₊˚.⋆ ❀°Rose°❀⋆ .˚₊

She/Her | 21 | New Writer | Silk Threads 🕸️

[celestialrosesgarden]

The Runaway [The Mandalorian x Reader]

Word Count: 4.4K

Chapter One: The Escape

Lok was a barren planet, devoid of any color or life. Acres of deserts with rolling hills, alongside the expansive sulfur pools, littered the planet. It was a desolate planet; anyone forced to stay would be a prisoner to its harsh climate.

You were one of the unlucky ones to be an inhabitant of such a planet.

Your lungs burned as your feet carried you further along the stretch of sand. Your heels kicked up sand behind you, causing occasional trips due to the shoes being unfit for your activity. Despite the feeling of the dust you inhaled making it harder for you to breathe, you continued to run. You just needed to make it up the hill, and then you could finally give your body the chance to rest. Your dark cloak bellowed in the artificial wind you created by your speed, revealing the slivers of the white gown you wore underneath.

You took a few more steps before reaching the very top of the mountain, your legs giving out the moment you stopped moving. Hacking coughs racked your body, your throat scratchy from the energy you spent; the dry air provided no relief to your dry lungs. The dark cloth wrapped around you like a blanket, sticky on your sweaty skin. A thick layer of sand particles coated your eyes, making them water in response. You let your eyes flutter closed for just a moment, bathing you in darkness. You took a couple of heaving breaths, your diaphragm expanding as big as it could to desperately take in any semblance of relief. Once you were able to take smaller breaths without pain (even if they were shaky), your eyes opened once more.

You stared at the disturbed sand that had shifted when you collapsed onto the ground, ruffled around your form. Using all your strength, you forced yourself off the ground. Staggering for a second before fully grounding yourself, you took in the surrounding view. Behind you, you could see the way from which you came. The path you had just taken, but the footsteps were no longer imprinted on the surface. It seemed that despite the hot, dead heat that covered you, a breeze still seemed to flow. You turned away from the monotonous surface to turn to the view over the mountains. Miles beneath the ledge lay nothing but more sand, which was guarded by the shadows of the adjacent mountains. It was a long way down.

You squeezed your hands into fists, your fingernails pinching deep into your delicate flesh. You took a couple more deep breaths while squeezing your eyes shut. You knew what you had to do. You just didn't think that in the moment it would be so difficult to do. Despite months of planning and preparation, nothing could prepare you for the vast darkness that lay beneath you. That you would soon lie with too.

You opened your eyes again, turning them to the sky, and whispered a silent prayer: please give me a sign I'm doing the right thing. And if it is, give me the strength to do it.

Tears pooled at the edge of your lashes. Taking one more large breath, you prepared yourself to take the plunge before a sound drew your attention.

You looked around wildly, eyes scanning the vast range for a sign of life. Nothing was there. Maybe you imagined the sound, as you were unable to recall what it even sounded like.

A frustrated sigh left your lips. You were looking for an excuse to not go through with it, and time was dwindling. You only had a certain amount of time before everyone realized you were gone, and if they had already noticed, surely they would assemble a group to search for you. You had even less time before they found you. You had to get it together and do it soon before—

The feeling was there again.

A slight caress of what felt like fingertips slid down your back, causing the bumps on your skin to rise in suit. You turned around to stare at the land before you, eyes perusing for anything to explain this strange feeling. Nothing but sand filled your view until the smaller sliver of a light tucked behind a mound of sand flashed before you. You narrowed your eyes to get a better glimpse of what it was, and the light wavered. It was metal.

Once more, the tingle of wind gently made its way from your shoulders down to your fingertips, as if to pull you along. You didn't know why, but you let it. You followed the wisp of energy all the way back down the hill that you, just a mere few minutes ago, struggled to hike up. You followed it all the way until you could see what the glimpse of metal was connected to.

In front of you sat a large spaceship that towered above your form. The metal was dusty and worn; the dust from the sand that coated the ship seemed to be doing it a favor: hiding the scraps and dents in its form. The most out-of-place thing was that the ramp at the back of the ship was left wide open. You glanced around; no footprints. The air around you was dead: no sounds had graced your ears. No one was nearby. You weren't sure what someone would be doing all the way out here. You knew of the planet's history, ingrained with the cruelty of pirates and the destruction that they had caused. But that had been so long ago; there was no way that they could still exist here. Right?

You felt it again. The pull, this time in your chest. The pull that was pleading with you to go inside the ship.

And despite your judgement and throwing all caution to the wind, you made your way up the ramp.

Your heels clicked as you slowly made your way across the ramp, echoing against the walls inside the ship. The light from the open ramp flooded inside. There wasn't too much going on inside the ship, and you continued to look for a semblance of ownership.

"Hello," you called out to the empty air. "Is anyone in here?"

You paused, waiting for a response, and were met with silence. Remaining apprehensive, you decided to continue your journey further into the ship. Maybe this was your lucky day. If the ship was truly abandoned, maybe you could use it for your escape. Of course, there was the small issue that you had never actually flown a spaceship before, but how hard can it be? You spent hours having your brother go on and on about them; surely some of that knowledge could come to your aid now. You made your way deeper into the interior when your eyes met a floating capsule just hovering a small distance away from you. You paused, unable to see what was inside the carrier.

Then you felt it again, that strange force washing over you, but this time, it was amplified. That pull that seemed to whisper, move forward. With your mind clouded over with that feeling at the forefront, you slowly crept towards the device. You could barely see the shape of pointed ears peering over the capsule, and when you went to take the next step closer—

A strong force shoved into your chest, pushing you against the firm metal panel behind you. The wind was knocked out of your lungs, rendering you speechless. A distorted voice spoke out, "Get away from it!" His tone was filled with anger, shining through the mechanical hint to it. The action of being shoved against the wall caused the hood of your cloak to fall further down your face, hindering your view of the figure in front of you. The pressure against your chest persisted as he kept his arm firmly against you, pinning you between him and the wall. The pain of his restraint, as well as the extensive exertion of your journey, had made it difficult for you to get even a peep out. The lack of response from you caused him to grab your arm, pulling you towards him before once again slamming you against the wall. A sharp hiss of pain slipped out as your head hit harshly backwards, the edge of a panel causing pain to branch out from the back of your scalp. The sensation of cold metal being thrust into your jaw forced your head to angle upwards. In turn, this moment allowed for your hood to fall further down, exposing your face and part of your hair. You finally were able to get a good look at the figure in front of you. The silver helmet  he adorned was mostly dark, with light reflecting from the top. The T-shaped visor was black and devoid of any emotion. However, with how close he was to you, you could see your own reflection staring back at you. Your eyes were wide, lips slightly parted as your chest rose up and down erratically, and you could see what the metal pressed against your jaw was: a blaster. You took in a shaky breath and squeezed your eyes as you leaned back against the wall, trying to put distance between you and the weapon.

"I'm so sorry," you squeaked out. "I didn't realize this ship belonged to anyone; I thought it was abandoned. I don't mean to cause any trouble, I swear." You trembled under his hold, blaster still held steadily against you. You were unsure of what he was thinking. Unsure of whether he even believed you despite telling the truth. You allowed yourself the opportunity to open your eyes, as if looking at him would give you any indication as to what he was thinking. But his helmet masked any emotion he could feel, leaving the pit in your stomach to get deeper.

His tight hold of you lessened, and even after his grasp left your arm, the pain of his hand lingered. He took a step back, creating a small distance between your forms, and holstered the blaster into position securely on his hip. An awkward silence washed over the room, the two of you sizing each other up, waiting for the other to make any sudden movement. The soft coo of the child inside the capsule seemed to break the trance.

The man cocked his head towards the ramp that you had used to let yourself in, "Leave."

You stood there, your back still awkwardly pressed against the sturdy wall behind you. The pulsing of your head caused you to hesitate before you spoke softly, "I cannot."

Silence filled the air once more. Neither of you moved. You stared at the blank expression of his helmet, no longer able to see yourself in the reflection due to the distance between you. You didn't know if that made you feel more or less at ease. It was the man who spoke up first.

"There's something I can help you with?" His tone came off in this harsh, sarcastic way. You could tell he had no true intention of helping you; he merely wanted you off of his ship. Away from his child, you suppose. You hesitated, thinking of the best way to offer your proposal.

"I need safe passage off of this planet." You continued, "You may drop me off at the next planet you visit. I can pay you for your service."

Silence once more. Even without seeing his face, you could tell he was looking you up and down. You, a young lady, were graced with nothing else on you but your lousy brown cloak that covered most of your form. You had no bag, no indication of having anything that could prove that you could pay the man in front of you.

"My price is high."

You stepped forward a bit, revealing a bit more of yourself. You could feel the light against the warm skin of your face. Angling your face towards his masked face, you pleaded, "I can pay it. I may not have the credits now, but as soon as we get to the next planet, I can pay you." You took a deep breath. "I need your help." Your eyes flickered to the open ramp of the ship. "I cannot stay here."

No one spoke for a moment. The pit in your stomach only grew deeper with every passing moment. You couldn't take no as an answer; this was the only way out now. Your body would not be able to pull itself up that mountain again; your other plan was foiled, and if he said no, you would surely be found and punished for your attempted escape. You tightly balled your hands into fists, in a lame attempt to stop the way they violently shook.

The soft sound of the child pulled you away from your frantic thoughts. Before you, the child in its crib sat up taller, allowing you a good look at its form. The green wrinkled skin of his face was softly illuminated by the light that made its way into the ship. His long, pointed ears stood proudly on his round face. And his dark eyes stared right at you. The sound left him once more as he slightly angled his head to get a better look at you.

He turned his head to the Mandalorian before cooing again. Your eyes glanced away from the child to the armored figure, as the two seemed to be having a silent conversation between them. A beat passed. The masked man turned towards you:

"Deal."

He turned quickly, ignoring the shock written across your face, and quickly moved to close the ramp. You stood, still semi-against the wall, watching his movements as the light from the outside slipped away with the shutting of the ramp. His armor was reflected now only by the dim overhead lights, as well as the colorful lights from the buttons and panels scattered across the inside of the ship. Basking in the warm glow from the ship, you could finally take a second to just breathe. The sticky sensation of sweat on your skin felt suffocating with the lousy cloak pressed against it. You shrugged off the cloak, letting it slip off before folding it into your arms. The hairs on your neck were matted by the dense layer of sweat. The feeling of the long sheer veil softly grazed your newly exposed skin along your arms. The white gown cascaded down your body, ruffles disheveled and wrinkled by the movements of the day. You glanced down; the bottom hem of the dress, caked in the dusty sand, contrasted greatly against the clean cloth around your midriff. The slight shimmer of the cloth shone brighter due to the glow of gentle lights around you. You could only imagine how much of the orange dirt had plagued your once brand-new heels beneath your dress. Your hair cascaded down your face, and you could feel the small jewels carefully scattered throughout it as you went to swipe it out of your vision. Your hand traced up the opposite arm towards the area of the man's previous tight hold. A slight wince followed as your fingertips traced the discoloration that had already begun to form.

You were so lost in your own world that the past few moments of silence went unnoticed. However, the discovery of the man's lack of movement caused you to glance up at his previous position.

There he stood, still by the buttons to close the ramp. But his form was trained in your direction, watching your movements for who knows how long. You pulled your arms into yourself, wrapping yourself in a tight hold as if to shrink as small as possible to disappear from his steady gaze. The veil slipped past your shoulders to wrap around the front of your form. The light formed a halo around the shimmering gems that graced the cloth now adorning the front of your form. Your eyes still remained on his unmoving body, and then he quickly turned, making his way to a different part of the ship.

You let go of the breath that you were holding in. Despite your request for his aid, you were unsure of the man. Uncertain of who he was and what business he could possibly have on this dead, barren planet. Worst of all, what could he possibly be doing with the child that sat only a few mere feet away from you?

The child, which had completely slipped your mind, with its rather large eyes, still remained trained on you. You felt that feeling again, the invisible rope that compelled you to move towards the capsule that inhabited the small creature. You blindly followed that feeling until you were just a step away from the child. He craned his neck to look up at you, curious eyes that followed you,  waiting for a moment. He cooed once more before raising his tiny arm up towards you.

You hesitated. The man seemed rather upset before when you were near the child, and you had the bruise on your arm to show for it. He was protective of what you assumed to be his son, and the last thing you needed was to make him upset again. At the possible detriment of his taking back his deal and leaving you abandoned on the planet, you wouldn't allow yourself to touch the child in front of you. You whispered softly, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I am allowed to touch you."

The child whined, his arms reaching even further in desperation to get closer to you. He whined louder when a moment passed, and he continued to strain himself to find his way from your remote form. "Okay," you reached your hand out towards him, scared that if he reached any further, he would tip and fall out of his holder. You let your pointed finger slide into his open hand, his hold wrapped around it. The oddly firm grip from the tiny creature took you by surprise. The feeling of his slightly sharp nails grazed softly against the tip of your index finger. This small action placated the creature, and he let out a rather happy coo at the newfound contact between you.

With his grasp still on your finger, you lowered yourself onto your knees to let yourself be at eye level with the child. His eyes never left yours, and you took this opportunity to get a better view of the small creature before you. You had never seen anything quite like him before. The green, wrinkled skin made him seem like he should be older than he truly was. The light from above the two of you allowed you to see the light wisps of hair that sparsely coated his head. Those dark, expansive eyes were actually quite bright in this lighting, as they reflected everything the small child held in its gaze. Right now, you could see yourself in his gaze. And despite your best judgment, you felt slightly embarrassed by your disheveled appearance. With your free hand, you went to swipe away the dirt that had painted across your cheek. Your hair was tousled across the top of your head; the makeup around your eyes was smudged. If only your mother could see you now, the look of disgust she would give you for looking anything less than perfect. The child before watched as you readjusted your appearance, as he reached his other hand out for the cloth that descended down past your head. His small, three-digit claw wrapped around the sheer fabric, and you watched the way he slowly moved it back and forth in his hold. His eyes were trained on the way the light caught the gems carefully sewn into it. He squealed in delight as the light came and went with the smallest movement of his hand. A small laugh slipped past your lips; a small smile bestowed the shape of your lips. Your eyes watched the way his face contorted into one of joy at the simplest pleasure of the veil that brought you so much pain. "Do you like that?"

The child moved his eyes away from the fabric that remained in his sturdy hold. His other hand let go of its grasp on your finger to now reach out to your face. You shifted slightly, allowing his hand to gently touch the tip of your nose. The smile remained graced upon your lips as you watched the way his vast eyes studied the shape of your face.

"We're leaving now."

You jumped back, moving your face away from the child. He let out a disgruntled grunt at the loss of contact with you. You remained seated on the floor, the gown pooling around your form as you looked up at the man with wide eyes. You went to quickly apologize for touching his child, but before you could, he was already gone; you assumed to the cockpit. The child mewled, both arms outstretched to you as he opened and closed his tiny fist in your direction.

"I don't know if I'm allowed to pick you up, honey."

He whined in response and continued his restless movements with his fist. You glanced at the ladder that the armored figure disappeared into. If he truly had a problem with you being near the child, he would have said something. Surely he had to see the child touching your face before. If he had any issue with it, you assumed he would have forbidden you from even being allowed anywhere near the creature. You took one more glance in the direction you last saw the man before scooping the tiny baby into your arms. The child babbled happily in the new position in your grasp. You looked around for a moment, looking for a place to rest so that you could safely take off into the vast space. Due to the lack of seating around you, you finally realized why the man emerged earlier. He was not being kind enough to let you know about takeoff; he was telling you to follow him into the cockpit in the most curt way possible. You slowly raised yourself from the ground, struggling due to the child that was wrapped tightly in your one arm. Once you had gathered your bearings, you made your way up the ladder. The door slid open, the light from the windows momentarily blinding you. Beyond the windows lay the vast terrain that you had crossed just moments ago. And there in the seat right in front of the control panel sat the masked man, who didn't even turn to look at you. You knew that he could hear you, the sliding of the door, and the tapping of your heels on the metal panels beneath you giving your position away. You glanced at the seat on the man's right, seeing a makeshift carrier for the creature. You gently lowered the child into the seat and waited until he was completely nestled into the space before moving to the open seat across from it. The masked man continued to fiddle with the switches and buttons, but it wasn't until the soft click of your seat belt closing that the engine fired to life. He moved the stick directly in front of him, and you could feel the ship's shaky rise off the ground. The ship moved steadily as it ascended further into the sky until the surface became nothing but a distant memory.  Once the ship began slowly cruising through space, you truly felt the weight of today hit you.

You were free.

Your eyes felt heavy, and you fought with all your might to not doze off in the seat. A quick washup and some sleep would help you be back in better shape. The man still hadn't spoken to you since you were back on the ground, and you felt your throat tighten up at the thought of being the one to break the silence. You remembered seeing the refresher and a sleeping cot by the ladder, but you didn't want to assume you could just use both without permission. Your father had driven home the idea that you didn't deserve anything unless you were explicitly given permission for it. You stared holes into the back of the helmet, trying to conjure up the courage to ask if it was okay to go, when the man spoke up for you.

"Refreshers downstairs. Sleep in the cot."

With a quick thank-you for the curt statement, you made your way back down the ladder. The first thing you did was wash the grime off your face, using the water to gently remove the buildup. You let the cool water run over your delicate skin, washing away the memories of your expedition. The water dripped slowly from your skin, and you leaned over the sink, resting your forehead on the cool metal surface. Your body felt like dead weight, and it was taking far more energy than it should have to keep your body upright. You removed your head from the surface and stood up straight, expecting to see a mirror in front of you; however, no such thing existed. You guessed it made sense: why would a man who wears a mask require such a thing? You made your way out of the washroom back into the empty space of the interior of the ship. Your eyes landed on the cloak you left behind amidst the interaction with the child. With a quick swoop, the cloak was back in your arms. You moved back to the small cot tucked into the corner. Before allowing yourself to enter, you peeled the pins that held the veil in place from your hair. Without care, you balled the fabric together, tossing it lazily in the corner. The removal of the gems that decorated it would have to wait until tomorrow. You sat at the edge of the cot before swinging your feet into it, readjusting yourself so that they lay in the deep crevice of the small space. Placing the folded cloak at the opening edge of the cot, you finally let your head rest against the scratchy fabric. The mattress, which was nothing more than a thin cloth, barely provided any comfort from the harsh metal surface beneath it. Despite that, after a few moments of shutting your eyes, sleep had taken over you.

[celestialrosesgarden]

Silk Threads [SPIDER-MAN X READER]

Word Count: 6.1K

Chapter Seven: New Opportunities

    Thursday couldn't come quick enough. Ever since Dr. Gravitz told you about your meeting with Dr. Octavius, it had remained a never-ending thought. Even in research, it was all you could talk about with the Professor. What seemed like genuine excitement— like letting a child go absolutely wild in a candy store— quickly became a nuisance. After almost an hour of your ongoing ramblings about the scientist, Dr. Gravitz shut it down. You took this notion lightly and were almost going to continue; however, at the mere mention of him threatening to take away points from her in all your classes with him, you finally shut your mouth.

  You couldn't help it! To make a long story short, his work fascinated you, and he's extremely intelligent. Not to mention, he was also good-looking. So that's another thing that added to your obsession with him. It wasn't like you were kicking your feet and giggling over the thought of meeting him. No, that would be embarrassing. You were only doing that internally.

  The day of the meeting, you were jittery. You could barely sleep, nightmares of embarrassing yourself playing over and over in your mind. Your anxiety always had a way of controlling you, and today was no exception. You were just glad that your lack of sleep gave you time in the morning to get ready and make yourself look presentable.

  After your shower, you quickly got dressed so you could start working on making yourself presentable. Once you felt comfortable with your outfit and makeup, you decided to accessorize with some of your nice jewelry (without overdoing it— you still had lab, so the clothing had to be practical, and frankly, you didn't want to wear anything too gaudy).

  You still had time to spare but decided to head over early anyway. Your walk to campus was a quiet one. Your quick arrival gave you plenty of time to waste in the library. Tucked away in a small nook in one of the many stacks of books, you took out a book from your bag and decided to read. You had at least an hour to spend, so you might as well do something productive.

  Time passes rather quickly when reading a good book— and oddly enough seems to go rather slowly when reading a mandatory book for school. Before you knew it, it was time to head to class. You headed over with fifteen minutes to spare before the official start time and was not surprised to see the lack of your lab partner's presence. Shrugging the bag off your shoulders and plopping yourself down into your seat, you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Fifteen minutes was plenty of time for him to arrive.

  Fifteen minutes was not enough time for Peter to appear. Dr. Gravitz stalled for a decent amount of time before giving up on it and just decided to start class. You didn't know whether to be annoyed at the boy or be worried. Or both. Him not being present now was a prophecy that the meeting later would be a disaster. If he managed to show up before the meeting or even during the meeting would leave both of you flustered and panicked. If he didn't show up at all, not only would Dr. Gravitz look poor for praising such a negligent student, but it would also affect the scientists' perception of you. Dr. Gravitz's words would not mean much; thus, they would think poorly of you. Peter had a way of stressing you out to no end.

  Despite this, you, for some reason, took pity on him and decided to record the lecture for him as you took notes. Peter didn't take notes, but seemed to grasp the material after one listen Probably the only attribute he had that you were quite envious of. So you knew your notes wouldn't be the best way for him to retain the information, making the recording the best bet for him to learn. You told yourself you were doing this for your own good. He was your partner after all, and you couldn't have him dragging you down because he didn't know what was going on.

You were doing this for you, not for him. It wasn't like he had done anything for you, so you were being selfish. Academic success was the most important thing for you, and god help you if some guy was going to take that away from you.

  The lecture ended, and the usual break commenced. You quickly rose from your seat to talk to the professor: "Do you know where Peter is?"

  Dr. Gravitz continued to stare at his computer, as the projector turned off. "Good morning to you too. I'm doing well, thank you for asking," he dismissed you. After hearing your quick apology, he looked up from the screen. "I have no idea where Parker is. Frankly, I should be asking you that question. You don't have the kid's number?" You quickly shook your head no, and he pushed up his glasses to rub his hand over his eyes. "Why don't you have his number? You're lab partners, you didn't think that you would have to communicate with each other ever?"

  "I'm sorry."

  He sighed softly, pushing his glasses back onto his nose. "Don't apologize to me. I'm misdirecting my annoyance. Osborn has informed me at the last minute that he is unable to attend our meeting," he scoffed. "Something about having another 'once in a lifetime' meeting that is clearly more important than our scheduled one."

  "I'm sorry."

  "You need to stop apologizing over nothing. That's going to be a big issue if you continue that bad habit." Dr. Gravitz spoke to you with a stern tone, but you noticed the soft tint in his eyes. You bit your tongue from apologizing once more. "Do you think Osborn apologized when he canceled?" You shook your head once more. "Exactly. If other scientists won't apologize for their wrongdoings, then why should you apologize for them?"

  You nodded at him. You didn't know what to say. His advice was valid and came from a good place, but there was always something about receiving a sort of slight criticism that always made your throat close up and your chest tighten. There also came the issue of his annoyance at you the day prior with her pestering him about the meeting. This, in addition to the elephant in the room of Peter's absence, you knew that Dr. Gravitz was just as stressed about this meeting as you were.

  "The meeting is still on. I will meet up with Dr. Octavius, and we'll meet you in my office. The meeting will go swimmingly as long as you don't get in your head. You're a smart girl; that's why I vouched for you in the first place. It will be a great experience nevertheless. Hopefully Peter will find time in his busy schedule to meet us." Dr. Gravitz finished.

  "Thank you again for this opportunity. No matter what happens, I appreciate you sticking your neck out for me like this." You offered him a comforting smile, before noticing the time on the clock. "It's time to start lab," you warned him before heading back to your desk.

When you sat down, the low murmuring from the two boys staring at their phones in front of you distracted you from the lab instructions being discussed. This whispering spread like a rain cloud over the entire class until almost every lab table was talking to their partner.

  Like a rubber band being stretched too far, Dr. Gravitz's (already thin) patience had finally snapped. "What is the issue today? Is me explaining how to make a Gram stain not invigorating enough for all of you?"

  The kid in front of you was the first to speak up. "It's not like that, professor. There's just this big robbery and hostage situation happening at the bank not too far away from here."

  Another kid on the other side of the room jumped in, "Man, where's Spider-Man? He should be there already!"

  "Spider-Man was dealing with another situation. Burning building a block away from Rosa's Pizza." A kid you recognized from a different class the year before responded. What was his name again?

  "They have the best pizza in the city for sureeee."

  "Why do you even know that, Ned?" Miah asked, amused.

  Ah Ned. How could you forget? He was on the football team; no idea what position he played and frankly you didn't care— about him or about football. However, most professors and students were in love with him. Smart and athletic. What else could you ask for?

  "I'm in a social media community page dedicated to Spider-Man sightings," Ned answered matter-of-factly.

  Smart, athletic, and a dork. The perfect trifecta.

  Aisha, as well as most of the class, laughed at his answer. "Oh my god! Is Ned, the star student and Left Tackle for the school, in love with Spider-Man?" More laughter ensued.

  Ned scoffed before answering, "I'm not in love with Spider-Man! I think he's a hero that protects the people in the city. Is there a problem with that? It's not like you're doing anything to protect the city, Aisha." Seeing Ned get oddly defensive about Spider-Man made you slightly smile to yourself. Maybe it was nice to see a student athlete not be a bad person and be passionate about something other than sports. Maybe it was your recent encounters with Spider-Man that validated this defense of his character. Maybe he really was a hero.

  Aisha raised her hands in defense, but her answer was cut off by the two kids in front of you talking. The guy that started this discussion in the first place whispered loud enough for you to hear. "You think Flash is in that group too?" The two started laughing, the question obviously meant to poke fun.

  Flash Thompson was another student athlete. The star quarterback for the college team, and honestly, he was good. After most games, the school's social media would post, and almost every post was filled with his praises. Flash was also the first kid you followed from the school; you never met before, but you found him on your scroll through the school's page before school began your freshman year. One look at him and you knew you had to follow him. That didn't matter. What did matter was his deep love with Spider-Man. Talk about a fanboy. Ever since, you followed him at least once a week when he was reposting some story about a heroic deed Spider-Man had done. Back home, Spider-Man was some legend— no one had encountered him before and so everyone took him as some fictional story. Flash's stories seemed to add to this fictional aspect of this character, so you never actually looked into it. But if there was one thing that was true, it was that Flash was a diehard Spider-Man fan.

  "Spider-Man's on the scene!" A new student joined the conversation, announcing the arrival of the beloved hero.

  "Dr. Gravitz, sir, you have to put the live stream on the board. We have to see what's going on," Ned pleaded. You knew he was fighting a losing battle. Dr. Gravitz had a strict schedule he always followed; the syllabus laid out every single lesson plan neatly, and throwing it all off just to watch a bad view of Spider-Man saving people was not going to happen.

  Dr. Gravitz paused for a moment as if to take into consideration actually watching the livestream. "Well, Mr. Leeds, we do have a lab to do. The Gram stain requires precise timing and the use of a Bunsen burner for the initial spreading and heat fixation of the bacteria on the slide." The entire class let out exasperated sighs and groans at the response. This was exactly the answer you were expecting. Dr. Gravitz held up a single finger to silence the entire class in mere seconds. "However, I may push back half of this lab until next Tuesday while still doing the originally planned labs. That means you will have two lab reports due next Thursday." You were not expecting that answer. He always had a way of surprising you.

  Ned practically jumped out of his seat, "Thank you, man!" At the sight of Dr. Gravitz's pointed look, he quickly realized his mistake, "I mean, thank you, Dr. Gravitz, sir."

  Dr. Gravitz shook his head before continuing, "Everyone, come grab the premade slides from the four boxes— one from each. And grab a microscope. I want you to find the specimen and then draw out what you see under the oil immersion in your lab report. Mr. Leeds, help me find this live stream."

  Everyone in the class quickly rushed to follow the professor's instructions. You stayed in your seat waiting for everyone to finish grabbing the materials before you grabbed your own. There was no reason to run when you would have to wait either way. You would just rather wait at your desk. You heard a noise come from the projector and glanced up to see a split screen of the bank. One was an overhead view from a helicopter, and the other was on the ground, some young reporter laying down the scene. At this point, everyone had returned to their seats, which meant it was time for you to grab your stuff. You decided to grab a microscope first, which was located in the way back of the classroom.

  As you went to open the cabinet containing the instrument, you saw another hand reach out for the handle as well. You pulled your hand back quickly and apologized before turning to see who the hand belonged to.

  "Sorry about that, you were here before me, so you can grab yours first." Ned took a step back, allowing you more room to open the door and grab the microscope. You thanked him and was about to leave the normal interaction before he stopped you. "Hey, I noticed you didn't say anything during the whole Spider-Man conversation. You not a fan?" He asked.

  You were silent for a second, a mixture of anxiety and surprise clouding your mind before you could conjure up your answer. "Oh, I don't know. I wouldn't say I'm a 'fan', but I do appreciate the things he does." That was an awful answer, and you knew it. You wouldn't be surprised if he chewed you out for not being as big of a fan of the masked hero as he was. Or if he mansplained every reason why you should respect the vigilante.

  Instead, he nodded to himself, "I get that. You don't need to be his biggest fan to understand what he's doing out there." He hesitated a moment before continuing, "You don't really talk much, but I don't know if it was just in general or if the topic of Spider-Man was the issue this time."

  You awkwardly laughed and readjusted the microscope in your arms. "Nope, that's just how I normally am." You nodded awkwardly and prayed that the obvious hints that you didn't want to talk would get through his thick athlete head. He looked like he was going to say something else when a voice cut him off:

"There he is! There's Spider-Man!"

  Ned's head snapped to the large screen, and his eyes lit up at this sight of the red and blue costume. "It was nice talking to you. You can talk to me any time, no need to be scared." He finished dismissing you by saying your name at the end before walking back to his seat. How did he even know your name? Dr. Gravitz said it the first day, but why did he remember that? You could remember the names of half the people in this room, and you had classes with most of them last year. Either way, unknown to him, this was Spider-Man's third time saving you.

You ignored your own questions— they weren't going to be answered anyways— and also headed back to your seat. With Spider-Man in the building and hidden from view, there was no distraction from your work. You were focusing on the bacteria on your third slide when the gunshots were heard from the screen. You didn't move, even as everyone else's heads snapped to the screen. Their words drained out as your ears rang. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, and your chest tightened. The feeling in your hands was gone as you sat there unmoving. You were overly aware of your rapid heartbeat, which only made you feel more anxious.

  "There are people leaving the building now. They seem unharmed, and wait, look at that! Spider-Man has exited the building." From the ground view Spider-Man could be seen with a person in his arms being taken to the ambulance. The reporter was silent for a few seconds, with her hand pressed against her ear. "I'm hearing now that no one was injured from the gunshots, but some were injured initially when the robbers first went into the building. Only five people are injured and are going to receive treatment. None of their injuries are critical." Spider-Man then went to talk to police, and they quickly entered the building. They quickly exited with the cuffed (and webbed) robbers in hand. Spider-Man had saved the day once more.

  "Look at that! Spider-Man caught the robbers and saved all those people in the bank. How about that, Aisha?" Ned announced. You tried to tune him out, just wanting to finish your drawings and leave.

  However, it was not Aisha that answered but the girl next to her. "Yeah, he saved them, but is he really a hero? Wouldn't a real hero not have to hide his identity?" Miah asked.

  The third slide was finished.

  "You don't get it, Miah. He's a hero because of the mask! He's doing all these good and dangerous deeds under an alias. He could show his face and get hero treatment in his everyday life, but he doesn't! He does this hero stuff because it's the right thing to do." Ned argued. A few other students also voiced their agreement.

  Miah nodded. "I understand what you're saying, but what if he's not wearing the mask for that reason? Anyone could be under that mask; what if he's some past convict or he's hiding some other big secret? The mask might not be worn for noble reasons, but instead because he's not the hero everyone makes him out to be." She defended herself, getting a mixed reaction of agreements and scoffs.

  Slide four was done. You quickly wiped the oil off the lens with a lens paper, turned off the microscope, and put it away. The other continued to argue, but you were only focused on leaving as soon as possible. You put the lab report in your folder and into your bag. Once closed, you slung the bag over your shoulder and grabbed the slides off the table. You put them into the boxes where they belonged and made your way out. You felt Dr. Gravitz's worried stare on you, so as you passed, you quickly got out, "I'll see you later." You left the room before hearing his response. You were on autopilot; your body was taking you somewhere, and your mind was too far gone to think of where you were going. You soon found yourself outside the lab research room door. You let yourself in and plopped yourself into the first chair you could find. Your head was throbbing, the sound of the gunshot replaying over and over. It was too soon for you to hear that wretched noise again. Not even a week had passed since your encounter with possibly being shot, and today's live stream dug up all the feelings you had shoved down. You bounced your leg up and down, as the scene played over in your mind. The cold feeling of metal against your temple, the sound of the gun going off in the store. It was too much. Your eyes began to water, and in order for the tears not to spill, you tilted her head back and pushed your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Your jaw hurt from how tightly you clenched her mouth shut, desperately trying to not let out a sob. You took a few breaths and closed your eyes; the bright white lights of the room still being seen through the black blinds of your eyelids. You had to get it together. You had the meeting in only a few hours. Peter was more than likely not going to show up, and the last thing you needed was to look a mess in front of Dr. Octavius. You spent all that time getting ready and doing your makeup in the morning; you weren't going to let tears mess up all your hard work. Breathe in for four seconds, hold for four, and breathe out for another four.

  When you opened your eyes, you were more aware of where you were. The sound of the mice messing with the food in the cages, the blinding white walls of the room, and the test materials that were used on the mice were decorated throughout the room. You pushed yourself up and made your way into the room where you heard the mice. Opening the door, you scanned over the mice, some eating, others were sleeping, or some were climbing on the rods on top of the cage. You softly smiled as your eyes caught on a mouse that was curled into a little ball but not sleeping. Mouse #4. You picked up the cage and brought him to the table in the other room. You plucked him from his cage by his tail, and you watched as he instantly pulled himself up into your palm. He nuzzled against your fingers, lying down to get some of your warmth. Your other hand came up to gently run a finger against the soft fur on his back. His eyes began to flutter closed, and with a couple more rubs, he was sleeping in your palm. You let him stay there for a couple of minutes, this calming you down as much as it was probably calming the mouse before you decided to head out. You placed him gently back into his cage to not disturb his peaceful slumber and then put him back on the cart where he belonged. Grabbing your belongings, you made sure the doors were locked and left the room. You made your way to a bathroom to wash your hands and to check your appearance. No smudged makeup was a win in your book.

  You hadn’t realized how much time had passed while down in the lab, but you still had thirty minutes before the meeting. You sprayed yourself with a small perfume you kept in your bag and ran a hand through your hair to rid it of the tangles. Once you felt like you looked as presentable as possible, you made your way to Dr. Gravitz's office. The walk was quick, and with the key he had provided you for research reasons, you let yourself into the room— leaving the door slightly ajar in the slim chance Peter actually showed up. Dr. Gravitz was the head of the biology department and thus gets the privilege of having the biggest office. First walking in was a room meant for meetings; a big table with a few surrounding chairs. Attached was his actual office that was decent in size. You sat at a chair at the table, which faced the door, and grabbed your phone. You had at least fifteen minutes to waste until the two scientists showed up. You mindlessly scrolled on a social media app, video after video of Spider-Man showing up. You were swiping past yet another one when a loud bang rang out.

  You jumped, looking up at what caused the noise. There stood the perpetrator in the doorway, hand raised in the position of knocking. "I'm sorry, I thought the door was locked." Peter Parker in the flesh. You wanted to rub your eyes to see if you were hallucinating, but you couldn't mess up your makeup even more than you already had. You were left speechless at the sight of him, almost like he was a ghost. He let himself in, closing the door behind him.

  Peter looked worse than you felt. His hair was disheveled, and the top buttons of his button-up were in the wrong holes. He went to sit in the seat next to you, and as soon as he sat down, he ran a hand through his already messy hair. You were not ignorant to the way he avoided your stare. He probably thought your silence and staring was a way of making him feel bad for his absence this morning. However, you couldn't help but feel slightly gleeful at his appearance right now. You weren't good with having all the attention on you, and hopefully Peter would help ease your nerves about the situation.

  "Um Peter,—" his head turned to look at you, strands of his hair falling in front of his face— "you look a mess." You definitely could've worded that better. "I mean, some of your buttons are messed up." He quickly glanced down, seeing you were right. His hands frantically came up to fix them, but he was only making it worse. You raised your hands before letting them fall quickly; you helping him would be weird. Your hands would be close to his chest, and god forbid, the two scientists walked in while you were helping him. That would be an awkward situation to explain. However, your embarrassment at the idea of helping him was overtaken by seeing him struggle to get the buttons right. "Is it okay if I," you gestured to the shirt, "help you? It might be easier for me rather than having you look down at them."

  "If you don't mind."

  With his permission, you reached up to undo the buttons that were in the wrong place. You stared directly at the task in front of you, ignoring his eyes that were practically burning a hole through you. You were just glad that your makeup would cover the blush that spread across your face, but the warmth there made you feel uncomfortable. You finished fixing the buttons and let your eyes meet his. You thought for a second to make a comment about his hair, but the thought of having to also fix it made you feel queasy. You instead nodded at him before breaking the closeness between the two by leaning back. He muttered a quick thanks, turning away to stare at the door.

  "It's no problem," you dismissed him with a wave of your hand. "I've helped my brothers with that same issue." Peter didn't respond, which did not surprise you. You did, however, take this time to scan over him, noticing that the tense state he was in before his shoulders slightly relaxed. He had cut it close; he was lucky that Dr. Gravitz and Dr. Octavius were running late or he would have stormed in mid-meeting. Your biggest fear had been avoided, but the tightness in your chest remained.

  Interviews had always been a great cause of anxiety for you; really, it was anything that put you on the spot that made you want to shrink in on yourself. You mindlessly fiddled with one of the chains around your neck, your mind wandering to all the possible bad outcomes of this meeting. You could shrink up and say nothing, or instead awkwardly babble in a lousy attempt to impress Dr. Octavius. You could embarrass her or, even worse, embarrass Dr. Gravitz.

  "Hey, you okay?"

  Your head snapped to Peter's, whose eyes were knowingly staring into your soul. It was a rhetorical question, as it didn't take a genius to see the clear signs of anxiety that you were displaying. However, the possible conversation that may arise from this question was very welcome. Anything to take your mind off of the scientists that will enter the room at any moment.

  "I'm that obvious, huh?" You let out a shaky breath, readjusting yourself in the chair to face the boy next to you. "Just don't want to make a fool of myself. Or let Dr. Gravitz down, y'know?"

  The boy nodded, also turning his body slightly to face you better. "I get it. I'm kind of nervous too, but at least we aren't doing this alone. We can help each other out." He gave you a smile that you found yourself absentmindedly returning.

  It was then that the creak of a door alerted them to the appearance of Dr. Gravitz and Dr. Octavius. The two of you jumped out of your seats at the sight of them. As the two scientists approached the table, Peter reached his hand out first to shake hands with Dr. Octavius, and you quickly followed in suit.

  "Dr. Octavius, I want you to meet my two best students. Peter Parker and (Y/N)." Dr. Gravitz gestured towards you before sitting himself down in the chair across from you. When Dr. Octavius also moved to sit down, both you and Peter did the same.

  "I've heard a lot about you both. Parker, you're also Connor's student. He tells me you're brilliant," Dr. Octavius started. You glanced over to Peter as he nodded, slightly straightening his posture. You could see a glimpse of pride and recognition in his eyes. "He also says you're lazy."

Yikes. Way to strike the kid down.

  Peter glanced to the ground before nodding his head once more, lashes flicking before looking back at Dr. Octavius. "I'm trying to do better."

  "Being brilliant's not enough, young man. You have to work hard. Intelligence is not a privilege; it's a gift, and you use it for the good of mankind." Dr. Octavius continued. You turned more towards Peter, eyes scanning his face to see if the look of disappointment or annoyance could be read on his face. This was an interview after all, and yet Dr. Octavius was using this time to beat Peter down. But no look existed. Instead, Peter looked like he was taking all of this in, not as an attack on his character but as a way to learn. He looked almost determined, like he couldn't wait to show Dr. Octavius what he was truly made of. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him letting water roll off his back.

  "And Ms. (Y/N), Lorenzo has told me a lot about you." He paused as if waiting for you to slip up and show any sign of weakness.

  Instead, you turned to him with the polite smile still on your face from Peter's reaction. "Good things, I hope," you quipped. "Or at least better than what Dr. Connors had to say about Peter." You said while turning your head towards the boy, to see the boy staring intently at you. But the moment your comment about Connors left your lips, he let out a laugh, which he then tried to cover with a cough. Your smile only brightened at the sight, and the laughter from the two scientists in front of you fell on deaf ears. You watched as Peter smiled at you once more, posture relaxing. You forced your attention back to the actual interview, but you were glad that your shot of easing the mood actually worked.

  "Gravitz has said nothing but good things about you. Says you're quite the brilliant kid." You watched him, waiting for the but. "But you lack confidence." There it was. And ouch, why was Dr.Gravitz telling people about your bad qualities? You would have to bring it up to him later. "Confidence is needed in this line of work. You can't get discouraged when one thing goes wrong and give up." You nodded your head, letting his words sink in.

  Both scientists scanned over you both, but seeing that your spirits were not broken, Dr. Octavius continued. "So Parker, you're a senior; what are your plans once you graduate?"

  "Well, I'm majoring in biophysics, but I'm looking into writing my thesis on neurotechnology."

Impressive. But insane. Anyone who chooses to willingly do physics was mad in your mind. AP physics was a nightmare and traumatic enough that you couldn't imagine doing it as a career.

  "And you?" Octavius turned in your direction.

  "I'm majoring in biochemistry with a concentration in molecular genetics. I'm interested in the gene editing aspect." Dr. Octavius nodded at you, satisfied with your answers. You felt Peter staring at you before Dr. Octavius spoke up.

  "Alright, I think I have some research that both of you can help me out with. Oscorp just approved the proposal, so I'll have you two meet me at the Oscorp tower next Saturday at 1 pm." He nodded at the two of you before standing up; everyone else followed in suit. He reached his hand out for both of you to shake, you first, then Peter. "Pleasure meeting you both." And with that, Dr. Gravitz and Dr. Octavius then made their way out of the room.

  Silence fell between the two of you before you spoke up, "That went better than I thought it would. He didn't need to drag us like that though."

  Peter laughed, "Yeah, I wasn't expecting the guy I look up to to call me lazy."

  You smiled up at him, "He called you brilliant first. So that's a win at least." You jested. You waited for some type of comeback by mentioning his comment about your lack of confidence. Yet received none. Instead, Peter had sprung up a whole different topic.

  "You didn't tell me you were focusing on genetics." You shrugged; he never asked, so why bring it up? "You know, I do research with Dr. Connors on cross-species genetics. If you want, I can talk to him about possibly letting you come and see it. He doesn't like having too many people in the lab, so I'm not sure if he'll let you join, but I'll throw in a good word." He suggested, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

  You said nothing, letting his words settle in. You practically just met the kid, barely had a real conversation with him, and he was offering you a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And it was genuine. There's no way having you in the lab would benefit him in any way. He was simply doing it just to be nice. You didn't realize people were still like that anymore.

Well, except for Spider-Man.

  "You would do that for me?" He nodded and smiled at you as if it was an obvious thing to do for someone you just met. "Thank you! Even if he says no, I truly appreciate you for even trying." The two of you smiled at each other until an alarm went off on Peter's phone.

  He grabbed his phone from his pocket to silence the noise. "Guess I have to go to class." He awkwardly cleared his throat, glancing at you before grabbing his backpack.

  You did the same while an idea popped into your head. "Oh, Peter—" his head snapped to you— "Can I get your phone number?" His eyes slightly widened, "Just in case you plan on missing lecture or lab again." You hastily replied in hopes of him not getting the wrong idea.

He nodded his head, avoiding your gaze. "Right." He took your phone that you held out for him, quickly typing his information in. 

  "I promise I'll be there next time," he said when handing the phone back.

  You nodded your head, but you didn't believe him. He seemed to be a bit all over the place; too much to do with so little time. "I'll hold you to it."

  He paused, not knowing what to say. Another alarm rang from his phone, and he stared at the time. "I have to go, but I'll see you around." He left towards the door and waved.

  "Bye, Peter," you barely managed to get out before he disappeared. You stared down at the new contact on your phone. You decided to text him now with a quick 'hey, this is me' text so he could save your information too.

  Many new opportunities were presented today, but you just hoped that they would all work out. You learned not to get your hopes up, so you were never truly disappointed. New opportunities and many possible outcomes.

[celestialrosesgarden]

Silk Threads [SPIDER-MAN X READER]

Word Count: 1.7K

Chapter Six: On Time is Late

  School always makes life seem faster than it is. Today was officially a week since the fall semester started, and the stress of life and school was already starting to get to you. If today wasn't your longest day, you would go home and crash as soon as you got home. But no. You had classes starting from nine in the morning until seven at night. May the universe provide you with the strength to survive.

  Yesterday, you went to campus for the sole purpose of doing research with Dr. Gravitz. This was no issue for you. Your issue right now, as you head to your microbiology class, is having to face Peter Parker. Something about him made you nervous and unsure. You always had good intuition and trusted whenever life gave you little signs. Right now, you were getting signs that Peter was not good news. Or at least that there was something that was off about him.

  That, or you just had a crippling fear of talking to guys around your age. That was probably it.

  Peter was more to himself, but they always say it's the quiet ones you have to watch out for. In addition to the fact that he was friends with Harry Osborn, ESU's biggest Playboy. Birds of a feather flock together. Maybe Peter was an evil bird, and she was his prey. Bad analogy, but your point is made. You couldn't trust him, not as long as you didn't know him.

  You huffed as you spotted the door to the class in front of her. Almost three hours of pure torture known as your overthinking. However, you were slightly relieved not to see Peter in his seat when you entered. At least you would have peace for a couple of minutes before class started.

  You couldn't help but keep checking the time, noticing the minutes tick away and with no Peter still present. You wouldn't say you were worried that he hadn't arrived yet, but maybe more curious. It was when everyone else was in the class— including Dr. Gravitz— and no Peter to show for it that you felt a twinge of concern. You knew that Dr. Gravitz was pretending to struggle with his laptop to give some more time for the boy to show up with no extra drawn attention to him (entering while a professor was lecturing was an embarrassment known like no other).

  You heard the door click open and your eyes instantly followed the noise. Peter entered, head looking down as he passed by the professor's desk. Avoiding everyone's eye contact was one way to ignore the obvious elephant in the room. Once he sat in the seat next to you, you opened your mouth to say a quick: "Hey—"

  "Alright, class, let's get started!" Damn you, Dr. Gravitz. You took your eyes off Peter, staring down at the notes in front of you.

  "Hey." You tilted your head slightly towards him but still mostly pointed down at the desk. Your eyes met his, and you gave him a quick smile before fully turning back to the packet.

  The lecture seemed to be faster today than usual. Not taking into consideration that this was only the second lecture. Once the slideshow of notes was finished, the professor permitted a fifteen-minute break before the lab began. This would be a perfect time for you to spark up a conversation with Peter. If you had anything to say. Somehow, in all of your overthinking, you managed to not have a single idea of what to say to him. Asking him why he was late seemed aggressive and an invasion of privacy. You couldn't mention the whole taking pictures of Spider-Man for the Daily Bugle — which would also make you seem like a stalker for asking. You were stuck with nothing to say.

  "Good morning, you two." Since when did Dr. Gravitz start standing at your desk? "I have something I want to discuss with you kids after class, so if you don't mind, stay back for a bit." You gave him a quick nod, unsure of what he had to say. Whatever the news was, it had to be recent, as he made no mention of it the day prior.

  "Any ideas on what that's about?" You turned to Peter, shocked that he was starting a conversation with you.

  "No idea," you responded. "He didn't say anything in research yesterday, so it must be something that happened last night or this morning." You shrugged your shoulders, trying to remain casual and nonchalant. "Do you have any guesses?"

  "None," he stated. You paused, thinking he was going to continue, but he hadn't. Oh. Well, at least he was the one that made it awkward. Or maybe you were the only one that felt awkward. The conversation didn't have to go any further, so it was perfectly fine for it to end just there.

  "How was your weekend?"

  What the hell was wrong with you? There was no need for you to continue, but you were so set on talking to the kid for whatever reason. They didn't have to be friends or anything like that. What was your obsession with being somewhat close to him? You had to start working on your need for others to like you.

  "It was alright. I had work, and then I did some work for school."

  Peter was full of surprises. You were certain he was going to ignore you, but he answered. He also provided you with the perfect segway, "Oh, where do you work?"

  "The Daily Bugle." You were fully aware. "I'm their photographer." Bingo. Spider-Man, all you had to do was ask about Spider-Man and at least a piece of the puzzle would be solved. "How was your weekend?"

  Damn it. You couldn't double back after he asked about you. It would be weird for some reason that you couldn't explain to yourself. "My weekend?" You snickered to yourself. He had no idea. "It was kind of hectic." That's putting it lightly. He opened his mouth to say something else when Dr. Gravitz began talking.

  "So we're starting with plating techniques today. We'll be doing a streak plate with premade agar, the spread technique with dilutions, and then the pour plate method..." You went right back into work mode, taking notes as he spoke. You took a mental note that Peter did not take any notes during the instructions. This meant one of two things: he was naturally smart and retained information easily, or he saw that you were taking notes and realized he could just get through the lab using your work. Either way, it slightly bothered you.

  The rest of the lab time was spent mostly in silence. The two of you shared words when it came to saying what material you would grab, but no actual conversation was had. It seemed that whatever Peter wanted to say had been forgotten. You two seemed to finish the lab relatively quickly, noticing that most groups were still working. It wasn't like you could just get your stuff and leave either, so you would just have to sit there in silence after cleaning up, disinfecting the table, and washing your hands. Great.

  Once everything was cleaned up, you grabbed your phone from your bag, deciding to swipe through your social media. A couple of posts popped up about Spider-Man, which had to be due to your investigation of him just a couple of days before. You scrolled past a couple until one caught your eye. It was Spider-Man at some random hotdog cart getting food. The comments were eating it up and going on and on about how Spider-Man was just like them. A true New Yorker.

  Because every New Yorker loves hotdogs and fights crime daily with their spider-like powers.

  You were also confused about how it was newsworthy that Spider-Man was eating a dirty water dog that probably cost about a dollar. You swiped out of the post and its comments— completely unaware of Peter's eyes staring at your screen. You scrolled a little while longer until you heard the rest of the class get quiet. Now that everyone was gone, Dr. Gravitz approached them.

  "I have exciting news for the two of you. I have been talking to a few of my colleagues about both of you. They seem interested in meeting you both, so I have arranged a meeting for all of us on Thursday at two; sound good?" Dr. Gravitz stood between them, looking down from his position.

  "Can I ask who these colleagues are?" You responded; that during their time in research, they often spoke about his work and all the professors and scientists that he had collaborated with during his long career.

  "Dr. Otto Octavius has expressed interest in both of you," your eyes widened. "Peter already works for Norman Osborn, but Oscorp is looking for another intern, and I threw your name out there. If everything works out, these opportunities will provide great experience and a potential job."

  "Dr. Otto Octavius? The nuclear physicist?" Peter asked.

  "He's also an inventor and engineer." You interjected. "He's a genius! I've been keeping up with his studies of atomic physics and radiation for years. You really got him to meet us?" You looked up at Dr. Gravitz with a slight smile on your face. At his nod, your smile spread across your face, your hands reaching up to cover it. "Oh my god, you're amazing!" You laughed out loud.

  "I knew you were going to be excited. Now Dr. Octavius is an extremely busy man, so no funny business, Peter." Peter looked perplexed at the sudden callout. "Don't think I didn't notice you walked into class late today. I covered this for you once, but I will not cover it for you on Thursday. Do you understand me?"

  You watched as Peter promised to be on time, but knowing him, he would get there just in the nick of time. That wouldn't be good enough; Dr. Gravitz was a man of many philosophies. One of them is: "Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable." You just hoped that Peter's lateness would make you a partner in his unacceptableness.

[celestialrosesgarden]

Silk Threads [SPIDER-MAN X READER]

Word Count: 1.0K

Content Warning: Singular Use of a Curse Word

Chapter Five: Damsel in Distress?

  They say it's best not to dwell on past events and not to let the past consume one's thoughts, as it takes away their focus on the future. However, most people don't have a near-death experience that happened just the day before. Your possible end yesterday had shaken you up, understandably. But for some reason, it wasn't the feeling of the gun against your temple that had plagued your thoughts. Well, for the most part, it wasn't.

  It was Spider-Man.

  You couldn't understand what it was about him that captivated you so much. If anything, you should view him as some kind of weirdo— who in their right mind decides to fight crime in a tight spandex suit? How did he even get his powers? Was he born that way, or was it developed? What if he's some half-human and half-spider science baby thing? Spider-Man was a man of mysteries, and if there was anything to know about you, it was that you weren't a fan of the unknown. Not when it posed a potential threat.

  You decided to take your questions to the internet and start your research on the masked hero. As everyone knows, the best thing to do when you don't know something (like what a potential illness is when one has a bad cough) is to turn to the internet.

  'Spider-Man was placed in the city by the government to spy on us.'

  That's so stupid. And a complete knockoff of the also stupid idea that pigeons are government spies. Unoriginal and boring. There had to be something actually useful. However, as you searched through websites and YouTube videos searching for anything on the vigilante, it was also stupid. No one had anything real to say about him. Wrongly appointed hate or people having weird fantasies of him, nothing was worth wild.

  You went back to the web, rewording your search from 'Spider-Man conspiracies' to just 'Spider-Man.'

  The first thing that popped up was a social media profile '@NYCWallCrawler.' You clicked on it, assuming it was a Spider-Man spotting page. But you were so wrong. The page opened to show that it was the official account for the friendly neighborhood web-slinger. He had a decent following, which confused you as to why you never heard any mention of the account before. You perused through his posts, his reposts, etc. You felt a small amount of warmth spread in your chest at the posts of him saving cats, ones with him and young fans, and the like. You also were very pleased to see that after your incident the day before that, he hadn't posted any jokes or references to it. The thought of him using you almost being shot as a way to clout chase made you feel ill, but the lack of it being mentioned made her you as if he had respected you. Or at least somewhat respected your privacy. You made a mental note of the social media page but decided not to follow it. You didn't want to look like a fan.

  While Spider-Man's social media page provided some insight into him, it was not exactly what you were looking for. You backed out of his page and searched around for something else.

  Bingo.

  The first thing you clicked on was the Daily Bugle website, and you mentally cursed yourself for not starting there. You forgot it was an actual news site outside of the daily games it provided. As you scrolled, you saw that it was mostly 'Masked Menace' this or 'Criminal' that. Very anti-Spider-Man. Good to know.

  Wait a second. Across your screen, the words "Spider-Man Causes Shooting at Local Store" were written in bold letters.

  Talk about fake news. Spider-Man had stopped a potential shooting at the store. A singular gunshot occurred, which honestly was sort of your fault. But you didn't shoot the gun, so technically it wasn't. You clicked the link and began to read the recently posted article: "Yesterday at Delmar's Deli-Grocery, the Masked Menace Spider-Man caused a man to start shooting over a—"

  "Damsel in distress!?" You stood up abruptly, your chair crashing onto the floor. "I'm not a damsel in distress! If anything, I was the one that did the saving." Your breathing was rapid as you stared at the computer wide-eyed. You ignored the banging from underneath as the resident downstairs cursed you out. "Okay, so I didn't do all the saving, but I saved myself from being shot originally! Damsel in distress, my ass," you huffed.

  You rolled your eyes, scanning over the article's anti-Spider-Man propaganda to find anything useful. Towards the middle of the article, there was an unusually clear and close action shot of Spider-Man swinging from another occurrence. How did they manage to get that? You noticed that under the photo, in the tiniest writing possible, a few words. "Photographed by Peter Parker."

  "Peter?" How did he manage to get close enough to Spider-Man to take that? Maybe it was the right place at the right time. Or maybe Peter and Spider-Man were twins and had this whole gig figured out. Okay, strike that last one. But as you looked at other articles, you noticed that all crisp photographs of Spider-Man were taken by Peter. They had to know each other, but how? It's not like you could just go up to Peter in class Tuesday and say, 'Hey, I noticed you take all Spider-Man's photos. Tell me how you know him or else.'

  You would have to go about it the right way. Which meant that it was impossible. You had been told on multiple occasions that you were an incredibly smooth talker, but only when you weren't aware of it. The instant you were aware of what was occurring, all charisma was out the door. Your dreams of finding out anything about the masked hero ended here. Better you make peace with it now. Maybe even if you were lucky, you would never have to deal with Spider-Man again. The same couldn't be said about Peter, however. You sighed, closing your laptop screen, ridding your dark room of its soft glow. That would be a problem for tomorrow. Right now, you would have to focus on getting some rest before researching the following day. 

[celestialrosesgarden]

Silk Threads [SPIDER-MAN X READER]

Word Count: 2.0K

Content warning: mention of violence; singular use of a curse word

Chapter Four: Stroke of Luck

      There was no guilt in wasting away doing nothing on a Saturday because that's what it was there for: a lazy day in a hectic week.

  Or it was the complete opposite of the spectrum, and Saturday was an errands day; a day to catch up and complete everything that could not be completed during the week. That's how this Saturday was for you.

  After research, you were completely spent. All you wanted to do was watch a movie and take a nap— which you did do— but not after having to turn off your phone first. The instant you came home, your friends hounded you, text after text about Harry Osborn's 'New Semester Celebration Extravaganza' or something like that. You had switched into lounge wear, and that was the biggest indication that you were done for the day. Nothing could have made you get changed to go out once more after that. After thirty minutes of back and forth, you simply put your phone on do not disturb. Nothing would come between you and watching Knives Out for the thousandth time.

  There's something about Chris Evans in a cable-knit sweater that was just oh so right.

  Not to mention your fear of seeing Peter in anything outside of a school setting.

  You knew you would have to do damage control the following day, which began the moment you woke up to over two hundred messages in the group chat. You quickly typed out the weakest excuse for an apology you could think of— something about falling asleep the moment you hit the couch— before hitting send.

  Not much you could do now.

  You removed yourself from your bed before hopping into the shower; an early start for the day, but you had much to accomplish before the days end. After your shower, you got dressed, did your makeup, and put your jewelry back on. Grabbing a light jacket and your purse, you rushed out. You would grab all your groceries for the week now, so you can go home, cook, clean, and get the rest of your work done with no worry. Sounds easy enough.

  Everything was going off without a hitch. The walk there was quiet. While shopping, you were left undisturbed due to the mostly empty store, and the checkout line was short. But nothing is truly easy in the city. That, or your luck had been dwindling. As soon as you grabbed your receipt from the cashier, you felt a strong arm pull you against a tall figure. Before you could even comprehend what was happening, a cold sensation was felt on your temple.

  "Hand over all the money in the registers or I'll shoot!"

  Huh?

  A gun. That cold sensation was a gun, and you were going to be shot in front of a stranger. You watched as the poor teen scrambled to open the register, shoving the money frantically in the plastic bag. He had to be at least sixteen; you couldn't help but feel bad. This poor kid was going to be traumatized from this, and if the guy behind you actually shot then— You snapped out of your train of thought when he shoved the barrel of the gun further against your temple.

  "Hurry it, kid! Or she'll get it." You hated the fact that he was behind you. Unable to see his face or anything about him made your lack of control of the situation extremely apparent. His tight grip also gave you no room to even try to free yourself. He snatched the bag with the money out of the kid's grip before backing up, your form still tightly in his hold.

  "You know you have to pay five cents for that plastic bag. New York law."

  Your eyes widened at the sight of the masked vigilante. If it wasn't for the gun to your head, you would've snapped at him that now was not the time for jokes.

  "You think this a joke?" Exactly! "It won't be a joke when I put a bullet in her head." No! Okay, so he started off strong but kind of lost his way at the end there.

  "Come on, I know you like jokes. I mean, look at your hair." You were going to kill him. If you were not killed first. You knew that Spider-Man was trying to get into his head. But the guy was not dumb enough to point the gun at him; everyone knew of the spider's quick reflexes. Besides, Spider-Man was big on trying to save as many people as possible; as long as you were being used as a bargaining piece, the criminal had one up on the hero.

  "You really want me to pull the trigger, don't you?" You squeezed your eyes shut at the sensation of the metal being pressed further into your skin. The criminal's arm around your waist pulled you tighter against his torso; a whimper slipped past your lips at the uncomfortable position and the fear that racked your body. When you opened your eyes back up, those white eyes of his mask were staring right back at you. You knew he was trying to think of a plan to get everyone out of this alive. Too bad you thought of a plan first.

  You looked out of the corner of your eyes to the young cashier, too scared to even move. You quickly scanned the register counter until you found the thing you needed. A large metal water bottle. It was perfect. You stared back at the boy and then again at the water bottle, hoping he would catch on.

  "Come on, don't take it so seriously." You ignored Spider-Man's continued jest, focusing on the teen behind the counter. You repeated her eye movement and hid your excitement when he looked down at the water bottle. You shared eye contact once more. You slightly tilted your head, hoping he understood what you meant.

  He did.

  He indiscreetly raised his hand before shoving the water bottle to the floor.

  CLANK.

  The loud sound of the bottle hitting the ground caused the criminal to loosen his hold enough for you to act. You simultaneously stomped on his foot and threw your head back against his: a slight crack heard indicating you had broken his nose. The final nail in the coffin was you slamming your elbow against his groin. His hold of you was completely gone, and you fell to the floor.

  "I'll kill that bitch!"

  You scrambled from your spot as he raised his gun. You heard Spider-Man call out, "Look out!" A web wrapped around the gun's barrel, pulling it away from your direction as he pulled the trigger. A yelp left your lips, and you felt two hands wrap around your arm, pulling you behind the counter.

  "Are you alright?" The young cashier asked. You breathlessly nodded, unable to form any words. You could hear Spider-Man behind her webbing the criminal up. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the drawers as your chest rose up and down. Breathe in for four seconds, hold for four, and breathe out for another four. After you caught your breath, you turned back to the boy that also seemed to be slightly heaving.

  "Thank you." You gulped. "What you just did right there was really brave. You're a hero—" Your eyes scanned him until you found his name tag— "Miles."

  "I can't believe I did that." The two of you looked at each other before a small laugh slipped past your lips. You leaned your head back one more time, taking some shaky breaths when you realized you could no longer hear the two behind the register.

  "Stay here, I'll check it out." You moved to the end of the counter and snuck a peek around it to see the criminal all webbed up. But where was Spider-Man?

  "What were you thinking?" You jumped, head snapping to where you heard the voice. There stood in front of you the masked hero himself. "What you just did there was extremely dangerous. You could've been seriously hurt."

  Your hand was clutched over your heart, eyes still wide. He stood there waiting for an answer. You ignored him, instead turning to Miles, who was still sitting under the counter, "Sorry, I forgot to ask if you were okay. Are you?"

  "Yeah."

  "You're going to ignore me?" You placed your hands on the floor, going to push yourself up, trying to ignore the hand Spider-Man held out to you. "Seriously, just take my hand." You looked up at him from your position on the floor. Was he always that tall? You gave in after a few seconds of just staring at him, letting him pull you off the floor.

  "Thank you." You paused before continuing, "You know, I didn't think I was going to see you again so soon. Or be in this type of situation of me having to be saved by you again."

  "I should've known you were trouble after our first encounter," he stated.

  You looked at him, a small smirk forming on your face. "It's not my fault that criminals in New York keep coming after me. I've never had this issue until three days ago. I've lived in the city for over a year and never had any run-ins with you or any criminals. Now it seems to happen all the time," you laughed.

  "Look, I didn't mean to snap at you. But you're lucky you're still alive. That couldn't have ended really badly." He reached out, resting his hand on your shoulder. You nodded, softly looking down at the ground, slightly embarrassed at the 'Amazing Spider-Man' reprimanding you like a child. "You sure you're alright?"

  "Well, I wasn't shot, so I'm the best I could be." You looked back up to see him still staring, "Honestly, I'm fine. Just spooked from this whole thing. You alright?"

  "You're alright, so am I too." You smiled at him, softly shaking your head. He removed his hand from your shoulder before speaking, "I have to go, but I'm being serious when I tell you to stay out of trouble. Actually listen to me this time."

  "No promises," you stated. You felt his hard gaze, prompting you to defend yourself: "I'll try, but I can't control other people's actions."

  You watched him slump over a little bit, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips as he walked away from you to the cash register line. He plucked some random candy bar from the shelf before holding it up to Miles. "I'll take one of these, how much?"

  "Are you kidding? You're Spider-Man. It's on the house." Miles stared at the hero as if he was insane. He had just saved their lives and there he was trying to pay for a cheap candy bar.

  "Nah, I can't do that. Here, that should be enough, keep the change." He handed him a five-dollar bill before heading toward the exit. He turned suddenly while continuing to walk backwards. He pointed at you, "Stay out of trouble, troublemaker." He turned before hearing your response and was already zipping away.

  Your eyes remained on the exit he just left from when the police finally entered. You quickly moved to stand by Miles, and the police went about their business.

  "Oh man, my dad is going to freak once the other officers tell him what happened." Seeing your confused gaze, he continued, "My dad is a police officer. He knows almost everyone in the force."

  One of the police officers walked up to the two of you, checking in on Miles first before seeing how you were. They spoke briefly before the officer made a comment that was directed more towards Miles than you— "No one had called us until the gun went off. So whoever Spider-Man is was already in here or was passing by when this whole thing started." The officer looked at Miles and then at you before finishing his statement. "You two are extremely lucky, because things could've ended very differently if Spider-Man wasn't here to save you."

[celestialrosesgarden]

Silk Threads [SPIDER-MAN X READER]

Word Count: 1.5K

Chapter Three: Mousetrap

For any university student, Fridays were a blessing. A day to relax or catch up on work, not to mention recovering from going out the night before. Well, this was true for most university students. You, however, were not blessed with this freedom. Your Friday would have to consist of your pathology class and long hours in research. It could be much worse. You could be stuck in research with a professor other than Dr. Gravitz.

You peered over your laptop screen to see said professor lecturing. Your fingers tapped away at the keys, jotting down simplified notes of his ramblings. You kept your eyes on your screen even as your friend Reeva leaned over to whisper, "I can't believe it's the first day of class and he's going to lecture for the full two and a half hours."

"You know how Dr. Gravitz is, Reeva. He wants to get the most out of every class," you laughed. "I bet he's going to let us go ten minutes early to make it seem like he's doing us a favor." You took note of the time: 12:45 P.M. The class ended at one, which meant that in five minutes they would be out. You switched out of your document for your notes to play the Daily Bugle games instead.

"Alright, I think we'll wrap it up there." 12:50 P.M. Exactly as you had predicted. You packed your things away, waving a quick goodbye to Reeva before making your way to the professor's desk.

"Ah, good afternoon! How are you doing today?" Dr. Gravitz asked, also packing away his things.

"I'm alright, how are you?" You responded.

"I'm doing quite alright. I do, however, have some questions for you, but I'll ask you once we get to the labs." He grabbed his bag and made his way to the door. He held it open for you, letting you pass before him, causing a small 'thank you' to leave your lips.

As both of you made your way down to the basement where the labs were, you exchanged words on the lectures from the previous day as well as today. Dr. Gravitz was one to always listen to others' opinions on his teachings. In his words, 'a true scientist must know others' views in order to form their own perspective and perfect their knowledge.' Or something like that.

Once you both made it to the lab door, he swiped his ID card, letting you enter. You tied her hair back before entering a different room where all the mice were located. Grabbing one of the carts, you moved it into the experimentation room and began to prepare. You let Dr. Gravitz grab the other cart as you opened your laptop to make documents with the data that would result from today.

"What questions did you have to ask me?" Ever since he had mentioned it in the classroom, the words had been eating away at you. You watched as he smiled to himself, an amused glint in his eyes. He was always up to something. Always scheming. As much as you loved him, you sometimes hated him.

"I just wanted to see how you felt about being partnered up with Peter Parker," he responded.

Of course, that's what this was about. He had set this all up as some kind of joke. A scientist's 'evil' plan and you fell right into it. Just like a mousetrap.

"First off, that's not really a question," he interrupted you to laugh. "Second, I don't have much of an opinion. I don't know the kid, never heard about him until yesterday. He's a complete stranger to me."

You grabbed one of the cages off of the cart, placing it on the table. "I'm not too surprised by that," he started. "That boy is very quiet and doesn't talk much. I'm not too sure if he's close to any other science student." You reached past him to grab the makeshift weights, three chain links dangling from a piece of fine wire mesh.

"I don't understand; if he's so quiet, why partner him up with me? You know I don't talk to the other students. What if we wind up just not talking to each other the entire semester?" You questioned.

"You talk to me just fine. You can't do that with Parker?" He countered.

"That's different," you argued back. "You're an adult. I've always gotten along better with people older than me, ever since I was young. I don't do well with guys the same age as me, and definitely not in this field."

"Parker is two years older than you, so you should be just fine!" You jokingly rolled your eyes as he plucked the mouse by its tail from its cage. He let the mouse hold onto the mesh wire before rising into the air. After three seconds passed, he removed the weight and put the mouse back into the cage. You marked down in your chart '#1: 3 links - Passed."

"Still—" you grabbed the next cage— "I was slightly annoyed at you." You ignored the fake gasp that he let out. "I thought you were setting me up. Three girls in the entire class and you put the other two of them together. But not me. I'm stuck with some random guy that I have no idea about."

He grasped the tail of mouse #2: "That's the whole point. I assign partners so that everyone meets new people. I do it based on who I think would work best together." Mouse #2 passes with three chain links, and he is placed back into his cage. "If you're so desperate to know something about the boy, I can tell you what I know about him: from my own experiences and what others tell me." You quickly nodded, overly eager to hear anything about Peter. He smirks to himself; this action is missed by you as you grab the third cage. "Peter is extremely intelligent. Truly brilliant. However, he's lazy."

"So is that what this is? It's my responsibility to make him try. I need to change him?" You scoffed.

"Absolutely not. I simply put two of the smartest students with the most potential together. It's up to you what you do with that. Besides, that boy has been doing better. The entire physics department sings his praises, as does Dr. Connors and Norman Osborn."

Your head snapped from watching the mouse on the weight to him. "Norman Osborn?! The Norman Osborn? Oscorp Norman Osborn?"

He laughed, placing the mouse into the cage. "Precisely," he stated matter-of-factly. He reached out for the next cage, which you put down. "Parker is friends with Norman Osborn's boy."

Harry Osborn. You knew that he had gone to Empire State. He was notoriously known on campus as Harry Osborn kept the party scene alive at ESU. Last year your friends used to beg you at least once a week to go to one of Harry's 'ragers.' You always said no, too busy with work and studying to even amuse the idea. Besides, Harry was known as a playboy, and you didn't want to deal with him or his other lowlife friends. What did that say about Peter if he could be friends with someone as carefree and shallow as Harry Osborn? You didn't want to judge him before getting to know him, but the more Dr. Gravitz went on about him, the more you couldn't help but jump to conclusions.

Acknowledging your silence, Dr. Gravitz decided to defend Peter. "He's a good kid. Truly, I just think he's too brilliant. He doesn't know what to do with it. But he's getting there." You looked back at him, nodding at him, signaling for him to continue. "He helps out at Oscorp on an internship. He also does research with Dr. Connors– on cross-species genetics. He has a lot of potential. I'm not too sure if he's aware of that though."

You looked away from his piercing glare, grabbing the next mouse out of its cage. You held him by his tail, watching the way that it instantly curled up to grab onto your hand. You maneuvered your hand so that your palm was open and faced up—still with a tight grip on its tail— and felt his tiny paws clamor to sit in your palm. He nuzzled into your thumb, squeezing himself into a tight ball. Your other hand raised, and with your index finger pointed out, you ran it gently against the mouse's soft white coat. His red eyes closed slightly, and his body relaxed.

Dr. Gravitz watched on before deciding to speak once more. "Sometimes I forget what it's like. To be nineteen and think I know everything about how the world works. All while simply being a child. You need to broaden your horizons and open your mind to the unknown. Like all good scientists do."

Knowing he had you beat, you kept her mouth shut. Your full attention was on the mouse now sleeping in your palm, but his words had resonated with you. However, Dr. Gravitz was always one to get the last word.

"I should know, I'm a doctor. I know everything."

[celestialrosesgarden]

Silk Threads [SPIDER-MAN X READER]

Word Count: 2.4K

Chapter Two: Syllabus Week

There were times when the city didn't seem so bad. The sun would shine just right, and the air wouldn't smell of garbage and dirty smog. No rats would scamper across the sidewalk, and people would smile at you, but not in a creepy old man way. These days were rare, and yet today was one of those days.

You walked the same path you always did to school. Empire State University was not far from your apartment when the conditions were right, and today was one of the few days that your walk was swift. No earbud graced your ear. After yesterday, you realized that you needed to be more vigilant of your surroundings. Your little mishap had plagued your mind since it had occurred.

After Spider-Man had left, the police questioned you. With your story matching the witnesses', the thief was put into a police car and taken away. You had then returned home, much later than you anticipated, cleaned the cuts on your hand, and done your school work. Dinner that night was not the elaborate meal that you initially planned, but instead, a frozen meal warmed up in your shoddy microwave. Yet all you could think of was Spider-Man. You had never crossed paths with him in any form. Never even seen him swinging throughout the city. If it weren't for all the articles and videos about him, you would have believed that it was just some made-up story.

But last night confirmed it. Spider-Man was real. Spider-Man had come to your rescue, and he spoke to you. Quite frankly, it was a lot to take in. As you approached the gates to the school, you reached into her bag to grab your student ID. You scanned it as you reached the main entrance, and with a soft ding, the door opened up, letting you enter. You placed the card back into your brown bag, making your way towards the science building.

Microbiology at nine in the morning hopefully wouldn't be too bad; you had the professor in the past, and you believed you had a good bond with him. However, syllabus week sucked. Because, like every STEM major could tell you, there was no real syllabus week. It was simply a façade that the professors made up to get the students into class; just so they could begin lecturing and giving out work on day one. And as much as you adored your professor, Dr. Gravitz, you knew that he was the number one offender of this lie of the so-called 'syllabus week.'

You checked your phone screen as you made your way to the door of the science building, letting yourself in: 8:37 A.M. Not too bad. You weren't too early to be considered a try-hard, but not late enough to be stuck with a crappy seat. As you continued to make your way to the classroom, you flipped to your camera, lifting the phone slightly to catch a glimpse of your reflection. You swiped away a stray piece of your hair before deeming yourself presentable and placing the phone into your back pocket.

A couple more steps before you found yourself in front of the classroom door. You peeked into the glass window to see a few seats already taken. Taking a deep breath, you gently opened the door and entered. You ignored all the eyes that had turned to look at you as you made your way into a seat: middle row, one row behind what would be the dead center of the classroom. Close enough to see everything and pay attention while not close enough to be constantly called on or acknowledged by the teacher. You placed your bag on the floor next to you, leaning it against your leg. You could feel the eyes still staring at you, and in a lousy attempt to ignore their lingering gazes, you grabbed your phone to zone them out.

You continued to check your socials as more people came into the room. Ignoring the guys in every chair around her, their staring, and the comments they made with the other guys. You were used to it. You weren't stupid. All sciences were male-dominated fields, and while you wanted to blend in and disappear, that was impossible. You didn't think your style was anything crazy— jeans and a nice shirt or blouse, but that seemed to capture the attention of many. In addition, the makeup and jewelry that you always wore seemed to place the spotlight on you. If it wasn't for your intimidating demeanor (as well as your nasty RBF), you would've been a pretty interesting person.

Instead, you always watched. You preferred it that way. Always being perceived by a bunch of guys that were too cowardly to talk to you. Not that much would have happened if they had. You refused to laugh at their 'jokes' if you didn't find them funny, and the few times you would actually respond instead of ignoring them, you were extremely short. You didn't care too much about making other guys comfortable when they had no issue making you uncomfortable with their staring.

Your eyes remained on your phone until you heard the door swing open. "Good morning, class! How is everyone this morning?" You turned your phone off, turning to face the man, as grumbles of responses passed over the classroom. The professor placed his bag on his chair before pulling out his laptop and attaching the wires to the projector. "You all sound so excited to be here. Alright, while I get this started, can someone pass out the syllabus? How about you?" He pointed at the boy who sat right in front of him, tossing the stack of papers at the end of the desk. That little act was enough to reassure you that you chose a good seat.

The boy passed the papers around, and once he was finished, the projector was displaying the syllabus on the board. "Alright, there are some new faces in here, so I'll introduce myself. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Doctor Lorenzo Gravitz. I'm the head of the biology department. I teach microbiology, obviously, and I'll also teach cell biology, molecular biology, and pathology, and I also conduct research here at the school. Any questions so far?" When no one responded, he proceeded with going over the syllabus, which seemed to be never-ending.

"Alright, if no one has anything to say, then I'll go over the seating chart. The people I put next to you are to be your lab partners for the rest of the semester." Sighs of annoyance could be heard throughout the room. Friends gave each other annoyed looks while the guys around you stole a glance, an almost excited look on their faces. As if being forced to talk to them for the rest of the semester was a blessing instead of a curse. "If there are any issues, you will have to come to me privately, and we'll work something out."

Dear god, how you didn't want a guy lab partner. Ever since middle school, you were forced into the male lab groups and were stuck doing all the work, grabbing all the materials, and all the clean-up. So that they could take credit for all of your work and they could get their stuff done before you so they could go goof off. Your eyes swept quickly around the room, noticing the class was almost all guys. Only two other girls were present. A silent prayer kept repeating in her head: 'Please let me be in a group with one of them.'

"Let's start with Miah Rivera. Your partner will be Aisha Kerr." No. No way. You thought you and Dr. Gravitz were cool, but apparently not. He obviously hated you by doing this. And to think you sang his praises to almost anyone who asked you about him. Not anymore, you would— wait, did he just say your name? You looked back up at him to notice that other kids had moved their seats so that their partner was next to them. The professor let out a hum before announcing, "Let's partner you up with Peter Parker."

Who?

While you refused to talk to anyone that you didn't know, you were well aware of almost all the people in the classroom. Maybe not their names, but their faces were familiar. Whether it be from past classes, honors college meetings, or research and presenting, you recognized everyone in the room. Except for the name 'Peter Parker.' He had to be fake; who gives their child a name with that much alliteration? The guy next to you got up, giving her a forlorn look before moving to a different seat. He was quickly replaced with a different man, who avoided your gaze.

The professor continued to rattle off names, as you kept your gaze on him. You knew it was creepy, but he was pretending as if you didn't even exist. Maybe he was shy, or maybe he was snobby. Maybe he was annoyed that he had to work with a girl for the entire semester. You wouldn't know unless you talked to him, right? It's not hard at all. All you had to say is 'hey', tell him your name, and ask for his. But Dr. Gravitz already said his name, so is that stupid? But to not ask for his name was rude. You're going to seem stupid to him, and then the rest of the semester is going to be so awkward, and god, was this dumb—

"Hey." You surprised yourself as the words slipped out before you could stop yourself. He turned slightly to look at you before you continued, telling him your name and slightly raising your hand for him to shake. He looked at your bandaged hand, his gaze softening slightly before he gently shook your hand.

"I'm Peter Parker."

"Nice to meet you." You smiled at him. "What year are you?"

"I'm a senior, you?" Their hands separated, and he turned more towards you, leaning in so that the two could whisper as the professor continued his list.

"I'm a sophomore." His eyes widened as he looked you up and down briefly.

"Sophomore? I thought you needed to be a junior or senior to take this class," he questioned.

"I got a lot of prerequisites done when I was in high school. Took a lot of AP classes, so they let me take it now," you paused. "Honestly, I'm kind of intimidated by the idea of being the youngest in here. I don't want to look stupid." That and being one of the few girls put more pressure on you to prove that you belonged there.

He shook his head, "Don't worry about it. Microbio isn't as hard as everyone makes it up to be, especially with Dr. Gravitz. This class will be an easy A." He offered a small smile before turning back to the professor who now stood back at his desk.

"If any of you have noticed, in addition to your syllabus, I have provided the notes for today's lecture. After I finish these notes, we'll take a brief break before making sure we have everything prepared for our lab next time we meet." He nodded to himself before looking back at his presentation slide. "Today we'll start with a brief explanation of microbiology as well as some brief history…"

An hour had passed from the beginning of his teaching to grabbing all the materials needed for the lab and placing them into individual drawers that were locked. A disposable lab coat, Bunsen burner, flint spark lighter, wax pencil, blotting paper, and all the like. Once all the materials were checked off, the lab safety paper had to be signed, and then everyone was free to leave.

You stayed behind a bit, letting others turn in the paper first before giving in your own. You took this opportunity to take in the appearance of the boy next to you (who was too busy burrowing through the objects in his drawer to notice): slightly messy, mousy brown hair that swept over his hazel eyes, his long eyelashes— that guys always seemed to have but truly didn't know how to appreciate them— his checks have a roundness to them while still having a slight prominence of a cheekbone there. Her eyes moved over to his nose, taking in the curvature of its prominent arch. You let her gaze lower to his jaw, angular in a natural way— compared to the botched Botox, a mewling-looking jaw that almost every guy seemed to support nowadays.

You stood up abruptly. You had been staring for way too long, in a creepy stalker-ish way. In the way that some of the other guys in this class had done to you. The same ones you detested for staring agape at you, and yet here you were doing the same thing. You tossed your bag over your shoulder, quickly snatching your paper off the desk. You saw two boys standing at Dr. Gravitz's desk, one you recognized as the boy who initially sat next to you and the other from your genetics class the year prior. You had quickly made up your mind to toss the paper down, saying a quick 'Have a nice day' to the professor before leaving this place as soon as possible. A simple plan. Truly foolproof.

"Ah, there you are! I was wondering what was taking you so long." Dr. Gravitz turned his full attention to you, completely ignoring the two boys who were talking to him first.

You tossed him a smile, handing the paper to him: "Sorry about that. Just wanted to make sure everything was there and in order." The professor returned your smile; his eyes seemed to shine with an unknown tint.

"All is well. I just wanted to see if you would be available to start research with me tomorrow? After one pm of course." He questioned.

"Yeah, that works for me." You were aware of the new presence of a boy that lurked next to you. Dr. Gravitz reached out, accepting the paper from Peter Parker. He went to thank the boy before you cut him off, overwhelmed by the situation. "Okay, great, I'll see you tomorrow." You started to make your way to the door, ignoring the eyes that followed you. You grabbed the handle before turning to face the figures at the desk. "Have a nice day, Dr. Gravitz"— your eyes met his, before meeting Peter's gaze against your will— "You too, Peter." You swung the door open after hearing them return your niceties, exiting the room.

Maybe syllabus week wasn't too bad.

"Bro, what the hell? She talks?" As the door slowly closed, you could hear the guy that originally sat next to you announce to his friend.

"Yeah! Just not to you, loser."

Never mind. Syllabus week still sucks.

[celestialrosesgarden]

Silk Threads [SPIDER-MAN X READER]

Word Count: 1.6K

Chapter One: New York State of Mind

    The city was not made for everyone. While almost every person claimed they had a 'New York state of mind' after visiting just once, only a certain kind of person can truly capture New York's real essence. The hustle and bustle of the city was exciting for the few hours of a trip to Times Square and Central Park, but day after day could break a person down. Not to mention the current uptick in crime that began a few years ago and seemed to be getting worse with every passing day. The city was not made for the weak; the tourists only experienced the glitz and glamour, while every true New Yorker was forced to face the bad and ugly that the city provided.

  This led to where you are right now. The first day of classes of your sophomore year of university was complete; the biggest issue of your day should be the pile of work you had already accumulated, yet you had found yourself in a worse predicament. A scoff left your lips as you shoved yourself past the group of tourists that had decided to stand in the middle of the sidewalk discussing God-knows-what. Formalities that normally slipped past your lips had been retired in the first couple of weeks of your freshman year. Either people would not respond, or if they did, the person would harass you— men, no matter their age, took your niceties as flirting and tried to take advantage of the situation. The weirdos and jerks overruled the few nice, genuine people that roamed the city, and 'excuse me' became less frequent.

  However, none of that matters right now. All that mattered was getting back to your apartment as soon as possible, knocking out your work as quickly as possible so that you could cook an easy dinner and watch a movie to unwind from the long day. This feat was starting to seem almost impossible, and despite your fast walking, the path back home was taking far too long. If it weren't for the singular earbud in your ear playing one of your favorite songs at a soft tune, she would have freaked already. Peering through the dark screen of your sunglasses, you quickened your pace at the sight of her apartment building.

  Almost there, just a few more minutes.

  You readjusted the backpack that was starting to slouch off your shoulders; your fingers had barely run over the cloth of the straps before you were shoved to the ground. A hooded figure darted away; a brown backpack (your brown backpack) held tightly in his grasp. The crowd around you parted, quickly trying to get out of his way.

  The city was not made for the weak, and today was proof of that. Despite living here for over a year, at the end of the day, you would never be strong enough to deal with the catcalls, the hustle, the tourists, and as of right now, the crime. You glanced up from your position on the hard concrete to see a young teen with a phone in hand recording you— and to rub salt into the wound, he was sporting an 'I love NY' t-shirt. Man, how you hated this city.

  "You know, it's rude to take other people's things."

  Your head snapped in the direction of the voice, the crowd furthering its spread more as this newcomer dropped down from the air. The thief froze at the sight of the masked vigilante rising from a crouched pose.

  "Besides, that bag does not match you at all." He turned to the pedestrian next to him and leaned towards him. "Totally not his color," he shook his head.

  The thief seemed to collect his bearings, quickly whipping out a knife from his pocket: "Back up, I'm not joking around! I'll—" he jutted the knife towards the blue and red spandex-donned man, causing the people around him to back up— "I'll stab you! Just let me go."

  Spider-Man raised his hands as if to surrender. "Is that a knife? Is that a real knife?" He lowered himself to the ground, before raising his hands back up as if to defend himself. "My weakness. Small knives. Anything but knives!"

  The thief stood there perplexed, consequently lowering his knife. Spider-Man quickly raised his hand, and with a thwip, the hand holding the knife adhered to the wall behind him with the webbing.

  "Hey! Let me go!" The thief raised his other hand to pull off the webbing. With another thwip, the other hand was stuck. The man continued to struggle, yelling out obscenities. The masked vigilante turned his back to the petty thief to face the civilians that surrounded him. He raised his hand so that his thumb was pointed to said criminal over his shoulder in a 'get a load of this guy' type of manner. He then webbed both his legs. He turned before raising his hand so that his index finger lay over his mouth to 'shh' him and webbing his mouth shut.

  He walked over to the thief, plucking your backpack up off the ground and carrying it over to your figure that was still sitting on the floor— as he walked over, he pointed to the kid in the t-shirt that was still recording the fiasco. "Hey kid, why don't you call the police for me?" All the kid could muster up was a quick nod before stopping his recording to call. It wasn't until he stood right before you that you finally snapped out of your daze. "Need a hand?"

  Your mouth remained agape for a second before grabbing his outstretched hand. He pulled you up in one swift motion, and a slight pain ran across your palm up to your wrist. Perhaps he was able to see the rapid wince on your face, as he gently turned your hand over to observe the palm. "Looks like you took a pretty bad fall. Make sure you clean these cuts well and patch them up." He turned his head back up to you, those big white blobs of eyes staring back at you. When seconds passed with no response, he tilted his head slightly: "You good? You didn't hit your head, did you?"

  You yanked your hand out of his grasp, all thoughts returning back into your head. "Yes, no. I mean—" you slightly backed up from his tall stature, which seemed awfully close to you— "Yes, I'm good, and no, I didn't hit my head. And I'll get these hands all cleaned up once I get home." Those white eyes of his seemed to widen at her frantic words, but to your relief, he did not comment on it.

  He raised the brown backpack into your view, "I think this is yours." You nodded, grabbed the bag, and jumped at the sound of applause around them. Despite the crowd being there for the whole situation, you seemed to forget about their existence until now. Your first run-in with the masked vigilante in your time living in the city seemed to startle you more than anticipated. You always assumed any run-in with him would be as a bystander, not the victim. "Honestly, are you alright?"

  You quickly turned your head back to him. "I'm so sorry. I've never been in a situation like this before, and frankly," a slight laugh slipped past your lips, "I'm overwhelmed, to say the least. Sorry, by the way, for all the staring. I'm not like this normally."

  He laughed, leaning his head back and placing both hands on his hips. "Oh, trust me, I'm used to it. I have that effect on people," he tossed you a wink, causing a genuine laugh to arise. You covered your mouth with your hand and slightly shook your head. Well, wasn't he humble?

  "Thank you, by the way. I need this bag, but I feel like if he got away, he really wouldn't be happy with what's in here." Spider-Man did that little head tilt again, and his eyes slightly squinted. "All I've got in here is my laptop and my organic chemistry notes and homework. He would've been so pissed."

  He laughed; head tossed back. "Honestly, I don't know what he was expecting out of a backpack other than schoolwork. But no need for thank you, it's all in a day's work for your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man." He looked down at you before looking at the ground, stopping low to grab something. He straightened his back before holding the items out, "I believe these are also yours."

  In his hand lay your earbuds and sunglasses, which must have fallen off when you were shoved. You grabbed both, placing the sunglasses on top of your head and putting the earbud into its case. You looked back up at him, eyes softening, and gently spoke: "Thank you."

  He seemed to almost respond before the sound of a siren cut him off. "Well, that's my cue. Just talk to the police real quick about what happened, and you can go. And try to stay out of trouble." You nodded before turning to peer at the blinding flashing lights from the cop cars that seemed to be getting closer. You lowered your glasses back onto your face to help ease the pain of the bright lights, before turning back to the masked hero.

  "Got it. I think I can manage that; thank you again." You looked into those reflective big white eyes of his mask and watched as he turned his head. He raised his hand, and with a thwip, he shot a web onto a nearby building.

  He turned back, and you waited for his words— as if he would say the most groundbreaking, life-changing words to you. "Nice shades." And with that, he was off, swinging from building to building until he disappeared out of sight. What a bizarre day. New York City was definitely not made for the weak.