Cake
  • WpView
    Leituras 5
  • WpVote
    Votos 0
  • WpPart
    Capítulos 1
WpMetadataReadEm andamento<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeÚltima atualização sáb, set 19, 2020
"You're telling me I have to room with this...this.." "Go on, insult me, Arys. It's nice seeing you struggle." "Shut up! I can't believe I have to live with your smartass for a year." "I find it concerning how much you reference my ass. It's almost like you think about it more than you think about your words." --- Kayd Cepheus is known all around the school for his perfect grades, good looks and, most importantly, godly power ranking. Arys Lampytia is known for his bad personality, terrible ideas and, most importantly, his terrifying Gift. A snarky angel and the lord of death, what could go wrong?
Todos os Direitos Reservados
#394
yafantasy
WpChevronRight
Junte-se a maior comunidade de histórias do mundoTenha recomendações personalizadas, guarde as suas histórias favoritas na sua biblioteca e comente e vote para expandir a sua comunidade.
Illustration

Talvez você também goste

  • Children of the Dead
  • Reality vs. Virtual [An Axel Fanfic]
  • The Good Daughter
  • VOWS THAT BIND US ✔️
  • My biggest mistake
  • his weakness
  • HIS GOD COMPLEX | under construction!
  • How Dare You?
  • My Dark Scientist

Enver Williams is leading on a normal life but that is all ripped away from her when she is taken from her home town. When Enver comes to realize that there are others like her in more ways than one, she is determined to free herself and her newfound friends from the physiological torment of her closely supervised enclosure. ••• "Do I make you nervous, Enver?" Another idiotic question. "Wouldn't the man who kidnapped you and threatened to kill you make you nervous?" I snap at him. He only smiles an odd, crooked grin. I can make that disappear. "Wouldn't a murder make you nervous?" Now it's my turn to pull the strings. He looks at me with hurt in his eyes. "How many times do I have to say it?" He pauses, I guess hoping for some sort of mercy in my eyes, "I didn't kill her." "Liar!" I shout. "Why won't you believe me?!" "Would you believe yourself?" "It wasn't me who shot her," he sits on a stool, resting his elbows on his knees. "Then how do you know she was shot?" "I saw it. I saw him kill her," his voice was riddled with such pure vulnerability and pain it begged me to believe him. "Who?" I try to sound sympathetic, but it comes out as scared. Maybe, subconsciously, I am scared.

Mais detalhes
WpActionLinkDiretrizes de Conteúdo