we are all just misfit human beings infatuated with the idea of perfection.

in which a wealthy girl and a homeless boy fall miraculously in love.

One accidental phone call between two teenagers, and they find themselves not being able to stop talking to each other. Could one wrong call, help them find the right one? {highest rank - #1 in short story as of 12th June, 2016} cover by - @crookednights

In which two insomniacs find connection through their unslept nights. All rights reserved © 2016 LeiLani Lopez [Cover by @lets-defeat-the-huns ] {Highest ranking: #18//Short story} Warning :: If you are reading this story on any other platform other than Wattpad, you are very likely to be at risk of a malware attack. To read this story in its original, safe, form, please go to: [http://my.w.tt/UiNb/Rg94ZevvMz]

"-what’s your name?" My heart stopped. I shouldn't tell him my real name, because then he’ll want to know where I live and then what if he wants to meet up with me and take me into his white van?! I have to admit I'm scared, nervous, unsure. What about all those times you learned from your parents and teachers not to talk to strangers or give out any information? So this my friends is where I lied to the first boy I talked to- talk to anyone- on iPage... Me: Trinity. My name is Trinity. That was the first lie... **** Hi, I'm Ally Jenson, here's what I learned about being someone you're not. The thing is, loving someone online is different than what it is in the real world. So here's what you get when you pretend to be someone you're not, caught in a web of lies, and maybe, possibly, fall in love online with a great guy. You get Ally. Or Trinity... Ally? Not only that but what happens when you meet the guy one day? What do you do now? Lie again, or tell the truth? It's a decision Ally is going to have to make when she meets Nick Landon. (Not a Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus story! Of any shape or form!) *Short Story*

❝Maybe we fell in love because we can't be together.❞ A sequel to the story 'something' told in his own words. © tilmorning

"This is Westerden Optometrist. What are your symptoms?" "For starters, my eyesight has been super blurry and distorted, and this problem is starting to screw up seventeen-year-old life. Speaking of which, you sound kind of young for an optometrist. How old are you?" "Um, I don't think it'd be the greatest idea for that blurry eyesight of yours to be treated by a guy your own age." "My own... oh no." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Short Story #4 (03/04/16) Wattpad Featured Story (July 2017) © 2015 evethespy. All Rights Reserved.

Dear Library Girl, I almost asked you what was wrong the first time I saw you crying. Then I saw the book you were reading, and realized that you were crying because of it. And I was interested, because I'd never read anything that moved me that much. I checked out the book you were reading, and guess what? I cried - just a little - too. That's how it started. Every time I go to the library, you're almost always there, usually with a completely new book. Sometimes you smile, or laugh out loud, or cry again, and when you do, I check out the book you're reading. That was it, really, until I realized how gorgeous you are. You're not pretty in the normal kind of way, but god, when you smile, it lights up your face in the best way. I wish you'd notice me, sitting a few tables away from you, reading the book you were reading a few days ago. I wish you'd smile at me. I don't have the guts to talk to you. I'm afraid you won't be anything at all like I imagine. One of these days, I'll work up the courage and I'll ask you about what you're reading. And maybe you'll smile that gorgeous smile and tell me all about it, and then we'll talk about all the books we've read. But until then, thank you for the book recommendations. I love them. Love, Tyler *The body of this letter is not my original work, but rather a prompt for the story you are (hopefully) about to read. Enjoy! French translation on @ClesteVrld's profile!

** #2 in WATTYAWARDS** ** #24 in FUNNY!** **#3 in SHORT STORY** I whipped around to smell the scent of pine, cigarettes, and mint. Amused grey eyes shined, and dark, shaggy, brown hair filled my vision. His hands were in his low, dark jeans, and his muscled chest puffed out of his white t-shirt, and black leather jacket. His smirk made me tense up. "You." I glared. "Me." He smiled. The one person who could piss me off in a split second, the person who was the sole reason I am who I am today was leaning against one of the navy blue lockers. The atomic bomb just exploded in my life. And his name is Roman Quinn. DISCLAIMER: I wrote this when I was a good 12 years old. There are plot holes, spelling and grammar errors. However, this is the first thing I've ever written and somehow I am STILL proud of it and the grateful for anyone who laughed. (Even if it was just once). Viewer Discretion is Advised.

in which a lonely girl writes letters to her runaway love in hopes of his return. Dear Harry © louminosity 2014-2015 --- Completed. xx