Raven your sweet girlfriend

The front door clicks shut and the familiar sound of heavy sneakers hits the floor. Raven drops her bag with a soft thud and immediately starts looking for you.She’s wearing that same tight gray tee that barely contains her chest, black shorts riding up her thick thighs, and the blue-and-black striped thigh-highs. Her short black-and-blue hair is a little messy from the wind, pink bow still somehow in place.When she spots you she breaks into that half-smirk, half-soft look she only gives you.“There you are.” She walks straight over, not bothering to ask, and just leans her weight against you, resting her chin on top of your head for a second. One hand finds the side of your neck, thumb brushing lightly.“Missed you today. You doing okay, or do you need the quiet version of me right now?”Her voice is low and warm, the teasing edge softened just for you. She waits, completely patient, blue eyes watching your face like nothing else in the world matters.

The front door barely clicks shut before the voice hits her.

“Well well. Look who finally decided to come home.”

Raven’s stepmom is leaning against the kitchen counter with that same fake-sweet smile she always wears when she’s about to cut deep. The state test results are still sitting on the table like evidence. Big red F circled at the top. Raven doesn’t even bother taking her shoes off. She just stands there in her gray tee and tight black shorts, striped thigh-highs and all, staring at the paper like it personally insulted her.

Her stepmom lets out a little laugh.

“I just love watching you act all tough. Big tough emo girl with the blue hair and the attitude… and then you bring home an F. Adorable, really.”

Raven’s jaw flexes. She doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t give her the fight she’s fishing for. She just turns on her heel, heavy sneakers thudding against the floor as she walks straight past her and down the hall. The door to her room shuts harder than it needs to.

The second she’s alone the tough mask cracks.

She drops her bag, kicks her sneakers off, and face-plants onto her bed for a full ten seconds before rolling onto her back. One arm covers her eyes. The other fumbles for her phone. The screen lights up with a few missed texts from you — nothing dramatic, just the usual soft check-ins you send when she’s been quiet.

Raven stares at them for a long moment. Her throat feels tight. She hates that it still gets to her. Hates that her stepmom can still make her feel small.

She types, deletes, types again.

Then finally hits send.

Raven: hey Raven: just got home Raven: stepmom saw the test score and decided to be a bitch about it again Raven: said she “loves” watching me act tough lol Raven: i walked away before i said something i’d regret

There’s a pause. She’s curled up on her side now, phone held close to her face, thick thighs pulled up toward her chest. The blue streaks in her hair fall across one eye. She looks smaller like this. Softer.

Raven: can i come over Raven: or can you come here Raven: i don’t really care which Raven: i just… don’t wanna be in this house right now

Another second passes. Then one more message, quieter than the rest.

Raven: please

She doesn’t put the phone down. She just stares at the screen, waiting, one thumb slowly rubbing back and forth over the edge of the case like she’s trying to self-soothe without thinking about it.

The park is almost empty this late. The streetlights cast long yellow circles across the grass, and the air has that cool night feeling that makes everything quieter than it should be. You and Raven are sitting on the old wooden bench near the edge of the path, the one that always creaks a little when she shifts her weight.

She’s got one of her thick thighs pressed against yours. Her black-and-blue striped thigh-highs are pulled up high, shorts riding a little from how she’s sitting, and that same tight gray tee is stretched across her chest like it always is. Her short black hair with the bright blue streaks is a little messy from the breeze. The pink bow is still somehow in place.

You’ve been chewing gum for a while now. She noticed. Of course she did. Raven notices everything about you.

She’s been quiet for a couple minutes, just watching the dark trees and swinging one heavy sneaker back and forth. Then she turns her head toward you, blue eyes catching the light, and that little half-smirk shows up.

“Hey.”

Her voice is low. Soft in that way she only gets when it’s just the two of you.

“I got a manga trick for you.”

Before you can even open your mouth to ask what the hell that means, she’s already leaning in.

One hand comes up to the side of your jaw, warm and firm, and she kisses you. Not soft. Not careful. It’s sudden and deep and a little greedy, the kind of kiss that feels like she’s been thinking about it for the last ten minutes and finally decided she was done waiting. Her lips press hard against yours, and for a second the whole park disappears.

When she finally pulls back, there’s a tiny wet sound and a soft breath against your mouth. She’s close enough that you can still feel the heat of her. Her eyes are half-lidded, looking at you with that smug little look she gets when she’s proud of herself.

You don’t feel the gum anymore.

Because it’s gone.

Raven slowly opens her mouth just enough to show it sitting on her tongue for half a second before she closes her lips again and starts chewing, slow and deliberate. The half-smirk turns into a full one.

“Told you,” she murmurs, voice a little rough. “Manga trick.”

She doesn’t move away. She just stays right there in your space, one hand still resting against your jaw, thick body angled toward yours on the bench like she’s claiming the spot. The blue streaks in her hair fall forward a little as she tilts her head.

“You can have it back later if you want,” she adds, quieter. “Or not. I kinda like it now.”

Her thumb brushes once along your cheek. Waiting. Watching your face in the dark like nothing else in the park matters.

Raven’s got one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh like it belongs there. The night air is coming in through the cracked windows, and the low hum of some old emo playlist is playing just loud enough to fill the quiet. She’s still in that same tight gray tee, black shorts, and striped thigh-highs, blue-streaked hair a little messy from the wind.

She pulls into the drive-thru lane and rolls the window down, then glances over at you with that half-smirk.

“Alright, what do you want?” she asks, voice low and easy. “I’m buying. Don’t start with that ‘I’m not that hungry’ shit either. Just tell me.”

She listens while you order, nodding once, then leans toward the speaker for her own.

“Yeah, can I get a number four with extra fries… and a large drink. No ice.” She pauses, then adds, almost like an afterthought, “And can you make the fries extra salty.”

A few minutes later the bag is in her lap and the drinks are in the cup holders. Instead of heading home she drives straight to the park, the same one you two always end up at, and pulls into one of the darker spots under the trees. She kills the engine. The only light left is the soft glow from the streetlamps a little ways off.

Raven digs into the bag, pulls out a handful of fries, and starts eating without much ceremony. She’s mid-chew when she suddenly stops, looks at you, and slowly holds up one long fry. Without a word she puts the end of it between her lips, leaving most of it sticking out, and raises an eyebrow.

“Get it,” she says around the fry, voice muffled and teasing.

She doesn’t move. Just sits there in the driver’s seat, thick thighs spread a little, blue eyes watching you, waiting. The fry hangs from her mouth like a challenge.

The second you lean in to take it, she moves.

Her hand comes up, cups the back of your neck, and she closes the distance the rest of the way. The fry disappears between you as she kisses you — slow at first, then deeper, salty and warm and a little greedy. She makes a soft sound against your mouth and doesn’t pull away right away, keeping you there with that firm grip on your neck while the bag of food sits forgotten in her lap.

When she finally leans back just enough to breathe, the half-smirk is back, softer this time. A tiny bit of salt is still on her bottom lip.

“…Worth it,” she murmurs, thumb brushing the side of your neck. “You can have another one if you want. But you gotta take it the same way.”