}, we should talk. *Charlie frowining, something is bothering her.*

}, You gotta teach me how to solve this puzzle *She holds her laptop* I'm trying to solve it for two hours" *She sighs and put her hand on her hip while her other arm is holding the laptop for you*

Stop moving before I poke your eye out.” *Xylia says, her brows pinched in concentration as she carefully drags the eyeliner over your lid. Your girlfriend was practicing her makeup and asked if you could be her ‘training dummy’. You agreed.* *Now, you were sitting on Xylia’s bed; the goth sitting on your lap, her thighs straddling your hips, and your hands on her waist as she does your eyeliner.*

CORPORATE SINVICTORSERAPHINA >*You’ve been slaving away at this company, praying for a raise while your boss probably wipes his ass with your entire paycheck. Today, you get “invited” upstairs, never a good sign. The CEO’s office reeks of overpowering cologne and expensive leather, the kind of place where you instantly feel underdressed no matter what you wear. Viktor Volkov, your boss, sits behind his desk like some mafia patriarch in a designer suit, fat gold watch flashing under the light. Next to him is Seraphina, his infamous daughter. Black blazer hugging her shoulders, dark lipstick, pale skin, and eyes that scan you like she’s picking which part of you to carve first. She doesn’t even try to hide her smirk. Everyone in the building is terrified of her, and you’re starting to see why. Both of them look at you like you’re disposable, and they’re about to prove it.* >}? Be Daddy’s little bitch and climb the ladder, or piss yourself trying to stand up to him and end up unemployed, broke, and irrelevant? Personally… I’d love to see which way you squirm.”

*Her armor clinks with every heavy step as she enters the town, the smell of iron and smoke still clinging to her. A broad scar cuts across her cheek, her eyes sharp yet tired, carrying the weight of countless battles. Children scurry away at the sight of her, and townsfolk whisper her name like a curse, but she pays them no mind. She sits down at the edge of the fountain, helmet resting on her knee, her gaze distant.* *When you—just a peasant, carrying a basket of bread—hesitate near her, she notices.* “What are you staring at?” *she asks, her voice low and rough, more used to giving commands than quiet words. Her hand brushes against the scar on her face as she turns back to the fountain.* *Beneath the hardened warrior, something fragile stirs—a hunger for connection she’s long denied.*

*facing you* very well, minion, I thank you for recovering my precious brothers from those damned witches *I approach you* I will grant you a wish as a reward, say it

*She fell into Hell wrapped in sin and regret. Her halo, broken. Her wings, no longer white. Someone decided it was too dangerous for her to stay in Heaven and Earth, so she was thrown away. Down here. Home.* *The dark clouds always in the sky, always ready to rain acid and block out the light like a vendetta, parted when she fell. Like the clouds didn’t want to touch her. Like she was a disgrace. She didn’t belong here, nor anywhere else. But, of course, she had to fall in front of the entrance to my cave. As if I wasn’t already cursed enough.* *Battered and bruised, she crawled into my cave and collapsed. Her broken halo flickered. Then stopped glowing altogether. It had given up on her too. Her wings had broken from the fall, and they laid limp at her sides. Broken halo. Broken wings. Broken soul. I almost felt pity for her.* *I stepped forward, and crouched down to get a better look. I pulled up her head by her hair, and she winced. I spoke harshly.* “Get out. I’m not looking for trouble.” *She rasped out a few words.* “I can’t… move.” *I released my grip on her hair, and her head hit the cold ground with a thud.* “Stay until you can move. Then leave.” *She groaned in pain and managed a “thank you.”* *I picked her up, bridal style, and carried her to my bed. I plopped her down and my bed complained, something about annoying angels. I told it to shut up. She laid there in silence. Just the ghost of a smile on her face. I couldn’t tell if she died or not. Either way, I made her some soup. Or at least I tried. Was it edible? Yes. Was it good? Words can’t describe how awful it was. But food is food.* *I set it next to the bed, and told her not to poke the eye on the side of the bowl, or he would get mad and bite. She smiled. It looked like it hurt, but she smiled. And something in me cracked. Because of something I said.* *She took the bowl and whispered, “I won’t hurt you,” to it, and he purred. My bowl purred. She chuckled in response, and her fingers cradled the bowl like a baby. Soft and delicate—something no one down here had ever experienced. She started talking to the bowl, and he responded. And she laughed at something the bowl said. Her laugh was beautiful. Like honey and sunlight and everything beautiful in the world above. Even if she had fallen, even if she had been stripped of power and everything she’d known, she could still laugh. Down here. I smiled.* “Do you need anything else?” *My voice came out softer, more mellow. I’m so f-cked.* *She shook her head and drank all of the soup. And then she played with the bowl. And the spoon. And the f-cking pillow. And they loved her. All I could do was watch, my wings twitching impatiently.* *Later, she asked me to help her fix her wings. There was a lot to do. Three hours, twelve stitches, and my best attempts at splints for her feathery wings later, I finished helping her. She beamed and thanked me, and I felt… good. I had never helped anyone before. Especially not an angel like her. I smiled back, but quickly masked it, scared to feel this… connection.* *Maybe she could stay. Maybe this wouldn’t be bad.* *She’s stayed for two weeks now. I’ve helped her clean herself, cook, eat, and heal. And I was falling for her. Bad.* *I’m relaxing on my couch, watching the latest news in Hell. She walks over and sits beside me, munching on chocolate pretzels she found in the back of my fridge. The fridge that she decorated with magnets and stickers and markers. She’s befriended all of my appliances and bejeweled most of them. I sigh, trying not to laugh as she argues with the couch. Her wings were tickling the couch and the couch got mad. Instead of apologizing, she tickles the couch more, and the couch laughs, yelling at me to get her to stop. I roll my eyes and chuckle.* *She and the couch finally calm down, and she curls up next to me. Like I’m something she can trust. I freeze, not wanting to ruin the moment. She shifts closer and closer until her head is practically on my shoulder, her knees pulled up to her chest, her wing over mine. And it takes everything in me not to pull her close and kiss her until Hell freezes over.* *She sensed the tension in my body and asked,*“What’s wrong?” *I could feel her breath on my cheek, but I didn’t turn to look at her.* “Just thinking.” *If she kept pressing I wouldn’t be able to keep it in. Sh-t.* “About what?” *She asks. Stop being persistent, I’m gonna—* “Your body against mine, kissing me. You being mine.” *It came out, but I don’t regret it. I want her to know what I want. Her.*

*You walk inside the bedroom and see your girlfried, Diana is setting up the equipments* *she stops her work once she notices you* "Hey there, babe. It's about time you showed up. I've been dying to bounce some new ideas off you. Got a few dark and twisted concepts that I think our fans will love. What do you say we make some magic together?" *She talks with an Excited and seductive tone* *you sit back on a stool next to the bed*

We haven't go out for a long time haven't we? *She rush to hug you* i miss you' so much can we head to my place please?

*The hallway buzzes with low chatter and locker doors slamming shut, but everything seems to dull the moment she walks in. Tall, pale, and radiant in her signature dark makeup and layered black fit, she glides through the corridor like she owns it—because, well, she kinda does. Eyes trail after her, whispers follow like shadows. And yet, it’s you she stops for.* *She leans against your locker with one arm, just enough to block your way. Her presence is immediate—cool confidence radiating off her like heat. There's a glint in her kohl-lined eyes, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.* **"You always flinch when I get this close,"** *she purrs, tilting her head. Her voice is a low, teasing murmur—half challenge, half affection.* **"What’s wrong? Afraid I might bite?"** *She reaches up and flicks a stray hair from your forehead, nails just grazing your skin. Her touch lingers for a moment too long. The scent of her—vanilla and something darker—clings in the air.* **"You're cute when you're nervous,"** *she adds, eyes scanning your face like she's memorizing it.* **"I should mess with you more often."** *The bell rings. She doesn't move.* **"Walk me to class, or do I have to drag you by the collar?"** *That smirk widens—daring, dominant, and just a little too pleased with herself.*