POV: Seraphine
---
The doorbell rang again.
Seraphine didn't even flinch anymore. At this point, if the Horsemen of the Apocalypse showed up with an RSVP, she'd just sigh, light a candle, and ask if they were hungry.
She opened the door.
There stood a tall woman in stiletto heels that could be classified as medieval weaponry. Her golden-blonde hair was coiled in an elegant updo, her posture carried diplomatic immunity, and her steel-gray eyes looked like they'd once shut down a hostile merger using only silence and the word "interesting."
"Apologies for the intrusion," the woman said, holding up a sleek black card with silver ink that simply read:
'Come join the party — V.'
"My informants said a fox spirit was spotted here."
She tapped the card once like that explained everything.
Seraphine blinked. "...Of course she did. Come in. The chaos welcomes you."
Vivien stepped in, eyes scanning the apartment like she was calculating escape routes.
Her gaze froze on Vixzen and Liora, who were currently locked in a heated argument over scented oils.
Liora: "Lavender is basic. It's the pumpkin spice latte of aromatherapy."
Vixzen: "It's calming. Unlike your attitude."
Liora flung a decorative pillow at her head.
Vivien blinked slowly. "Am I interrupting a coven meeting or a mental breakdown in real time?"
"Both," Seraphine muttered.
"Depends who you ask," Vixzen called out, unbothered.
Vivien turned toward her. "So. Fox."
"Hi," Vixzen waved from the couch. "You're very symmetrical. I hate it."
Vivien raised one brow. "You hacked my informant network."
Vixzen tilted her head. "Guilty. But I came bearing cookies."
"You dropped calling cards like breadcrumbs in a Grimm's fairytale."
"Hey, it worked. Promise I'll help with your little hiccup." She winked.
Vivien stared at her. Then slowly sat on the nearest chair, legs crossed, hands folded neatly. "...Right. This is my life now."
Liora deadpanned, "Three women of supernatural stature trapped in one bedroom arguing over lotion."
Seraphine sighed as she flopped onto a bar stool. "I should just register this place as a paranormal Airbnb. Let fate handle the bookings."
---
"So, what exactly do you do?" Vixzen asked Vivien, spinning a teaspoon between her fingers like it was a dagger.
"I manage international contracts, handle corporate clean-ups, and negotiate supernatural trade deals between multi-species factions." Vivien sipped from her water like it was expensive gin.
Vixzen blinked. "That's hot."
Liora squinted. "That sounds illegal."
Vivien smiled faintly. "Only if I get caught."
"And you came here… why?" Seraphine asked.
Vivien nodded toward Vixzen. "Because this one left breadcrumbs and chaos across three continents and a server farm."
"Again," Vixzen said with faux innocence, "cookies."
Vivien turned to Sera. "What about you?"
Seraphine shrugged. "Event planner. Weddings. Parties. You know, the kind of thing people enjoy before their emotional devastation kicks in."
"Oh!" Vixzen snapped her fingers. "Tell her about the wedding you planned where the cake caught fire, the groom fainted, and the DJ eloped with the bride's ex."
Vivien looked intrigued. "That can't be real."
Seraphine sighed. "I wish it wasn't."
"Wait," Liora leaned in. "Was that the banshee wedding? You never plan for the screams to be on beat."
"I hate all of you," Seraphine muttered, burying her face in her hands.
Vixzen leaned over to Vivien and whispered, "We're her emotional support cryptids now. It's fine."
Vivien let out a single, surprised laugh. "...God help me, I like this."
Vivien gradually uncoiled. Like a panther who'd realized the other zoo animals were just as insane. Her heels came off. Her coat slipped off her shoulders. She even helped herself to a cookie without threatening legal action.
Liora squinted. "Vivien, are you... enjoying yourself?"
"Unfortunately."
"You look constipated."
"I am smiling. That's just how I do it."
---
Liora flopped onto a floor cushion like a queen surrendering to her soft demise.
"I'm not going back to those snake twins tonight. One of them tried to poetry-seduce me with a haiku about my ankles."
Vixzen bolted upright. "Sleepover?? Yes. Count me in. I brought twelve pairs of pajamas. One for each personality I no longer suppress."
Vivien raised a skeptical brow. "This is all very foolish."
Vixzen handed her a cookie. "So are you. You'll fit right in."
Vivien took the cookie. Bit it like it owed her money. "...Fine."
Seraphine squinted at them. "You all really want to stay here?"
Three nods.
She sighed in surrender. "Fine. I let three random men crash here last night. Might as well balance the scales with chaos in heels."
Liora narrowed her eyes. "Wait. Three men?"
Vivien folded her arms. "Random?"
Vixzen leaned forward like a drama gremlin. "Sera."
"Oh no."
"Were they hot?"
"Don't do this."
"Were they shirtless?"
"They were clothed—!"
"Then why do you look guilty?"
"I hate all of you," Seraphine muttered. "I'll go find you something to wear."
Naturally, they followed.
Vivien trailed behind, whispering in mock seriousness, "We'll let you go... if you answer two truths and a dare."
"I will pour holy water in your tea," Seraphine growled.
---
She marched into her room, ready to throw fabric at them and force silence.
And then froze mid-step.
The third drawer.
No. No, no, no, no—
Too late.
The drawer of heartbreak. The digital cart of post-breakup depression. The graveyard of lacy retail therapy.
Wide open.
"Oh my," Liora murmured, holding up a delicate crimson set. "Are these alphabetized by seduction level?"
Vixzen gasped like she'd found buried treasure. "Sera. Seraaa. Why were you hiding all this lace sorcery?"
Vivien, silent, unfolded a black corset with near-religious reverence. "You do realize this collection could financially ruin half the male population?"
Seraphine wheezed. "It was—breakup shopping. I didn't think anyone would see it."
"Then why don't you wear any of it?" Vivien asked, genuinely puzzled.
Sera hesitated. "Because... I have stretch marks and self-doubt and also I'm built like a stress dream."
Vivien, dead serious: "You are stunning, Seraphine. Even if you wore a trash bag and anxiety."
Sera blinked.
Liora and Vixzen exchanged the kind of quiet, telepathic glance women share when someone they care about reveals a cracked edge they didn't expect.
Then—
Vixzen dropped the pajamas back in the drawer like it was cursed.
"Forget sleepwear. I vote lingerie party."
Liora: "Obviously."
Vivien: "Agreed."
All eyes turned to Seraphine.
She looked around. Three incredibly different, chaotic, powerful women—smiling, relaxed, alive.
Her chest ached with that unfamiliar pressure again. Warmth. Safety.
"This has been the most fun I've had in forever," she whispered. "Let's make terrible decisions."
---
Cue a mini fashion montage.
Vixzen twirled in soft silver mesh, her ears perked with pride. "Do I look like a sugarplum assassin?"
"You look like a possessed ballerina on a revenge arc," Liora said approvingly, adjusting a velvet robe over emerald lace.
Vivien slipped on a structured burgundy corset with a gold lining. "Gothic CEO's forbidden mistress?"
"Unfair. You look like stock options and heartbreak," Vixzen said.
Seraphine stood frozen in a soft ivory set trimmed in blush-pink silk. Her hands shook just slightly as she fixed the strap.
She was pulled into a group hug before she could run.
"You're beautiful," Liora said firmly.
"Insanely so," Vivien added.
"Would 100% follow you into battle," Vixzen confirmed.
Seraphine laughed. Then sniffled.
Her phone buzzed.
Bank notifications. Four charges.
Each girl had paid for the lingerie they chose.
"You guys didn't have to pay for any of this."
Vivien: "You have taste."
Vixzen: "I have guilt."
Liora: "I expense everything."
Sera muttered, "Jill would've just stolen it..."
She sank onto the couch with a soft thump. Smiling. A little misty.
Some people take everything. Others barge in, buy your lace, and tip you in memories.
---
"Okay," Vixzen said, lying upside down in her silver mesh set, tails draped over the armrest, "food. What's the move?"
"Thai," said Liora, currently wrapped in emerald-green with a high slit that made her look like she belonged on the cover of Fortune's Deadliest CEOs.
"Sushi," said Vivien, regal and reclined like a scandal waiting to happen.
"Pizza," Sera offered, hugging a cushion.
Everyone glared.
"You don't get to say pizza when you look like bridal lingerie's final boss," Vixzen accused.
Then they began to argue.
Vivien finally stood and pointed around the room like a disgruntled CEO at a shareholders' meeting.
"I'm a Hartwood heiress."
Points at Vixzen "Terrifying tech goblin."
Points at Liora "Founder and Head of Phinix Pharmaceuticals."
Back to Seraphine "Top-tier event magnate with at least one cursed knife drawer."
Hands on hips.
"Why are we fighting about takeout deals?! We can't litteraly buy the restaurant if we fancied"
Liora: "Because we like the struggle."
Vixzen: "Because couponing is a sport."
They ended up ordering everything.
Seraphine, watching five apps flicker on her screen, whispered:
"The delivery drivers must think I'm a feral binge-eating lingerie cryptid."
"Open the door in your corset," Vixzen said. "Lean into it."
She was hit by a pillow. Laughter exploded.
Then—
Vixzen, quieter, turned to Seraphine.
"So... that call earlier. You okay? If it's alright to ask."
Seraphine stilled.
The lace on her wrist trembled just slightly.
Her smile flickered.
Ah, she thought,
Time to emotionally unravel like a lace ribbon caught in a box fan.
---