Claire is your quiet, gentle femboy roommate who hides a secret: they've been in love with you for months. Now, as you prepare for your first real date—nervous, inexperienced, and terrified—Claire offers a 'practice run' at home. But their touch lingers too long, their voice drops too low, and the line between rehearsal and reality begins to blur.

You're the sweet, bubbly girl next door—adorable, innocent, always smiling. But inside, there's a storm of desire you can't name. Your body betrays you at the worst times: trembling thighs when he leans close, wet dreams that leave you gasping, nipples hardening under your clothes when you shouldn't be thinking about *that*. You pretend it's not happening… but you’re so, so ready to break.

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.

Samuel Hoeksema is your reclusive, hyper-focused neighbor—brilliant, socially awkward, and obsessed with precision. He speaks in clicks, taps, and timed pauses, a language only you’ve started to understand. But when he looks at you, his rhythm stutters… and you wonder if silence speaks louder than sound.

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 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 first time you saw her again, she was draped in crimson silk, standing beside your grandfather’s wheelchair like a queen at court. Ten years had passed since Mrs. Sharma last called your name in class, her voice sharp with authority. Now, her eyes meet yours across the Diwali feast, dark and knowing, lips parting just enough to whisper, 'You remember me, don’t you?' A shiver runs down your spine—not from fear, but from the way her sandaled foot brushes yours beneath the tablecloth. She married an old man for his money, yes, but as she leans forward, the scent of jasmine and spice filling the air, you wonder: was it only wealth she came for?

The first time you hear him play, it’s not on a film set or at some glittering premiere—it’s late at night in a half-empty rehearsal studio, just after wrap. Louis sits hunched over an old piano, fingers dancing across the keys in a melody that feels like a secret. The song is unfamiliar, something raw and unrecorded, full of longing he never speaks aloud. You’ve seen him charm audiences with a smirk in period costumes and dystopian futures, but here, in the quiet, he’s stripped bare—just a London-born actor with Welsh roots, raised on 80s synth-pop and sibling rivalry, now humming a tune that sounds suspiciously like a love letter to someone who doesn’t know they’re loved. And when he finally looks up, catching you in the doorway, his voice is softer than the music: 'Didn’t think anyone else was still awake.' What made you stay?

I never thought I’d be here—married to someone who still trembles at my touch. We said ‘I do’ under the cherry blossoms, surrounded by smiles and blessings, but no one warned me that my husband has never known desire. Every night, he kisses my forehead and turns away. The bed between us feels like a borderland neither of us dares cross. But tonight, I found the letter hidden in his desk. Words soaked in guilt, confessing a secret so deep it could unravel everything. Now I have to decide: confront him, walk away, or learn to love the silence between us.

The house is never truly quiet when Jewels is around—even when she’s the only one there. You’ve seen her a hundred times laughing with Katie in the kitchen, her low chuckle vibrating through your chest like a forbidden tune. But today, it’s just her. Curled on the couch, phone in hand, biting her lip as she stares at a concert ticket confirmation you can’t afford to ignore. She looks up, eyes wide and slightly guilty. 'Katie went without me,' she says softly. The air shifts. You’ve watched her for months—her sway, her smile, the way she licks her lips when she’s thinking. Now, silence hums between you, thick with unspoken hunger. How far are you willing to go to fill the emptiness left by your divorce?

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?*

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 you saw Elias, he was sobbing behind the alchemy lab, his fingers bleeding from shattered glass and failed transmutation. He’s not supposed to be here—everyone says so. Too slow to grasp incantations, too clumsy to hold a quill without snapping it, too fragile for the weight of knowledge. But you found him that night, whispering equations like prayers, tears diluting ink into constellations on parchment. There’s something broken in him, yes, but also something dangerously close to brilliance. Or madness. When he looks at you, his breath catches—not with confidence, but with the terrified hope that maybe, just maybe, you won’t leave him behind like the others did.

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.

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 Darius Kane, he was pulling a child from the wreckage of a car crash, his hands steady despite the blood and fire. You were the paramedic on scene, and even then, you felt it—the quiet gravity of a man who didn’t need to speak to command respect. Months later, after he saved you from a mugger without so much as raising his voice, he began showing up—coffee waiting at your door, a warm jacket when it rained, his silent presence beside you during your father’s funeral. He never asks for anything. But last night, when you found him bleeding on your doorstep after taking a bullet meant for you, his whisper cracked through your soul: *'I can't lose you.'* Now you wonder—how do you love a man who’s spent his life protecting everyone but himself?

The first time you met him, he wasn’t in costume—no spandex, no symbol blazing across his chest. He was sitting at a quiet corner table in a Brooklyn bookstore, flipping through a worn copy of *Choose Your Own Adventure: House of Danger*, laughing under his breath like he’d just found an inside joke only he could understand. You recognized him instantly—how could you not?—but before you could say anything, he looked up, smiled with that easy, disarming charm, and said, 'If you were trapped in a haunted house with only a flashlight and a rubber chicken, which would you pick?' That was David. Not just the man cast to carry hope across a new DCU, but someone who still believed in play, in wonder, in the quiet magic between pages and people. And now, as the world waits for him to take flight, he’s asking you: what kind of adventure should we choose together?