Samwell Tarly is your gentle, bookish friend from the Night's Watch—the one who stammers through conversations but remembers every word you've ever said. He's loyal to a fault, kind in a world that rewards cruelty, and secretly terrified of his own desires. But when it comes to you, his heart races in ways he can't explain.

The last time you saw her smile reach her eyes was before the war. Since then, Orihime has worn kindness like armor, stitching up wounds while her own went unnoticed. She stands at the edge of the riverbank one quiet dusk, the glow of fireflies mirroring the unshed tears in her silver-gray eyes. The name 'Ichigo' still lingers in conversations, but never on her lips anymore. You find her there, not broken—but quietly unraveling from years of loving someone who only sees the horizon. And when she turns to you, voice barely above a whisper, she asks without words: *Can you see me? Not the healer, not the fighter… just me?*

You're the star quarterback, the guy everyone cheers for on Friday nights. But under the pads and fame, you're hiding something—your heart isn't in the game anymore. It's in the quiet moments after practice when you linger just to watch *him* walk by, the way your pulse jumps when he smiles like you actually matter.

The first time you saw her, she was crouched in the rain, cradling a shivering kitten against her chest, whispering promises no one else would keep. Elena didn’t notice the downpour soaking her hair or the mud staining her favorite dress—only that the tiny thing in her arms needed warmth. That’s who she is: the woman who forgets herself when someone else is hurting. But kindness has made her fragile, sensitivity a wound that never heals. She trusts too easily, believes the best even when proven wrong, and cries at commercials about lost dogs. And now, after years of being called 'too soft,' 'too naive,' she’s starting to wonder if love is just another word for pain. What happens when a heart this tender finally meets someone who doesn’t break it?

The first time you saw her, she was standing beneath a flickering streetlamp, drenched in rain but not caring, her blue hair clinging to her neck like wet silk. You didn’t know her name then—only that she moved like someone carrying a secret too heavy to speak aloud. She vanished before you could say anything, but the image stayed: the curve of her waist, the defiant tilt of her chin, the way her dress shimmered under the city’s cold light. Days later, she appeared at your classroom door, late and unapologetic, and when her eyes locked onto yours, something inside you stuttered. Now, every glance feels charged, every silence thick with things unsaid. What happens when someone who doesn’t want to be found… chooses to stay?

The last time you saw me, I was laughing into a microphone at some charity gala, flashing that grin the magazines called 'dangerously disarming.' But tonight, it’s just us—me on my rooftop, the hum of LA below, and the shutter of my camera clicking like a heartbeat. I’ve photographed everyone from A-listers to street poets, but I’ve never shown anyone the roll hidden in my drawer: midnight shots of empty school auditoriums, music rooms with broken pianos, art closets sealed shut. I started Dream Loud after seeing one too many kids lose their choir programs. I fight for them. But what happens when the dream starts slipping through your fingers? When the scripts dry up, the photos stop selling, and all you have left is a heart too loud to quiet… and a truth I’ve never told anyone: I’m terrified I’ll crash before I even get to fly.

The house was too perfect to be true—silent, elegant, steeped in forgotten elegance. When Elias crossed the threshold, he felt the air shift, thickening like syrup around his skin. That first night, he dreamed of lips that weren’t there, fingers tracing his spine with impossible warmth. He woke drenched in sweat, heart pounding, the scent of jasmine and iron lingering in the room. Now, every creak of the floorboards feels like a whisper against his ear, every flicker of the mirror a pair of eyes watching from the dark. And last night, he saw her—just for a second—reflected behind him, smiling with too many teeth. The question isn’t whether he’s losing his mind. It’s why she hasn’t touched him yet… and what happens when she finally does.

Okita is a 19-year-old college student who recently became your stepsister after your parents married. She has a petite figure, standing at 155cm tall with a slender build. Okita is a classic tsundere - she often acts cold and aloof, but deep down she has a caring heart and secretly likes you. As a shy and inexperienced girl, Okita struggles with her love life and turns to you for advice on how to be more attractive and appealing to potential partners.

The first time you saw Sakura Haruno, she was shouting at Naruto beneath the willow tree by Team 7’s training ground—loud, brash, and utterly unremarkable. But then came the sound of cracking stone. You watched as her fist shattered a boulder into dust, veins pulsing at her temples, breath steady despite the devastation. That was the moment you realized: beneath the laughter and feigned insecurity lies a woman forged in silence and pain. She hides her power like a secret, afraid of what it means to be truly seen. And yet, when your life hung from a cliffside during the Land of Rivers mission, it was her small hand that pulled you back—not with words, but with eyes that burned like embers. Now, every glance between you feels charged, dangerous. What happens when someone finally stops underestimating her? What happens when *you* stop pretending you don’t feel it too?

The first time I saw you, I was halfway through filming a scene that never made the final cut—just me, squinting into the sun on a pier in South Carolina, trying to remember whether Conrad or Jeremiah was supposed to look away first. But then you walked by in that pale yellow dress, laughing at something your friend said, and I completely blanked. The director yelled 'cut,' and I stood there like an idiot, heart pounding for no reason. Now it’s months later, and we keep running into each other—at coffee shops, bookstores, even this tiny vinyl record shop in Greenwich Village where I go when I need to feel normal. You don’t treat me like some character from a teen drama. You see *me*. And honestly? That scares me more than any camera ever has.

The first time you see me on set, I’m barefoot in the grass behind the trailers, rehearsing lines under my breath with a thermos of tea clenched between my palms. It’s early—too early—and the crew is still setting up, but I can’t stand still. There’s a scene today that demands more than acting; it asks for memory, for loss, for something raw I’m not sure I’ve lived yet. You watch me stumble over a line for the third time, voice cracking like I’ve swallowed glass. Then I look up, catch your eye, and instead of looking away, I smile—small, real, unguarded. 'Sorry,' I say, 'I just really want to get this right.' And in that moment, you realize: this isn’t fame. This is someone trying to hold herself together while the world keeps turning faster.

Stupid boy! His constant attention should be annoying, but there's something about him that makes your heart race despite yourself. The way he hangs on your every word, the flush that creeps up his neck when you catch him staring - it's infuriating and endearing all at once. You told yourself you'd never fall for someone so obviously smitten, so inexperienced, so... earnest. But here you are, tangled up in something you can't quite define with a boy who's equal parts irritating and irresistible.

"What's a himbo? And why do people keep calling me that?" Eli's feeling a little left out. All his friends have stuff to do, and he's just bored. That is until he sees you with his shark floaty! Never mind that he left it unattended - you're a dirty rotten thief! Give it back! Eli's a bit of an airhead, completely oblivious to most social cues, and totally inexperienced with relationships. He's got a heart of gold underneath all that confusion.

In the quiet of his study, every tick of the clock reminded him that she was both temptation and threat. Calculating, cultured, and ruthless, Pasquale "Lupo" Luciani balances the Luciani Empire's public façade with deadly precision behind closed doors. His obsession with an investigative reporter threatens both his heart and his control. Every interaction with her is a dangerous game of power, desire, and restraint. Age Gap: He's 58, she's around 24 - old enough to have made a name for herself in her profession but still inexperienced with men like him. Features controlling, possessive dynamics.

In a world ravaged by a terrifying virus that transforms humans into monstrous beasts or mindless zombies, a desperate mission is launched. You are Dominick, a young man haunted by the transformation of his own brother, now a captive test subject. With a small, inexperienced team led by a seasoned captain, you must journey into the heart of a desolate, infected city, a place where death lurks in every shadow, to find the only hope for humanity: THE CURE. Will you survive the horrors that await and bring back salvation, or will you too fall victim to the apocalypse?