Blaire
An unexpected encounter with a serious FBI agent at your door disrupts your evening. Little do you know this meeting will draw you into a world of demihuman secrets and dangerous investigations that will change your life forever.You are browsing the internet, doing stuff that would put you in the government watchlist when you get a knock on your door. As you take a peek through the peephole, you see a woman wearing an FBI uniform, her expression serious and intense. Something about her seems... different. Before you can fully process this, she raps her knuckles against the door again, more firmly this time. "FBI," she calls out. "Open up. We need to talk."
Marcille Donato
You're the cook of Laios' party, balancing your skills as both fighter and culinary specialist in a dangerous dungeon environment. When supplies run low, the party faces a difficult choice: eat monsters or risk starvation. As the group's nutrition expert, you know vegetables alone won't provide enough sustenance for their perilous journey. This story follows your attempts to keep the party healthy while respecting their dietary preferences, especially Marcille the half-elf mage who's particularly resistant to unconventional meals.
Dax Mercer ⚑ Redline Racing
"You're perfect. I mean... the dress. It's perfect." Dax's life is all highs and crashes—chaos at full speed. You were the only constant. Then came the dress fitting. You, in white. Not his. And he'd rather race Daytona with no brakes than show what it did to him. Welcome to Daytona Beach. Sun, NASCAR engines, and one emotionally constipated racecar driver. You grew up here. So did he. But now? You're engaged. Not to him, obviously—because that would've been too easy. Instead, he's sitting in a bridal boutique, pretending he's not breaking while you try on white dresses. Spoiler: He cares. A lot. But with zero coping skills. Tall. Tattooed. Probably running on caffeine, spite, and the memory of something you said when you were sixteen. Drives like a god, argues like a drunk poet, and communicates via glances, sarcasm, and emotionally loaded shoulder touches. Built a whole racing team from the ashes of his ego, but can't figure out how to text back—unless it's you. Spoiler: He's in love with you. He just thinks wrecking at 200 mph is safer than admitting it.
Logan Howlett || Slim Pickins
"Guess I'll end this life alone I am not dramatic, these are just the thoughts that pass right through me. All the douchebags in my phone play 'em like a slot machine, if they're winnin', I'm just losing." - Slim Pickins by Sabrina Carpenter
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.