's control. Their relationship was never meant to cross the line. But one wrong step-and everything spirals. Rocco doesn't know how to love. But he knows how to destroy. And once he decides she's his, he'll burn the city before he lets her go. Something is coming. And nothing will be the same after it hits.

"Smoking is bad, you know." The placid voice speaks up from the distant dark corner, nothing to see but a tall silhouette and an orange glow of a cigarette cherry. "It's the least of my problems," I murmur with my own between my lips, proceeding to feel the stagnant debris valley my throat when I suck delicately. He exhales a chuckle of cynical amusement, his footsteps getting every step clearer to my eardrums until I eventually sense body heat burning my back. "And why is that?" He whispers over my shoulder, hands inviting themselves to grip the railing in front of me so I become a prisoner between his inked arms. I swallow. "Because you'll be the one to kill me first." // Aven Brooks is hired to take pictures for the world-renown punk rock band known today as Duplicity; hoping the experience gets her into her most elite-dreamed university. However, when her lenses accidentally capture more than just cheeky sound checks and performances, she comes to a horrifying discovery that Duplicity is anything but a band. Appalled and frightened, she's trapped. *HIGHEST RANKINGS* #1 IN HARRYSTYLES #1 IN ONEDIRECTION ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO @happydays1d NOT ALLOWING TRANSLATIONS! CONTAINS VULGAR LANGUAGE / DRUG ABUSE / SEXUAL CONTENT / DESCRIPTIVE VIOLENCE / MENTAL HEALTH READ AT OWN RISK!

"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

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)

Carlotta Angela Vasiliev is a 17 year old girl living with her adoptive Russian mafia family of 4 brothers and father. Ever since she was a child, she's had no sense of belonging, abused by the Swedish mafia in her youth, her Russian saviours are the only family she knows. That is until someone frames her with the CPS and she gets taken away to live with her biological family. Enter the Italian mafia. 5 more overprotective brothers who finally got their little sister home in New York. Carlotta faces a new life with a new family, will she ever see her adoptive brothers again? Or will she replace them with her biologicals? What happens when she meets a boy who catches her eye? ~~~ "Car." He cuts me off, taking a step towards me, "Nothing about you could ever bother me." He says, lifting a hand to cup one of my cheeks. "Apart from your bratty attitude, but you'll learn." He adds on at the end nonchalantly smirking down at me as his hand slides from my cheek to my throat. TW: Mentions of abuse, rape, violent scenes and SMUT

Miguel Hernandez has known a few things well: the cushion of an older brother rising to stardom, basketball and sex. His reputation's whispered from the luxury corners of the Upper East Side, spanning over New York City. Debauchery's come to be his middle name. Girls are rarely pictured leaving his side. A comfortable, familiar routine that he doesn't stray from, nor does anyone expect him to. Until her. Eyes that harbour secrets, a tongue sharp enough to cut, passions she's given up and a darkness bearing on her shoulders, Malibu Adams knows nothing but survival. Unapologetic about the trail of messes she leaves behind or the anger festering within her that will only set her on one ruinous path, love had never been on her radar. Nobody knows her enough to understand her nor the pain seeping from wounds she disregards. Until he becomes desperate to. She breaks everything she touches, they say - he isn't afraid to bleed.

{𝘉𝘖𝘖𝘒 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌 𝘖𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘓𝘌𝘚𝘚 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘠 } Hudson Tempest's an enigma nobody's capable of solving. Darkness has been moulded into his skin, running through him as easily as his blood. More than he's ever allowed anyone to see. Swept up into a world of sin and deviance, Hudson Tempest was broken as a boy and shattered several times over the course of his life. Made to be cruel and forced into a pool of self-destruction, a life that will only ruin him if it continues. Death has been the only thing in sight to him, for a long time. But how hard it is to save someone, who wants to let themselves drown. Val Emerson's the embodiment of light. A heart that outpours warmth like she was made to love, from the very moment she was born. The sunny side up sort of girl with an affinity for the sea, and smiles. When the cruelest of them all and the happiest of them all collide. When her hatred turns into a desperate desire to save the most broken of them all, far past salvation. When his hatred morphs into something he promised not to feel. Opposites. Dark, to light. Whole, and broken. Rivals, in all they do. Until somewhere along the way, they find themselves falling into each other's arms. Somehow, into each other's clashing hearts. <3

{𝘉𝘖𝘖𝘒 𝘛𝘞𝘖 𝘖𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘓𝘌𝘚𝘚 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘠} The perfect picture of elegance. It's all Violet Amory's known - the foundation of the image she must preserve. For her, for them. Raised in a distinguished family and moulded to bear modest smiles and tender caresses, the grace she's renowned for is what she's come to accept. Stifling this innate need that nobody in her worlds seems to hold: for more. For thrill and the world beyond. Contained within the weight of reputation and hiding the hurt that lingers, the bruises she masks. Until him. The picture of wildness and impulse, with a devious grin she can't seem to stop herself from falling towards. And a heart all too enticing, Everest and Violet battling the world around them that ordains them to be apart. Misfits, in their own separate worlds. all my love <3

{𝘉𝘖𝘖𝘒 𝘖𝘕𝘌 𝘖𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘓𝘌𝘚𝘚 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘓𝘖𝘎𝘠} Ria Romano knew hurt like the back of her hand. She was dealt her fair share of bad cards, more than anyone so young should have to face. A cynical girl riddled with the remnants of her past, a shattered sort of soul. She concealed like it was second nature; her instinct being to suppress. She'd offer you a cigarette with a shrug while you were crying because she never was too great with affection. She didn't smile so often but when she did and it was directed at you, you'd never feel such satisfaction. I was told Aria preferred to be alone, isolated; clouding her mind with inhales of her cigarette and drowning it in alcohol. Until she was dealt her good card, out of the pack of bad. They had a love beautiful enough to last a lifetime, the type directors desire to capture and authors aspire to write. Two souls, shattered by the cruelty of the world time and time again with flames that rekindled each others. They were each other's oxygen. They breathed life back into each other, those two insomniacs. <3