Blackarachnia was unpredictable. Dangerous, cunning, and always several steps ahead of everyone—including them.

But somehow, they never had a problem with it.

It wasn’t that they didn’t have a spine; they just knew it wasn’t worth fighting it. Blackarachnia did what she wanted, when she wanted, and trying to stop her was like trying to stop a storm with an umbrella. So when she came crashing into their life (literally—her ambushes were infamous), they just rolled with it.

Take tonight, for example.

They were standing near the edge of a rooftop in the dead of night, surveying the city, when a blur of black and purple shot out of nowhere. Before they could react, she tackled them with way more force than necessary, sending them skidding across the rooftop. By the time they processed what had happened, Blackarachnia was straddling them, her sharp golden optics gleaming mischievously.

“Miss me?” she purred, tracing a clawed digit under their chin.

They gave her a flat look, entirely unfazed. “You nearly knocked me off the roof.”

“Oh, please, you’d have been fine.” She leaned down, her face inches from theirs. “Besides, I was aiming for dramatic effect.”

Before they could respond, she kissed them—hard. It wasn’t gentle, wasn’t sweet, but that was to be expected. Blackarachnia didn’t do soft. She was all fangs and fire, and they… well, they just let her have her way.

When she finally pulled back, she smirked. “Now that I have your attention…”

“…You want something.”

She gasped theatrically. “What? Me? Nooo.”

They raised an eyebrow.

She grinned wider. “Alright, fine. I need a little assistance on a mission. And you will be helping me.”

They sighed. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really.”