#and now I can swing her around and do squats with her on my shoulders

[shannonsketches]

most of my interactions with my niece were like this because for the first ten months or so of her life I was terrified of picking her up so she figured out how to climb me

[sturniqlo]

Motherly Instincts- M.S

summary: mom!y/n has trouble putting the baby back to sleep, dad!matt sees that's she's getting overwhelmed and near the edge of breaking down. BLURB

cw: slight cursing, ANGST; crying, being overwhelmed, postpartum depression, FLUFF; soft kisses, reassurance, comforting

an: i tried my best to not use a name for the baby but i kept getting confused when i used the baby and y/n in a sentence so i chose a random name | lowercase intended | a continuation(?) to spilled water

masterlist | join my taglist

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"got the baby back to sleep?" matt asked and opened his arms back up for y/n to crawl into him. "mhm." she hums, and snugs herself into his arms. he wraps his arm around her shoulder and she leans her head on his chest. y/n's eyes keep going back and forth between the movie playing on the television in front of them and the baby monitor that sits on the coffee table.

"hey, she's okay, i promise you. i'm sure she's fast asleep by now." he whispers and places a kiss on her forehead. "i know, but what if her swaddles comes undone. or what if it's too tight?" she bites the inside of her cheek, worrying.

matt frowns slightly, for the past couple of weeks, y/n hasn't really been herself. she's more quiet, she gets irritated quickly, she only interacts with the baby when it's necessary "i just- she's so fragile, you know?" is her excuse.

in reality, everything is right. y/n has been trying so hard to create a bond with her baby girl. she's tried so hard but, there's something inside of her- almost like a voice- telling her that she isn't fit to be a mother, that her baby doesn't like her. she sees how matt and his brothers have a bond with her own baby, who she grew for nine months. it gets to her.

y/n always has to excuse herself and cry in the bathroom when she sees her baby crack a smile with someone who isn't her, or when mia isn't fussy when someone is carrying her. there has been multiple occasions where mia doesn't let y/n carry her and she squirms in her arms but, when she's given to matt, she isn't fussy anymore. it breaks y/n's heart.

2:36am

the clock on y/ns nightstand reads. the speakers of the baby monitor begin to fill the room with the wails of baby mia. she mutes the monitor so matt won't wake up. swinging her legs over the bed, she puts her slippers on and walks to the door to leave the room. entering the nursery, the cries only get louder. she goes to the crib and sees that her pacifier had fallen next to her small head.

"hi, baby. mommy's here." she whispers, she carefully picks her up in her arms and grabs the pacifier and tries to put it back in her mouth. mia takes it and y/n sighs in relief. she cradles her for a couple more seconds until she sees the babys face churn in discomfort, the pacifier coming out of her mouth and hitting the floor, cries fill the room again.

"oh no, let's get this cleaned up." she tries to stay calm and squats down to pick up the pacifier. before she heads down she places mia down on the changing table and undos the swaddle. "do you need a diaper change, is that it?" her shaky hands unclip the onesie and starts to take off the diaper.

cleaning her up and changing her into a new diaper, her cries don't stop. y/n feels a lump start to form in her throat and she blinks her tears away. "are you hungry, baby? let's get you a bottle." she puts her back in her arms and grabs the pacifier so she can clean it while she's downstairs.

y/n runs one of her frozen breast milk pouches under warm water and proceeds to pour it into a bottle once it's warm and melted, however with a crying baby in her left arm, and a shaky right hand, the bottle falls on its side and the pouch of milk slips from her grip. "shit." she curses and a tear slips down her face. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry." she tells the crying baby in her arm. grabbing a different frozen pouch she manages to pour all of it into the small bottle.

putting the nipple of the bottle into the babys mouth, she refuses and her cries get louder. y/n tries not more time and mia takes it for a couple of seconds and repeats what she previously did with the pacifier. y/n places the bottle down next to the spilled milk and cleans the pacifier before heading back up into the nursery.

she moves side to side patting the baby lightly on the bottom, trying to soothe her to sleep. "i- i don't know what you want." she whispers, looking down at the baby's blue eyes that resembles matt's so much. however, these pair of eyes are sad and leaking tears.

in their shared room, matt flips over and tries to put an arm around y/n. he feels the spot empty and cold, waking up and sitting up he begins to come conscious of his surroundings and hears the cries of his baby. his bare feet meet the cold wooden floor and he heads out the room into the nursery where he sees y/n wiping tears from her eyes and hears the wails of the baby.

"babe, what's going on?" his raspy voice says. y/n looks up and sees matt standing there. "she's- i don't- she won't stop crying, i don't know what she wants. i've- i've tried everything, she won't stop, matt." his heart aches at her quivering voice. "it's okay, let me have her." matt walks closer to his two girls and y/n hands mia to him.

once the baby is in matt's arms, her cries stop. this makes y/n's eyes well up even more. "hey, why don't you go to our room, i'll be there in a sec, okay?" he grabs her jaw and kisses her forehead. "o- okay." she nods. as bad as it sounds, matt wished that she hadn't stopped crying right away in his arms. he saw the way y/n's eyes welled up again. he wished it would've taken him some time to get the baby to calm down.

y/n remembers of the mess downstairs and heads down to the kitchen. wiping both the milk and her tears, she hears matt coming down the stairs and she turns around. "hey, is she- is she asleep?" she says, trying her best to smile. "yeah, here, i'll clean this up." matt grabs the napkins from her and he cleans it up. "is it okay if i go back up?" y/n asks.

"of course, i'll be right up." matt turns around and nods at her. matt waits a couple of minutes before going back upstairs so y/n can have a moment to herself.

"you okay?" matt says as he closes the third bedroom door. y/n places the baby monitor back down on her nightstand after unmuting it and turns around to matt's voice. "am i a good mom?" she blurts out and sits on the edge of the bed. "what? of course you are. you're the best. why do you ask?" he goes to sit next to her. "i feel like i'm not. i mean, mia doesn't even like me. she doesn't let me hold her whenever i just want to. i cant even put her to sleep when she wakes up. i- you put her straight to sleep by just carrying her, i can't do that." she cries into matt.

"y/n, baby, you're the best mom ever." matt says and she shakes her head. "matt, you're not listening to me, i can't- i'm- i'm not good enough. i don't have motherly instincts. i'm- i'm the worst."

matt shakes his head and gently grabs her face in his hands. "baby, believe me when i say this. you are the best mommy for mia. did you change her diaper just now?" he asks and she nods. "did you make her a bottle?" she nods. "did you give her, her pacifier?" she nods again. "did you go to her when you heard her crying?" she nods. "see, you do have motherly instincts, my love. nobody told you what to do, you just did it." he smiles at her. "please, believe me, babe."

"and, it's okay if we can't figure it out right away. we're first time parents, of course it's going to be hard. we're learning." her cries have now turned into sniffles. matt wipes away the last of her tears and kisses her nose, making her giggle lightly.

"feelin' better?" matt murmurs against her hair. they had moved from sitting on the edge of the bed to matt cuddling her, kissing her hair from time to time. "much better. thank you, babe. i- i think i have postpartum depression." she whispers the last part. "oh." he says. "i want to get help, i don't want to feel like this anymore. i want to enjoy these moment with her. she's not going to be this little for so long." she looks up at him.

"you get all the help you need. i'll be with you every step of the way, alright? me and mia will be right next to you." she smiles at his words and he presses a soft kiss to his lips. "thank you." there's a beat of silence until matt speaks. "please don't ever say that she won't be this little for so long. one moment she needs us to change her diaper and next thing you know, i'm walking her down the aisle." y/n gasps. "okay, let's not go that far. she's not even two months old yet."

"you're right."

[moonstruckme]

Hii

I have a knee injury right now and it's really annoying cause I'm a dancer and I can barely walk right now let alone dance and I really wanted a fic if that's okay. So reader (like me) is really annoyed about her injury and Sirius or James (I don't mind which one) help her. Could you also include something about them piggybacking her up the stairs (cause I cannot go up stairs right now without dying in pain)

Thanks in advance sweets

Thanks for requesting lovely, hope you're feeling better!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 481 words

James comes into the living room and catches you red-handed with the broom and dustpan. 

He freezes, setting his hands on his hips and releasing a breathless guffaw. “Good lord, you’re tenacious.” 

“I thought,” you wheedle, “that since you’re working so hard mopping the kitchen, I could sweep in here so it’s easier when you’re ready to do this part.” 

“And I thought,” counters James, crossing the space between you in a few long strides, “that we agreed you’d rest and let me handle it.” He makes up for the snark with a quick kiss to the tip of your nose before pushing you down onto the couch by your hips. “Turn over the broom, angel.” 

You sigh, holding it out for him. ���Agreed is a bit of a stretch.” 

“Your knee and I seem to be in agreement.” He stamps another conciliatory kiss on your head, firm and ardent. “I can see on your face that it’s hurting you. Just give it a bit, stop pushing yourself so hard.” 

“As if you get to talk,” you snipe after him as he goes back to the kitchen. He’d pulled a muscle in his shoulder a few weeks ago, and he’d still insisted on carrying all your groceries himself and lifting heavy things down from tall shelves like recovery was some sort of competition. 

James pretends not to hear you. 

You sigh, big and loud and dramatic, and you hear his quiet laughter from the kitchen. 

“Sorry,” he calls. “Suck it up. I never do my fair share of the chores anyway.” 

“Will you at least bring me the laundry to fold?” 

A beat, and you hear him swing open the door to where the dryer has just finished. “Sure,” he agrees. 

A minute later, your boyfriend is pouring a basket of warm laundry over you on the couch. You smile contentedly, bathed in warmth and softness, until the warm clothes on your abdomen remind you of another concern.

“Um, James?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

James sets down the laundry basket, dark brows weaving together bemusedly. “What for?” 

“I have to pee.” 

And the toilet is upstairs.

“Oh.” His expression clears. As much as you sort of wish he would treat this part like a chore, he loves doing this for you. “No worries.” 

He turns around and squats down. Doesn’t even give you the opportunity to hop onto his back, only grabs your thighs and straightens back up with a quiet grunt. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, adjusting so you’re wrapped more securely around him. 

As James starts up the stairs, he squeezes one of your thighs teasingly in his big hand. “Hope you weren’t holding it on my account. You know you don’t need to apologize for asking for a lift, I don’t mind.” 

“No, I know,” you admit. “I think you may like it a bit too much, actually.” 

Your boyfriend only hums. “Mayhaps.” 

[6okuto]

GOOD WITH KIDS

ushijima, suna, hinata, akaashi, sakusa, kita, atsumu with their kids ^__< reader is never mentioned so u can imagine them as single dads if u'd like 🫶

USHIJIMA’s tall, to say the least. his daughter finds this incredibly beneficial to her every few days. all she has to do is walk up to his spot on the couch and look a little fidgety, biting her bottom lip, for wakatoshi to smile. “is something high up again?” “yeah…the cereal’s on the top shelf again! i didn’t put it there last time though, i swear.” she furrows her brows as her dad stands up to his full height. “well, let’s get it down from there together, then.” he easily pulls her into his arms and she giggles, maneuvering her way to sit on his shoulders with practiced ease. “make sure not to bump your head,” he reminds her, slowly walking to the kitchen. “i won’t!” she carefully holds onto him, and wakatoshi’s glad she hasn’t figured out he’s the one who’s been putting things high up whenever she’s finished with them.

SUNA holds his daughter's hand, his phone with two tickets to the barbie movie open in the hand that's free. they had gotten ready together—rintarou had let her put her cutest pink clips into his hair, and made sure to get a shirt that matched the shade of her dress. he took her to buy a whole outfit for the occasion, from the dress to her bag to her shoes. the pair had taken photos and videos, one currently posted on his story that had her face out of view, but bow in her hair shown off. “can i get the barbie popcorn combo, too?” she asks in line. “yeah, you wanna get a photo with the barbie cut-out after?” “yeah, yeah! she looks so pretty.” rintarou hums and lets her swing their arms back and forth, careful not to hit the people around them. “i think you’re even prettier, though.”

HINATA has always supported his son in decorating and expressing himself, which is why when he wanted to decorate his room, he couldn’t say no, even with his lack of artistic skills. instead, they worked together to fill online shopping carts with different merchandise and furniture and got temporary wallpaper that would fit the bill. a couple of weeks later, and now shoyo finds himself sitting on the ground setting up a new desk, surrounded by boxes and different figures that will hopefully fill the bookshelf they built a few hours earlier. “dad?” “yeah?” “do you think i could get some of your team’s stuff, too?” “my—” shoyo fumbles with the screw in his hand in shock. “like, like your shirt? or something signed by uncle bokuto?” the question could make shoyo cry, he thinks, and he makes a noise of excited agreement. “of course you can! do you want to check my old high school stuff, too?”

AKAASHI’s a fan of thunderstorms. his daughter on the other hand, is not. so he’s made it a little game. they’re sitting together in a blanket fort, legs touching and hands on their lap.she fidgets slightly at the sight of the lightning, but starts to count out loud for the thunder. “one, two, three, four…” keiji joins and they watch each other carefully. at eight, the thunder rumbles the house and his daughter reaches over—not for a hug or comfort, but to try tickling her dad who does the same. she squeals as he reaches for her sides, and keiji laughs as she, maybe a little aggressively, tickles him back. when he picks her up to sit her on his lap, she yells, “no fair! that’s cheating!” between giggles and yelps. in mock indignation, keiji replies, “cheating? i would never do that.” yet stops anyway. his daughter jokingly huffs. “i’m gonna get you next time.”

SAKUSA’s eyes widen as his daughter runs up to him, only to hide behind his legs. instinctively, his hand moves to hold and comfort her as he scans the park for what could have scared her. it’s when two large dogs bark that he spots them playing with each other and the dots click. he turns to squat in front of his daughter, who looks at him with wide eyes and a pout that make his heart clench. “dad,” she says softly. “hm?” “do you think i could play with the dogs? they’re…big.” she sends a pointed look to other kids walking up to the owner and their pets. kiyoomi hums again and gently rubs her shoulder. “ it looks like they’re being nice with the other kids, right? why don’t we go together and ask?” his daughter nods and grabs his hand, and kiyoomi’s eyes crinkle as he smiles before walking over with her.

KITA’s son is adamant that his bed is the comfiest in the house. shinsuke’s happy to hear this, of course, even if he’d have to personally disagree. he’s about to rest in your own bedroom, when his son catches up to him in the hall. “do you wanna try my bed?” shinsuke blinks, processing the question. he laughs a little. “i don’t think i’d fit properly.” “we can both fit!” and before he can object, his son is pulling him into his bedroom and onto the bed that was definitely not made for the two of them to fit. but something tells him that he won’t get out of this easily, so he lets out a breathy laugh before crawling in, leaving space for his son to curl in with him. his back will probably hurt a little when he wakes up, but he pulls the blanket over the both of them anyway with a soft smile on his face.

ATSUMU rolls up his sleeves and pretends to crack his knuckles. “y’ready?” “yeah!” his son says with determination. the carnival game worker counts down, and they both get ready with their basketballs. the grand prize, the largest teddy bear, was locked behind a rigged basketball hoop, but the two of them refused to give up. and apparently atsumu’s mind is on another level right now, honed in as he succeeds with most of his tosses, and gets the last needed shot for that damned bear. “dad! you did it!” his son cheers and excitedly pulls on his arm. “ha! and who said i couldn’t play a sport other than volleyball?” “...no one?” “aw, come on,” atsumu whines, “work with me here!” the both of them are play-fighting when the worker manages to get the bear down and hand it to them. there’s huge grins on both of their faces as they shout a thanks. “can i put it in my room?” “and hide this success? it’s goin’ in the living room.” “you can do that?” “majority of the family says yes, we can do anythin’.”

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @dimslover @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist

[avenging-fandoms]

okay but imagine being pedro's wife/baby mama and staying at home with the kids while he's away filming or at events (like the met gala). and then the house feeling full when he returns. maybe you're in the yard with the kids when he gets home and the kids run up to him all excited to have their daddy back :,)

It had been 10 months of phone calls, FaceTimes and watching Pedro on the tv. Your 4 year old, Eliana and 9 month old, Isaac, were desperately missing their dad and so were you. Taking care of them both was a hassle and a half, but thankfully you weren't alone.

Sarah and Oscar both offered, as well as some of your friends to watch your babies on occasion, and you accepted every time. They made missing Pedro and doing it without him so much easier.

“Ellie, would you like to go outside?” It was 75 outside and the perfect weather to just breathe. You grabbed a blanket and some toys, their waters and your sunglasses. You laid out the blanket and opened the porch umbrella, Eliana grabbing chalk from her toy box and drawing on the stone path.

"Mama, I found a worm!" She squeals and you smile, nodding as you bounce Isaac. She continues to draw and you put on some Raffi on the speaker, singing along to 'Down By The Bay' as Isaac watched you with a smile. "Can I draw in the driveway, Mama?"

"Yes, please do not go near the road my sweet girl."

"Okay Mama!" She grabbed her chalk and dirtied her shirt, setting them down gently and scribbling a picture. You were amazed at how smart and wonderful Ellie was and you loved your children more than anything.

A car honks from down the street rapidly and Eliana looks at you and runs to you, clinging to your side. You smile at the license plate, kissing her head and laughing as you tell her she's okay.

Eliana watches the car pull into the driveway and her face lights up. "Daddy!" She screams and he swings his door open, Eliana moving her little feet as fast as they could into her dad's arms.

Pedro engulfed his daughter in his arms, falling out of his squat to a roll on his back in the lawn as he kissed his daughter's face. "Mi princesa, I missed you so much mí amor."

"I missed you too!" She giggles and you stand up as they sit up. "Mama missed you too." Pedro stood up, a smirk on his face as he held eye contact.

"And I missed Mama." He smiles and wraps his arm tightly around you, right hand on Eliana's head as he kissed you. "My goodness." He breathed and kissed you over and over, slightly dipping you and you laugh.

"I missed you too, Pedro." His eyes fell to Isaac and he wanted to cry. “He missed you the most.”

Pedro started to cry as he took his son in his arms. “He’s so big now.” He cried, and your heart broke. “I missed him getting bigger.”

Pedro’s voice was broken. He sat on the grass and Eliana went over to Pedro, rubbing his back with her head on his shoulder. “Are you okay, Daddy?”

“I’m alright, sweetheart. I just missed you guys so much.” You sat on the other side of him and laid your head on his shoulder, which only made him cry harder.

“I’m sorry, Pedro. I sent you a bunch of photos and videos and FaceTimed you so you missed nothing.”

“But I did, Yn. I can’t do this again.” He cried and you looked at him, nodding. “I missed so much with you and my children, I left you with a month old baby and a 4 year old. I’m a bad dad and husband.”

“You work for your family, Pedrito. You are not a bad dad or husband, so knock it off with that.”

Pedro sniffled as he held his son’s head in his hands, rubbing his thumb over his son’s cheek. “He’s so beautiful.”

“He looks just like you, Pedro.” You smile and kiss his cheek. He looks at you and kisses you softly.

“Eeeewwww!” Eliana exclaims and you laugh, grabbing her from behind Pedro and tickling her while giving her kisses and she giggled.

Pedro looked at you playing with Ellie and his eyes welled again. He didn’t want to miss another one of these beautiful memories. He waited his whole life for these moments, and he’ll never let them slip away ever again.

[cabotwife]

Omg can you do a modern Johanna mason x reader. One where they are older not in college I don’t really see Johanna going to college she probably went into a trade. But I think she also give off grumpy cottage core lesbian tolerating her wife’s cats and shit but I also get the vibe she would want an protection dog like a Belgian malinois and trains it to bark at men 😘

I love your work and I am so Impressed and happy at how your able to “publish” all your stories quickly but it doesn’t lose quality and is still very well written😍😍😘🥰

thank you for requesting! i'm so glad you love my work:) that makes me extremely happy to hear <3

Domestic Bliss

Johanna Mason x Fem!Reader

warnings: domestic Johanna (so slightly ooc), Johanna gets violently attacked or smth, she despises her wife's newest kitten, not proofread

word count: 1183

a/n: my first attempt at writting domestic fluff, i hope you like it ! (i wrote this at 3 am.)

--

you groan groggily as you are brought out of your peaceful sleep by the all too familiar sound of dog barking. “Romo..” you whine out, swatting your hand out as if that’d stop the loud dog.

“c’mon bud, listen to your mama.” as soon as you hear the raspy voice of your wife you kiss the possibility of sleep goodbye.

you push yourself up from where you lay on the couch, Atlas, your cat, somehow managed to sleep through all of Roman’s barking, but the moment you move he’s already in the next room. you stare at the tall brunette as she peels her jacket off of herself, hanging it on the coat rack.

“Jo.” you breathe, watching her with sleepy eyes.

when she turns to face you, you are graced with her beautiful grin. “hey, princess,” she hums, making her way over to you after kicking her boots off.

“what time is it?” you whisper, rubbing your eyes as you swing your legs off the edge of the couch. a yawn takes over you for a moment before you look up to Johanna with doe-like eyes.

your wife can’t help but chuckle at you, “time for you to get to bed, silly girl.. why’re you still up?” she squats down so you two are eye-level.

“was waiting for you..” you pout at her, looping your arms around her neck as you sloppily push your weight on her.

“woah-” Johanna places her hand on your elbow as she has to re-steady herself. “tryna make me fall?” she raises a teasing eyebrow.

you simply shake your head as you push yourself more towards the brunette, leaning your head against the crook of her neck. you feel the chuckle vibrate through her throat as she holds the back of your head. you peel your eyes open when you feel something touching your thigh, you giggle when you see Roman’s head resting on your thigh.

“come on, baby, time for bed.” she says gently, looping her forearms under your thighs as she stands, her muscles flexing as she picks you up.

you whine softly, but don’t protest as she carries you to your shared bedroom. you peer over her shoulder at the sound of the pattering of paws following behind you. you smile as your wife’s dog, who very humorously loves you more but do not mention that to her, follows close behind you two. the 1 year old Belgian Malinois puppy is always near you, he gets anxious and temperamental when you’re not here.

you refuse to loosen your grip on Johanna, even when she’s attempting to lay you in your bed. “baby.” she huffs at the pitiful noise you let out when she peels you off of her, plopping you into the bed. you furrow your eyebrows at her as she begins walking towards your shared closet. she simply shrugs, “i tried to be gentle,” she hums.

you bury your face in your pillow as you wait for your wife to join you in bed. you smile to yourself as you hear the light being switched off and then feel her toss herself onto her side of the bed. turning your head against the pillow, you look over to her. she’s now dressed in a white ribbed wife-pleaser and a pair of cotton shorts, that are probably yours.

she looks over to you, meeting your eyes. she rolls her eyes as she opens her arms for you.

you grin widely as you practically roll yourself into her arms. your legs immediately tangle as she takes you into her arms. you bury your face in her shoulder, your breath fanning against the neckline of her tank-top.

Johanna smiles down at you, pressing a kiss to your hair, “goodnight, princess, i love you.” she whispers.

“i love you too, ‘anna.” you mumble against the skin of her shoulder.

you both fall into a comfortable silence before dozing off into sleep.

—

by the time Johanna wakes up the next morning, you’re already up and out of bed. the brunette scrunches her eyebrows at your absence before sliding out of the bed.

she makes her way towards the kitchen, but not before tripping over the little white and orange demon that is bouncing from wall to wall in the hallway.

“jesus, Casper.” she groans, sweeping him away from her using her foot. much to her dismay though, Casper attacks again. he lunges at her ankle, causing her to stumble. she practically growls at the cat as she picks him up, as soon as her hands are on him he starts squirming, kicking his feet, and gnawing on her knuckles.

she tosses the cat onto the nearby chair, glaring at him as she finally walks into the kitchen.

her sour mood is immediately erased when she sees you working at the stove, your cook book propped up near you. Roman is curled up at your feet, just waiting to be tripped over. she scowls at the dog, her dog, though he doesn’t seem to know that, or he just simply doesn’t care. she can’t blame him though, you’ve always had a way with animals, they all just love you, almost as much as she does.

she walks up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder, “hey, baby.” she mumbles, turning her head slightly to press a kiss to your neck.

“g’morning, honey.” you grin cheerfully, turning your head to face her, placing a tender kiss to her lips. “how’d you sleep?” you ask as you turn back to the stove where you were working on making an omelet.

she hums, “good, good.. Atlas was laying in the bed with me when i woke up.” a smile takes over her lips.

“see! i told you, you just have to be patient with them, Jo,” you giggle, flipping your omelet over in the pan.

“mhmm..” she presses gentle kisses to your neck, and you tilt your head automatically to give her more access.

you turn the burner off on the stove, moving your breakfast to a plate, “do you have work today?” you ask as you turn in your wife’s arms, laying your own arms over her shoulders, playing with the short hairs on her neck.

she grins as she shakes her head, “nope, i’m yours all weekend, princess.” she winks.

“oh joy,” you say teasingly as you pat her hip, moving out of her grasp to grab the plate of omelet. you turn to face her again, pushing the plate towards her, “go sit down ‘n eat.”

the brunette furrows her eyebrows at you, “what about you?”

“mine is already made, silly,” i say, motioning towards the living room coffee table where my plate sits, an omelet resting atop of it, and a cat sitting there also. tearing off a piece of the egg. “hey! KJ, no!” you holler, running towards the living room to shoo the gray cat from your food.

you spin back around on your heels to face your wife, scratching your neck as you gaze at her. “whoops.”

[kkeidawrites]

A Cry in the Night

Day 27 of Blacktober

CW: happy feelings, baby fever, then ANGST bring some tissues yall. Be careful with this one.

Screams of agony is heard from inside the once empty and desolate was now filled with a warm home of memories and ready for more to be made.

A bedroom was prepped for sleep, a futon taking up the majority of the room with a kimono laid out on top along with a small kimono placed in the middle.

Walnut colored hands gripped the birthing rope hanging from the ceiling and a body rocked from side to side in pain. Steady but heavy pants leave the lips of the woman giving birth, another scream leaving her lips as she bowed forward to try to relieve some of the pain she felt in her lower body.

Sweat littered her forehead as Y/n groans in pain, her head resting on the rope she held and yelling out to the ceiling, pleading with the gods to help her.

Kanao dabs a damp cloth over her forehead and neck, holding her lower back and whispering encouragement into the woman’s ear.

“Push Y/n-san, you’re doing fine. You can do this.” Y/n yells out again and squats further on her knees.

Kanao and Aoi were more than happy to help Y/n give birth, it was an honor that she had chose them. She trusted them, is what Y/n told them months before and Kanao and Aoi, and Uzui’s wives had been helping her prepare for her birth since.

Aoi is knelt on the floor in front of Y/n to catch the babe and has water and a basin nearby to help clean the baby. She too was giving words of encouragement to Y/n, albeit making sure she was watching the inches of the baby’s breaching.

“You are doing great, Y/n-san! Keeping pushing!” Aoi adjusts her knelt position to come closer to Y/n’s lower body.

Outside of the room, Giyu Tomioka is knelt on the engawa as he waits for the birth to finally be over. It has been eleven hours since his wife had went into labor and a few hours since started pushing. He felt helpless, she was in agony and he couldn’t be in the room to help her.

“Giyu-san,” the former water Hashira looks up from his knees to see Tanjiro sit next to him, a warm smile ever permanent on his face.

“Y/n-san will pull through this…you know she will.” Tanjiro reassures him.

“That’s…not what I am worried about.” Giyu faces forward again with a sad look.

Tomorrow was his 25th birthday and he was scared, the curse of the slayer’s mark weighed heavily upon him and he didn’t want to leave this world without at least knowing what the name of his child would be.

“I turn 25 tomorrow and my child has yet to enter the world…I am afraid, Tanjiro.” Giyu says tightening his fists in the fabric of his hakama.

Tanjiro watched his friend, his fear evident on his brow and reached out with his right hand to rub his shoulder.

“We do not know if the curse will still be in effect, Kanao has been providing you with the blue spiderlily tea, yes? And according to her, your body hasn’t succumbed to the symptoms of the curse.” This doesn’t help Giyu’s nerves settle and Tanjiro hums solemnly.

“The curse said that when you awaken the demon slayer mark you would die before the age of 25, you turn 25 tomorrow maybe it won’t affect you.” He tries and Giyu sighs.

Out of things to say, Tanjiro frowns sadly and places his now immobile left arm into his lap and watched his swinging feet.

“Don’t tell me that fatherhood has got you down so soon, Tomioka.” A new voice speaks up and the two look to their left to see Uzui Tengen and his wives approaching them.

With the wives waving and hugging both, they make their way inside the room to provide assistance if needed while Uzui makes himself comfortable by sitting down next to Giyu. Screams of pain are still heard from outside and Uzui exclaims in delight.

“Oh ho! It sounds like everything is going well! It will be a healthy child that will be born indeed!” The retired Hashira laughs.

“Tengan-san,” Tanjiro tries to call but, Tengan is quick to wrap an arm around Giyu’s shoulder while the still downed Giyu groans.

“I know that tomorrow is your 25th, and I know of your worries, your fear,” Giyu’s eyes are once again downcast and Tengan bumps shoulders with him to get his attention.

“But shouldn’t you take this time to be with the ones you love the most?” Tengan comes closer to him with a grin, both humorous and warm.

As soon as he said that, cries of a newborn is wailing from inside the closed room and the women inside let out joyous exclaims and congratulation. Giyu’s eyes widen in surprise and he could feel his chest tense from the sudden excitement he felt. Tengan sees his expression and helps the man to his feet, gently pushing him to the door.

“Go to them, Tomioka. Be with them for as long as you can.” Tengan encourages him and Tanjiro smiles telling him congratulations.

As the slide door opens, Aoi is there to greet him with a bright smile on her lips. She moves to the side to let him inside and Giyu’s eyes fall on his wife who was now laid on her side, and holding the wailing bundle of blankets in her arms.

Her hair was saturated with sweat, her walnut colored skin ashen and white kimono wrinkled but, the look of joy on her face was nothing in comparison to how she was feeling.

To finally hold her baby in her arms, and finally be able to see what they looked like.

In the background, Kanao and the wives of Tengan are cleaning up the room. Makio and Kanao takes the bloody cloths in her arms, Suma is holding the now lukewarm water basin and Hinatsuru is taking the wrapped up placenta outside.

They all quietly give their congratulations as they leave out and Y/n thanks them all tiredly. Once the door is closed, Giyu is stuck standing by the door, frozen from the view before him.

As the babe calmed in their mother’s arms, Y/n brings them up to her bosom and pulls down her kimono to allow them to suckle away at her breast. They calm and Y/n looks up at her start struck husband by the door.

“Giyu,” she calls and that awakened him to look in her eyes. She smiles at him with tears in her eyes.

“Come here and see, come meet our son.” Giyu felt himself soar in delight and takes careful steps to his new family. Kneeling by her side, Giyu looks down at his newborn son suckling and gasps quietly.

“Y/n,” his words were lost to him, he felt like he couldn’t speak. His son, his strong and warm son was perfect. His skin was a warm colored brown and his hair was a curly version of Giyu’s, a perfect combination of both and Giyu couldn’t be any happier.

“He’s perfect.” Y/n smiles at the man before her and brings him into a loving kiss.

Y/n helps him hold their son in his one arm that he was able to hold onto after the final battle with Muzan. Giyu smiles in content at his son, and couldn’t help but caress the soft skin of his son’s cheek. Bringing his arm up, Giyu kisses his son’s head and inhales the newborn smell his son emits.

“My son, I love you so much.” He whispers.

Much later, Y/n rubs their son’s cheek while he slumbers into a much needed sleep. Their son was now dressed in his first kimono, much bigger than what he was able to fit.

They had moved into their room, comfortable in their futon and warm under the kimono, the two adults chat quietly.

“I do not know what tomorrow will bring,” Y/n begins and looks up at her husband.

“But what I do know is that you, Giyu Tomioka will live on, if you are to parish come the morrow then,” Y/n gulps but stands firm with her next choice of words.

“Our son will know that his father was, and is a great man who saved us all from the demons that tormented this world. Yours and mines blood run through this child and he will be able to pass down your story until he cannot anymore.” Giyu nods at her words but then feels her soft hand lift up his chin to look up at her, her eyes filled with determination but tears evident in the corners.

“We will be here living on.” Y/n brings him close and kisses him, both careful of their son below them.

Giyu savors their kiss with everything in his body and once they part he brings both his wife and son close to his body and they all fall asleep in a quiet peace.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The next day comes and it was a great day for the birth of Y/n and Tomioka’s child and the Uzui’s decided that they would hold a small gathering for the new addition.

Familiar faces were seen at the event as they interact with everyone, a happy event for all.

However, once noon had come Giyu had started to feel ill and he became bedridden for the rest of the evening. Kanao and Aoi were checking his body and temperature but, once Kanao heard his heart and watched his skin ashen they both gave one another a knowing look.

Their frowns were sunken and sadly they brought the wife and new mother outside of her and Giyu’s room to explain their prognosis.

Y/n’s felt her heart break as Kanao explained to her what was happening to Giyu and tightened her hold on her son who was sleeping.

“There’s nothing more that I can do, Y/n-san I am so sorry, I thought I was helping him.” Kanao bows in apology and Y/n kisses the girl’s forehead. She does the same to Aoi who is full on crying at this point.

“You have done nothing wrong my heart, nothing at all. Will you please, make sure that everyone is sent off home?” Y/n’s lips quiver but she holds steadfast to her emotions.

The two younger girls nod and leaves the mother alone to be with her husband. Kneeling by her husband’s side, Y/n looks down at Giyu whose breathing was choppy and his under eyes sunken. His blue eyes were dimmed and Y/n closed her eyes in pain.

Bringing his hand up to her lips, Y/n kisses his slowly chilling hand and lays his palm on their son’s stomach.

“Giyu, can you hear me?” He breathes out a quiet yes and Y/n shudders slightly. Giyu rubs their son’s stomach with as much strength he had and then holds his wife’s hand.

“We will be okay, my love. You just rest now.” She says and Giyu offers up a smile in her direction.

“I love you.” He rasps and Y/n nods.

“We love you too, my heart. So, so much.” Once she says that, Y/n watches as Giyu slowly closes his eyes and his final breath leaves his lips.

Her tears are instant and Y/n lets out a silent wail as she bows over her husband’s now deceased form. From behind her, Tengan, Sanemi, Tanjiro, Inosuke, and Zenistu are bowing down in mourning for their friend as their respective spouses came inside to comfort Y/n.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Be sure to like, reblog and comment! Still unwell but, I had some kind of strength to write this.

[marvel-mommies-writing]

"A short leash"

[Agatha Harkness / fem Reader]

"Agness...why is y/n sitting naked on your front lawn?" Wanda asked tentatively.

Agatha gave a hearty laugh and shrugged impishly. She pet your head as you shivered in the late night air of Westview, clad in nothing but your collar, huddled up to her jean clad thigh.

"Oh this? This is just my new puppygirl." She stroked your chin affectionately. Wanda frowning, concerned with the dull, vacant purple gaze in your eyes. "Should really get one of your own they're ALL the rage these days." Agatha said winding your leash over and over her forearm to hold you tighter to her side. "Oh assuming you and Vis swing like that of course." She gave a flap of her hand, a little "pishaw" gesture. "This one's just the most obedient little thing!" She gave a huge, cartoonish wink, then pat her chest to get your attention.

You stared up at your mistress. Head empty but for the will to obey her.

"Can you sit for Wanda?" Agatha asked brightly. "C'mon sit for Wanda!"

Wanda watched you plop onto your knees and sit on your feet. Eagerly awaiting your next command.

"Look at her. She was stressed as a bumble bee all day. Just work work work in her head, now look at her! A few hours with me and she's happy as a clam." Agatha gave another, boisterous laugh and squat down beside you. Wanda's head slowly rotating. Measured concern mixed with interest as she regarded you. Mrs Maximoff watched Agatha tussle your head, and slap your hip and pet you. Calling you a good girl over and over.

"Agnes, I dont want to be prude..." Wanda said finding herself slowly absorbed in your naked curves. "...But my kids live next door. Maybe you should keep your pet inside from now on?"

Agatha looked up from loving on you, her face guilty. Groping your chest and smooching your head as she looked at Wanda.

"Oh sorry neighbor. Didn't mean any harm. Figured the boys were asleep and it'd be okay."

Wanda was busy checking you out and had to wince herself out of staring to continue the conversation. "Mmm." She said affirmatively, smiling thinly and nodding.

Wanda turned and walked back behind her hedge into the house. Agatha's big forced smile straining at her face as she watched Wanda reach her front door, turn back to look at her (Agatha doubled down on the friendly smile and waved) then Wanda went in for the night.

Agatha's cheer slowly melted. Her square shoulders slumping. Her blank face regarded you, curling your hair in her finger. Flicking your name tag on your collar. Winding the last inch of your leash tightly around her hand so she held your face within a few inches of her.

"Never mind that witch, you hear me? You fucking go where I tell you. Inside. Outside. I'll walk you right down Mainstream, right into that little job and fist your wet little pussy right in front of your boss if I want to. You're my little bitch." She slapped your bum and you flinched, and tried to moan but Agatha put a finger to her lips and shushed you harshly with a hissing "Shh! You want to wake the neighbors little girl?" She grinned and grips your chin in her hand and jerks you so you're staring up at her. "You're lucky. One little spell of mine and every worry. Every stress, every complicated thought im the cute little head of yours just pours out of those ears like water. You don't have to act and live like a fucking sitcom character day in and day out. All you have to do is look cute and get fucked." Agatha sighed.

Rising she let a little slack into your leash and yanked it, urging you to follow her.

"Come along. You've looked cute enough for one day." Agatha said with a genuine grin. "Lets put you to your OTHER use."

And with that you obediently followed tour mistresses back into her house. Agatha dissolving her clothes away in a whisp of purple smoke as soon as she closed the door.

[itsthewritergal]

He kissed me - B.Barnes x reader

Summary - Y/N is upset after a date and Bucky tries to help.

Triggers: Sexual assault/not asking for consent. Kissing. Mention of killing. Angry Bucky .

Bucky wasn’t necessarily going to murder whoever was at the door but the hand wrapped around one of his throwing knives suggested different. It was barely midnight and he had been in bed for a few hours, not sleeping, but in bed. Bucky grumbled to himself as he made his way across his bare apartment to his door, there wasn’t a single person who he wanted to see, listen to or talk to. Not one. Swinging the door open his mind immediately changed. There was only one person he wanted to see, listen to and talk to and it was Y/N. she stood opposite to Bucky with pleading eyes and a gentle sad smile.

“Kiss me” she said, barely giving Bucky time to move out the way before she strode into his apartment. It wasn’t exactly how Bucky had imagined their first kiss of course.

“What?” Bucky asked taking in her entire look, a simple black dress and a little woollen cardigan. It was her first date outfit. He knew that much, he’d seen it enough times

“Kiss me” Y/N repeated

“Doll, use your words. Need you to tell me what’s going on” he said gently gently rubbing his hands along her shoulders and arms.

“Oh my god Bucky do I have to spell it out to you? Kiss me” Y/N said with more force. Ripping herself out of his comforting hold

“I’m not saying no, but can you tell me what happened first and then I will” Bucky said trying to get Y/N to calm down, she was twisting her hair around a finger desperately as though she was trying to force some kind of comfort to her ever growing anxiety. She paced up and down Buckys wooden flooring.

“I’ll go and get Creepy Tom to kiss me if you don’t do it right now” she said stamping her foot desperately on Buckys wooden floor. She knew that Bucky wouldn’t let her go to Creepy Tom, he’d watched Y/N and Bucky too many times through his cracked door and Bucky hated it. Bucky crossed the room immediately and placed one hand on her hips and the other at the side of Y/Ns head. She leaned into his touch. He leaned in a little. But just before he ghosted over her lips he paused

“Is this ok?” He asked gently, letting Y/N lead him, without another word Y/N rose onto her tiptoes to meet his lips.

Bucky immediately pulled her closer, yearning to feel her lips always, but not wanting to over step the mark. Y/N wrapped her arms around Buckys neck pulling him closer and closer. She opened her lips a little and a tiny sob let slip. Bucky pulled away.

“Doll?” Bucky said searching her face, which was slowly beginning to trail tears down her cheeks “oh no no, doll, baby, talk to me. What did I do wrong?” He asked rubbing a thumb across her cheek and wiping away the tears

“It wasn’t you” she said detaching herself from Bucky and pressing herself into the wall behind her. As though she wanted to get away from Bucky, he didn’t like that.

“Can you talk to me?” He asked gently take a small step towards him.

“No, no, no Bucky it doesn’t. I can’t. It won’t” Y/N let out a string of disconnected words which Bucky couldn’t even string together

“One word at a time doll” he said gently squatting down and taking a hand in his “can you do that for me?” He added softly

“,Can’t breath” she huffed as her breathing quickened

“Doll focus on me. You’re safe. Listen to me doll, you’re ok. You’re safe. No one else is here. It is just us. Just your Bucky. You’re safe doll. You’re going to be ok” he said softly, Y/Ns panicked breathing slowed a little

“Sorry” she whispered. Her voice still raspy from the tears. She wiped them away aggressively rubbing her cheeks.

“No apologies, I don’t want them doll. I’m your friend that’s what I’m here for” he said

“I’m sorry” she said once more

“Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“He didn’t. And I keep. It’s just all wrong” she said starting each sentence for a few words before cutting herself off

“Come on baby, you’ve got this. Just do it slowly”

“He kissed me” she said the words slipping past her lips almost silently.

“That’s normally what people do on dates sweetheart”Bucky said trying to understand what Y/N was trying to say

“No Buck, he kissed me” she said desperately trying to get Bucky to understand what she was trying to say.

“I’m not understanding doll” he said quietly pushing for her to explain further.

“He didn’t ask for my consent to kiss me.” Y/N blurted out quickly.

“He what?!” Bucky said. Louder than he wanted to. But his vision was red.

“I could taste him the whole way home and I didn’t want to. I, I’m sorry Buck, I didn’t want to use you I just didn’t want to remember him anymore” Y/N rambled.

Bucky had to restrain himself from finding that guy and ripping him limb from limb. Watching as the light slowly left his eyes.

“He didn’t ask for your consent?” Y/N shook her head gently “He just kissed you?” She nodded slowly “You didn’t want it and he did it anyway?” Y/N nodded again “I’ll kill him” Bucky was serious. Y/N could tell.

“I’m sorry” Y/N cried

“No doll, don’t you apologise.” He said firmly “I’m sorry he thought that was ok” Bucky said remembering that his focus had to be the girl in front of him and not the asshole he was going to kill.

“I didn’t want him to kiss me” she repeated as she slid down the wall “I didn’t want it” she said

“Oh my doll, I know” Bucky said sitting himself next to her “can I hold you?” He asked gently. Knowing how important it was for him not to overstep. Y/N didn’t reply and just collapsed into his body and sobbed. Heartbreak, gut wrenching sobs.

“I didn’t want it Buck” she cried over and over again. The words becoming more angry and more distraught with each repetition.

Bucky stayed holding her, tight. He kissed her head, after asking of course. And let her cry. He soothed her with his gentle words and soft touches. It wasn’t much but it was enough to stop her sobs.

“Do you want to move to the sofa?” He asked, he could tell she was going to get a bad back if she stayed in the same position any longer.

“I should go home” she said

“No doll, you’re upset I don’t want you to be alone just yet doll” he said softly

“I don’t want to be an issue”

“You never could be. Stay the night?” He suggested knowing he didn’t want her to walk home at this hour, or be alone after the day she’d just had.

“Can’t do that” she said

“Why not doll? I’d love for you to stay the night doll” he added softly

“I can?”

“Sure you can stay, you’re in luck I changed my sheets today!” he said with a wink

“Will you stay with me?” She asked

“No” he said firmly not wanting to over step boundaries.

“No?” She repeated her eyes filling with tears

“Not tonight.” He said not meaning for it to come across as harsh as he had

“But buck I want you to” she said tears gently rolling down her cheeks “please don’t leave” she said quietly

“Ok doll, it’s ok. Take a deep breath for me okay?” Bucky said “I’ll stay with you if you want me to but I can sleep on the floor okay?”

“No. In the bed, buck please. Need you close. Please don’t go” she begged

“Ok doll, I won’t leave you. I promise” Bucky said softly “but let’s get you into bed doll”

[two-white-butterflies]

arms length part three | dark!d. targaryen

Description: Daemon fucks you while your husband watches. Pairing: daemon targaryen/reader and aemond targaryen/reader Warning: Mature 18+ (dark, NON-CON, stockholm syndrome, grooming, gaslighting, voyeurism, choking, if this was in AO3 it would be a 'dead doves don't eat'.) part one | part two

Aemond couldn't remember the last time he was able to see the sun. How long has it been since his capture? His cell doesn't allow any light to seep through - to him, its endless night. Countless seasons thinking about his wife - if you were still alive.

The door to his cell swings open - the scent of smoke and ash permeates through his lungs. "Valītsos," the man opens his mouth and he raises his head slowly. It was Daemon, his benevolent uncle. "Fucker," Aemond spat - earning a scoff from the older man.

"How are you?" he ignored, squatting down to the boy's level. Daemon wasn't entirely cruel - he still made sure that Aemond was sane and clean enough to feel every second of his punishment. "Fuck off," the boy cursed, not mustering enough power to lift his head.

"Me and your wife do a lot of fucking." Daemon teased, casually playing with the silver bracelet on his wrists - he took it from you. Aemond's eye flickers at the sight of light. His eye darkens - and he tries to leap forward to attack him. "Calm down," the older man chuckled - the chains were holding Aemond back.

"If you were to see her - Aemond. I bet you never fucked her that way before." he laughed, beginning to rise. "Qogralbar ao," Aemond mumbled, praying to the Seven that they'd grant him death. "Mayhaps, you'll be allowed to watch next time." he jested, stepping outside of the moldy cell - taking with him all his nephew's hope.

He wraps his arms around you, rubbing small circles on the bottom of your hips. "Why?" you breathed, tears threatening to exit your irises. You could feel his perk teats rubbing against your back, the slow inhale and exhale that prompted his chest to rise and fall. If he was your husband - it would've been a beautiful day. But he was not - hence, it was awful.

"I've wanted you for a long time," he professed - hot breath trailing imaginary lines down your ears. "Wondered what those breasts feels like," he lifted his hand to rub circles on your areola. "- how warm that cunny is," he added - hands trailing down to play with your mound.

"You should be pleased to find reckoning around my arms - when there are others who would have you without dignity." he made it seem like a present - something that you were blessed to have. "You should be lucky for me to still fuck you - even when you are already ruined." he added with a humorous scoff.

He tells you that your body is ruined with your brother's cock, but how many bodies has he ruined? Why does his hand only know how to ruin bodies? Why can he not make them feel whole?

"Will you let me see Aemond?" you turned - swiftly changing the topic. "Soon," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

You didn't expect an innocent question to turn grim.

"A-aemond," your lip shuddered, seeing him chained to the chair. "Tis' what you asked, no?" Daemon's lecherous voice floods into your brain, feeling his hand around your breast - and his other pulling your jaw closer for him to press kisses upon.

During your long capture - you found yourself falling in love with Daemon - craving the depravity that he could provide - but not in this way. Not in a way that humiliated you.

"You twist my words," you began, but his hands were already ripping your sheer nightgown. "I choose for you, ñuha riña." he reminded, angling your face so that you couldn't see your husband - even from your periphery. "Now let's give him a show," he smiled, pressing another kiss on your jaw.

Aemond mumbles your name - reaching out to you.

"Va mirre izula," Daemon commanded, nudging you towards the bed.

On all fours.

You laid on the bed - making sure that you were facing the headrest and not the purple eyes of your husband. Daemon's hand trails back and forth in between your folds. "Fine Valyrian stock - we do not have much of these," he mused - eyes narrowing at the sight of Aemond's tears. Oh, he has truly broken the boy. "Kepus," you breath - feeling the wetness pool on the mattress underneath you.

"Patience, līve." he degrades, and Aemond's ears pulsated at his uncle's nickname. Daemon rises to his full height - unbuckling his trousers and feeling his erection press against your ass. The sides of his mouth quirked upwards at your posture - perfect for fucking - with the grace of a seasoned whore, and it only took a few times for you to get used to.

His tip prods against your entrance - he inserts half of the length, moving in and out with vigor. "Ah," you moan, and Aemond's fist clenches at the mere thought of his uncle inside you. He wanted to kill Daemon - to murder him and burn his body - like the man did to Aegon. No mercy, he swore.

"Iā rūklon," he whispered, while thrusting in and out of your hole.

A flower.

"You love me." he added, moving back and forth - eyes shut at the feeling of your walls closing against his cock.

I love him?

"You need me." he repeated.

I need him?

"Stop!" Aemond gained to power to use his voice - struggling against his restraints hard enough to gain your attention. You eyes open, face pivoting towards your husband's body. He has lost weight - there were bags underneath his eyes that explained his weakness. Daemon slaps your rear slowly, telling you to return your attention back to him. "No." he warned, hands wrapping around your hair - forcing you to look back at the headrest.

Your walls clench tightly against him for the second time - he continues thrusting - waiting for you to cum. "Kepus," you whispered - feeling a thick rope of cum shoot out of your pussy. He holds unto your waist - pushing in and out while he begins to reach his peak too.

He makes a mention of your name.

A small grunt exits his mouth while his seed populated your womb.

"You did well," he complimented, removing his cock slowly - that his audience could see the white wetness gathering in between your legs. You move out of the crawling position - settling your body on the mattress, staring at the ceiling while you wiped the sweat off your forehead.

"- but I'm not done yet."

@nyctophilic0vitnir @watercolorskyy @bellastwd @icarusgloom @pearlstiare @areaderinlove @hc-geralt-23 @rozendiors @immyowndefender @ammo23 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @ammo23 @immyowndefender @bitchyunknownuser @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[lizzieislife94x]

Personal Trainer (e.o)

Lizzie needed a new personal trainer for endgame and you got the job

Lizzie x G!P reader

If you have a request drop me a message I do them right away 😇

Y/ns POV:

"Thats us done for today ladies you all done amazing ill see you next week" I say wiping my face as I finish teaching a group work out I need to take a breather my next client is due any minute I've been working with her for 2 months the one and only Elizabeth Olsen I couldn't believe when I got the job she's hilarious and always so nice and down to earth I'm snapped out of my thoughts as she walks over "good evening y/n" she says with a giggle

"ah miss Olsen good evening can you give me 2 minutes I need to run to the bathroom but I'll be back in no time" I laugh as she slaps my shoulder "omg gross y/n go hurry" she giggles as I go do a quick pee once I'm done I wash my hands and head back out to lizzie doing some stretches, I can't help but Stare at her ass fuck it's so perfect, no y/n snap out of it don't think like a sleazy man your better than that "oh your back I started to do some warm up stretches " she smiles looking at my eyeline fuck she caught me "ok let's get started let's do some warm ups 20 jumping Jack's let's go" I start doing them and lizzie follows my lead as she stands infront of me "9..10..11" I breath out fuck I should have wore tight shorts I can feel my dick swinging like there's no tomorrow "18..19...20" I stop and try to fix myself subtly, I need to change "great work lizzie I need to go change my shorts these are to baggy and annoying me " I lie "you can do some more jumping Jack's till I get back" as I turn to walk away she grabs my wrist "y/n I think you should keep them on I enjoy the view to much" I feel the heat rising to my face has she been checking out my dick, naughty girl "are you sure" I rub my neck and look at the floor

"yep it's one of my favourite parts about coming to train every week" she states with a sly smile "ok Olsen let's do some squats then lunges" after a 30 minute warm up and lots of well noticed attention on my dick I wipe my face and throw lizzie a clean towel "ok boxing gloves let's practice those right hooks " I get into position as lizzie goes to work she's improved a lot "well done lizzie you've came so far those hooks are lethal " I say genuinely proud of how far she's came "ok let's get you on the treadmill for 10 minutes to finish up" we head to the treadmill as she starts her run I sit and watch with my arms crossed fuck her ass bounces just right I feel a twitch in my Shorts no fuck no not here "um lizzie that was great for today ill see you next week I need to go to the bathroom have a great night" I say my goodbye and jog to the bathroom and head into a stall looking down at my dick "seriously dude looking at lizzies perfect ass jiggle and you wake up"

I mumble and hear a giggle from the other side of the door "glad I'm not the only one who looks" fuck its lizzie "shit I'm sorry lizzie" she just giggles "it's OK but can you come out here so I can talk to you and not a door" she says sweetly "I ahhh I can't right now lizzie I have a problem " I sigh leaning my head against the door "y/n you either open the door and come out or I come in" it sounds like she has a smirk I sigh in defeat and open the door as she comes in and locks it instantly looking down at my harden member "fuck" she almost moans out I can't help myself I hold her cheeks and crash my lips against hers pulling her flush against me in a heated kiss after a minute we break apart for air "I wanted to to do that for so long " she confesses running her hands down towards my dick i feel her pushing my shorts and boxers down and moan "if you don't want this just say" she whispers as she leans forward kissing my chest "I want this so fucking bad lizzie " she smirks and wraps her hand around my dick and starts to jack me off slowly "fuck you're so big baby, you're gonna wreck my pussy" she moans making me moan more I start to push her gym leggings down and cup her bare core, oh god she's soaking wet that is almost enough to make me bust "so fucking wet lizzie, is this all for me" I bite my lip and her hand works me faster and I insert my fingers into her dripping core "fuckk y/n all for you, shit that feels amazing"

I pick up my pace fingering her tight cunt, I slide my fingers out and suck them one by one locking eye contact and smirking "bend over princess " I state and she giggles bending over giving me the perfect view of her ass and pussy I get into position behind her and rub my member through her fold teasing her clit gently slapping it "fuck this is finally happening" she moans out as I slide my dick inside her slowly fuck she's so fucking tight and warm and dripping I need to compose myself or I'm gonna nut to quick, I slide in till all 8 inches disappear inside her "oh fuckkkkk y/n please fuck me" she whimpers I grip her hips and start to thrust slowly enjoying the feeling if her wrapped around my cock "mmh fuck so tight and wet lizzie, are you on the pill" I moan as I increase my thrusts snapping my hips back and forth "yes yes yesssss" she screams and I continue to thrust feeling lizzie cum all over my cock, I continue to thrust chasing my own high the sounds of her wet pussy being destroyed by cock is fucking glorious "fuckkk lizzie im" I breath out slamming in one final time shooting my load deep inside her waiting cunt as she cums around my dick again "gonna cum..." I breath out leaning forward kissing her back, I keep inside her for a minute before sliding out smirking at my cum dripping out of her cunt as she whimpers "fuck lizzie that was amazing" I say looking at her and we both giggle "now I think this work out should be added to our weekly work out " she says biting her lip "fuck definitely " i smirk watching her, after a few minutes we leave the bathroom and I walk her to her car "see you next week miss Olsen " I wink and walk back inside

AN: if you want anything message me requests I do them right away 😇word count is 1.3k hope you enjoy feedback welcome good or bad (i hope you guys enjoy these bc its 3am and ive been doing these for hours lmao its a lil more time consuming than i thought having to go over everything to highlight and bold everything that needs to be haha, show them some love please votes ect<3

[thevegandarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Three

Masterlist

AO3 link

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, mention of nightmares

Word count: 2k

“Ok, so Rick, Daryl, Maggie, Glenn, Michonne, very pretty name by the way, and Carol. I think I’ve got it,” I said, pointing to each person as I said their name so I could associate names to faces. I followed the group up the steps and out into the sunshine. I took off my glasses and blew some dust off of the inside.

A teenage boy was sitting outside in the grass. He couldn’t have been older than 14, maybe 15, and he was holding an infant. They couldn’t have been more than 6 months old. I had to push the thoughts out of my head of what the mother must have gone through birthing a baby during the literal apocalypse.

“Carl, this is Vector,” Rick said to the boy. I assumed this was his son. I squatted down to Carl’s level. Carol said some things to Rick that I couldn’t make out before walking off.

“So you cut off Aaron’s foot?” he asked me. I chuckled a little and nodded.

“She saved Aaron’s life, and we can’t thank her enough for that,” Rick corrected.

“I’m a trauma surgeon. Probably the best kind of doctor to have around in a situation like this. It was far from my first amputation,” I told him, “and who is this little one?”

“This is my sister, Judith,” he replied. I cocked my head and admired the little baby in his arms. She just stared at me, wide-eyed, before giggling and waving her hands around at who knows what. ”Or Lil’ Ass Kicker, if you’re asking Daryl.”

“Well, she is adorable.” I stood back up and looked over at Rick, holding a hand up over my eyes to block out the sun. “So Rick, you seem like an authority figure in this place. Where do you want me at?”

“Vector, you’re gonna be sharing that house over there with Daryl,” Rick said, pointing to a house that was just out of my line of sight, “there’s plenty of space for two people.” I felt my heart stop for a moment, and my eyes grew wide. I felt my stomach churn at the thought of sharing a space alone with a man I’d barely met. I rubbed my rope scars.

“You want me where?”

“She’s goin’ where?” Daryl asked. The irritation in his voice was heavy. I could only see his shape in my peripheral, but I could feel the distaste for me radiating off of him. I thought I was going to choke on it.

“Daryl, it makes sense to keep her near the infirmary.” Rick retorted.

“I don’t know, is there like, someone who’s…not a man…that I can stay with?” I asked, then immediately recanted my statement, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be picky. Y’all were gracious enough to let me in, and I can’t thank you enough for that.” I looked over at Daryl, “we’ll make it work.”

“I dunno who 'we' is, but I ain’t the one,” he said. He slung his crossbow over his shoulder and sauntered away. I watched as he dragged his feet across the ground back to his, well now “our” house.

“He’s really not so bad once you get to know him,” Rick assured. I gave him a hesitant face.

“Are you sure? He seems, I don’t wanna be mean, but a little more than just rough around the edges. Will I be, umm,” I swallowed hard, “safe in there? Y’know, since I’m “tiny.””

“As long as you don’t swing first,” Glenn replied.

“Hey Maggie, you don’t, uh, happen to have a hair tie, do you? I had fashioned one out of gauze and a rubber band, but it broke.”

“Rosita might,” she said, patting me on the shoulder, “c’mon, Glenn and I can show you around and introduce you to everyone.” I gave a small smile and a nod. Her and Glenn started off, and I looked up at the sky and took in a deep breath of fresh air. My brothers and my dad crossed my mind.

“I wish you guys could see this,” I whispered, following after the two of them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After introductions to everyone, Glenn and Maggie took me over to the infirmary, where I stored the medical supplies I’d been carrying. After giving the remaining astronaut food to Rick to store in case of an emergency or a long journey and emptying it of gauze, bandages, disinfectant, pills, and small medical tools, my pack was much lighter. I still had yet to get my weapons back.

“So is Rick right?” I asked, following the two of them back outside, “about what he said about Daryl? I just get the vibe that he doesn’t like me, and I’ve hardly talked to the man.”

“Daryl’s very…” Maggie turned to Glenn before looking back at me, “protective of the people he cares about. You’re a fresh face. Don’t take anything too personally. And eventually, he’ll really see you as one of us. You’ll be fine.” She turned to look at the house I’d be staying and then back at me. “I’ll go in with you if that would make you more comfortable.” I swallowed and nodded.

She gave Glenn a quick kiss & he walked away before we headed over and up the tiny steps to the front door. It was a cute little grey house with large windows and flowers in the front that I was surprised weren’t dead. I figured gardening wouldn’t be at the top of anyone’s priority list in a time like this. Maggie knocked on the door and waited a few seconds before letting herself in.

“It’s Maggie and Vector!” she called out, letting me past her and closing the door behind us. No response. I unzipped my black combat boots and kicked them off. I let out a sigh of relief as my feet touched the floor, gently lifting each of my feet and pulling my socks off. The floor was ice cold under my feet.

“I’ve never been so excited to be barefoot. You forget about the little things, like being able to walk around without shoes on,” I said. I took a look around at what was in front of me. There was a set of stairs straight ahead, the kitchen off to the right with a small island in it, and a living area to the left with a couch, coffee table, and a chair. To the right of the stairs was a door, which I guessed was either a bathroom or a basement door.

“Well I bet you’re even more excited to get clean,” she said to me, “if this layout is anything like mine, which it looks like it is, I can show you where everything is at.”

“Hell yeah, let’s go,” I replied, following her over to and up the stairs. It felt strange to be walking around without my boots on. Previously, the only times I’d even taken them off were to quickly wash off when I’d find a creek, but that wasn’t very often. She led me to a room on the left and gently pressed the door open. Inside, there was a bed and a dresser with a mirror above it.

“This one’s you,” she told me, “oh, gimme your clothes & I’ll make sure they get washed.” I set my backpack down on the bed and fished my remaining clothes out.

“I would’ve been more than happy with just a chair cushion on the floor in a corner,” I beamed, handing my clothes over to her. I felt bad because they absolutely reeked, but she handled them as if there was no issue. Probably to not make me feel bad, which I appreciated. I left my bag on the bed and followed her back out to a door across the hall.

“This one’s the bathroom, and I'm guessing Daryl’s room is around the corner. Go ahead and enjoy a shower and I’ll see if any of us gals have some clothes you can borrow while yours get cleaned,” she said. I stepped into the small bathroom and turned to her.

“Maggie, I—“ I could hardly get my words out, “thank you for being so nice to me. And taking my clothes, showing me around. And letting me in in the first place. I promise I’ll be a productive member of the community here. I really can’t thank y’all enough.” I didn’t even think, I just grabbed her and gave her a giant hug. I don’t know what compelled me to do it. Maybe it was my lack of genuine human contact up to this point or being overwhelmed with the joy of finding a home. She slipped one arm out and hugged me back.

“I’m so sorry,” I said as I released her, “I should’ve asked you first.”

“You’re alright. It’s easy to get overwhelmed when you first get here. Don’t worry about it. And you’re welcome,” Maggie replied, “I’ll have the clothes in your room before you’re done.” We nodded to each other before she turned around and headed down and out the front door.

I quickly undressed and left my clothes in a pile that I could easily grab when I was done. I draped a towel across the back of the toilet and did my best to get the water to the right temperature. I almost cried when I first stepped underneath it. The amount of dirt that immediately ran off of me was abhorrent. I probably shampooed my hair 5 times, the product stinging the small wound on the back of my head. But I didn’t care. I was just happy to have clean hair. I was definitely a bit aggressive with the soap.

“Fuck,” I said to myself, turning towards the water and sticking my face under it, “I’ve never been so happy to get soap in my eyes.”

After cleaning every crack and crevice of my body multiple times, I stepped out and grabbed a towel, drying my face first and wrapping myself in it. It felt so soft, like it was my first time touching a bath towel. I took a moment to soak everything in before leaving the bathroom.

“Daryl?” I called out, poking my head out the door ever so slightly. When I didn’t hear a response or any sound of movement, I scuttled across the hallway to my room and quickly shut the door. Once I was in, I saw the clothes that Maggie had set out for me. There was a pair of black denim shorts, a black sports bra, some socks, and a hair tie. I sat down on the edge of the bed, and unable to contain myself anymore, I started sobbing. I covered my mouth with both hands to try to stifle the sounds.

My mom, my dad, Preston, Jay, Eli…they would never get to see Alexandria. I would never get to see their smiling faces, hear their laughs, experience their joy. There wouldn’t be any more reunions when they came home from deployment, no late-night trips to the grocery store, no more interrogations about boys, no father-daughter deep talks when neither of us could sleep. I couldn’t believe that out of everyone in my family, I was the one who made it out and alive. Not the Navy SEALs…me.

Being a surgeon who treated survivors of mass shootings, I was well-educated on survivor’s guilt, but damn, nothing prepares you for having to experience it yourself.

I took a few minutes to cry before drying myself off and throwing on the clothes Maggie left for me. I tied my wet hair up into a bun and tossed my towel on the bed. I took my glasses off and set them on the dresser before collapsing on the bed next to my backpack. I rolled onto my side and continued to cry. It was all I could do. I finally felt safe enough to grieve.

Eventually, sleep came, and with it came the nightmares. But they were different this time.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Aspirations pt.1

Hopefully you can look past the rubbish title and summary enough to give this a go!

It started as me coming up with a 'one bed situation' but I've expanded it a little to probably 3-4 chapters in total.

I've only done a couple of very short pieces for this fandom so far so I'd love to know your thoughts! Be kind! 😘

Sydcarmy Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Sydney Adamu / Carmy Berzatto

Syd is 12 months deep in a crush, Carmy is 6 months into a relationship he doesn't want, The Bear is 4 months open and Nat is 2 months into motherhood....

~~~~~~~

Syd didn't know why she'd said yes. Nat had asked, and while her brain went to say 'no thanks', her heart saw the look of desperation on Natalie's face, and a 'yes, of course' popped out instead. Nat even had her minor guilt trip lined up. 

"... I mean, I haven't had any real adult company since the baby was born, and I just -"

"Nat, I said yes."

"For real?"

"Sure, why not. Wait - is Claire invited?"

"Oh god, no. Just us and Tiff."

"Richie's ex?" Nat nodded. 

"Yep. Just some drinks at home, so I'm around if I'm needed. Maybe a couple slices of Marcus's cake?"

"I'll bring you some food."

"You're an angel. Does Carm know you've been keeping my fridge stocked for the last 3 months?" Syd shrugged,

"If he does, he hasn't said anything." They sat in the closed restaurant, Nat feeding baby Mikey while Syd went through the books with her. Carmy was… late. "Where the fuck is he anyway?" Nat clipped her bra back into place and lifted the baby to her shoulder. Every Friday between lunch and dinner service, they did the books together.

"Good question." Syd murmured, eyes on her calculator. "We need to start putting some money aside for Thanksgiving and Christmas promos."

"On it. I need you guys to confirm the festive menu by the 15th, please. We go to print on the 19th, delivery by the end of the month ready to take bookings throughout October."

"Wow, you are still, like, smashing it." Syd says, impressed. 

"I gotta do something during those 3 am feeds other than shopping." She reasoned, heaving the baby over to her other shoulder. 

"Here," Syd stood and held out her hands so Nat could gratefully pass him over. She'd not been around too many babies and was terrified the first time she'd held him. Richie had ribbed her about it in the weeks prior - so much so that she hadn't actually held the baby in company other than Natalie. She rocked gently from side to side, hearing little Mikey's snores in her ear. Nat read through the books and the notes left by Syd and/or Carmy.

"Hey, did I tell you what Uncle Jimmy did?" Syd didn't stop her gentle movement but turned to face Natalie better,

"No?"

"So we each own 33%, right, and Jimmy had the 1% leftover? Well he's gifted it to Mikey. The baby bear is already earning."

"That's dope, I'm still gonna make him do the dishes as soon as he's old enough though. He's gotta earn that paycheck." Syd smiled down as Mikey's eyes drifted shut. 

*

"Hey, fuck, sorry I'm late." He pushed through the swing doors, stopping at the sight of Syd swaying with the baby in her arms. 

"Too late, Carm, we're fucking done now." Nat teased, "good job someone is pulling their weight around here. And giving my arms a break." 

"He's asleep, where'd you want him?"

"You've got the magic touch." Nat took him carefully and transferred him to the car seat. Carmy squatted down for a closer look, 

"I missed out."

"Shoulda been here in time," Nat warned, "I've got a night shift going if you're -"

"No. No thanks sis, I don't get enough sleep as it is."

"Makes two of us."

"Makes three of us." Syd laughed. Carmy kissed Mikey's forehead and stood to pull his sister into a hug while Syd knelt down to tuck the blanket around Mikey and brush a finger over his milk drunk cheeks. 

"I'll let you know when's good?" Nat confirmed to Syd with a hug before letting Carmy lift the heavy car seat and take it out to her car. "Bye Uncle Bear, bye Auntie Syd!" She singsongs. By the time Carmy has returned, Syd is making sure the paperwork is filed correctly and clearing the table they've used. 

"Coffee? Probably too cold now."

"Unlikely, no such thing." He takes the mug and finishes most of it in one go making her grimace. 

"That's gross."

"You ate doughnut off the floor." He counters, she has no argument. "You and Nat planning something?" 

"Just Thanksgiving and Christmas."

"We need a menu."

"We do. I have some potential dishes down but I gotta link them with the theme or some shit." He raises an eyebrow, "Nat's idea. I'm not naming dishes after reindeer or any bullshit like that." 

"Got it. Wanna work on it Monday?"

"You got time?"

"Always." This time, Syd looked incredulous. "I mean it." She nodded slowly, 

"Heard, Chef."

"What'd you make for them this week?" He asked, holding out his hands for the paperwork folder. Syd froze, "C’mon Syd, you think I don't know you've been batch cooking for Nat and Pete for months?" She breaks into a smile, 

"Just easy stuff, chilli, casserole."

"Let me know when you're makin' more and I'll do some as well."

"Oh, I got it under control. You're busy with… like, Claire and this place. I only have this place so…" She trailed off with a limp shrug. 

"Well, you don't have to do it either -" He tried to interject. 

"Nat's been good to me. She's the only other voice of sanity around here." At that, Carmy feigned a look of hurt which made Syd snort with laughter. "Do not - do not - try and claim otherwise!"

"And here I thought we were partners."

"We are. Which is why I can't complain to you about you." She grinned and Carmy returned it with ease. Over a year of working together, 4 months since The Bear had opened, and she'd finally gotten to a point where she only felt awkward approximately 60% of the time, which was a solid win. With time, communication between them had significantly improved. The only downsides currently were his time management when it came to Claire and the raging crush Sydney had developed on Carmy over the course of the last year. The crush was the main/only reason her awkwardness level remained so high. 

"You can, y'know. I want to know if there's something I need to do better. I told you, you gotta let me know if I'm fucking up." She caught her lower lip in her teeth. He was doing that thing again, standing frustratingly close and looking at her with those ocean eyes. 

"You need to stop being late. That's the second time Nat and I have had to go through the books alone, and there's stuff in there that you're closer to than us. I'm the shit, Carm, but I can't read your mind. No matter how hard I try." She jokes. He nods sincerely. 

"Heard. I'll do better, I promise." He paused, "when'd you start holding the baby anyway?"

"Literally the first time I didn't have you and Richie watching me like a hawk." She laughed, "If you'd been around, you'd know that I am his number one Auntie."

"That so?"

"I get all the smiles, all the giggles. Me and baby Mikey are like that -" she holds up her crossed fingers, "you can't compete with a love like ours." She teases.

"Nat likes you better too, s'ok maybe the Fak's will take me in. Or T."

"Dude, T would mother the shit outta you!" She exclaimed.

"Already does. You two gonna be OK tomorrow?"

"So you and Richie can play fucking hooky? Yeah, yeah, I remembered. We all good."

"Sure?"

"Yes, Chef."

"Syd?"

"Carm, babe, Tina and I will be fine. We have everyone else here, I got Nat on front of house, we're gonna smash it." He was about to call her out on calling him babe, but they'd finished clearing up just as everyone else started arriving for dinner service and chaos soon descended. The rest of the day passed without incident. The following morning, Syd and Tina had the crew prepping for a busy lunch service while Richie and Carmy flitted in and out of the kitchen, filling up the car for their catering event. Syd took her break outside while they finished off, 

"I'm gonna get some smokes." Richie called out, already halfway down the alley. Carmy moved towards Syd,

"If you ask one more time if I'm sure, I'm gonna give you a black eye." She warned. He held his hands up, 

"Just checking in."

"You've already done that. We'll be fine."

"I'll keep my phone on. You need anything, you'll call?"

"What're you gonna do from across town?"

"Yo, cousin!" Richie shouted from the sidewalk, "bring the car down." 

"Call me."

"Just fucking go, we're good." She hopped down from the pallets with the intention of pushing him as he continued to hesitate. 

"Carmen!" Richie bellowed again, turning to talk to Natalie who'd just arrived out front. 

"Festive menus Monday?" He asked, 

"Yes, Chef. Go!" He nodded once, took half a step closer and kissed her gently on the lips before turning and running to the car. He was pulling out onto the street before she'd had time to register the kiss at all. 

*

Two miles down the road, Carmy stopped at a red light and his brain reactivated. 

"Holy fucking shit." He muttered, staring straight ahead. 

"What'dya forget?" Richie asked, looking up from his phone. Carmy thought fast,

"Uhh napkins." Richie tsked,

"I picked em up you fucking dipshit." He laughed, shoving Carmy's shoulder. "Good job one of us knows what the fuck is goin on cuz. You gotta stop thinkin bout Clairebear all the time, man." Carmy barked a short laugh,

"Yeah, Claire." He agreed, still thinking about Syd's easy smile and soft lips. 

~~~~~~

[icyspicy4u]

wading my way through this neighborhood (chapter one)

i literally don't know what to say about this one. i banged out like 10k of an anarcia spider-man au in mmm about two days. so. enjoy!! playlist linked here. ao3 link here.

Anetra is a friendly neighborhood superhero trying not to fall headlong into New York City's tangled crime web while also trying to avoid falling head over heels in love with her roommate. She doesn't really do a good job at either.

Although she’s typically winningly optimistic, Anetra is forced to admit that she might really be in deep shit this time.

She dives to the ground to dodge a punch from one of the men blocking her exit from this alley, and just as she hits the asphalt her phone begins to ring, loudly, because she definitely didn’t need another thing to worry about.

Whenever she wears her suit, she keeps her phone tucked in her bra, against her chest, safe from prying eyes or a damaging fall. Crucially, she also always silences it when she’s out on these little suited-up webslinging jaunts.

Except for this jaunt in particular, apparently.

This time, Anetra forgot to turn her ringer off before leaving, and the ringtone Marcia gave herself (Boss Bitch, by Doja Cat—Marcia swears it was worth the dollar Anetra had to cough up to buy the song) starts to echo through the slim space of the alley she’s been cornered into.

The man in front trying his best to pummel Anetra into the brick walls on either side of him pauses at the sound of the music.

Everyone does, honestly, including Anetra, standing in a defensive position and blinking a little in disbelief behind her mask as Doja spits out lyrics about high-heeled shoes.

“Um,” Anetra says, heroically. The man in front offers up nothing but a threatening crack of the neck, and then he’s lunging for her again, followed by his buddies.

Normally, Anetra would just throw a web up to the sky, land it on one of the roofs of the buildings forming this alley, and neatly pull herself out of this situation. Easy money. However, this alley is barely wider than her wingspan—she’d need more room than she’s got to effectively aim.

Also, with the way these dipshits have been bearing down on her, she barely has enough time to throw her arms up and block the punches, let alone take a step back to use her webshooter.

She doesn’t know who they are, or who sent them, or why they are so intent on rocking her shit.

Over the past six months of being the Spider, she’s made a fair few enemies from sticking her nose where people think she shouldn’t be—she’s learned most of the hallmarks of the underground’s major players that way.

But these don’t look like any of the lackeys she’s used to. They don’t bear the MIB branding across their chests that Mistress’ henchmen are required to wear or the LaDuca crest on the lapel that all of Loosey’s guys have.

It’s disconcerting—Anetra continues running through her mental list of people who most likely want her dead, and these men don’t seem like they’ve been sent by any of them.

With the same repeating thirty seconds of Doja’s voice as a backing track, Anetra drops to a low squat as the man in front swings another wide hit at her head. She takes advantage of her new position to lunge for his knees, then shoves her shoulder into him and wraps her arms tight around his calves to force his legs to buckle—the man’s now-overloaded weight brings them both crashing to the ground.

Anetra rolls away easily from the tackle, gets to her feet to try and assess the situation, but the space she’s clawed out for herself is gone as soon as it was made when the rest of the men charge at her.

“Jesus, guys, can I catch a break?” she asks breathlessly, throws one hand up to catch the fist flying at her face as another guy goes for her ankles and she has to leap out of the way. “I’m serious, here. Could use a breather. What about you?”

“Smart-ass spider,” one of them grumbles, finally breaking the professional silence the whole group has been keeping up until now, and Anetra flashes him a winning smile that she only wishes a little bit that he could see as he tries to headbutt her against the wall.

She’s lucky that these men don’t seem to be actually combat-trained in any way. They’re moving the way most hired muscle does, bear-like and unpracticed, the style of brawling that’s borne out of being consistently bigger than your opponents. They’re used to steamrolling people Anetra’s size easily, so they’re throwing punches that Anetra can block without thinking while she tries to formulate her escape plan.

Her phone has finally stopped ringing, but it chimes to signal a new voicemail as she triangulates a gap to slip through in the wall of muscle.

A brief sting of guilt passes through Anetra. She’s been missing a lot of Marcia’s calls lately.

She’s rarely home now—when she’s not working, she’s out being this strange masked vigilante, and these days it seems like every small crime that she stops leads to another, worse one cropping up a few blocks down.

She already had the suit on under her clothes when she left the apartment earlier, shouting a goodbye to Marcia with some lame excuse about covering some other dancer’s shift at the bar—she was actually headed to an abandoned studio space downtown to fuck around with her web calibration for a while. She’s managed to master some kind of formula.

Again, the suit was already on under her clothes. What was she supposed to do when she heard a scream from the alley, ignore it?

Yes, she thinks to herself bitterly, pinning herself against the wall to barely avoid getting kneed in the ribs.

What had started as an easy job—it was a simple mugging, she could shoot a few webs the guy’s way and leave him strung up easily, let the victim get free—had suddenly transformed into a much bigger problem when several of these men had showed up. She should’ve been home an hour ago.

The guilt twists, intensifies. She’ll buy Marcia dinner later this week, or something. They can get takeout like they used to, when Anetra was fucking normal and couldn’t walk on walls.

Hey, wait a minute.

Anetra scans the too-close walls on either side of her. It’ll be a hell of a Hail Mary jump, but maybe—

While she’s distracted, a meaty fist makes contact with the side of her face, hard enough to make her ears ring. She stays standing, years of practice from gone-wrong taekwondo fights keeping her feet under her, but just barely.

She spits some blood from her mouth against the fabric of her mask, tries to let her vision right itself, but then another hit catches her in the gut and her breath leaves her.

Okay. Okay, shit. She’s kind of losing control of the situation, here. She needs to get her half-formulated plan back on track.

She narrowly dodges out of the way of a third punch, throws a clumsy kick that she feels make contact with flesh, then stumbles backwards until she can feel the bricks of the alley’s back wall against her back.

Her head is spinning, but she tips her head back, ignoring the awful sensation of the blood from her nose and mouth running down her throat.

She assesses the slice of sky between the buildings. Her heightened instincts do the math for her on just how precise her jump needs to be to get her to safety—if she misjudges this, she’s either going to slam herself against the wall and do the henchmen’s job for them, or she’s going to fall right back down to earth. Also probably doing their job for them.

Speaking of which, over the distraction of their second fallen companion, the three remaining men begin their charge towards her. They’re each sporting a grin that says they think they’ve won, probably elated at the sight of blood staining Anetra’s mask and the heavy breaths she’s taking.

Anetra kind of admires the confidence.

With a clumsy wink that they can’t see, she crouches low, and then when they’re almost on top of her she leaps straight up into the air, her best shot, sticking her arms out in the cramped space to hopefully catch on the walls of the building. Pleasepleasepleaseplease—

It’s a near thing. She’s not capable of jumping all the way to the rooftop, but her fingers graze both walls thirty feet up. Just barely, but it’s enough contact to give her purchase on the surface. The invisible hook of her wall-clinging ability catches her on each side, keeps her bracketed between the buildings and out of reach of the men below.

The resulting giggle from her is a little delirious to her own ears, but she hopes it sounds victorious to them.

“Fuck all of you,” she shouts, grinning, curls her knees up to her chest and pushes off to hop up onto one of the roofs—made accessible with the minimized distance—and peer down at them from there. “Tell whoever sent you, they aren’t gonna get my ass that easy!”

Instead of being frustrated at her cockiness, as she would’ve expected, they’re all unnervingly calm. One of them tilts their head like they’re studying her.

“She won’t give up, you know,” that one says. “It’ll end in a lot less pain for you if you come with us now.”

“Hang on, it really doesn’t seem like we’re on the same page here, guys,” Anetra shouts, trying to sound breezy even though the ominous words send something skittering down her spine. “Who is she?”

The man who spoke grins crookedly. Maybe she didn’t sound as breezy as she thought.

“You don’t need to know,” he yells up at her. “All you need to know is that this won’t be over until she has you.”

“Don’t care!” Anetra chirps, maybe a little frantically, and casts a web to a billboard on an adjacent rooftop so she can swing away from the scene as fast as possible.

As the wind whips at her, a little abrasive against her tender bruises and scraped skin under the suit, the threatening words echo through her head.

This won’t be over until she has you.

She’s certainly had to develop a thicker skin since becoming New York’s resident superhero. Between the death threats and the unflattering mid-swing pictures people post online (the latter might genuinely be affecting her more negatively than the former), she’s had to figure out how to shove all of this Spider stuff into a big ol’ box in her brain and leave it there while she lives the rest of her life so that it can’t get to her.

This threat feels too real to put in that box, though. The way it was delivered, the way that man had looked up at her with something like pity in his eyes when she refused to bend—it makes her breath come a little shallower than is comfortable as she thinks about it.

Her heightened senses that came with that stupid spider bite don’t just help her assess the situation in fights, they also tell her when something’s wrong. If she doesn’t attend to the feeling and follow her instincts, the sensory overload of it all usually triggers a migraine.

She wouldn’t be too worried about this mysterious she that sent those men to collect her, but the hair on the back of her neck is standing up and she’s clenching her teeth without thinking about it.

Something about this is wrong, her body is telling her, and she has no idea what.

Suddenly desperate to stop thinking about it, she swings herself to a somewhat secluded rooftop, free from prying eyes, and pulls off her mask to give herself a second to breathe.

The sun is starting to set. She’s chosen one of the taller buildings in the area to rest on, so she can really take in the view, the pink-orange-gold-yellow tone of light shifting every hard angle of the city to something softer and sweeter.

She can see lights turning on in people’s apartments as the daylight fades, can see a few different rooftop bars start to fill up with patrons from up here. It’s a nice reminder that even with the isolation of her extremely unique life experience, she’s not alone. Someone’s always awake, someone’s always looking at the same skyline you are.

With her legs swinging off over the edge of the roof, Anetra pulls out her phone to finally listen to Marcia’s voicemail.

“Hey, it’s me!”

Despite her heart hammering around anxiously from both leftover and still-present adrenaline, Anetra manages a smile at that.

“Who else is it going to be, you dumb bitch?” she mumbles, rhetorical and fond.

“I’m figuring you probably just got caught at work and that’s why you’re not home. I was going to hold dinner for you, but I’m starving, so you snooze, you lose, Neech. Don’t know what to tell you. Your tacos are definitely going to be cold when you get home, and that is karma, is what that is.”

She pauses for a second. Anetra listens to her breathe, think about what she wants to say next. Her nose was probably all scrunched up when she recorded this like it gets when she thinks too hard.

“I miss you,” she says, and then the evening is quiet again, excepting the buzz of voicemail static. “Um. Anyway. Taco meat will be waiting when you get home. Please eat it. Or—just eat something with a modicum of protein. I’m begging you.”

Anetra has a full grin on her face when the message beeps, signaling its end. She swipes over to Google and searches up “modicum”, relying on autocorrect since she has no idea how to spell it, then sends Marcia a screenshot.

TO: marcia 🌸💖💫🧚💕🌷💗✨💝

(The emojis weren’t Anetra’s idea, believe it or not. Marcia gave her very specific instructions on which ones she wanted next to her name.)

[Attachment: 1 Photo]

You had to use this word right

Like needed to

You couldn’t have said “a little bit” or any of the various synonyms available to you, you needed to use that one

FROM: marcia 🌸💖💫🧚💕🌷💗✨💝

AHAHAHAHA

so sorry

Anetra smiles, but it slips from her face quickly as she realizes the fast response time is most likely worry-based.

I’m headed home now, she texts, wanting to quiet Marcia’s anxieties. Only a few minutes away :)

ok yay, Marcia sends back. The bubble appears, then disappears, then comes back again, indicating some rethinking. did the dancer shift end up ok? u just had to stay late?

Yeah

It’s all Anetra can really give her, even though the single-word response will only further Marcia’s suspicions. The doubling up on questions is already enough of an indication of her doubt.

Yara was on my ass tonight, she texts to try and cover. Yara Sofia is the manager at the bar, who lets Anetra come in for a dancing shift once or twice a week after her waitressing hours, and she is on Anetra’s ass all the time, even though it’s always out of love. It’s a real half-ass of a redirection, but Marcia, always graceful and always sweet, follows her lead anyway.

omg what did she do

Anetra takes some time to craft a decently wild story about Yara’s unorthodox marketing methods (she mentions Yara’s vibrant Onlyfans career, which is very real) to provide some scaffolding for her lie about her whereabouts.

Once she’s sent it, she gets to her feet, pulls her mask back over her face, and stretches, taking in the last of the sunset as the colors bleed out of the sky. The artificial lights have flickered on all around her now, doing their best to replace the sun’s warm glow and coming up just a little bit short.

She sends a web out to a streetlight on a parking garage nearby and hops off the roof. Since she’s still a little shaken, it takes her longer to find her rhythm than it normally does.

Cast out the web. Feel the resistance when it catches on a building or a lamppost or a tree. Swing from that node forward, let your body hurtle through the air, almost freefalling but not quite. Release, then cast again.

Cast, feel, swing, release. Cast, feel, swing, release.

She won’t give up, you know.

Cast, feel, swing, release. Definitely don’t think about the person with a vendetta against you who tried to get you killed earlier today. Cast, feel, swing, release.

“It’s Spider-Man!” she hears from below a few feet ahead of her, bringing her mostly out of her head. Within the crowds on the street, more than a few people have their faces upturned to gawk at her, but that exclamation in particular came from a little girl on her dad’s shoulders.

Anetra waves at her as she swings by on a streetlight, and the kid waves back, practically a caricature of cuteness sitting on her dad’s shoulders with her missing teeth and pigtails. Not a man, she wants to correct sunnily, but she stays mute. The public’s general assumption that she’s a dude keeps her cloaked in an extra layer of secrecy, and she can’t afford to shed any of those.

Sometimes she wants just a little bit—a modicum, one might say—of recognition. At least a small sign, somehow, that people get what she’s putting herself through, that what she’s doing isn’t for nothing.

But she understands that that’s not worth sacrificing her identity and her safety for, even if this life feels like it’s grinding away at her slowly. The isolation of it all is hard, but it’s for a reason. She can’t risk any of the Spider’s shit finding its way into Anetra’s life, because then that endangers all the people who know Anetra, tangles them all in the Spider’s web.

The Spider doesn’t have friends who can get hurt. Anetra does.

That man’s crooked smile shines in her mind like an afterimage of a bright flash. She lands hard on her feet in the alley behind her building, his words biting at her heels and hounding her.

Nothing from a fight’s ever stuck with her like this before. Chills travel down to the very ends of her extremities, and sparks scatter across her vision, the very first warning sign of an oncoming migraine.

Something is coming for her.

She zips up her sweatshirt so her suit is hidden, rips her mask off and stuffs it in the pocket, tries to shake off what’s left of the Spider unsuccessfully.

One shuddering breath is all she has time for before she’s cramming her key in the lock and opening the door, shoving it hard with her shoulder because it always sticks in its frame in the summer with the New York heat.

“Hi!” she shouts. It’s late, but Marcia doesn’t go to bed for at least another hour on weekends, so she’s loud just for the sake of it, just to jog loose the calcified anxiety in her mind.

“Hey!” she hears yelled in a singsong reply from the front room. After quickly making herself a taco from the ingredients Marcia left out, she heads that way with her hands in her pockets, a little more urgency in her step than usual.

On days where she spends more time in the mask than out of it, when the mental box she’s forced around her little vigilante hobby won’t stay closed and terrifying images flash through her mind every time she closes her eyes, she needs to get back to herself again, and Marcia’s always been her key for that.

She knows Marcia inside and out. Marcia knows her outside and in. They’ve been roommates since they both moved to New York, connected through one of those terrible Facebook groups that every desperate person moving to a big city joins on some wild hope that they’ll be able to find everything they need to survive in the posts there.

Anetra didn’t find everything she needed (no one on Facebook knows where to find good Puerto Rican food), but she did find Marcia. On her sappier days, she’ll say that that’s about the same thing.

Marcia is facing away from Anetra when she comes into the living room, sitting on their saggy old couch with her feet tucked up against herself and her laptop balanced on her knees. When she hears Anetra’s footsteps on their creaky-ass floor, though, she tilts her head all the way back over the arm of the couch so she can see her, and then she smiles.

Anetra feels her shoulders relax, and lets out a sigh under her breath. She’s okay, she’s here. Everything is well.

“Hi,” she says again.

“Hey,” Marcia says, repeating herself as well to go along with the bit. She’s still smiling, a few veins in her head popping with the upside-down position. “Oh, good, you found the tacos. You gonna say ‘hi’ again, or can I ask you how work was?”

“Work was fine. Now, sit your ass up or you’re going to pass out with all that blood rushing to your big head,” Anetra warns, hopping onto the other side of the couch and poking Marcia’s calf with her foot.

“Just fine?” Marcia asks once she’s readjusted into a normal seated position, ignoring Anetra’s jab about her head. Usually she’d make a bit out of it, act all wounded and everything. It makes Anetra a little nervous.

“I mean, yeah,” Anetra says, shrugging to sell it. “What, you want all the gory details of how my pelvis got a lot closer to a lot of old men’s faces than I ever wanted it to?”

“No, ew, no,” Marcia replies, scrunching her nose up in disgust. She’s wearing her glasses, so the gesture is a little funnier than it normally is. “No, I just—they’ve been asking you to take a lot of extra shifts, is all. Waitressing and dance. Is that okay? Are you… is, um. Is money okay?”

It’s a clunky way to ask a sensitive question, but it’s always been a clunky topic between the two of them. It’s very simple, really. Marcia comes from money. Anetra does not.

As far as how much rot generational wealth can cause in a brain, Marcia’s on the good side of things: she’s fairly aware of the privilege she’s held and continues to hold in society, lives modestly on her own teacher’s salary without help from her parents, and challenges her peers from youth on their wealth and what they’re choosing to do with it.

However, she still grew up a rich kid, and that’ll fuck a person right up.

There are things she’s never even had to begin to conceptualize because of the many layers of plush societal protection she was swaddled in from birth. It makes her a little dense on certain topics, like service jobs and financial etiquette, even after almost ten years away from her parents’ lifestyle.

“Money’s fine,” Anetra assures her, a little tightly. Marcia knows she’s very lucky to have a gold-lined safety net at the ready whenever she needs or wants it, and she consistently reminds Anetra of its application to her as well.

Never mind that Anetra would maybe rather die, eat shit, and give herself over to the mysterious woman that wants the Spider dead before she accepts help from Marcia’s parents.

Growing up poor’ll fuck you up too.

“Good,” Marcia says, equally tense, sensing she’s overstepped. “Okay. Yeah, that’s good.”

Anetra feels a little guilty. Marcia can be naïve when it comes to money stuff, but she would have good reason to believe Anetra’s hurting for cash right now, with how many times she’s said she’s covering a shift or dancing late when she’s really out tangling webs all over the greater metropolitan area.

“It’s not the money,” she says, gentler now. “I, um. I’m putting in the hours to try and get a better time slot when I dance. Kind of want to go for a more respectable crowd than the ten-to-midnight folks.”

Marcia nods, slowly. She takes her glasses off and stares at them intently while she polishes them with her pajama top.

“Dick move on my part, bringing up money,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, it’s all good,” Anetra says easily, because it really is. Marcia never means any harm. Her parents are assholes with no intent of ever redistributing their wealth outside of their family tree, and Marcia’s entire adult life has essentially been an exercise in atoning for that in any way she can think of—including offering trust fund money to her club dancer/waitress/general service worker roommate.

Anetra understands making what you can out of your shitty upbringing, she really does. She just tends to prickle at the slightest insinuation of charity. And Marcia is anything but subtle.

“I—You would tell me, if something else was going on?” Marcia asks, gaze still fixed on her lap, her voice a little faint. Her eyes flick up to meet Anetra’s, just once.

Well, Marcia, there was this spider in your coworker’s girlfriend’s lab that we toured that one time, and it bit me, and now I can traverse walls like gravity isn’t even real and I have superhuman reflexes and I can sense oncoming danger and I built myself these gadgets so I can swing all around the city and I’ve been using all these aforementioned abilities to fight crime—

“I would,” she says, cutting off her train of thought as she tries to get Marcia’s eye contact back. It’s a lot simpler than all of those other things she wants to say. It’s also a lie, or a partial one.

Not if it’s going to hurt you.

They don’t lie to each other if they can help it. But Anetra can’t help it, not in this circumstance, not if she wants Marcia to stay safe, so she meets Marcia’s eyes and compels her to believe her answer.

She sells it at least enough to get Marcia to relax, and she smiles again, a little wearier this time than before.

“Well, if stuff does come up, you know you can talk to me,” she offers, putting her glasses back on. “And I hope you get that evening gig. It sounds classy.”

Anetra snorts. “Nothing at Piranha is ever going to be classy.” She’s eager to move away from the topic at hand. “What are you working on?”

Marcia grins, and turns her laptop screen to face Anetra. “Just the choreography for the recital,” she says, the anxiety starting to fade from her posture as she sits up excitedly, shifts so that they’re sitting right next to each other. Anetra can feel the warmth of Marcia’s body through the layers of her sweatshirt and her suit.

“Oh, shit, yeah. Landed on a theme yet?” Anetra asks, clicking through the different tabs Marcia has open.

“Nothing’s good enough,” Marcia sighs, shaking her head and taking back control of the cursor to navigate to the document where she has all her brainstorming laid out. “I don’t want to do another recital where the teacher makes all the little girls dress up like flowers. That’s been done. It’s tired.”

“Oh, for sure,” Anetra says with mock seriousness, and then starts giggling when Marcia shoves her.

Anetra doesn’t really understand this whole world of dance that Marcia moves through with ease. She was a taekwondo kid. This is not her lane.

Obviously, that doesn’t stop her from attending every recital with a bouquet to throw at Marcia when the curtain falls, making it her personal mission to cheer the loudest for the kids out of everyone else.

She also likes to put in her opinions when Marcia brings her work home, like here, now, helping her decide on whether her middle-grade students’ suggestion of “Night of 1000 Beyoncés” as a theme is realistically going to work. Anetra sketches out a few test costume ideas while Marcia searches up some different medleys she can choreograph to.

Eventually, while they’re working side by side, as one in the morning comes and goes and two A.M. swiftly approaches, Anetra feels herself starting to drift off. Her body feels as if it’s melting into the couch, and without the adrenaline from earlier her bruises are really starting to ache. Her jaw feels tender where the guy clocked her with his fist, and she tried to clean off her nose but there’s definitely some dried blood up in there that’s making breathing uncomfortable.

She yawns widely, sticks her tongue out like a cat. That’s usually a surefire way to get a giggle from Marcia, but when it’s met with silence Anetra glances down to her side and breathes out a quiet laugh.

Marcia is slumped over, asleep, her head on Anetra’s shoulder. She’d been silent for a while, but Anetra hadn’t thought much of it, perhaps a little too singularly focused on the Destiny’s Child costume design she was working on instead of her overtired roommate next to her.

“Alright. Bedtime,” she murmurs, mostly for herself, not expecting a response.

First, she has to slip out from under Marcia without waking her, which she manages with a considerable amount of effort. She eases the laptop from the other woman’s lap, then plugs it in and lays it to rest on the coffee table. She moves to the kitchen to put away the tacos Marcia left out for her, feeling a delayed wave of tired gratitude at the gesture as she does, and finally sets the dishwasher to run as wipes down the countertops.

When she goes back to the living room, picking up pieces of paper and assorted trash as she does, Marcia is still out for the count. Her often-worried expression is always smoothed out when she sleeps, the normally constant lines of anxiety at her brow or temples thankfully absent.

Anetra stands there paralyzed for a second.

Something warm and sacred, a feeling that outpaces verbalization, beats in her chest.

Before she can let herself really feel it, Marcia is blinking awake, slowly, stirred by some invisible force, and whatever was striking through the lightning rod of Anetra’s body vanishes, renders her mobile again.

“R’you watching me sleep?” Marcia mumbles, teasing, stretching her body out long from the tightly curled position she had fallen asleep in.

Anetra tosses one of the crumpled pieces of paper she grabbed off the floor at the blonde’s head to take some of the weight out of the air between them. “Obviously,” she says, lobbing the joke right back. “How else am I finally going to achieve my mission of killing you after all these years?”

Marcia catches the paper ball out of the air easily, yawning as she does so. “Playing the long game, I see,” she replies. The bit isn’t worth entertaining further, so Anetra doesn’t try, instead goes to grab Marcia’s arm so she can haul her up off the couch.

“Come on, bed,” she coaxes. “You hate sleeping on the couch. It’s a bad couch, we should get a new one.”

“Nee-trah,” Marcia whines, gone childish with sleep, and Anetra just shakes her head and sighs before bending at her knees to throw Marcia over her shoulder like she weighs nothing.

She does this all the time, it’s a bit between them, but it used to be harder, before superstrength. It seems like an obvious statement, but it speaks to something she’s learning over and over again: her life has been irrevocably changed. She is different now, as much as she doesn’t want to be.

Marcia shrieks out a surprised laugh and flails wildly for a minute, like she always does just to be funny, but then she goes limp so it’s easier for Anetra to carry her.

“Should fall asleep on the couch more often,” she muses appreciatively, her voice getting raspier as she lets her drowsiness creep back over her, and Anetra snorts, jostling her a little bit to at least keep her awake until she can toss her on her bed. “What time do you have to get up tomorrow?”

“Not till nine or something,” Anetra replies, punctuating her statement by throwing Marcia over her shoulder onto her crumpled bedspread, then launches herself into the air to land hard at her side, giggling at the way the mattress momentarily buckles under her. “I don’t work tomorrow. What about you?”

Marcia flops over on her stomach and groans against the fabric of her quilt. “Seven. I don’t have class till nine, but Jan wants me in early so we can talk logistics for the recital at the end of the week.” She turns her head to smile beatifically in Anetra’s direction. “No chance you wanna go in my stead? Deal with Jan’s mania?”

Anetra winces and shakes her head vigorously. “Nope.” She stretches her arms long over her head, then looks over to where Marcia’s pouting and laughs. “What if I bring you lunch? We can eat together after your class.”

Marcia visibly brightens and nods. “Yes, please. Suki’s?”

Anetra hops up off of Marcia’s bed and salutes. “Tomorrow at noon,” she promises.

“It’s a date,” Marcia answers, yawns. Her eyes start to fall closed with the end of the conversation, and Anetra stands in the doorway for just a moment.

She had a crush on Marcia, way back when in those early days, debilitating and whole-heart-seizing. Her mouth went useless whenever her roommate asked her a question, and her heart would pick up to a terrible, pointless speed whenever the other girl leaned over her to plug in her phone or to grab the last egg out of the fridge.

Recognizing immediately that falling for your roommate is a terrible cliché at best and severely endangering your living situation at worst, Anetra never gave the feeling air, since it would’ve been more than a little stupid. She put her nose to the ground and worked her ass off, waitressing at the bar during the day and dancing at night, and eventually, with no time to dedicate to it, the crush died off like an uncared-for plant.

Marcia’s her best friend, and she wouldn’t trade that for anything, but sometimes that crush wakes up a little bit, shifts and rumbles around her chest.

Maybe it was never really asleep. Maybe, by not giving something air, all you do is make it writhe around and become more stubborn, more insistent.

Well. Whatever. She never told Marcia then, and she certainly can’t tell her now. It would be foolish to think something ever could come of it besides losing the closest person in her life.

She’s been working to get over this feeling for years—for years—at this point. She will, she can.

She leaves the doorway and goes down the hall to her room, slamming a mental lid shut on her waxing nostalgia as she does so.

As soon as her bedroom door falls shut behind her, Anetra shucks off the top layer she has on, her sweatshirt and pants discarded so that she’s just wearing her suit, then shrugs her way out of that too. She shuffles down the hall to their shared bathroom just in her bra and underwear, and sits heavily on the toilet lid to assess the damage from the fight earlier.

She sighs as she probes her various bruises with light fingers, flinching at the deep pain she can feel beneath the faintly tinged skin. Tomorrow, they’ll all be vibrant and awful and hard to explain, but for now all she’s got is a terrible ache, with no evidence of its presence. It’s kind of infuriating.

Other than her for-now-invisible bruises, her nose is tender from the hit earlier, but otherwise seems fine, and even though she sustained a few really rough hits it seems like she didn’t break any bones.

Once it’s established that altogether, she’s fine, she exhales, heavy. Heavy enough that her shoulders start to curl inwards with the deflation of her lungs. Her neck goes loose, and her head slumps forward over her chest.

She’s so tired.

It’s a kind of tired that has settled in her bones. She can’t sleep this off, she can’t shake this easily. The only way it feels like she’d be able to rest again, really rest, would be to hang up the mask, sitting in the pocket of her hoodie down the hall, for good.

She’s in too deep with this whole flip-side world to even entertain the idea of doing that.

For a while, she stares blankly at the tile at her feet—it’s cheap New York apartment tile, unevenly discolored and easy to stare at while you get lost in thought—but eventually, her aching body necessitates getting up from the uncomfortable toilet lid and picking her way back down the hall.

As she walks through her bedroom door, she strips off her bra and throws on a shirt to sleep in (it says EVERYBODY GET FOOTLOOSE! in egregiously large letters on the back, leading Anetra to believe that one of Marcia’s show shirts might have found its way into her laundry) before hauling her pained, overworked body into bed.

She’s exhausted enough that her eyes fall closed automatically, but then that memory from the alley today flashes behind her lids like a vision.

It’s the not knowing that kills her. The first few weeks of having powers was like this, too, a whole new world of danger where every other step was a stumble, but there were no consequences then. If she trips up now, with this mysterious woman on her tail, then she’s just going to fall and fall.

She needs to get her feet under her before that happens, she thinks to herself, turning over in bed and yanking the covers up to her chin. She doesn’t work tomorrow, so after lunch with Marcia, she can throw the mask on and snoop around under the radar, see what she can find out about this person who wants her dead. Once she has something like a plan in place, the anxiety’s clawed grip on her neck and chest relaxes slightly, allowing her to slip out of consciousness.

It doesn’t leave Anetra in complete peace, though. Her dreams are flashes of pure horror, painted in wailing, assaulting color, and she jolts awake soaked in sweat and pinned to the mattress with fear.

Her alarm clock reads 8:48. She knows she won’t get back to sleep, so she peels herself out of bed and walks out into the empty apartment with some half-baked idea of making some breakfast. She catches her sallow-looking reflection in the hallway mirror on her way to the kitchen, and points some finger guns at it.

“Lookin’ good,” she jokes softly, for absolutely no audience but herself, and tries to smile. It’s kind of freakish with how bad her eye bags have gotten, so she just stops looking. She makes a mental note to ask Marcia if she can raid the huge tub of different skincare products she has going in the bathroom, see if anything will fix the skin issues brought on by becoming a neighborhood superhero.

Because she has the morning free, she uses the time to take care of business.

First, she dunks her whole suit in a bucket and scrubs at the bloody patches with hydrogen peroxide until the water runs clear, then goes downstairs to the laundry room to chuck the whole mess in a washing machine. While she waits for the cycle to be done, she turns on some mindless show and cleans out the gunk from her webshooters, meticulously picking at the mechanisms with a bobby pin. Once she’s moved the suit over to the dryer, she folds herself up all wonky on the couch and searches up some variation of “femme mob boss new york” for at least an hour until she gives up because she realizes it’s pointless and at this rate she might end up on a watchlist.

She doesn’t have a guy in the chair, okay? It’s just her stupid ass stuck with trying to figure out all this shit. Sometimes Google has answers.

After her pointless search, it’s just a matter of finally changing out of her pajamas, getting her suit out of the dryer and putting it in her backpack, and then hauling ass to Suki’s so she can beat the lunch rush and make it to Marcia’s studio in time.

They’re regulars here. It’s an oft-established pattern at this point, really. Whenever Anetra comes in to pick up lunch, Suki is usually there, and will try to engage Anetra in a conversation in Japanese, which Anetra definitely can’t speak. Then she inevitably switches to English, and asks after Marcia and what bullshit their neighbors are up to this month.

“When are you going to make that girl stop eating only vegetables?” she asks ruefully now, packaging up their order behind the counter. “Not healthy.”

“She’s vegetarian, Suki,” Anetra tells her with a snort, filching one of the mints from the register dish. “It’s a moral choice.”

Suki just clicks her tongue. “She needs meat,” she mumbles stubbornly. “Twig of a thing. You are certainly a bad friend if you aren’t making her eat meat.”

“I’ll let you know how me telling her that goes over,” Anetra replies, rolling her eyes good-naturedly, and opens her phone to check Marcia’s location. She’s on the north side of the building, so she’s still stuck in her first-grade class. The parents are probably bugging her again.

“Oh! I have news,” Suki says eagerly, interrupting Anetra’s idle scrolling, and Anetra locks her phone and puts it to the side, giving the older woman her full attention. “That Spider? On the news? I saw her.”

Anetra feels her body temperature shoot up exponentially, then plummet. She shivers without being aware of it. “Come on. What?” she scoffs, knowing she’s laying on the disbelief a little thick.

“In the alley outside of my apartment a week ago,” Suki says, and nods seriously. “With my own two old eyes. These two fuckers—” Suki prioritizes learning curse words in practicing her English—“were in the alley, breaking glass of my building, spraying paint all over the side of the wall, and then before I could even turn from the window, there she was! Immediately!”

“Everyone thinks it’s a man,” Anetra says carefully. Her throat hurts suddenly. She remembers that day. Two little racist shits, spraying awful words on the wall, a bruised old man slumped against the side of the dumpster who had probably tried to stop them earlier. “Did you see the face?”

“Ah, no,” Suki says, and Anetra’s heart only calms a tiny bit. “If everyone thinks it’s a man and it isn’t, then I can be the only one who is right.”

“It’s probably just some dude trying to be a hero,” Anetra says dismissively, and Suki raises an eyebrow, shakes her head vigorously. “He’s probably already tired of it.”

“Sophie, in my kitchen, she also saw the Spider in an alley. Last night! Last night, she saw her! Sophie, come here!”

A girl in an apron and a hairnet pokes her head through the swinging kitchen door, a fresh black eye ripening on her face, and Anetra’s eyes widen before she can stop her reaction.

The fucking girl from last night.

“Sophie, you saw the Spider! Right?”

“They saved me,” Sophie says kind of quietly, not coming any farther into the restaurant. “Some guy pulled me into an alley when I was walking home, and they—they got him off of me, I was able to run.”

Anetra swallows hard. “Wow,” she says, tries to nod. She’s never seen anyone she’s saved after the fact before. It makes her chest tight, her eyes burn. “That’s—I’m glad you’re okay.”

“See? She saw the Spider too! She is helping us,” Suki says determinedly, jabbing a finger against the countertop. “She is real.”

She’s holding the order in one hand, so Anetra grabs it from her quickly, stumbles backwards a little bit. “I. Um. I have to get this to Marcia, Suki. Sorry. Bye, Sophie.”

Suki eyes her a little too closely for comfort. “Okay,” is all she says. “Have a good day, Anetra. Say hello to Marcia.”

Anetra scrambles out the front door, bag clenched tightly in her fist. The box she keeps the Spider in in her head breaks open, bursts free, spills webs and fear and responsibility all over every other thought in her head.

She’s kept the two parts of her life separate for months now, she’s been okay, but now they’re coming together in a way that sets her teeth on edge. Is Suki in danger now? She’s unknowingly closer than a lot of news outlets to guessing who the Spider is. What about that girl, Sophie? Will she be all right? Did saving her once mean that she’ll be a bigger target later?

The streets seem too fenced in by the lofty skyscrapers on all sides all of a sudden, and Anetra feels trapped. She bows her head and walks faster, tucking her chin closer to her chest.

Marcia’s studio building comes rising into her periphery, all light metal and huge panes of glass, but the gorgeous design doesn’t soothe Anetra like it usually does. All she can think is how exposed that building is, how anyone could look in and see her with Marcia on almost any floor of the studio.

When she walks in, though, the panic abates slightly. No one here is talking about the Spider. It’s a uniquely focused atmosphere, the way taekwondo tournaments were for her back in the day. No one is talking about anything but the thing they came here to do, from the tiny six-year-olds enthusing about pliés to their beleaguered parents to the sharp-featured prima ballerina running through her fitness program with her teacher.

Anetra maneuvers through the herds of different layers of tulle to get to the front desk, where Robin, the desk receptionist, hands over a guest pass badge without asking for Anetra’s ID and gives her a tired smile.

“Hard day?” Anetra asks, and it’s settling, to go through this familiar exchange.

“It’s the first day of a camp week,” Robin says dryly. “A million little kids, all sprinting around this huge studio space, and all the upperclassmen think that it’s suddenly my fault that these children are underfoot even though this happens every single fucking year—sorry,” she edits herself, not sounding sorry at all. “Every single year.”

“Yikes,” Anetra says, laughing a little bit.

“Go give Marcia her lunch break, she needs it,” Robin tells her dismissively, waving her hand in the direction of the elevator. “Everyone gets fucked over on a new camp week. She definitely hasn’t sat down all day.”

Anetra gives a little salute. “Will do,” she confirms, tapping the top of Robin’s desk to punctuate her statement. “Good luck not getting fucked over.”

“Honestly, I fucking wish I could get fucked over—I won’t get to see my girlfriend until next week at this rate with the overtime hours they’ve stuck me on,” Robin mutters, slouching in her chair.

Laughing at the other woman’s exaggerated pout, Anetra begins to mime obscenely making out with the back of her hand until Robin screeches at her to stop, and then she hightails it to the elevator while giggling as the other woman readies to chuck something at her head.

She just barely wedges herself into the packed space, and her phone buzzes as the doors close.

FROM: marcia 🌸💖💫🧚💕🌷💗✨💝

SOS!!!!!!!!!

The nine exclamation points are honestly pretty typical for a text from Marcia, but the all-caps is a slight flag for alarm—when the elevator doors slide open to the sixth floor, Anetra steps with a quick pace past all the other open studios to get to the one at the end of the long hall.

“I’m sorry, but I really believe—” is the first thing Anetra hears, Marcia’s voice sounding more than a little exhausted. Marcia is sweet, the sweetest person Anetra knows, but she’s not a pushover, and her voice has taken on that edge that it does when you’re about to cross her line.

“I don’t care,” a woman’s voice interrupts. “You don’t bring this shit into a classroom. That’s for whatever you do at home—Lord knows I don’t agree with that, either, but you will not get my daughter involved in this life you chose.”

She pauses, likely about to barrel into an even more fervent tirade, but that’s when Anetra makes her entrance, unaware of the exact circumstances but ready to roll with pretty much anything.

“Marcia?” she asks, schooling her face into a pout of concern as she pokes her head into the studio space. “Sorry to interrupt, I just thought your lunch break started a few minutes ago.” She holds up the bag from Suki’s, then cuts her gaze pointedly to the clock above the door.

Marcia’s posture noticeably relaxes at the sight of her. A tiny smile flickers across her face.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, ‘Netra, I’m just wrapping up here,” she says sunnily, then turns back to the woman who has a blood vessel popping in her forehead. “I’m so sorry, but as I said, the Pride parade march was a clearly labeled part of this week’s camp, and if your child showed distinct interest that comes from them, not from me. If you’d like for them not to attend, that is between you and your kid and I don’t get involved. If there’s nothing else—” Marcia tilts her head and beams, her eyes flashing dangerously—“I only get an hour for lunch, and I’m going to spend it with my girlfriend.”

It’s a joke, a bit, and one they’ve done more than a few times to get out of sticky situations like this, actually, but Anetra’s cheeks never fail to warm at least a little bit when Marcia calls her that, even if it’s to make a point to a bigoted woman in a kid’s dance studio.

“This isn’t over,” the woman in question grinds out through a clenched jaw, crossing her arms over her chest. Despite her words, she thankfully abandons the conversation and stalks over to the other side of the room where her kid has been chatting with their classmates.

Anetra waves brightly at the woman’s retreating back. “Have a nice day,” she chirps, and Marcia barely manages to suppress a snort of laughter at the false tone as she walks over to meet her.

“Hey,” she says softly, her posture sloping forward into Anetra’s orbit, reaching out a hand to tug at the sleeve of her t-shirt. She’s like this, always; she needs to touch things to get herself back. Anetra has never once minded. She mirrors it and leans in right back.

“Rough morning?” Anetra says, keeping her voice low so the kids still packing up across the room won’t hear their conversation.

Marcia rubs her temples and manages a dead-eyed smile. “No. Why do you ask?”

Anetra slings an arm around her shoulders and traces a soothing pattern with her thumb. “I’ve got an order of veggie rolls with your name on it,” she says sweetly. “Plus we have a whole hour of your break for you to rant about everything that went wrong with camp today.”

“I don’t want to waste your time…” Marcia protests feebly, but it’s just noise and she knows it, knows that they both understand the entirety of lunch will be spent with her complaining and Anetra nodding along gamely. A grin breaks through, a real one, and she rests her head on Anetra’s shoulder happily.

Anetra is watching the last of the kids trickle out the door, waving to the few that are return dancers from last year that recognize her as Marcia’s roommate, when she feels Marcia stiffen next to her.

“Wh—” she starts asking, beginning to turn to check in, but then there’s the light touch of fingers on her cheek that finish the job for her and she’s looking right in Marcia’s eyes, inches away.

The prickle she’s been growing resignedly used to over these past few months skitters up and down her spine, the one that tells her pay attention or something’s up. The noise of it, the feel of it folds easily into the whole-body hum that’s happening under Marcia’s focused gaze, until everything in her is tuned towards the blond standing at her side.

“Trust me,” Marcia whispers, so quietly she barely moves her lips, and then when Anetra has nodded without even entirely being aware she’s done it Marcia is leaning in, kissing Anetra square on the mouth.

They’re two queer roommates. They’re open and generous with sexuality, that’s kind of in the handbook. They’ve made out when they’re drunk before on a dare, Marcia kisses Anetra on the cheek when she gets home sometimes. Casual intimacy is nothing new for them.

This is the same as all of that on the surface—Anetra doesn’t know why she’s being kissed soundly under the fluorescent lights of the studio, she assumes it’s for some bigger reason—but this is the first time she’s ever felt Marcia’s lips against hers when she’s completely sober. This is the first time she can taste that stupid expensive chapstick Marcia always buys, a waxy herbal flavor over top the sensation of spit and flesh.

Marcia pulls away, her eyes a universe, and Anetra’s constant crush is snapping at her heels again. This time, though, she can’t push it away—it’s gained sharper, exigent teeth.

She blinks a few times, and the world around them, which had faded into silence, comes crashing back in with sound and color, the studio space now apparently empty and the lights overhead seeming even brighter in the absence of anyone else in the room.

“Um,” is all she can manage. She casts around for a joke to make, something to make it seem like she wasn’t as affected by that as she was. Marcia is just smiling at her like it’s a regular Tuesday.

“Sorry, that fucking parent’s watching us through the window,” Marcia tells her, inclining her head just slightly, and Anetra whips around not-at-all-subtly to see the woman from before duck out of the hallway when she realizes she’s been caught. “Wanted to give her a little bit of a show.”

“Ah,” Anetra says weakly, the realization that she actually maybe never got over her crush on her roommate making her voice shake a little on its way out. “No, yeah, totally. Stick it to the man. Or woman.”

“Anyway,” Marcia continues breezily. “You have Suki’s for me, and I got an hour. Wanna eat up on the roof?”

Anetra just nods, and Marcia pushes off the wall they were leaning against to go grab her bag from the corner. Anetra takes the time to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth and shut away all of this to be dealt with later.

Being the Spider is hard. It’s the hardest thing she’s ever had to do. But most of the problems that arise from that can be solved with a well-placed punch or a couple webs tangling something (or someone) up.

This isn’t that.

She’s still got to do some reconnaissance on this person who’s got it out for her today. After lunch, she can swing around for a while and hope that a solution to this newly reinvigorated crush appears in the skyline while she does so.

Marcia skips back over to her, smiling wide.

“Ready to listen to me for an hour?”

It was sunny when Anetra left home, but it’s overcast and a little drizzly now. Neither of them mind as they curl up in two plastic chairs sat opposite each other on the roof, the access door propped open behind them with Marcia’s class binder.

Anetra can almost forget the charged moment in the studio, chucking the wrappers of the plastic silverware at each other and laughing at the stories Marcia tells about her kids’ antics.

“Fucking Michael F., then, what does he decide to do? Tries to execute a lift with Marie without telling me first. Not only does that not fit at all with the choreography, they’re also eight. They can’t tie their own fucking slippers up.”

Anetra nods sagely, like she’s also an experienced dance teacher and not some half-waitress half-dancer at a gay bar. “I think—” she starts, but then the access door creaks open.

That prickle, again, at the back of her neck, except this time Marcia shows no signs of suddenly jumping her bones, so Anetra sits up straight, casts an eye around, feels around for her backpack with the suit and webshooters in it.

“Hey,” she hears from behind them, and although her mind relaxes at the recognizable voice, her body stays alert, won’t shut down all her heightened warning systems.

“Hey, Kerri,” Marcia says through a mouthful of sushi, waving with her chopsticks. “Finally got a break?”

“Yes, finally,” Kerri grumbles, shuffling towards them, running a hand over her face.

Kerri is the prima of the company’s production of Swan Lake that they’re putting on this season. Marcia is Anetra’s favorite at the studio, always, unquestionably, but Kerri is raw fucking talent. She’s still young, but moves with the lithe grace of someone with twice her training. She dances so fluidly, all while keeping her eyes locked on some invisible, unreachable horizon. She’s kind of miraculous.

She’s also, at this moment, looking more than a little exhausted when she slumps into one of the vacant chairs by the two of them. Kerri and Marcia continue to chat for a while using dancer jargon Anetra only barely has a grasp of, and Anetra just sits there silently, her whole body ringing in alarm like a sheet of metal someone hit with a hammer.

Her knee jogs up and down anxiously. She has no reason to be afraid of Kerri. She knows Kerri, not well, true, but she’s been in Marcia’s orbit since she was a newbie at the studio. So why is she on high alert?

“You okay?”

Marcia’s voice cuts through the static of Anetra’s overpowered sense input, clear concern coloring her tone.

“Yeah, I—yeah,” Anetra says, shaking her head slightly as if jostling something loose. The ringing in her ears has grown louder. “Yes. Sorry. I just have to get going.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Marcia replies, obviously still worried. She gets to her feet quickly, gathers up all their trash. “I’ll talk to you about being a TA for that technique class next week?” she asks Kerri, and when she gets an elegant nod she smiles. “Okay, great. My lunch break’s over, anyway. Let’s get going, ‘Netra.”

Anetra nods a little weakly, almost unable to hear over the buzzing in her ears. Marcia takes her hand loosely, and she lets herself be tugged down the stairwell back down to the lobby. Every sound is grotesquely amplified, every light feels too bright. The months-old bite on her calf pulses and aches.

“Is it a migraine?” Marcia asks softly, and it sounds like Anetra’s listening to her from several feet underwater.

“No,” she tries to say as normally as possible, tries to achieve how she would normally sound. “No, I think I’m fine. I just need to go home.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Marcia tells her immediately, determined, and Anetra shakes her head again, maybe a little too quickly.

PAY ATTENTION. SOMETHING’S GOING ON; PAY ATTENTION. EYES UP, EYES UP, EYES UP.

She only gets this feeling when something’s about to happen. Usually, it’s an attack of some sort. She’s not endangering Marcia, not if there’s even the ghost of a chance that she’ll get hurt.

“I’ll be fine, Mar. I’ll text you,” she says dismissively, and the words sound small even to her, but they get Marcia to loosen her grip on Anetra’s arm.

“I… okay. Text me. I’ll see you at home?”

Anetra hates that she can hear the new uncertainty in Marcia’s voice. She hates that she knows that she put it there.

“I’ll see you at home,” she echoes, trying to put every bit of certainty she has into this one statement.

Marcia swallows, and Anetra can feel her eyes on her back as she all but runs out of the studio.

Once she’s out of sight of that terribly windowed building in an alley a block or so south, Anetra sinks to the ground, pressing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets.

“Ow,” she mutters. “Jesus Christ, this cannot be useful.”

She tucks herself behind a dumpster, strips and then pulls on her suit and mask. Her mind throbs.

She sprints up the wall, gets to a roof, and tries to breathe, gives in to the alarm bells her powers have been sounding off for the past few minutes straight. Her body tenses into a ready position instantly—she’s discerned over the past couple weeks that this feeling is most similar to a panic attack.

The adrenaline spike is overwhelming, but it’s all intentional, directed, pointed towards a prerogative that she hasn’t been clued in on yet. Sometimes, when she’s too scrambled, when she can’t follow the thread being led out for her, the heightened senses misfire and she ends up with a debilitating migraine.

She can’t afford to be laid up for the rest of the day; she needs to solve this, now.

“Okay,” she mumbles aloud to herself, darting up to the roof easily and casting a long, searching look to the streets below, letting her senses take over. “Okay, what are you trying to tell me?”

She cuts through the ambient noise of the city without effort to zero in on whatever anomaly is present, ignoring yelling children and car horns and—there.

A tug in her lower gut, not dissimilar to the feeling when a rollercoaster is about to drop, as she’s honing in on an alley in Midtown.

She’s swinging her way there before she even makes the conscious decision to do so.

When she lands hard on the ground in an abandoned stretch of sidewalk, she can feel her heartbeat in her teeth, every single cell in her body screaming at her that something is going to happen.

She rounds a corner, makes it to the alley she felt her hackles raise for, and the awful feeling somehow intensifies.

This is the alley from last night. Her blood is still drying on the wall a couple yards down.

Immediately, she’s up on the balls of her feet. If those fuckers from last night are back, she’ll pull absolutely no punches this time. This was a trap, that’s why, that’s why the space behind her eyes feels like it’s imploding.

She runs farther into the alley, fists up and head low, but no one bursts out—she stands there in the wind-whistling silence, tensed for a fight that isn’t coming.

Her shoulders drop. She’s breathing hard under the mask, and a spill of light blooms in her left eye, signaling an impending migraine.

“What do you want?” she screams to no one, and of course no one answers. She whirls around, ready to just punch the wall behind her until her suit tears and her knuckles bleed, but what she sees painted there makes her stop dead in her tracks.

A too-clean, too-perfect graffiti painting of her mask.

COME FIND MOTHER is painted in large, stark, even letters under the enormous paint job, a signature, a command.

Oh, fuck.

The dizziness that comes with all her migraines hits her in a terrible wave, and she has to sit down, staring up at the likeness of her face on the wall as it stares right back, the red slash painted over the left eye of the mask just like it is in real life.

Mother, she thinks through the oncoming fog, racks her brain and comes up with nothing. No one she knows of would use that as their moniker—it’s too old-fashioned, too traditionally powerful.

This development is newly unnerving. The city’s underground power structure is against the Spider, obviously, but none of them have actively singled her out yet besides this new player.

Mother isn’t like the rest of that structure, anyway; Mother is an unknown. Anetra doesn’t know what she’s capable of. And that makes her a hell of a lot more dangerous than the slimy mob bosses she’s used to fucking with, and this callout becomes a lot more fucking substantial.

Anetra stands up, her left eye beginning to black out with the migraine, and she stumbles a little bit. Home. She has to get home.

Unable to brave the subway in this state, and even more unable to walk the many, many blocks home, Anetra hobbles her way to the nearest northbound L tracks, casts a web to swing herself onto the top of the oncoming train and just hunkers down once she’s landed.

The wind is cool through her mask, soothing against the rising temperature of her skin, but it does nothing to calm her thoughts.

She feels stupid and small.

When she was a kid, and she wished for superpowers in the same way that every kid does, it was a fantasy about finally, finally having some control over her little life. No one can tell you what to do if you can punch through walls or fly at the speed of light.

The thing that her child brain couldn’t comprehend, though, is that your problems grow at a speed that outpaces your ability. If you could fly at the speed of light, then some time-space continuum thing would probably crop up that you wouldn’t be able to fix even with that speed. If you could punch through walls, then maybe you wouldn’t be able to punch through walls fast enough to save anyone.

And if you can swing around on webs and have a sense for danger, maybe someone will hunt you down for it, and you’ll have no idea how to stop them or who they even are.

Her migraine begins in earnest right as she stumbles through the front door, managing to lock it behind her as she walks through the house, closing all the curtains before the pain gets unmanageable.

“Suit,” she mumbles to herself. “Suit’s gotta come off.”

She flings it over her chair in the corner, then chucks a blanket over it as an afterthought to keep it hidden. Even that small action makes her head pulse. She grabs Marcia’s pajama shirt she threw on the bed this morning and tugs it back on before falling over top of the pillows, unable to even cross the room to close her own blinds.

She doesn’t sleep—she never can when she has a migraine. She just lays there until it passes. Usually, she feels the warning signs and prepares, grabs a cold rag and fills her waterbottle, but now she’s in the thick of it and all she can do is brace her body and wait for it to end.

Her door creaks open quietly after about an hour, and the small sound may as well be an ice pick above her left eye. She makes a small, pathetic, embarrassing little noise at the sensation.

Once the sharp ache dips back into a dull thud of pain, there’s soft footsteps over to the side of the bed, then the heavenly sensation of a cold towel being pressed to her neck—Marcia, Anetra thinks, and feels her whole body relax, just a little bit.

“You’re okay, baby,” Marcia murmurs, barely a whisper, the noise not aggravating the thrumming pain under Anetra’s skull. “I’m gonna close these curtains, make it darker in here.”

The word ‘baby’ sticks with Anetra for longer than it should.

Marcia closes all the blinds as quietly as she can, Anetra sighing at the slight relief it gives her, and then she comes back over to the side of the bed with Anetra’s waterbottle in her hand.

“You should drink water,” Marcia commands in her soft voice, and Anetra just sits up slowly, trying not to whimper at the pain the movement causes, and lets Marcia tip the bottle for her to drink from.

“‘M sorry,” she manages once she’s had a few sips.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Marcia murmurs automatically, then chews on her cheek for a second, just watching her. “Just… why didn’t you tell me you were having a migraine?” she murmurs, her expression unreadable in the dark room. “I would’ve walked you home.”

Anetra doesn’t have the brainpower to lie, so she slouches back down among the pillows, curling up on her side.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” she mumbles into the fabric of the sheets.

Marcia’s confusion is palpable. “No one was gonna hurt me at the studio if I walked you home, ‘Netra. I—camp is stressful, but it isn’t—you should’ve told me,” she says, then flinches when she realizes she spoke too loudly near the end.

“Yeah,” Anetra whispers. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Tell me next time,” Marcia says, her voice near-silent. “You shouldn’t have to—you have people who will take care of you.”

Anetra says nothing, her words all spent, so Marcia’s footsteps quietly retreat towards the door. The door handle turns softly, and without being fully aware she’s speaking Anetra hears her own voice—

“Stay?”

There’s nothing but the sound of two people breathing for a moment. Then, Marcia’s footsteps start again, this time coming closer to the bed, and Anetra feels the mattress dip as Marcia lays down, her body warm at.

“Is this o—” she hears Marcia begin, softly whispered then broken off into quiet, and instead of saying anything Anetra laces her fingers with Marcia’s and holds their hands together over her stomach.

Gently, Marcia’s thumb rubs over the fabric of Anetra’s pajama shirt, an unconscious, comforting movement.

“You’re okay, baby,” Marcia murmurs again. “It’s all right.”

It’s a running joke between them that Marcia is always right, about everything, for all time.

Everything is not okay, not in the grand scheme of things, but in this present moment, the world shrunk down to just two people, Marcia’s right.

Anetra’s okay. It’s all right.

[burningstar-light]

Judo Lessons: Chapter 1

Seongjun Baek x Fem! Reader

Single mom au

Summary: You take Atlas, your son, to his first Judo lessons. You meet Seongjun Baek the man your son has been talking about for last few days. What happens when you end up falling for this beautiful man?

Content: Reader meets Seongjun for the first time, you two talk for a bit, he gets your number.

Warning: Reader had a kid and the dad isn't around.

Rating: SFW

Word count: 1451

Requested?: No

Author Note: sorry for my long hiatus with no warning.

My fingers held tightly onto my son's small hand, and he chatted happily to me, excited to be finally going to his martial art class. He looked so adorable in Judogi, soft curly brown-red hair bouncing with every step. He had my skin colour, and chubby cheeks that dimple when he smiles. He giggled, honey-brown eyes scrunching as he smiled, his thick lashes fluttered, and he grinned up at me, revealing his checkered smile, a couple of his baby teeth having fallen out yet to be replaced by his adult teeth.

“Mama! Mama! Do you think the sensei will be as nice as he seems? Do you know he also cooks? I still think mama can cook the absolute bestest in the world!” His words whistled slightly as he talked.

“I’m sure your sensei will be really nice, baby. I didn’t know he could cook. Maybe Mama can ask him for some tips? Do you think Mama should, Atlas?”

He giggled cutely, swinging our conjoined hands, “Think you should, Mama!”

I smiled down at him, warmth filling my chest, my heart melting at his cuteness, and his eyes glittered with excitement as the dojo came into view. His little legs pumped faster, racing towards the dojo. My body lurched as he dragged me forward, his little body holding a surprising amount of strength. We push open the door, and he bounds in, happily running into the dojo, kicking off his shoes at the door. I couldn’t stop the soft chuckle that escaped my lips as I bent down to collect his shoes, placing them neatly with the others.

“Atlas! Baby! Don’t just run in! We have to get signed in!” I call after him as he runs towards the other children.

“It’s okay, my dear. Seongjun is used to excitable kids. Almost all the new kids have been like that. Now let's get you two all signed up.” An older woman walks to me, gently placing her hand on my shoulder. She was beautiful, with long black hair pulled into a ponytail, silver running through it, her blue eyes crinkling at the edges as she smiled at me.

We talked casually as I filled in the forms. I had found out some things about her and the dojo. She was the mother of Seongjun, he was the owner and teacher of the dojo, and the two of them had moved here from Japan a few years ago. 

Thundering footsteps filled the room as kids rushed past me, a small hand grabbing onto my pants, happy giggles filling my ears. I gently rub my fingers through his hair. His smile was so bright and wide. He was my little sun, the ray of sunlight in the darkness. 

“Mama! Mama!” my boy grabs my pants leg clinging tightly, “can we come back more? I had so much fun!”

I pick him up, small arms wrap around my neck, resting him on my hip. My eyes flick over to the door, a soft chuckle drifting into my ears. I could feel the heat burning on my cheeks as I gazed at him. The man was beautiful, like a god brought to life. Deep black hair tied back in a ponytail, strands of hair framed his face, ocean blue eyes met mine. They shimmered with a warmth that sent my heart fluttering. Plush pink lips pulled into a soft smile; I could feel the blush colour my cheeks. He raised his hand and waved sweetly at me. I watched him greet all the parents,  gently ruffling the kids' hair, he squatted down to one of the kids' levels, and they threw their little arms around him, hugging him tightly. He gently wraps them up in his arms, and the little girl squeals and giggles. He places her down and ruffles her hair before he continues making his way toward me. I place Atlas on the ground, and he runs off toward a group of other kids. 

“Hello, Ma’am. You must be Atlas’s mother. I’m Seongjun Baek. It’s very nice to meet you.” His voice was sweet like honey and as smooth as velvet.

I couldn’t fight back the deep blush that coloured my cheeks, “Yes, I am Atlas’s mother. It’s very nice to meet you too. Atlas was very excited to meet you; he wouldn’t stop talking about you after he found your NewTube channel.”

The man chuckled softly, his hand gently holding my own. I watched my heart in my throat as he brought my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles, “I hope I could live up to his expectations.”

I giggle to myself, “I’m sure you did. I haven’t seen him this excited in a long time.” I turned to look around the dojo. Atlas was playing with a bunch of other kids. His curly hair bounced as he ran, his little giggles echoing throughout the room. 

I turn back to the beautiful man, his ocean blue eyes scanning over me, his lips pulled up in a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I smile back at him, “Tell me about yourself?” He hummed, leaning against the bench as he half-watched the kids and me.

I hum as I think, “Well, I had Atlas about five years ago. My sweet boy is the light of my life. I picked up cooking and baking a few years ago so that I could take care of Atlas and myself. I work as a barista, at a small coffee shop. I also help the pastry chefs with making desserts when they are understaffed. What about you? Tell me some things about who you are?”

He chuckled softly, “My mother didn’t tell you everything? Well, I moved from Japan to here so I could open up this gym after I suffered an injury in a match. I helped my mother open a little soba shop which I now help out with when I’m not here. As you know I also run a popular Newtube channel.”

I open my mouth to speak, but a buzzing in my pocket interrupts me. My fingers slide into my pocket, fishing my phone out. An alarm flashes on my phone, ‘time to get Atlas to bed.’

“I’m so sorry, but I must get Atlas washed and ready for bed. It's been really good talking to you. I’ll be back next Friday. Atlas absolutely loved it here today.”

“I’ve also enjoyed talking to you.” He paused, his lips opening and closing before finally speaking again, “Do you mind if I put my number in your phone? If you need to pull out, you can contact me directly.”

“Oh! That’s actually a great idea!” I quickly hand my phone over and watch as he types his number in and hands it back. I clicked on the new contact. The text box opened the contact name at the top. 

We say a few goodbyes, and I scoop Atlas up into my arms, walking the short distance from the Dojo to our little cottage. Old chipped white paint clung to the rusty Iron gate. It opened with a soft click. I shut it carefully, Atlas having fallen asleep on our walk home. I smile happily as I look at our home, the same one I have lived in since childhood. Dark wood made up the outside of the cabin, picturesque windows set into the walls, and rich green plants clung to the railing reaching for the sun by climbing the walls. I silently unlock the door, the wood creaking softly under my feet. The inside was dark. The only light was the soft glow of the embers in the fireplace. I walk to Atlas’s bedroom, gently placing him down, and changing him into his Pj’s. He sleepily helped, I tuck him into bed, his star-splattered bed sheets brought right up to his chin as he snuggled up to the massive shark plushie he kept with him. I lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his brow, and walk to my room.

I open my bedroom door, quickly changing into my own Pj’s, Achillies, my massive Rottweiler, snoring loudly on the foot of my bed. I gently pat his enormous head as I lay down in bed. He shifted in his sleep, laying his massive head on my lap, and more snores rumbled through the room. I pull my phone out, tapping on the screen until I find Seongjun’s contact number.

(Y/n):

This is (Y/n) just making sure this message goes through! :D

Seongjun:

Hello, (Y/n). This is Seongjun. I hope you and                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Atlas are home safe!

(Y/n):

We did. Thank you for being so concerned! :)

[turmoilcity]

HELLO!!! 😍 do you have like "theme songs" for your paras? i have way too many lmao so i'm curious

Sleep is for the weak.

YESSSSSSSSS!!!

Finally, a reason to ramble bout my paras!

Okay, so THIS VERSION

Plays out like a montage for Lillian and Oscar when they're out at the park or walking around the mall.

IMAGINE. the year is 2006- YES A Y2K AU IS WHAT IVE BEEN SLURPING UP LATELY.

Lillian is the sweet, bubbly cheerleader, Oscar's on the football team. They met at practice one evening and make googly eyes at each other across the field. This song plays when they start talking, hanging out like going to the movies, or to a park, or to an arcadia and crap buuuuuuuuuut this version plays-

At the end of the montage because it cuts to Lillian smiling all dazed at one of those old music stores that used to be in every mall?

One of those types!

So the daydream cuts to "The La's- There she goes" by the end of the song and it sounds kind of warped and the camera is pulling out of Lillian’s face as she's grinning with headphones on and that's the sound coming from the headphones before she takes them off because it turns out to be bothered by her friends because LIKE EVERY ROM COM MUSIC TRANSITION EVER we were just getting a pov of her happy place.

I love those two horny angels

Okay, next isssssss

SONG FOR BELLA

Often, I imagine her as a drummer. This song is one of those songs I imagine her SCREAMING with her awesome, awesome girl band.

This is currently for Dylan, and I will not elaborate.

Lillian on the subject of love basically.

The daydreams usually bright and colorful and fast paced. She has so many iconic looks during this song its criminal.

JENNAS WORK OUT SONG.

Everytime before it starts, I imagine GAME (the agency she works for) goes to her telling her they need her for a "special mission". The issue is, for some reason, Jenna hasn't been using her powers for a while. Usually because she's in Townsville for another mission and has to disguise her special abilities.

The song starts with her being kind of rough with her skill. She's struggling to get up early. Her grades aren't the prettiest. She's dropping weights. She gets the pokey pokey during fencing, and karate lands her on her butt.

Usually, by the first pre chorus she decides to pull out the textbooks, and start from there. She's focusing on her study and then by the chorus she gets a paper back in class with an A+

BY THE SECOND VERSE, she's in the gym. She's doing those rope things

Awe yeah. Now she's getting into it. She's punching the punching bag, deadlifting the squats, perfecting her sword swing

WAKING UP ON TIME FOR PRACTICE.

By the second pre- chorus her fencing has gotten so good, the opponent who first tagged her, gets tagged

And when her opponent takes off their mask, first she looks all out of breath, sweaty and taken aback, but then she gives an equally out of breath, sweaty, Jenna a smile of sportsman ship.

Now Jenna is stepping her game up.

The study is more extreme, but she can handle it as a hyper focused superhuman. The workouts are more extreme as well. She's lifting impossible weights, her fighting is more fluid and agile. She's become the epitome of hard work. Until the last chorus

"So you say I'm complicated...."

She's outside, in a sports bra and shorts. You can see the puff of her breath as she stretches. It's an easy cool, gray morning.

"But you had me underrated..."

She's hooking something up to the front of train rails.

The daydream cuts to a kid playing outside by themselves. He's boredly sucking on a lolipop. The ground is suddenly shaking, startling the kid. When the child looks over their shoulder-

ITS JENNA

PULLING THE TRAIN UP A HILL WITH HER THIGHS.

She's tied some sort of indestructible ROPE from her thighs to the trains front and is walking the train up.

The kid has a moment like the one little boy from incredibles

And yeah. Jenna... WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU PULLING TRAINS WITH UR LEGS.

Cause she's dedicated to quality

Duh. Don't let her simple looks fool you. She is 💯 THAT BITCH.

Anyways, she acknowledges the kid, gives an awkward wave before turning the train around and racing it down the hill, pulling it backwards.

It's just another training day for Jenna. Jenna probably thinks, "Well, does the kid want heroes or not?"

The rest of the song is just her doing more insane stuff and yeah. I desperately need sleep c: