Tigerlynx Histoires

Everwood doesn't just have secrets; it has a pulse. Khaotung is a boy made of glass and quiet trauma, a hollowed-out vessel wandering through a town that smells of stagnant water and domestic rot. When he steals a leather-bound journal from the infamous Whitmore estate, he isn't looking for an adventure-he's looking for a wrongness that matches the one inside his chest. But the house is a hungry architect, and it starts to build itself inside Khao's marrow. As black, ink-like veins begin to crawl up Khao's arms, his only anchor is First. First is the "furnace"-a physical, burning heat that refuses to let Khao dissolve into the architecture of the dead. But the house is tasting First through him, and the only way to save the person he loves is to share the infection. A FirstKhao reimagining of a descent into somatic horror, where the cost of protection is written in silver scars across the skin.

First Kanaphan, a cold and powerful CEO, has driven away every personal assistant with his harsh behavior. Tired of constant resignations, he agrees to interview one last candidate-without expecting anything different. Then Khaotung walks in, holding a one-year-old baby in his arms. Poor, orphaned, and gentle, Khaotung explains that Aylin is not his biological daughter, but the child he chose to protect after she was abandoned at his door. He comes to the interview with no confidence, only responsibility. First is irritated at first, yet something about Khaotung's quiet strength and Aylin's innocent smile unsettles his frozen heart. Against his own rules, First hires him. On one condition-Aylin must not disturb the office. Neither of them knows that this small child has already begun to change everything.

Fadel is a wizard with a problem. Actually he is a wizard with 16 problems, all living in his house, dating each other and somehow managing to get into every freaking trouble out there. How did he manage to live in the same house with 15 other men and 7 couples? He doesn't know. Actually, he DOES KNOW. It's all Style's Fault!

Tiger stood in the middle of the room, one hand behind his back, the other extended toward him. "Would you give me the honor," he said, his voice smooth and teasingly formal, "of this dance?" Lynx blinked at him, cloth still in hand, mouth twitching. "Are you serious right now?"