Making Out Stories Novels & Stories

My mum jolted me from the trance I was about to enter. “Sure,” I smiled at her, she was leaning on the wall while her eyes peered at me. “Why did you ask those questions?” My mum questioned, raising a brow at me, a teasing smile playing on her lips. 'Another lie to bring up for her,' I thought. “I'm thinking of writing a romance story,” I lied. “That's wonderful,” My mum beamed at me. “Yeah, so, I've been thinking of ways to broaden their love life and story, at first trying to complicate their feelings for each other,” I lied and my mum nodded.

They only made me ache more. Adrien pov The afternoon blurred by in half hearted conversation. Adrien told me little stories about my supposed stubbornness at work, about how I never liked sharing fries, about how I snored when I fell asleep on the couch. He was careful not to overwhelm me, but every detail felt like a thread tying me closer to him. I wanted to remember it all.

That’s the game. And it works. Every single time. People want to believe in love stories—not just the fictional ones that play out on-screen, but the real-life ones they think bloom behind the scenes. A picture of two co-stars smiling a little too fondly at each other, a playful joke in an interview, a touch that lingers a second too long—it’s all fodder for the narrative.

“Now that… is valuable.” Finally. Someone who understands what opportunity looks like. He pulls out a recorder. “Tell me everything. The dirtier the better.” I inhale. Time to perform. I start weaving stories. Some true, but most of them are all bullshit stories. Little scenes of private arguments between Xander and me, exaggerated until they sound violent. Fabricated details about Olivia, painting her as manipulative, attention-seeking, desperate for fame. Invented messages. Invented confrontations. Invented secrets. Each word tastes like poison on my tongue. But it’s a poison I intend to spread.

And they’re asking for Cam’s comment for a piece they are going to put out. Funny, I didn’t know they knew how to do that. They’d never done this for me all those times they ran made up stories about by alleged “escapades”. Almost all of them were complete lies, only some even had a ghost of truth to them. I open the attachment to see in bold letters: “Banking Baron’s Princess A Stepmom?”. “Jesus, more crude than creative.” I say, Cam just hums in response. “Who blabbed to the tabloids?” I ask.

Like the town has realized the ground beneath it can answer back. By morning, the rumors have already outpaced the truth. Ruby reads them aloud from her phone with theatrical disgust. “Apparently you summoned the darkness, banished it, and then threatened the mayor with hellfire.” “I didn’t threaten anyone,” I mutter. “You didn’t deny it either,” she says, smirking. Lucien leans against the counter, arms crossed, eyes sharp. “They’re testing the narrative now. Seeing what sticks.” “That’s normal,” Noelle says from the table, pen moving steadily across a notebook she didn’t have yesterday. “People hate uncertainty. Stories give them edges to hold onto.”

I asked, shaking my head. I thought it was crazy when he asked Yūri last year if he could use the stories she’s told him about her youth for a manga. I still don’t know how much of the story is real and how much she’s made up to make it sound more interesting. But it does make for an interesting read. He wrangled Darius into helping him with the dialogue for the pages while he does all the art himself.

Since Granny Maddox was in a good mood and was willing to talk with her, Jessica took the chance to bring up this topic. She hoped Granny Maddox would answer her question. Granny Maddox's eyes flashed, but she still replied in a bland tone, "That was a rumor. That was not the truth... The media just loves to make up stories..." Granny Maddox downplayed it, but she didn't completely deny it. She just didn't want to mention it again.

He watched her took out something to eat or to just have something to play with. “Nice…” Misao Aika said while holding a pack of condoms, "I like playing with unopened condom packs because they are like a smaller version of gummy bears for me. What do you think?” She asked playfully. While holding the bag, she went towards him and sat beside him. “I thought you were going to give me a reward?” He asked with a raised brow. His erection was getting painful. “Are you toying with me? Don’t forget I know about your secret.”

I stepped forward towards the mic again. “Everyone’s been so obsessed with our story…” I said, keeping my voice steady. “... with who’s guilty, who’s wrong, and what’s appropriate.” I glanced at Cyril, who stood off to the side, his arms wrapped protectively around my waist. I took a deep breath. “Everything you saw on the internet? It’s not the truth. My mother made up stories just to sabotage me. She faked her death, and soiled Cyril's name by calling him a groomer. She was wrong and not nearly as smart.”