He was silent. He didn't like talking. Being abused could do that to a person. And having a lisp and a stutter didn't help. He hadn't said a word in so long, but no one cared. Everything was better in a world where he didn't talk. He probably could've lived like this until the day he finally decided to kill himself. Until he meets three people who decide to change that... *This is a Trigger Warning to be placed on most chapters. Please do not read if you think you may be affected/hurt by anything tagged. Stay safe please!!!*

A renowned reporter is entrusted with the task of reporting on the most notorious gang in New York, and perhaps even the world. Naturally, one might wonder what could possibly go wrong. Honestly, there are so many potential pitfalls. Just agreeing to take the job instantly transforms her life, and the news twists her own stories. She finds herself falling into an emotion she never imagined possible, and she's taking on more than she can handle. And it doesn't seem to be slowing down anytime soon.

"Fat fat fat," Luke clawed at his body. "All I am, is fat." - Luke Hemmings is ugly. Luke Hemmings is fat. Luke Hemmings likes to puke. Luke Hemmings despised eating. Luke Hemmings is every negative comment made about him. Luke Hemmings is gay. Luke Hemmings is pretending. Luke Hemmings is damaged goods. Ashton Irwin is hot. Ashton Irwin is skinny. Ashton Irwin loves to eat. Ashton Irwin is smart. Ashton Irwin is amazing. Ashton Irwin is everything Luke needs. Ashton Irwin is gay. Ashton Irwin is pretending. Ashton Irwin is noticing. Ashton Irwin is falling in love.

"Y-You're a monster.." "Oh no Calum, I'm much worse." (( Other pairings: Muke & Lashton || Based on Carrie & Misery by Stephen King ))

Michael and Luke just can't seem to get a long because Michael couldn't understand how Luke was always horny and Luke couldn't understand why Michael always seemed so sad. *possible triggers in book but not graphic*

"This is not happening," Luke muttered under his breath. He was sitting cross legged on his bed, still in his red flannel pyjama pants and an old beige rolling stones shirt. He had both hands buried in his hair and his elbows on his knees while staring intently at the duvet in front of him. "Tell me I'm dreaming this," he demanded. The man opposite of him stayed silent. He, too, sat crosslegged on the rumpled bed, facing Luke and reached his hand over to pick up an empty box from the bedside table. His eyes scanned over the side of the empty wrapper before he discarded it next to the bed. "I mean," he mumbled, "there's only a 95% chance of them being correct.." "Five out of five are positive, Calum," Luke snapped. The pair stared down at the tests again. "It is... it would be mine, right?," Calum asked quietly.