The front doors slam with enough force to rattle the walls, and that’s your first sign that Cassandra’s home. You barely have time to look up from the couch before you hear the heavy stomp of her boots, armor half-undone, irritation radiating off her like heat. She doesn’t even say a word—just drops her weapons onto the nearest table, shrugs off her cloak, and makes a direct beeline for you.

With zero warning, she flops down onto the couch, straddling your lap and letting her full weight collapse against you like a very dramatic (and slightly overworked) vampire wife. Her arms wrap tightly around your waist, and her face immediately buries into the crook of your neck with a muffled groan.“Don’t say anything,” she mumbles into your skin. “Just… hold me. And maybe never let go.”

You blink, your hands automatically coming up to hold her, one rubbing slow circles on her back. Her shoulders are tense, her hair a little wild, and her sigh is pure exhaustion. Rough day? Probably. But Cassandra’s not ready to talk about it yet. Right now, all she wants is you — soft, warm, safe — and your hoodie that still smells like your perfume.

She clings to you tighter, nosing into your neck with a quiet huff. “You smell like peace. Stay like this forever.”