One Sided Story Novels & Stories

What should I make with my ‘creation’ skill then? *stares at the outside He saw the sea and the boats and the yachts. “!!!!” That’s right, I’ve been saying it since earlier but it hasn’t gone to me! The transportation that is mainly used in the western and northern continent, the air ships! I should make a our very own sky ship. The protagonist of the story in my novel actually has a sky ship as well. I wonder what point in the story are we currently? Wait, is the story currently happening now or Bathala just made the world in my novel and didn’t follow the plot of the story? If that were what is happening then I can do whatever I want.

My hands curled at my sides. “I “I was human, I said.Low-status. Easy to sacrifice.” Rowan frowned, small brows knitting. They knew the broad strokes now. We’d never lied about that part. “But the thing about stories,” I said, “is that they only work if you keep telling them the same way. If you don’t stop and ask, ‘Who decided this was how it had to be?’” I glanced at Ronan. He was watching me with that look he still got sometimes—half awe, half something like an apology that had turned into gratitude over the years.

"We’re what?" "Enemies again," he says. "Legally. The voided marriage makes us competitors. The voided transfer makes you vulnerable. Officially, we are nothing to each other." I walk to the window. Look at the cameras outside. The reporters waiting. "Unless," I say. "Unless what?" "Unless we don’t let him control the story." I turn to him. "Unless we tell it first. The real version. The uncertain version. What actually happened." "You want to go out there now? Together? Tell the truth?"

He dismissed her. Alone, Ronan curled on the furs.Whimpered.The war was lost.But the obsession remained.He would try one last time.With everything...

“Pulling you out.” “I know,” I repeat. “And the headline still frames it like he started the war for fun,” she finishes. I close my eyes. “The truth doesn’t matter,” I say. “Only the version that makes the best story.” “Then maybe,” she says, “you should start telling yours before they finish writing theirs.” I open my eyes. Look at the photo again. Blurry. Out of context. A story with all the wrong authors. For the first time, a thought I’ve been holding at arm’s length creeps closer:

“You’re going, Sienna. We need their favor.” We were bleeding money, barely holding ground, and he self imagined that sending me to this assembly of unmated wolves would make allies. I’d pleaded, my thumbs jittering across my phone, but he’d shut me out. “You’re unmated. You’re omega. You’re useful. Go.”

But his direct supervisor told him plainly, "Being faithful to your partner is basic human decency. If you can't even manage that, what makes you think you can manage research?" The supervisor hadn't even been the harshest one. The higher-ups had called to check in the moment the story broke. They thought Dexter was too talented to lose, which was why they'd held off for a few days, giving him time to sort out his personal life. They never expected this to be how he sorted it. Dexter shook Brianna off. "Enough! She's supposed to be your best friend. Is it really that hard for you to see her come out okay?"

“I don’t like losing.” I turned fully to face her now. “This isn’t about winning or losing. It’s about stopping.” “Stopping?” She arched a brow. “You think all of this will stop just because you came here and said enough?” Her tone shifted again. Sharper. More deliberate. “The public is already enjoying the story,” she continued. “They’ve already chosen sides. And you know how they operate.” I felt tension creep up the back of my neck. She wasn’t talking about feelings anymore.

“None of that was my intention, and I intend to take care of her from here.” Brea’s father scowled and waved him onto the sofa in the homey living room. As One-Mile sat, the preacher lowered himself into an easy chair a few feet away, then cocked his head. “I’m willing to concede there are two sides to every story. I only know bits and pieces. If you think I’ve got it wrong, tell me yours.” “Both Brea and I will basically tell you the same story. We met and—” “I doubt it’s the same. She’s in love with you.”

Story Note: “Room for One More” is a standalone short from my erotic collectiona mix of intense, sensual, and sometimes forbidden stories that explore the raw edges of desire. Each story introduces new characters, new fantasies, and unapologetically explicit encounters. This particular tale features a taboo dynamic between step-siblings, told with heat, dominance, and no holding back. Reader discretion is advised. *************************************************