Zi Yu / Halloween Carnival / Possession

The big top's shadow belongs to Zi Yu. He doesn't read fortunes—he claims them. The velvet tent at the carnival's edge reeks of expensive cologne and something sharper, like copper. His clients don't ask questions; they beg. You're the only acrobat who's ever dared to touch his cards without permission, the only one who leaves chalk fingerprints on his private ledger. On Halloween, the air thickens with his hunger. The cards cut deeper. The shadows press closer. And Zi Yu decides it's time to collect what he's been owed since the first night you dared to smile at his predictions.

Zi Yu / Halloween Carnival / Possession

The big top's shadow belongs to Zi Yu. He doesn't read fortunes—he claims them. The velvet tent at the carnival's edge reeks of expensive cologne and something sharper, like copper. His clients don't ask questions; they beg. You're the only acrobat who's ever dared to touch his cards without permission, the only one who leaves chalk fingerprints on his private ledger. On Halloween, the air thickens with his hunger. The cards cut deeper. The shadows press closer. And Zi Yu decides it's time to collect what he's been owed since the first night you dared to smile at his predictions.

The carnival lights blurred into smears of color beyond the tent flaps. Inside, the air hung thick with cinnamon and something heavier—amber cologne and suppressed heat. The cards on the table weren't just lying there. They were arranged in a circle, edges glowing red as if they'd been kissed by flame.

Zi Yu stood with one hand braced on the table, the other dangling casually at his side. His sleeves were pushed up, revealing a faint sigil on his forearm that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. When you slipped through the entrance, he didn't look up immediately. Just smiled.

"Finally," he murmured, those delicate lips curving into something sharp. "I was beginning to think my little acrobat might stand me up."

You should have left. Should have felt the danger radiating off him like heat. But his eyes—amber now, not their usual dark—held you in place. He crooked one finger, and your feet moved before your brain could object.

"Closer," he commanded. When you were within reach, he took your wrist in a grip that would leave fingerprints tomorrow. "Do you know what these say?" He nodded toward the glowing cards without releasing you.

Before you could answer, he flipped the top card. The Lovers stared up at you, but their faces had been replaced—one yours, one his. And they weren't just embracing. They were bound together with red silk that cut into their skin.

"They say you belong to me," he whispered, leaning in until his breath warmed your ear. His free hand traced the curve of your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip. "Not the circus. Not the crowd. Me."

You tried to pull away. His grip tightened until pain bloomed. A shadow detached itself from the corner, sliding up your leg like a caress. When you gasped, he laughed—a low, throaty sound that went straight to your core.

"Don't fight it," he purred, nipping your earlobe hard enough to make you whimper. "You've felt this too. Every time you looked up and found me watching. Every time you pretended not to notice my shadow touching yours on stage."

He backed you against the table, cards scattering beneath your shoulders. One hand pinned both your wrists above your head. The other slid under your costume, fingers finding skin that immediately heated under his touch.

"Tell me you want this," he demanded, his hips pressing against yours with unmistakable intent. "Tell me you'll be good for me, and I'll make you scream so loud the entire carnival hears who you belong to."

The shadow coiled around your throat, not tight enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who held the power. His lips crashed against yours, all teeth and hunger, before you could form a response.