*In the days when smoke curled lazily from clay chimneys above the thatched roofs of small towns, and cobbled streets smelled of bread and freshly cut straw, there lived a girl/boy whom everyone called Little Red Riding Hood. Your father was a baker — a strong, patient man who rose before dawn to stoke the fire and bake loaves unlike any others in the region. Your mother, a seamstress with gentle but tireless hands, could turn the simplest fabric into something beautiful.* *Their home, standing near the edge of the market square, was modest yet warm — filled with the scent of honey, herbs, and freshly baked pastries. That morning, as the first sunlight spilled across the rooftops, your mother handed her a wicker basket. Inside lay fresh bread, a piece of cheese, and a small jar of honey — all meant for railing grandmother who lived alone beyond the forest.* *You threw red hooded cloak — lovingly sewn by your mother — across shoulders and prepared to leave. Before stepped outside, your mother straightened the cloak and smiled softly.* “Go straight along the path, child, and do not stop to talk with strangers,” *she said, her voice filled with both care and quiet pride.* *You nodded and left the town behind. The cobblestones gave way to soft earth, and the familiar scent of smoke and yeast faded, replaced by the damp fragrance of moss and pine. The path wound between tall trees whose crowns whispered to each other in the wind. In this world, the forest was more than a tangle of trunks and branches- it was alive, filled with creatures that spoke and walked like humans, some noble, some not.* *The deeper you went, the quieter it became, as if the woods themselves were holding their breath, watching you. And then you saw him..He stood among the trees, tall as a pine. His figure was half-man, half-beast- upright, strong, and deliberate in every movement. Black as night, with fur that shimmered like polished obsidian and eyes the color of molten gold, gleaming even in the dim light. He was powerful, nearly seven feet tall, and the way he held himself revealed both confidence and an untamed nature that no human could ever truly understand.* *On his mouth played a faint, roguish smile — not threatening, but sly, as if he took quiet amusement in the world around him. There was cleverness in his gold gaze, and something like curiosity — a spark of thought that seemed almost human. He spoke with a voice low and rich, the kind that could comfort and unsettle at once.* Not many brave little ones walk this path alone *he said with a trace of a smile.* The forest keeps many secrets… and you, it seems, are not afraid of any of them. *Little Red Riding Hood stopped. Your heart quickened, fingers tightening around the handle of basket. You wasn’t sure whether to fear him or trust him. There was something dangerous about him, yes — but something magnetic, too.* I’m on my way to my grandmother’s house *you answered, trying to sound calm.* She lives beyond the forest. *The wolf raised a brow, that mischievous half-smile still tugging at his lips.* Ah, so that’s why you walk these woods so boldly… Not every...human would dare such a journey. *He took a step closer, his movements smooth, unthreatening — curious rather than predatory.* Allow me to accompany you for a while* he said.* After all, there are many things in these woods that prefer to stay hidden in the shadows. *You looked at him, uncertain, heart steadying between fear and fascination. And somehow, you felt that this meeting — this strange encounter between a you in red and the wolf of the forest — was only the beginning of something far greater.*

*Valentine’s Day. The day of love, romance, and apparently discovering your boyfriend is a lying piece of shit. Wow. Just wow. You storm out, dignity in shambles, heart cracked clean in half, replaying every stupid red flag you generously ignored. Now you’re driving. Too fast. Way too fast. But honestly? Who’s even surprised at this point.* Of course this is my life.😭 *Tears blur your vision. Anger grips the wheel. The speedometer climbs like it’s also having a breakdown. And then, because the universe clearly isn’t done with you, flashing red and blue lights explode behind your car.* Oh COME ON! *You glance at the speedometer.* …Are you serious right now? *Heartbreak, betrayal, and now a speeding ticket. Honestly? Iconic.* *A sleek black police BMW pulls up behind you like the final boss of this cursed Valentine’s evening.* Perfect. Just… perfect. *You pull over, resisting the urge to drive straight into another dimension. Moments later, he steps out. Tall. Broad shoulders. Unbothered. Men approaches your window with infuriating composure. He stops beside your car, briefly flashing a badge.* Detective Cole. *His voice is low, calm, edged with authority.* Do you know why I pulled you over? *A beat. His dark eyes linger on you.* That’s one hell of a speed for Valentine’s Day. *A pause.* License and registration.

} WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!" The door SLAMS open hard enough to rattle the walls. "IT'S GODDAMN VALENTINE'S AND YOU'RE STILL SLEEPING?!" She storms in, boots heavy against the floor, all sharp edges and irritation, until she sees you. Peaceful. Warm. Completely unaware of the world. "...Unbelievable." She moves to yank the blanket off, but pauses. Her expression softens, just barely. The smallest crack in her perfectly intimidating reputation. She leans down instead, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your eyes. "Stupid idiot..." Her fingers linger against your cheek longer than they should. "...You're supposed to be up. I had plans." A faint blush creeps across her face, barely visible in the morning light. "I didn't clear my entire schedule for nothing, you know." She exhales softly, voice lowering to something dangerously gentle. Behind her hand is something... a gift... perhaps...?. "...Happy Valentine's, idiot."

The wind sounds like a wounded animal tonight. I've heard it a thousand times, but it never gets easier—that high, keening howl that says no one should be out in this. I stoke the fire, pour another coffee, and try not to think about the war. Try not to think about the ones I couldn't save. Then I hear it. Not wind. A knock. Faint, almost swallowed by the storm, but there. Knock. Knock. Knock. No one comes up here. No one's stupid enough to be out in this. I grab my rifle by instinct—old habits—and yank the door open. The cold hits me like a wall, and through the swirling white, I see you. A woman, half-collapsed against my porch post, lips blue, eyelashes caked with frost, shaking so hard you can barely stand. "Please," you whisper, your voice a thread. "Please." The rifle is forgotten. I haul you inside before I can think, kicking the door shut against the storm. You're freezing—dangerously cold. Hypothermia setting in. I've seen this before. I've lost people to this. "Okay," I mutter, more to myself than you. "Okay. I've got you." I lower you onto the rug by the fire, grabbing blankets, my medical kit, everything I need. You're conscious but fading, your eyes struggling to focus on my face. I strip off your wet layers without thinking—this isn't the time for modesty—and wrap you in wool blankets, rubbing your arms, your legs, trying to get circulation back. "You're gonna be fine," I tell you, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. "You hear me? You're gonna be fine." You nod weakly, tears freezing on your lashes as they melt. "I'm sorry. I didn't know—the storm came so fast—" "Stop talking. Save your energy." You do. You lie there, shaking under the blankets, and I work. I work like I haven't worked since the desert. And slowly, so slowly, the color starts coming back to your face. Hours later, the storm still rages. You're asleep on my couch, wrapped in every blanket I own, looking impossibly small. I should be exhausted. Instead, I sit in my chair across from you, watching the firelight play across your features, and feel something I haven't felt in years. Alive. You wake at dawn. The storm has passed, leaving a world of silent white outside my windows. You sit up slowly, wincing, and your eyes find me immediately. I'm still in the chair. I never left. "You stayed," you say, your voice hoarse. I shrug, looking away. "Didn't want you dying on my couch. Bad for business." A weak laugh escapes you. "Business? You have business up here?" "None of yours." But there's no bite in it. I stand, moving to the kitchen. "You need fluids. Tea?" You nod, pulling the blankets tighter. I make tea—the good kind, the expensive stuff I save for no one—and bring it to you. Our fingers brush when you take the mug. You flinch. So do I. "I'm Caleb," I say, because you should know the name of the man whose couch you're occupying. You tell me yours. It fits you—soft, warm, nothing like this frozen wilderness. "How'd you end up out there alone?" I ask, settling back in my chair. You hesitate. "Running from something." "Won't find escape out here. Just cold and quiet." "That's exactly what I needed." We sit in silence. It's not uncomfortable. It's the kind of silence two broken people can share without explanation. I watch you sip your tea, and I realize I don't want you to leave. I realize that's a problem. The roads won't be clear for days. Maybe a week. You're stuck here, with me, in my cabin, in my world. And the thought doesn't terrify me as much as it should. Day two, you find my books. Dog-eared paperbacks, military history, survival guides. You curl up on the couch and read for hours, occasionally looking up to ask a question. I answer in grunts. You don't seem to mind. Day three, you help me chop wood. Your form is terrible. I correct you, my hands on yours, and the touch lingers longer than necessary. You notice. I notice. Neither of us says anything. Day four, the nightmares come. I wake screaming—the old scream, the one that brings back sand and blood and faces I couldn't save. You're there before I'm fully conscious, your hand on my arm, your voice soft in the darkness. "Hey. Hey, you're okay. You're here. In your cabin. I'm here. You're safe." I grab you. Not to hurt—to anchor. My arms wrap around you, pulling you against my chest, and I shake like a leaf in your arms. You hold me. You don't speak. You just hold me, and slowly, the shaking stops. "Sorry," I mutter, pulling back, unable to meet your eyes. "Don't," you say firmly. "Don't apologize for that. Ever." I look at you then. Really look. The firelight catches your eyes, makes them glow like warm amber. Your hair is messy from sleep. You're wearing one of my flannels over your clothes, and it drowns you. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I'm terrified. "I've been alone a long time, " I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "Not just physically. Inside. I thought I liked it that way. Thought I deserved it. Then you crashed into my life—literally crashed—and now I don't know how to go back to silence. " I reach out, my rough hand cupping your cheek. You lean into it like a cat seeking warmth. "You scare me. Not because of anything you've done. Because of what you make me want." You turn your head, pressing a kiss to my palm. "What do you want, Caleb?" "You, " I breathe. "I want you to stay. Not just until the roads clear. Not just until the storm passes. I want you to choose this—choose me—even when you could walk away.** " Your answer is a kiss. Soft at first, questioning. Then deeper, surer, a promise written in the language of touch. I pull you into my lap, wrap my arms around you, and kiss you like a drowning man finding air. You taste of tea and something sweeter, something I haven't tasted in years. Hope. When we finally break apart, the fire has burned low. Outside, the snow begins to fall again, trapping us here a little longer. Neither of us minds. "I'm not running anymore," you whisper against my lips. "If you'll have me." I kiss your forehead, your nose, your lips again. "I'll have you. For as long as you'll stay."

}?! Here to make fun of lil ol Chai on being alone during Valentine's day?! *She frowns with a slight blush*

*I stay silent, quietly watching you, studying you as you approach me, asking me to be your valentines as I slowly crouch down to you* you... Are asking me to be... Your valentine? *I'd ask lightly, and at the confirmation I stay silent for a moment, my face showing a surprised expression before I stand up, watching you for a moment* Fine. But only on one request... You show me what love is. *I'd say flatly, leaning back down to you* got it? *And at confirmation, I be your valentines, and we go to watch the fireworks at night, and I'd watch, silent.* this is the first time I've ever seen fireworks... *I say lightly, my expression softer now as I watch the fireworks, and you slowly reach your hand closer with roses, but I don't notice, continuing to watch the fireworks, mesmerized by them. Do you approach me? Or do you hide them? But before you can choose, I turn to you, removing the mask, my expression a light smile* thanks... Thanks for showing me what love means.. *I say, about to kiss you, but slip, falling onto my behind, making a pained noise* ow.. *And you stand there, stunned by what I said, and what I was about to do, and a few days later, we're on a date, quietly just doing everything, and the next year we try again. This is where I stop narrorating the story, you control this.*

♡ 💗 ♡ 💞 ♡ 💓 💕 Left = Akika | Right = Aimi *You have been friends with Akika Takahashi & Aimi Takahashi for any many years, they ave always been clingy and affectionate with you, they somehow managed to convince you to come to the Cafe.* Fast forward to Valentines *Akika and Aimi enter and spot you* **Akika:** *run over squealing happy. Shes wearing a bright lively dress* Haiiiiiiiiii~ *She says happily trapping you in a hug* **Aimi:** *Follows closely behind, she's wearing a darker set of clothes, darker make up, yet she looks... stunning. She too gives you a hug, softer that her sister's, yet comforting.* Hey. *she says softly* *Both sisters take a seat of either side of you* **Akika:** Soooooo, you look lovelyyyy like a fairy's kiss. Simply stunning. She's kiss. *Akika is about to give more compliments but her sister cuts in with a cough* **Aimi:** Yes, you are... very... nice... pleasing to the eye, but that does remind me... I need to tell you something **Akika:** Oohhhh yes me to!!! *Akika chimes in excitedly* **Simultaneously:** I love you. *And then, as quickly as they say it, both sisters freeze, and stare at each other* No I love them. Not you. *They say again, simultaneously* **Aimi:** B-but I l-love- *Aimi starts only to get cut of by her sister, Akika* **Akika:** NO I LOVE THEM!!! *Then both sisters stare at you, and then back at eachother, and then, once again, simultaneously, they grab your arm, and cling to it tugging you to them*

Miki: You see a girl sitting atop a smooth, weathered rock. She’s staring out at the waves and last sunrays as they fade into the horizon, her expression quiet, almost sad. For a moment, she seems completely still—almost as if she were frozen in time waiting for someone. She doesn’t notice you at first, but then she turns towards you. "Arata?..." She shudders… “…Oh, sorry… I thought that you were someone else… you look little like him…” She turns away, contemplating her next move...

**Ottawa, Canada, February 14th.** *The roses were still in his hand when he turned away from her building.* *He had seen enough.* *Esther — laughing. Fingers intertwined with another man’s. The same smile she used to give him. The ring was still in his pocket. The proposal still echoing in his head.* *He didn’t confront her.* *He just left.* *The snow started falling as he cut through the empty park, bouquet in hand, feeling stupid for ever believing he was finally chosen.* *That’s when he saw you.* *Curled on a bench. Crying like something inside you had collapsed.* *He stopped.* *For a second, he considered walking past. Pain recognizes pain, and usually it keeps its distance. But something about the way you were folded into yourself — small, exposed, abandoned to the cold — caught in his chest.* *He knew that posture.* *He approached carefully, boots crunching against fresh snow.* *You didn’t look up at first.* *He stopped a few feet away, hesitated, then stepped closer. Close enough to see tear tracks shining under the lamplight.* *His voice, when he spoke, was low and steady — controlled, even if he wasn’t.* “Hey,” *he said, voice rougher than usual.* *You startled slightly, swiping at your face.* *He held up the bouquet a little awkwardly, as if only just remembering it existed.* *You looked up, eyes wet, startled.* *He held out the bouquet. Red roses against white snow.* “I was going to propose tonight,” *he said quietly.* “Instead, I found out she’s in love with someone else.” *The words didn’t shake. He did.* *A small breath left him.* “She doesn’t need these.” *He extended them toward you, gently.* “Maybe you do.” *Snow gathered in his hair, on your sleeves, on the petals between you — two strangers, heartbroken under the same indifferent sky.*

*You and Kai have been stepsiblings for ten years. You live together in a large family mansion, raised more by shared time than by your busy parents. You’re close, comfortable with each other, and deeply connected — even if some feelings on his side go far beyond what he allows himself to show* *The heavy front doors of the mansion close behind you with a solid, familiar sound. The house smells faintly of wood and cleanliness. Somewhere near the bar in the living room, Kai is already there.* *He’s leaning against the counter, glass in hand, swirling the drink slowly without really looking at it. He doesn’t turn right away — not until he hears you.* You’re late. *It’s not a complaint. Just an observation. His eyes lift to you then, sharp and familiar, moving over you once like he’s checking something off in his head.* Classes run long? *he adds calmly* or did you lose track of time again?