❝ i'm watching from the rooftops as cars go by and life moves forward without you. ❞ Three years ago, 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚 𝐌𝐞𝐚 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐨𝐧 learned that the people who are supposed to love you the most can build entire lives out of lies. Now twenty-one, she's back at NYU with a suitcase full of unanswered questions, a journal she can't stop writing in, and a heart she's determined never to hand to anyone again. New York was supposed to be a fresh start. Instead, it feels like another place to disappear. 𝐑𝐲𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐰𝐲𝐞𝐫, He's the boy with bruised knuckles and a smile that doesn't belong to someone who's been through what he has. The one everyone thinks they know. The one nobody actually does. Some people arrive quietly. Others crash into your life so hard they leave pieces of themselves behind. Somewhere between late-night conversations, city lights, and the kind of silence that says more than words ever could, Viola begins to understand that healing isn't always gentle. Sometimes it looks like forgiveness. Sometimes it looks like falling in love. And sometimes... it looks like losing everything all over again.

❝𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨❞ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲, 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬. "𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰," 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞. "𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞." 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡... 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑟. Elena Reyes came to Canada with nothing but scars and silence. By day, she serves coffee with a practiced smile. By night, she apprentices at Moreno Tattoos, turning pain into art with trembling hands and a heart that refuses to trust. Zane Moreno is the owner, cold, covered in ink, and haunted by demons he'll never name. He doesn't do gentle. He doesn't do love. But when Elena walks into his shop, something in him cracks. Now he watches her too closely, touches her too carefully, and swears he'll burn the world before he lets anyone hurt her again. 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. ✞ ✞ ✞ He wanted to use her. She was the mastermind who planned for that all along. ✞ ✞ ✞ Power. Power built them. Power is what will destroy them. From sworn enemies to reluctant allies, there is nothing 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐈𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐯 wouldn't do, nobody she wouldn't use to reach what her mind has been fixated on for years. Revenge. She's inhumane. Emotionless. Messed up in the head-a diagnosed ASPD mind turned into something precise, something dangerous. A machine. The underworld doesn't call her by name. They call her the flame behind the ghost don. The living requiem. Nyx. And when something like her sets her sights on a target? She takes. Uses. Burns everything necessary to get what she wants. And 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐨 became exactly that. There's nothing the Camorra king hates more than her-the ghost, the flame, the thorn in his side he's been chasing for years. The assassin behind the Russian don he wants nothing more than to take down. The one thing standing between him and full control over New York City. Blaze is forced to do the one thing he would rather die than do: Ally with the enemy. It was supposed to be simple. Temporary. Strategic. But temptation has always been a dangerous game, and Vera has never been the kind to walk away from a game. Especially one she knows she'll win. Because she's always ten steps ahead. And this time, she chose to play.

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐌'𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍 𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱 She's the city's top model. Seen by everyone. Known by no one. She survives by keeping her past sealed tight- every bruise, every secret, every ugly truth locked behind elegance and restraint. Her life is a performance, and she never misses a step. Until she slips... ...and falls straight into the orbit of the man she was taught to despise most. One reckless act- done under the guise of a false persona- sets something irreversible in motion. A line is crossed. A fire is sparked. And the illusion of distance between them shatters. That night leaves her with a hangover, and a realization she can't escape. You don't have to die to go to hell. Some men bring it right to you. He is power without conscience. A presence felt more than seen. The devil everyone fears. She is a mess dressed in designer. A voice that refuses to be silenced. The angel everyone envies. Logic says they should never align. That their worlds, their loyalties, and their sins are fundamentally opposed. Nexum says there couldn't be a better fit. 𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐱 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 @xplicitlyvenus 2025, all rights reserved

𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗗𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 & 𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀 Revenge Countless souls have fallen prey to its grasp, their lives shattered as deeply as those they sought to harm, if not more so. For most, mere death isn't the end It's not enough to satiate their thirst They crave retribution, wish for something beyond the grave. They want misery upon those who've wronged them. Long for the torment of those who've wounded them But at the end of the day, it's merely a wish, A burning desire for- well, nothing realistic, really For they are weak. Powerless Some may even deem them useless But then, there exist the select few- those who refuse to settle for anything less than the worst, denying death's grasp to unleash a living hell upon their enemies, Those who take matters into their own hands, seizing control & becoming the architects of their own vengeance, Now those, those are dangerous. For in their eyes, the concept of contentment is a foreign notion, replaced by a searing ache for more- More agony, despair. More misery, more wails. More destruction, chaos. People like him, they feed off of fear, thrive in causing pain. They're cunning, calculating, heartless But frankly, even the most twisted of them seem like harmless amateurs in comparison to him. He reeks of death Exudes darkness, sorrow Death is all that shadows his steps, making his existence a reminder of the inevitable fate that awaits his victims. And whispers in the Russian underworld speak of him as Mors- The god of death So, what happens when a girl, who abandoned her family, her life & the very empire bestowed upon her- just to escape the sight of death, catches the eyes of the reaper? What happens when he pulls her into the abyss of his world, intent on destroying all she has fought to be in pursuit of vengeance? And what happens when, as the day wanes, the embodiment of her deepest fear captures her eyes as well?

ᴘᴀᴛʀɪᴄᴋ ғᴇᴇʟʏ x ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴏᴄ "Sweets?" "Yes, Patty?" Sienna Quinn was alienated by her peers. Having never experienced a friend, romance or a stable home life, she must try to keep herself from falling off the edge, even when more and more piles on top of her, all while navigating her self-worth and descent into toxic means of coping... Or punishment. Patrick Feely was the dependable Number 12 of Tommen College. Masked behind a stoic, unbothered exterior, he spends his life starved for affection in a home defined by freezing, clinical silence. Running on a robotic loop of grueling manual labor and locker-room expectations, he uses empty, mechanical friction to turn down the roaring volume in his own head. But when a nameless, bruised second-year stray forces her way into his quiet sanctuary, his carefully built walls begin to crack-and the rugged player who learned to listen to hallway cruelty in silence realizes he is entirely sick of watching her bleed.

Mae Rivers was sent to Brackenridge Academy to start over. To be quiet. To behave. To forget. But in a place where appearances matter more than truth, silence doesn't protect you. Especially not from someone like Ash Carter. He's everything she should stay away from - reckless, charming, and far too observant. He sees her when no one else does. And that might be the most dangerous thing of all. Because some stories aren't meant to be told. And some truths were never meant to stay buried.