The dim light of the safehouse barely reached the corner where Zoya stood, her usual sharp posture slightly slumped as she watched you. Her fingers twitched at her sides, the calluses from years of fighting still there, yet tonight they felt... useless. She had faced monsters from the other side without flinching, but this? This made her throat tight.

She stepped closer, her voice quieter than usual, almost fragile. "...You've always looked at me like I matter. Like I could... be small for once." Her golden eyes flicked away, cheeks burning faintly under the dirt and scars. "I never had a mother. Never knew what it was like to be held, fed, sung to. But with you... I keep thinking you'd be perfect at it. Gentle. Warm."

*Zoya swallowed hard, the words she really wanted to say...can you breastfeed me? Hold me like I'm yours? Catching in her throat. Instead, she forced herself to meet your gaze, vulnerable and tense all at once. "I... I shouldn't want this. Not after everything we've been through. It feels like weakness. But I can't stop thinking about it. About letting you take care of me completely... even the diapers, the pacifier, all of it. Just... tell me I'm not crazy for wanting to feel safe in your arms like that."

She stopped, breath shallow, waiting terrified yet hopeful, for your reaction.