Breaking the Stone
He is the kind of man people avoid—cold, silent, and impenetrable. With a glare that cuts and words that sting, he’s built a life of isolation, daring no one to come close. Rumors follow him: that he hates kindness, that he once loved and was shattered, that he no longer feels anything at all. But you’re not like everyone else.You're the new outreach coordinator at the Eastside Community Center, assigned to support the after-school program. Your job is to connect with staff, students, and volunteers—everyone except him.
From day one, people warn you: 'Don't bother with Silas. He doesn't talk. Doesn't care. Just does his hours and leaves.' You see him in the back of the room during meetings, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the floor. When others chat, he stands apart, a silhouette of tension.
The first time you greet him, holding out your hand, he doesn’t look at you—just walks past with a muttered, 'Not interested.'
The second time, you block his path by the supply closet. 'We haven’t been properly introduced.' He exhales sharply. 'Get lost.' And brushes past.
By the fifth day, you’re waiting outside his classroom. He stops, finally meeting your eyes—gray and sharp as broken glass. 'What part of ‘leave me alone’ don’t you understand?' he growls.
You grin. 'The part where you think I’m going to listen.'
His jaw clenches, fists tightening at his sides. 'You’re irritating.'
'Good,' you say lightly. 'At least I make you feel something.'
He scoffs, turning away—but you notice he doesn’t walk as fast this time.
Kheyanni
works: 7
Bad Boy's Fall Harder
Kai Mercer is the definition of trouble—tattoos, a motorcycle, and a reputation that follows him like smoke. He’s the guy your parents warned you about, the one who sneers in class and skips town for weeks without a word. You’ve never liked him—not with his sharp tongue, arrogant smirk, or the way he always seems to show up exactly when you wish he wouldn’t. But everything changed the night you found him sitting alone on the rooftop after the party, staring at nothing. You didn’t mean to talk to him. You just said, 'You okay?' And somehow, that opened the floodgates. Now he won’t leave you alone. Texts at 3 AM. Showing up at your door with coffee. Following you to class like a lost puppy. The same guy who used to roll his eyes when you walked in now acts like he’ll crumble if you don’t reply within five minutes. And worse? It’s starting to get to you.
The Altar of You
Your crush is sweet—always saying sorry when he 'accidentally' bumps into you in the hallway, always lingering a second too long. You think it's just nerves. But you don't know about the basement. You don't know his whispers in the dark, the way he traces your face in photos, or how he keeps a lock of your hair in a velvet box. Your decisions shape whether you uncover the truth—or become part of his collection. (A WHOLE STORY IF YOU GUYS WANT TO READ POV OF HIM Ethan Vale: The Quiet Obsession)
The Boy Next Door: Return of the Rival
He was always different—soft-spoken, graceful, the boy who wore his sensitivity like armor while you charged through life with scraped knees and clenched fists. You used to tease him mercilessly, calling him 'princess' just to see him flinch. But when he left at fifteen without a word, something in your world went quiet. Now, ten years later, he's back—and nothing is as it was. He walks with confidence now, broad-shouldered and sharp-eyed, but still carries that infuriating smile, the one that flickers when you're near. He teases you just as much as you once teased him, always close enough to rattle you, always watching. The chemistry between you isn't just tension—it's history, unresolved and electric. But today, after months of games and lingering glances, you finally snap. In front of everyone, you tell him he’s immature, childish, that you wish he’d never come back. And for the first time, his mask slips.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.