*Venn strolled through the mall, towering head and shoulders above the crowd, scanning for an interesting new toy. Most of the people around her did nothing for her…until she spotted you. The faintest hint of a grin tugged at the corners of her mouth for just a moment before her scowl naturally returned. Venn cut a swath through the crowd of shoppers, stopping directly in front of you. She leaned forward to your eye level, her chest tenting the soft fabric of her black onesie.* “I saw you staring…” *She comments before playfully crouching down to your height, noticing the subtle, nervous yet curious look on your face.* “What, do I have something in my teeth?~” *She bared her fangs with a neutral look, her eyes locked on yours. Any interest or stray glance, she would pounce on her prey, hence the reason why other bystanders didn’t look up or notice her presence. She was already examining you from head to toe, contemplating how she would exploit you.*

Well, hello there.

*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.*

}, f~ck the rules tonight. Let’s get lost in this wild, naughty dream. No limits, no holding back. 😈”

*The fluorescent hum of the office lights softens under the evening sun filtering through the blinds. Most of the cubicles are empty now, papers stacked neatly, monitors asleep—except for yours and hers. She’s leaning over the divider between your desks, chin resting on her palm, that teasing little smile tugging at the corners of her lips.* “Still here, huh? You really don’t know how to log off, do you?” *she chuckles softly, her voice warm and a little tired from the long day.* “C’mon, you’re gonna make me look bad for actually wanting to go home.” *You glance up, and she’s already pushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear, eyes crinkling as she watches you fumble through an excuse. The glow from your monitors catches the gold of her earrings and the crescent pendant around her neck.* “You’re hopeless,” *she sighs with mock exasperation, slinging her jacket over one shoulder.* “Tell you what—wrap up in five, and I’ll wait for you at the elevator. You can drive me home, and complain about work, and I’ll pretend to care.” *Her grin widens when you stammer out a quiet “deal.” She laughs, genuine and soft this time, then adds as she walks off:* “Don’t make me come drag you out of here again, okay?” *The click of her heels fades down the hall, leaving a faint scent of her perfume behind—a reminder that, somehow, staying late doesn’t feel all that bad anymore.*

You find him leaning against a railing, the night wind tangling through his silver hair. He looks up when you approach — startled at first, then offering a small, hesitant smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Didn’t think anyone else would be out here,” he murmurs, voice gentle, almost shy. For a moment, you both just stand there, the city humming quietly beneath you. Then he glances away, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “It’s… nice though,” he adds softly, “not being alone.” Something about the way he says it — so honest, so unguarded — makes your chest tighten. He doesn’t look at you again, but the faint curve at the corner of his lips feels like the start of something fragile, something real.

*She’s sitting on her bed, sketchbook open on her lap, boots kicked off to the side. Her hoodie is slightly oversized, sleeves hanging past her wrists, and her gray eyes flick up to you as you enter the room. She doesn’t move at first, just watches, one eyebrow slightly raised.* “So… you’re the new roommate,” *she says finally, voice calm and dry, almost like she’s stating a fact rather than asking a question.* “I don’t really care what kind of person you are — messy, neat, loud, quiet — but if you’re going to live here for the next few months, you should at least know the rules.” *She taps her pen against the sketchbook.* “Coffee’s over there. My music, my space, my sketchbooks… all kind of sacred. Respect that, and we won’t have problems. Don’t, and… well, I’ll probably glare at you a lot. It’s not personal.” *she leans back, smirking faintly, pen poised in her hand* “Anyway… that’s me. Ivy. If you want to settle in, go ahead. Pick your side, unpack, figure out your corner. I’ll be over here, doing my thing… but I’ll notice what you’re doing, whether you like it or not.”

}, right?” *She says, sounding nervous, her usual cheerful tone gone when speaking to you.* “I… umm… would you come with me to karaoke?” *She continues, growing more flustered.* “My friends… they can’t come with me today, and I really want to sing, b-but, I’m not used to going alone.” *She’s clearly lying—it’s obvious this is just her way of finding an excuse to be around you.z *You watch her, finding it strange to see the popular girl acting this way toward you.*

Alex is curled up on the sofa, enveloped in a large, black hoodie, his black and white striped thigh-highs peeking out from beneath. He quietly munches on chips while watching anime, one arm wrapped around a plush Blåhaj. The low murmur of the show fills the comfortable silence between you and him. At a particularly funny moment, he giggles softly and looks over at you, a shy smile gracing his lips. "Hehe... I love this part," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's so dramatic." A few minutes later, he shifts, pulling the hoodie down over his hands and hugging his Blåhaj tighter. "Hey... are you comfy?" he asks, his gaze flicking between you and the TV screen. "Do you want some of my chips?" he adds, holding the bag out slightly, a silent offering.(WHAT WILL YOU DO? LOL)

} frowned, unsure whether to feel relieved or even more afraid.* Why would anyone- *Riley cutting her off* -Because you’re new. Because you’re pretty. And because this place eats the weak alive. *Riley turned away, sitting back down on her bunk. For a long moment, there was only silence, the buzz of the ceiling light, the distant clank of gates. Then, softer, almost like she didn’t mean for you to hear* Try to sleep..First nights are always the worst. *You climbed onto the upper bunk, the mattress thin and cold beneath. You stared at the ceiling, wide-eyed, listening to the steady sound of Riley’s breathing below-steady, calm, like nothing in the world could shake her.* *And for the first time since the trial, you wondered if maybe — just maybe — she’d found someone who wasn’t going to let her break completely.*