Stories:

The Man Who Would Destroy the World
M for strong language and sexual content. In-Progress
She was pleading with the man who would destroy the world; desperately pressing her lips against the man who would kill her. How had it come to this?

"Sometime during their exchange he had crowded into her personal space with one hand resting on the corner of the table, and the other on the back of the seat of her booth, large hands pressing into the deep green leather. He was now using his position to his advantage to lean aggressively down towards her ear, letting a faint but heady cologne of musk and cedar brush her nose, 'Look princess, you can put on your little stick-up-your-ass act cause your friends are here, but they're nowhere near you right now.' His fingers were no longer attacking the seat with their hard grip. They brushed down then, tangling themselves through her hair until they found a firm grip on the strands at the nape of her neck, 'But the fact is, no woman without their little fuck buddy drooling off one arm shows up in a public place dressed like you unless they're looking for a good screw to take home with them."

The One Who Remembered
M for strong language and sexual content. In-Progress
When does enough become enough? How many times could they break each other before what they brought each other no longer outweighed the hurt they caused? After years of absence, a pair are thrown into tumult when they come across more than what they expected could be there.

"She could remember what ever moment felt like when he touched her; this moment was soft, considerate, and absolutely necessary. He was holding her like something that could be broken, and every breath spoke the words of a thousand prayers. It could have been five me minutes, it could have been thirty, but after one song, the music ceased to even be a background soundtrack and all that existed was the other. A hand was gently moving up her shirt in the glow of dashboard lights and he skimmed the rounded edge of her breast, shooting shivers down her back as she felt more sensation than she expected.
Later as she lay in bed she turned on a song. Smooth R&B with a warm voice. She felt his hands: it was the only song they would ever share. They would never dance to it, never touch again to it, but in that moment it became there's; it was their prayer and their breathes in the dark, it was the dim blue light that had illuminated the shape of his face, it was a single movement that didn't mean a thing, but meant everything, because it was the only thing that would exist beyond memories. They couldn't keep the touches, images, breaths in anyplace but their own memories But that song, that song would always exist somewhere. That single song was somehow proof that they had existed in that moment…"

Of the Attraction and Incompatibility of Opposites
T for mild language and mature themes. On Hiatus until further notice.
No matter what any of us would like to think, life isn't a story. Bad boys don't change, neither do the popular ones, or the flirts, or the cheats. Opposites may attract, but never work. Life is never a storybook romance.

"All three of these problems offended me (after all, it's certainly not hard to be offended when someone asks you a questions like that,) and they were also wrong. It was wrong that he would consider asking me as if I would say yes to him, wrong that I should be flattered and wrong in that I wanted a date in the first place. And I being flattered about it was not only wrong, but insulting. I was not that desperate. I still had standards, and one of them was most certainly not "has-no-future."
And so naturally, so as not to end up roped into a date with "has-no-future" Eric, and of course because it was true, seeing as how I had been insistent when it came to persuading my table in biology to not, under any circumstances, attempt to set me up with anyone, I replied with a "No, of course not." Because being roped into a date with him would not have been good. Not good at all.
And he, being the person he was (one that is overly obsessed with his friends), was satisfied and probably happy with my answer as he replied with a casual, "Okay, cause I was planning on just going with friends." And that was the end of that, conversation closed, and as it was already nearing eleven, I switched off my messenger and headed off to the shower, never expecting to talk to him outside of school again.

Ever."

Updates:

November 17th: New story up: The Man Who Would Destroy the World. Enjoy, let me know what you think... Will finish The One Who Remembered when the fancy/inspiration strikes.

August 31st: I decided to extend the guilty pleasure and divide chapter 7 into two chapters. Enjoy! One more!