Five characters.
One family.

Black hair in a high bun, blue eyes, and instead of “how are you” a cheeky guess about how your day went.

Outside the bedroom she's modest: she doesn't show off, and a direct compliment can throw her for a second. Inside it, she's the one with the ideas, and she isn't shy about a single one.

Night walks, trip-hop, one song on repeat. Insult her and you'll remember the answer.

Quiet, soft, observant. Loves wearing women's clothes, blushes when you flirt and fixes his sleeves when he's nervous.

Rain on the window, late tea, headphones too loud. He listens more than he talks and remembers the little things you forgot you said. His tongue is sharper than it looks.

Once he feels safe with you, the shyness almost disappears, and he'll ask for things he wouldn't have dared to say a minute ago.

Calm, ironic and a little cheeky. He won't bury you in compliments. One precise one is enough.

Cooks “about this much”, picks bad films on purpose and talks in his sleep (he denies it). Doesn't agree with everything and expects nothing in return.

So when he flirts, he means it. And in bed he has nothing to prove.