❝I just wanna scream out 'til my voice breaks Even if the tears fall and my heart hates me I just wanna know how I can save me Even if these three words choke and take me Baby I love you.❞ { 2 0 1 5 © josie nicholson short story. all rights reserved. } edited by the great @solitarypathways! myself and my readers can never thank you enough.

Hybrid!Harry When Harry shows up on Louis' front step without warning, Louis' anti-social, introverted, lonely life turns into something much more than he had ever expected in his twenty-seven years of living. Add a little pink, sparkle, and a bright-eyed boy with ears, and suddenly Louis' world is turned upside down- faster than a blink of an eye.

"There ain't no gay in Disney, nor has there ever be."

He needs a place to live, she needs a baby daddy. Pietro Santangelo and Marguerite White are students at prestigious Columbia University in New York City. She is a fun-loving, free spirit who finds herself in a bit of a familial bind, he is an exchange student with a chronic case of poverty. They concoct a plan that they think will work, not realizing how much changes with two simple words... Pete merely looked at her and opened a box of books. He took some out and began placing them on the shelves, bending and stretching at his task. He had a nice back, broad shoulders and muscles that could be seen clearly under his light blue T-shirt. Daisy watched for a minute, fascinated. "Like what you see?" he asked without turning around. She jumped at the sound of his voice. "Well, you're the only thing in the room that's moving, you know?" she said by way of explanation. He turned around to look at her, books in either hand, a small grin on his face. "Of course, what was I thinking?" he asked rhetorically. "And look. We're both adults here, hm?" He looked carefully at her. "The couch we just brought up here cost fifty dollars at the second-hand store, and has to be at least thirty years old. I don't want to sleep on it, and I don't think you're going to want to sleep on it, either." She shook her head. "So the bed is nice and big," he continued. "I think we can manage, don't you? We can share the bed." He watched her for her reaction. "I give you my word this is not going to be a problem for me. At all. Is this going to be a problem for you?" She looked at him. "Really? At all?" She recovered from the unintentional meaning of his words quickly. "No, it won't be a problem for me, either," she said firmly. "We can share the bed." Content warning: This story contains mature sexual content, and themes of premarital sex and sexual assault.

❝In which two people call up a helpline in order to find someone just as broken as they are. ❞ "Does...does it bother you that my dad's in prison for murder?" "Well, judging by the fact that I moved away from America to get away from the memory of a gun crime, I would say yes, Elliot, that bothers me quite a lot." "I...I...gun crime?" "Yes, Elliot. You are currently speaking to a survivor of one of America's many school shootings."