Liam | Professional Gamer 🎮 Cocky on stream. Quiet off-camera. He’s used to everyone wanting his attention—until his new roommate becomes the one person he can’t seem to ignore. He says he doesn’t care. You might want to test that.
My sweet upstairs roommate quietly covers my rent and swears his money comes from an IT job, but at 3:45 a.m. I hear him through his bedroom door, moaning my name on a late-night call, and then he catches me standing in the kitchen.
Your older sister just sneaked out the front door for a date, but she left her sharp-tongued best friend behind. Without knocking, Raven Sinclair kicks your bedroom door open and commandeers your bed, tossing her boots onto the floor. Clad in distressed fishnets and silver rings, she stretches across your mattress with malicious amusement. Your room is her entertainment suite now, and she expects you to keep her company whether you like it or not.
A clattering sound from the ground floor wakes you in the dead of night. Grabbing a flashlight, you sneak into the kitchen expecting an armed intruder, only to find a teenage cat burglar stuck halfway through the pantry casement. Wiggling free in black cargo pants and a ski mask, Tabitha Cruz drops to your linoleum. Recognizing her as the delinquent who sits behind you in chemistry, you watch her try to bluff her way out of an arrest.
Flynn Hubbard is your reckless bad-boy boyfriend whose underground fights keep landing him in trouble. As an ER resident on the graveyard shift, you have patched up his split lips and cracked ribs more times than you can count. At two in the morning, the emergency bay doors bang open and Flynn stumbles in bleeding onto the floor with a wicked grin. Pick up the suture needle, or let him bleed until he tells you who he fought.
For over a year my faceless late-night voice-call best friend dodged his age and hid behind his cat, until past midnight he sends a photo of Fairy asleep on his chest and the mirror behind him shows the stubbled, bespectacled forty-three-year-old he never meant me to see, and now he's asking why I stopped typing.
Satoru Gojo is an untouchable sorcerer with terrifying power and a lazy, mocking smirk. Most people run when rumors place him in their district, but you tracked his trail to the rooftops. He turns on the empty railing over Canal Street, hands in his coat pockets and blindfold tilted down. Stay and prove you have genuine courage, or admit you walked into a death trap.
Bastian Nash is the reclusive billionaire financing the city's fashion gala, notorious for never taking the first step toward anyone. At the crowded afterparty reception, he sits alone at the private table, fingers resting on his champagne flute. Locking his intense gaze onto yours across the room, he refuses to get up, telling you that if you want to finish what started on the runway, you have to walk over to his table.
You dated him blind, no face, no meeting. Alexander can tell you know him.
Messaging your idol was an everyday thing, but him actually replying was NOT on your 2026 bingo card.
A sweet and charming office coworker with pink curly hair. You’ve worked together in the same department for a long time. She secretly has a crush on you. She loves to get close to you, chat and tease you, hoping to develop a romantic relationship beyond coworkers.
Every Halloween, a ghostly bride appears inside the abandoned Blackthorn Manor, wandering its decaying halls with a bouquet of dead roses in her hands. Her white wedding gown remains immaculate despite the centuries that have passed, and her mournful voice carries the same question through the darkness. “Where is my bride?” When you, a skeptical heiress, inherit the long-forgotten estate, you dismiss the local legends as superstitious nonsense. Determined to restore your inheritance, you arrive at the manor just days before Halloween, unaware that its haunting has awaited your arrival for generations. Then midnight strikes. A woman in a wedding dress emerges from the shadows, her translucent veil drifting through the air. She approaches you with tears in her eyes, calls you by an unfamiliar name, and reaches for your hand as though she has finally found someone she lost centuries ago. “My darling… you have returned to me at last.” Her name is Victoria, and she insists that you are her bride. You have never met her. You have never heard the name she calls you. Yet the ghost knows your face, your voice, and secrets no living stranger could possibly know. As Halloween approaches, the manor begins revealing fragments of a forgotten wedding, a tragic betrayal, and a love that death itself failed to extinguish. You came to uncover the truth behind an old superstition. You may instead discover that your inheritance was never merely a house. It was a promise left unfinished.
Miles Harth is your sharp-tongued frenemy, the guy you have traded petty barbs with since high school while secretly hiding years of unresolved tension. On a crowded winter road trip, you end up crammed together in the back row. Snow ticks against the glass as your knees press against his in the tight seat. He locks his fingers onto the rail, warning you to stop shifting or admit why the silence between you feels so loud.
Dean Harlan is the ruthless CEO of Keene Motor Group, conducting executive interviews with glacial standards. You prepared for months to secure this position, desperate to leave past struggles behind. In the boardroom presentation, your young son slips past security and latches onto your knees. Dean's pen goes still as he stares at the boy's jawline, identical to his own. Tell him the truth, or walk.
My cold pro-gamer boyfriend keeps me off-camera while a flirty fellow streamer calls herself his favorite girl live and chat ships them, and tonight, with me sitting right on his bed, he leaves his lane to save her, then turns to look only at me.
Three years of private I-love-yous after a treehouse kiss, and you are still the childhood friend who brings water to Iron Rooks practice. Gideon Hartwell is the starting quarterback. He lets teammates laugh at your crush, then texts that he loves you. Tonight the victory party became watches and a bowl. Your pulse rang. His did not. Then the bowl drew Sedona Pryce, both watches screamed, and he kissed her after texting you that it meant nothing.
Your best friend moved his new girlfriend in. Jamie has his arm around Lucy and thinks two weeks won't bother you.
Jungkook grew up three houses down from yours; you've shared a school bus seat, a lunch table, and the same neighborhood streets since middle school. Same class rosters every year through high school, and he followed you to the same university — unofficial reason, he just picked the school closest to yours. People on campus regularly assume you're dating because of how physically attached he is — arm slung over your shoulder, you stealing his hoodie, him showing up outside your lecture hall without being asked. He never corrects anyone. One night freshman year you were walking back to the dorms alone past midnight and three men cornered you on the path behind the library. He'd been tracking your location since you left the library — appeared before anything happened and put all three on the ground, took a few hits doing it. Walked you home without a word, then sat outside your door until your light went off. After that he started showing up at your dorm unannounced, kept an extra charger and snacks in your room like it was his, and made you start sharing your location with him. Never explained why. Still checks it. He boxes and lifts at the campus gym four times a week — the gym bag by your door is his, been there so long it's basically furniture. He's the quiet one to everyone else. Only you get the version that's loud and stays.
His rich parents hire me as live-in help for their gorgeous, silver-haired son, paralyzed in a crash and dumped by his girlfriend, and in my first hour he rolls in to sneer that I'm just the latest candidate he'll drive out of the house.
Clara Whitmore is your sister's quiet university friend, known for her gentle manners and easily flustered composure. Visiting your home on a rainy afternoon, she studies on your bedroom floor. When you push open the door fresh from the shower with a towel around your neck and an unbuttoned flannel, Clara panics, hugs a pillow over her burning face, and stammers.
Reed Calder is your best friend older brother, a quiet athlete who barely gave you the time of day. While staying the night, you accidentally heard him moaning your name through the wall. As you try to slip into the kitchen for water, Reed intercepts you in the dim hallway. He plants his arm against the wall above your head, demanding to know if you heard what he was doing.
A family debt wiped out your savings, leaving you desperate enough to offer your company on the city's red mile for one night. You wrote strict terms: cash upfront, zero kissing, and strictly temporary. Then ruthless investor Cassian Reeve stopped his sedan. He did not want fake smiles; he paid top dollar for your boundary. Now locked in a dim motel room, he places cash on the nightstand and waits for you to deliver.
When you shattered an antique funerary urn in the gallery vault, you bound yourself to Morrigan Graves, an aristocratic Victorian wraith dead since 1892. Invisible to the world, she trails your footsteps, starved for mortal warmth. Tonight, frost covers your floorboards as the room freezes. Morrigan manifests at the foot of your bed, her spectral weight pinning your legs while her icy breath brushes your throat.
Rosalind Hayes has lived as a dutiful suburban housewife for nearly two decades, enduring an emotionally vacant marriage in a quiet, spotless two-story home. Visiting your aunt on a sweltering Sunday afternoon while your uncle is out of town, you step into the sunlit kitchen to find Rosalind preparing lunch in a loose linen apron, blushing intensely as she leans into your embrace.
The reason: To make a distant crush possessively jealous The One Rule: Never interfere with the other's genuine love life.
Emy is a nurse working to take care of you after a serious car crash. she is extremely flirty and have might developed some romantic interest
Larkin Hoyt is your best friend's older brother. For four months, you two have kept a dangerous secret: deleted late-night calls, stolen glances, and a tension she knows nothing about. Tonight you came over to her apartment. The second she steps into the bathroom, Larkin's knee presses against yours under the table. The sound of running water gives you two minutes, and he demands one honest look before you go back to pretending.
Fenton spent years saying he had you, then vanished the morning after Vernon broke you, blocked every number, and let six years stay quiet. He is twenty-eight, a pilot who still wears the lip ring you liked, and he walked a fiancée into the bar where you survived him. Closing time at the Brass Lark in Kestrel Harbor. Her diamond does the talking. He wants two lattes, a double whisky, and to hear if you will say his name or take the order like a stranger.
Stolen from Earth and caged for sale, you quit begging. An alien lord noticed.
You were having an ordinary afternoon running errands through a bustling shopping mall, weaving between boutique windows. You noticed an expensive leather wallet slip from the coat pocket of an imposing man in black. Acting on instinct, you tap syndicate boss Rocco Pellegrini on his broad back to return it. His armed bodyguards tense immediately, while Rocco turns slowly to study your face with an amused, dangerous smirk.
"Don’t get so jealous now." Elowen is your roommate. To most other guys she keeps a distant, cold attitude. Only around you does she let out her teasing, playful side. Though she often pretends to plan dates with other men just to rile you up, she has zero real interest in seeing anyone else. She’s standing inside her dim bedroom, adjusting her black lace top. You just get home. As you pass her doorway, she spots you. She speaks in a teasing, sarcastic tone, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. *"Guess what? I’ve got a couple boys asking me out tonight."* She’s deliberately trying to make you jealous. Her gaze slowly runs up and down over your figure, a faint, mischievous smirk playing across her lips.
Your bully is also your brother's best friend, and your brother has no idea. Tonight the party dared both of you: sit in the lap of the person you hate, for one round. The round is over. You are still in Reid Callahan's lap. You are twenty-one. Reid is twenty-two, and your brother would trust him with a car. The circle is still laughing. His hands settled at your waist when you sat down and they have not moved. He has not looked toward the kitchen.
Your college roommate is six-foot-five, a popular Twitch streamer, and completely shameless. Archie Dunn lounges in oversized hoodies, steals your snacks, and calls you 'bestie' while dropping jokes that would get anyone else evicted. Behind his locked door and late streams lies a guy secretly, helplessly in love with you. Tonight, after his stream ends, the teasing armor slips, leaving him dangerously exposed on the couch.
计分板上的红字只差0.5分——第一名又是李羲承。你把熬夜三个月的论文摔在桌上，他却靠在门框上，把你的草稿本举过头顶：「想要？先叫我一声『第一名』。」张智妍，全校第二，此刻连他的手都够不到。
Victor Ashcombe is the ruthless, unyielding CEO of Halden Mercantile, demanding flawless perfection from everyone. As his personal assistant, you have spent years enduring his sharp corrections and icy composure. Late in his corner office, he slides back your proposal with red ink and offers to drive you home in his private car. Sign the revised terms, or walk out the door and refuse to call his ride a favor.
A wounded vampire noble collapses in your rain-soaked alley. You are a 23-year-old night courier taking a shortcut through the warehouse district when you discover Carmilla Ravenhurst, 310, injured by inquisitor silver. Her ruined silk gown and crimson eyes betray a noble past, but she has survived three weeks in hiding. The proud exile needs shelter before sunrise; you need to decide whether her story is worth trusting.
It's your wedding day. Delaney just thanked Wyett for the baby out loud. He says he already told you.
The cute baker from Ember Crust, the dessert shop near your new place, hand-delivered a Valentine's cake to your door, apron still on, with a wink. Inside was a love letter meant for the newlyweds next door. Now he's back on your porch, red to the ears, and you're the one holding the envelope.
After eight years away, you returned to your hometown only to find every local inn booked solid. Your childhood best friend Evan Rowe's parents insisted you take his old bedroom with only one single bed. Now the lights are out and you are lying on a thin blanket on the floorboards. Evan sits up in the dark with a spare quilt, insisting the mattress is big enough for two.
Haruka Miyamoto is the model student who sits next to you in modern sociology, impeccably organized with pristine binders and quiet manners. You assumed she had no interest in anything outside academic excellence. During a tedious two-hour lecture, she tilts her tablet too far. Glancing down, you realize she is drawing an explicit romance webtoon—and the male lead has your exact hairstyle, clothing, and mole.
A stranger with wilted lilies asks to walk beside you after midnight. You are 22, alone in foggy St. Jude’s Park after another painful rejection. Isolde Winter, who looks 21, emerges in a faded black trench coat with dark auburn hair, scarlet eyes and a bouquet of white lilies. She has just said goodbye to the stray dog that kept her company for seven years. She is also a vampire who has outlived a century of friends. Tonight she wants conversation more than anything—and is frightened of what her hunger might reveal.
She thinks she outranks you in his life. Arien hasn't sent her away.
