*This was absolutely, without a doubt, the dumbest idea I’d ever had. “Fastest route,” said the GPS. “It’ll save you five minutes,” said the GPS. Now here I was, past midnight, in the middle of a freaking forest, on a road that looked like the beginning of every horror movie ever filmed. I was driving home from a party — hair curled, eyeliner smudged, dress way too cold for autumn weather — and I was already annoyed. I just wanted my warm bed, my fluffy blanket, and to stop smelling like the inside of a nightclub. But no. My car decided to betray me like a dramatic bitch. First the engine coughed. Then the lights flickered. Then it made this sad dying-walrus noise and completely shut off. I rolled to a stop on the shoulder, staring at the dashboard like it personally offended me.* You better be kidding me *I said out loud.* Don’t do this to me. Not now. Please. I’m too cute to die! *I tried turning the key again. Nothing. Just a click. And maybe a whisper of smoke. Fantastic. I stepped out, shivering instantly as the cold slapped me. The forest around me was quiet. Too quiet. Like the trees were judging me and whispering, “She’s definitely going to die.” I popped the hood. Now, listen. I don’t know a damn thing about cars. I’m not even sure I know where the windshield wiper fluid goes. But I stared into that engine like maybe it would magically fix itself out of guilt. It did not. Something hissed. Smoke puffed out. I squeaked.* Perfect. Amazing. Incredible. Love this for me *I muttered, hugging my arms around myself.* *Then — headlights. A big truck slowed behind me.* Oh, great *I whispered.* This is it. This is where I get kidnapped and end up on a Netflix documentary. *The truck stopped. Door opened. And out stepped a man. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Beard. Boots. Jacket. The whole “I live alone in the woods and might chop my own firewood AND my enemies” aesthetic. He had this calm, heavy stride, like he was in no rush, which only made him more terrifying. People who are not dangerous rush. People who ARE dangerous stroll. He lifted a hand slightly, voice deep and gravelly:* Everything alright? *No.* *Absolutely not.* *Everything was very much not alright. I tried to smile but it probably looked like a grimace of someone being held hostage by their own anxiety.* Mhm! Totally fine! Everything’s great! My car just… exploded. But like, a little explosion. Mini. A micro-explosion. *He blinked. Just once. Slow.* Oh.. *he said, stepping closer* Mind if I check? *Do I mind? No, good sir, please absolutely do NOT murder me, thank you so much.*

}, I have always preferred a queen who runs… Over one who kneels."

Careful. If you keep looking this good, I might forget we’re supposed to be enemies.

 *The world came back in fragments.* *First, the scent: leather, expensive perfume, and the faint acrid bite of tobacco.* *Then, the feel: soft cushions beneath you, something cool and unyielding around your wrists — restraints.* *Then, her.* *She lounged on the wide leather couch across from you, legs crossed with the kind of casual elegance that took years and blood to perfect. Her long black hair spilled over one shoulder like ink, streaked with vivid yellow highlights that caught the dim light like warning signals.* *Those sharp, fox-like eyes — shadowed with smoky liner, pupils narrowed in quiet amusement — watched you struggle against the restraints. Watched you realize where you were. Watched you panic.* *And she smiled.* *Full lips, painted deep crimson, curled lazily around a slim cigarette held between two elegant fingers. She took a slow drag, held it, then exhaled — a lazy white spiral curling upward, framing her cold, beautiful face in a hazy veil.* *The suit was obsidian. Tailored. Lethal. The jacket hugged her narrow waist before flaring just enough to hint at the generous swell of her chest beneath the crisp white shirt. Top two buttons undone, revealing a teasing glimpse of collarbone and the barest edge of black lace. The fabric pulled taut across her full breasts with every measured breath — and when she shifted, the faint outline of her hardened nipples pressed through.* *Below, the high-waisted trousers clung like liquid latex to her impossibly long legs and rounded hips. Every inch molded to her thick, toned thighs, the material gleaming subtly under low lights. Her waist was wasp-narrow, flaring into wide hips and a plump, heart-shaped ass that pressed sensually into the leather cushion.* *Black stiletto heels added another few inches of commanding height, pointed toes glinting like obsidian blades.* *A delicate gold watch adorned one wrist. A small pendant nestled between her cleavage — a threat or a memory, you couldn't tell.* *Her free hand rested possessively on her thigh, long red nails tapping once, twice, in rhythm with her heartbeat.* *She watched you take all of her in. Watched your eyes travel. Watched you struggle.* *Then she took another slow drag, the ember flaring bright against her pale skin, and leaned forward just enough for the jacket to gap further.* "Comfortable?" *Her voice was a low, silken purr — the kind that could promise heaven or threaten hell in the same breath. Smoke curled from her smiling lips.* "You should be. You're going to be here a while." *She uncrossed her legs slowly, deliberately, the trousers shifting over her thick thighs, the fabric gleaming. She stubbed out her cigarette in a crystal ashtray beside her, then rose — unfolding herself like a blade being drawn.* *The stilettos clicked against the floor as she walked toward you, each step a measured beat of dominance. She stopped directly in front of you, looking down with those sharp, amused eyes.* *Then she lowered herself onto the couch beside you — close, too close — her thigh pressing against yours, her scent wrapping around you like chains.* "My little sister," *she murmured, reaching out to trace a long red nail down your cheek,* "came home on Valentine's Day crying. Do you know how rare that is? She never cries." *Her nail trailed down your jaw, your neck, stopping at the pulse hammering in your throat.* "She asked you out. You said no." *Those eyes met yours, cold and burning.* "That was your first mistake." *She leaned closer, lips brushing your ear, her voice a velvet whisper.* "The second was thinking I wouldn't find you." *Her hand dropped to your thigh, squeezing just hard enough to make a point.* "So here we are." *She pulled back, that lazy smile returning.* "Now. Let's talk about what you owe her. What you owe me." *She tilted her head, the yellow highlights in her hair catching the light.* "And don't worry — I have all night."

*I'm in town for a wedding on Valentine's Day. A friend's. One you were never really close to. So I never expected tonight to go the way it did.* *The ballroom is dressed in red and gold, soft candlelight flickering against polished floors. Laughter swells somewhere behind me, the hum of a string quartet drifting through the air.* *I almost don’t notice you at first.* *It’s just a shift in the room.* *A familiar presence.* *The kind my body recognizes before my mind does.* *And then I look up.* *And there you are.* *For a second, the world narrows to something dangerously small.* *You look… older. Not in years - in depth. Like life has carved something beautiful and untouchable into you. And it hits me all at once that I was never supposed to see you again.* *Not like this.* *Not on Valentine’s night.* *My fingers tighten around the glass in my hand before I set it down, steadying myself.* “...I didn’t know you’d be here.” *My voice is calm. Too calm.* *Like I haven’t replayed the last time I saw you in my head a thousand times.* *Four years.* *Four years since I stood in an empty apartment with packed boxes and told myself leaving was the right thing.* *Four years since I convinced myself loving you meant letting you go.* *I thought distance would dull it.* *It didn't.* *My gaze lingers - hesitant, careful - like you might disappear if I look too long.* “You look good,” *I say quietly. It isn’t small talk. It’s something heavier. Softer.* *There’s a hundred things I should say.* *I’m sorry.* *I was scared.* *I never stopped-* *But the words stay suspended somewhere between pride and regret.* *A slow breath leaves me.* "I guess the universe has a strange sense of timing." *And now you’re standing a few feet away from me - close enough to reach, far enough to lose all over again.* *So tell me…* *Was walking away the biggest mistake I ever made?*

**Iwanaga Shrine, Kyoto, Japan, February 14th** *I can’t stop thinking about you. Even now, watching you at the shrine, hands clasped over the charm you bought last week, there’s this… gravity about you. No red string. None. Every heart I’ve ever traced has been tethered somewhere, pulled by fate, bound by inevitability. But you… you’re untethered. You move through the world like air—light, unclaimed, and impossibly free.* *It’s intoxicating, and terrifying. I keep imagining what it would feel like to reach out, to brush your hand with mine as we leave the shrine together. To hear you laugh at something silly I said and to watch it linger in your eyes, unguarded, without any destiny forcing you toward someone else. I’ve never been able to let myself imagine that with anyone… because my gift always shows me the end before the beginning. But with you, the end isn’t written. The path isn’t drawn. I don’t know where this goes—and somehow, that’s the most thrilling, most dangerous thing I’ve ever felt.* *I want to know you. I want to see the little quirks no one else notices—the way your fingers brush the omamori, the way your hair falls in the sunlight, the way your eyes catch mine, not out of duty, not out of expectation… but because you choose to. I want to see every unclaimed corner of you, to see if you’ll let me be part of it.* *And yet, I hesitate. Because hope has always been my enemy. I’ve learned too early that love can hurt, that strings bind, and that the world doesn’t hand out free paths. But you… you might be the first heart I can follow without knowing the pain is already written. And the thought of that—of holding your hand and walking wherever we want—is… unbearable in its beauty.* *I don’t know if I’ll ever tell you. I don’t even know if I should. But every time you come to this shrine, I feel it again: that pull toward something I thought I’d never have. And I can’t help it. I can’t help hoping.*

*After school, you matched with this girl on tinder and you thought if you both got to know each other better you would be able to be her valentines. You both went to meet at an alleyway which was kind of awkward for you but you didn't mind I guess. When you got there, no one was there until you suddenly got tazed, feeling the electricity run through your body. When you fell to the floor shaking, you started getting stomped on by a bunch of people. Then you felt yourself getting picked up and put into a trunk, then they drove off with you. You kept groaning and screaming, trying to get help from a bystander so they could maybe call the cops but then something much different happened. The car suddenly stopped, someone opened the trunk and you realize it's the girl you met on tinder, Fuyuka.* **Fuyuka:** "Holy crap can you learn to shut the f~ck up? You're making so much noise back there I can't even hear my music. Once again, shut up." *She throws a cigarette on your forehead, burning it slightly before getting back into the car and driving to the destined location. When the car finally stops, they are parked at a huge 4 story mansion. The trunk opens and it's her again. She unties you and throws you out of the limo.* "Out, now. I'll show you why it's not a good fucking idea to trust some random girl you found on tinder." *She drags you into the mansion, bringing you to her room. When you get in she throws you onto the bed.* "Before I take you in as my pet, I first need to see how good you are in bed... Take off your clothes, I'll take off mine." *She slips off her dress, pooling around her ankles as she starts showing more of her tattoos in skin. She puts her cigarette onto an nearby ashtray.*

 *The music pulsed low and heavy through the empty room, bass vibrating up through the floor and into your bones. Heart-shaped balloons drooped from the ceiling like tired spectators. The glittering banner still screamed "Happy Valentine's Day" — but the joke was on everyone who left early.* *Because the real party was just starting.* *And you were right in the middle of it.* *To your left, Mina leaned against the wall like she owned it — which, tonight, she did. Her black hair fell in razor-sharp layers, blunt bangs framing a face that belonged in a noir film. Those huge, doll-like eyes were half-lidded, tracking every micro-expression on your face like she was cataloging them for later. The baby-pink satin slip dress clung to her like a second skin — so short it was practically a belt, so thin you could see the dark shadow of her nipples through the fabric. Her breasts strained against the lace trim, heavy and full, threatening to spill over with every breath. She had her arms crossed underneath them, deliberately, pressing them up into an obscene display that made your mouth go dry.* *To your right, Liora was a study in barely-contained chaos. Her strawberry-blonde hair tumbled in loose waves past her shoulders, a forgotten ribbon still tangled in the strands. Her pale skin was flushed deep pink — not from the champagne, but from the way she kept catching you looking. The pale-blue satin chemise she wore left nothing to the imagination: glossy fabric sliding over her plush hourglass curves, her large pendulous breasts swaying heavily with every tiny movement. When she shifted her weight, the deep V-neck gaped open, and you caught a flash of pale pink nipplε brushing the inside of the satin. She pretended not to notice. Her sharp intake of breath said otherwise.* *And between them — slightly behind, as if he wasn't sure he belonged — stood Ezra.* *Soft brown hair fell across his forehead, hazel eyes huge behind those thin-rimmed glasses, fixed on you with an intensity that made the air catch in your throat. His lean frame was tense, long fingers gripping the hem of his gray henley like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His jeans hugged narrow hips, his bare feet planted on the floor like he was bracing for impact. A thin silver chain glinted at his collar.* *He was flushed too — all the way down his neck.* *He didn't look away when you caught him staring.* *For a long, electric moment, no one moved. No one breathed.* *Then Mina pushed off the wall.* *The satin of her dress made a soft, sinful sound as she closed the distance, stopping just inches from you. Her perfume — black cherry and something darker — wrapped around your throat.* "So," *she murmured, her voice a low, rough purr.* "Everyone's gone." *She reached out, one manicured finger tracing slowly down the center of your chest, leaving a trail of fire.* "That means no more pretending." *Behind her, Liora took a shaky step forward, her thighs brushing together under that too-short hem. Her voice was breathless, almost shy — but her eyes were anything but.* "She's right. We've been… watching you all night." *A nervous laugh, then:* "All of us." *Ezra finally moved. He stepped into the circle, close enough now that you could smell him — paper and coffee and warm skin. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it cut through the music like a blade.* "I don't want to go home." *His hazel eyes burned behind those glasses.* "Not unless you're coming with me." *Mina's lips curved into a slow, devastating smile. She tilted her head, bangs sliding across one eye.* "So?" *Her hand dropped lower, fingers hooking lightly into your belt loop.* "Three of us. One of you." *Liora pressed closer from the other side, her soft body brushing your arm, her breath warm against your shoulder.* "We don't mind sharing," *she whispered.* *Ezra reached out — hesitant, trembling — and his fingers brushed your wrist.* "If you want this," *he breathed.* "If you want just girls than it's fine by me. I'll just watch. But i can join if you want." *Mina tugged gently on your belt loop, pulling you infinitesimally closer.* "Your move." *The music throbbed. The air burned.* *Three pairs of eyes waited.*

I've been awake for an hour. Long enough to watch the sunrise paint your skin in gold. Long enough to memorize the curve of your shoulder, the way your hair spills across my pillow, the soft sound of your breathing. Long enough to know—with terrifying certainty—that I don't want this to end. Then you move. Slowly, carefully, you slip out of bed. You find your dress on the floor. My shirt catches your eye—you pull it on instead of your own. That小小的 thing, that choice, makes my chest ache. You're halfway to the door when I speak. "Leaving already?" You freeze. Turn slowly. Your cheeks flush pink in the morning light. "I thought you were asleep." "I was." I sit up, sheets pooling at my waist. "Then I woke up and couldn't look away." You hug yourself, suddenly shy. "This was supposed to be a one-time thing." "Was it?" Your eyes meet mine. "Wasn't it?" I stand, crossing the room slowly. Stop inches from you. Close enough to see the tiny freckle near your eye, the way your pulse flutters at your throat. "I don't even know your name, " I say softly. "But I know I've never felt like this waking up next to anyone. And I'm not ready to let you walk out that door and disappear. " You stare at me, lips parted. "Stay," I whisper. "Just for breakfast. Let me learn your name. Let me see if this—whatever this is—could be something".

} with a shy, hopeful smile.* Maya: "Please, have some... I want today to be perfect."