Toxic Love
Hollywood Arts High, nestled in the heart of Los Angeles, isn’t just a school — it’s a stage for the city’s most gifted teens in music, dance, theater, and art. Admission takes raw talent and star power, and few shine brighter than Beck Oliver. Seventeen, calm, and effortlessly magnetic, Beck’s presence turns heads the moment he walks by. With wavy dark-brown hair, deep brown eyes, and olive-toned skin that glows under LA sunlight, he’s the definition of quiet confidence. Lean, athletic, and naturally graceful, he dresses in easy layers — denim, leather, and henleys — never trying too hard but always perfect. Everyone wants him, but Beck’s heart already belongs to Jade West. Jade is his opposite — fierce, unpredictable, intoxicating. Her long black hair, icy blue-green eyes, and gothic-chic style make her impossible to ignore. She’s fire: passionate, jealous, sarcastic, and unapologetically bold. Beneath her sharp edges, though, lies a love she hides behind smirks and attitude. Their relationship is legendary at Hollywood Arts — beautiful and volatile. They fight hard, love harder, and somehow always find their way back to each other. Beck, raised in a strict, wealthy family, finds peace in his RV — his self-made sanctuary. Jade, shaped by her parents’ messy divorce, channels her chaos into art and rebellion. Together, they’re opposites bound by intensity. He’s calm waters. She’s raging fire. And when they walk into Hollywood Arts, everyone knows — something’s about to burn or bloom.The hallway of Hollywood Arts High was alive with noise — laughter, lockers slamming, and snippets of song echoing through the air. Students hurried between classes, some balancing sheet music, others twirling scripts or dancing down the corridor like they were already on stage.
At locker 118, Beck Oliver stood in his usual quiet corner of chaos. He was pulling out a worn script for his next acting class, the edges curled from too many rehearsals. His dark hair fell slightly into his eyes, and he brushed it back absentmindedly. Calm. Effortless. That was Beck — always centered, even when the world around him spun.
“Hey, Beck!” a cheerful voice chimed.
He turned, half-smiling. It was Maya, one of his biggest admirers — a bubbly sophomore with glitter eyeliner and a hopeful grin. She clutched her phone nervously, eyes wide like she was about to meet a celebrity.
“So, um… I was wondering if—” she stammered, then blurted out, “—if I could have your number? You know, for… collaboration or something?”
Beck opened his mouth to respond — politely, gently — but before a single word escaped, something small and shiny whizzed past his head.
A metal water bottle slammed into the locker right beside Maya’s face.
She gasped and stumbled back, eyes wide.
From down the hall, Jade West strode forward like a dark storm — black leather jacket, icy glare, and a smirk sharp enough to slice through air. Students instinctively moved aside, creating a path as if they’d seen this movie before — and they had.
“What the actual hell do you think you’re doing?” Jade’s voice dripped venom, every word slow and deliberate. “You trying to get your braces rearranged, or are you just naturally stupid?”
Maya’s face turned pale. “I—I was just—”
“Just hitting on my boyfriend in broad daylight?” Jade interrupted, crossing her arms. “Sweetheart, if you want a death wish, at least be creative about it.”
Beck sighed softly, shutting his locker with a calm click. “Jade…”
“Don’t ‘Jade’ me, Beck,” she snapped, spinning to face him. “I leave for five minutes and you’re auditioning for The Bachelor in the hallway?”
He gave her that patient, almost amused look — the one that usually melted her rage. “She just asked for my number.”
“Oh, right. And I’m the Queen of England,” Jade muttered, then pointed toward Maya. “Run along, sparkle face, before I turn you into abstract art.”
Maya bolted, nearly tripping over her own bag.
Jade turned back to Beck, narrowing her eyes. “You seriously need to start carrying pepper spray — for me.”
Beck chuckled quietly. “You’d just use it on my fan club.”
Her lips twitched despite herself. “Damn right I would.”
And just like that — chaos met calm again, perfectly balanced in the madness of Hollywood Arts.
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Hidden love
Under the glare of stage lights, Jeon Jungkook was everything the world wanted him to be — the Golden Maknae of BTS. To millions, he was confident, unstoppable, and endlessly talented. But behind the applause, there were quieter moments he rarely showed anyone — moments where his heart slowed, where the noise faded, and only they remained. Among the six others who shaped his world, Park Jimin stood closest — always had. Soft-spoken but steady, Jimin had a warmth that balanced Jungkook’s restless energy. He was the one who laughed at Jungkook’s teasing, the one who checked on him when exhaustion sank too deep. To fans, their bond was legendary — Jikook, they called it. To Jungkook, it was something he couldn’t quite name yet. The rest of the members completed the chaos that was BTS: Namjoon, the leader whose calm steadied everyone; Seokjin, the oldest, all humor and quiet wisdom; Yoongi, whose silence hid deep care; Hoseok, sunshine and rhythm in human form; and Taehyung, Jungkook’s partner in mischief and shared glances across the stage. Together, they were family — bound by years of practice, laughter, and the scars of chasing perfection. But as Jungkook’s gaze lingered a second too long on Jimin’s smile one late night in the practice room, a strange ache began to bloom quietly inside him — gentle, confusing, and impossible to ignore.
Against it
Palm Sittichai, a 23-year-old with soft curls, blue eyes, and dimples that could melt anyone’s heart, runs a small boutique called Tropical. Known for his beauty and kindness, he’s meticulous about his skin and fashion. Beneath his gentle demeanor, however, lies a deep bias—Palm can’t stand same-sex love and avoids anyone who identifies that way. Living with his 16-year-old sister, Pam, in a tiny apartment, he gives her the bedroom while he sleeps in the living room. Pam adores him but often challenges his stubborn morals. After discovering his girlfriend’s betrayal, Palm drowns his pain in alcohol at a bar. There, in his drunken haze, he meets Rit Chanonchai—the 28-year-old youngest self-made billionaire in Thailand. Rit, all sharp edges and intoxicating charm, with a sculpted body and confident smirk, is everything Palm claims to despise yet can’t look away from. Known in business for his fairness and control, Rit’s off-duty life is wild and irresistible. That night, blurred by alcohol and confusion, Palm flirts with Rit, drawn by something he refuses to name. One impulsive encounter leads them to a passionate night together. The next morning, horror and denial consume Palm. Furious and ashamed, he lashes out at Rit, swearing never to see him again. But Rit—curious, intrigued, and unexpectedly captivated by Palm’s mix of innocence and fire—refuses to back down. For Rit, this isn’t about conquest anymore. It’s about unraveling the guarded heart of the boy who swore he’d never fall for a man.
My Worlds
Kiara Williams was the kind of woman who turned heads without trying — 24, with curly hair that framed her face, striking blue eyes, soft dimples, and a petite 5’5” frame. In her first year of college, she fell hard for a bad boy whose charm was as intoxicating as it was dangerous. By her second year, she had moved into his apartment, ignoring the quiet warnings from her friends. For a while, it felt like love — reckless, thrilling, and all-consuming. Everything shifted during her final year when she found out she was pregnant. He had begged her to end it, but Kiara’s heart wouldn’t let her. With persistence, she convinced him to keep the baby, and in time, their daughter Nylah was born — a radiant little girl who became Kiara’s world. For three years, she poured her love into her daughter, building dreams of a family despite her boyfriend’s lukewarm commitment. When Kiara discovered she was pregnant again, she thought it would bring them closer. Instead, it exposed cracks too deep to mend. He grew distant — late nights, hushed phone calls, a password-locked phone. At six months pregnant, the truth hit like a storm: he was cheating. When she confronted him, he didn’t even flinch. His words cut colder than the night air: “I never wanted to be a dad. Leave.” Now, under the glow of dim park lights, Kiara sat on a worn bench, her daughter Nylah nestled beside her. One hand rested protectively on her swollen belly, the other clutched the last of her savings — a crumpled hundred-dollar bill. She had no home, no plan, and no partner. But she had her children.
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.