⟡ I prefer to write deeply romantic versions of characters or deeply emotional versions
⟡ I do write yandere/obsessive versions of characters, fluff, angst, smut, OP reader/OC, harem and trios, fight scenes, and headcanons
⟡ I don’t write non-con, dub-con, or “aged up” characters
⟡ I do take requests for characters or scenes
⟡ I will include violence, cursing, substance usage, crime, s-workers, interracial relationships, physical disabilities, mental illness, self destructive and self harming behaviors, various kinks (some more taboo than others), and other subjects in my works, often in extreme detail
⟡ I will not include unnecessary references to domestic violence/abuse, child neglect or abuse, rape, or animal cruelty in my works nor will I depict them in any level of detail that goes beyond the scope of the point or scene I am conveying, however they will be presented and discussed when required
⟡ Anything I see becoming multi-part I will release on my AO3 account, it shares this name
They put all of their secret emotions on display in the bedroom. Let me explain.
It’s always a varied ratio of romantic and rough. The way he kisses you for half an hour until you’re begging him to touch you. His tongue has mapped out your entire mouth before it moves to your neck. You’re cross eyed with lust for him. He can’t get you naked fast enough, and often he doesn’t remove too much of his own clothing because all his focus is on you and your beautiful body. He wants to see you, needs to see you. Warm rough hands roam every inch and caress every curve until you snap and tell him to put his fingers inside you. He lets a chuckle slip out as he obliges you, rough fingers stretching you out pleasantly. He finger fucks you for a while, enjoying the sounds you and your pussy make. He pulls his fingers out occasionally to taste you and tease himself because he’s addicted to your taste. He’d never admit it verbally but it’s clear as day. He finally snaps and starts eating you out, completely ignoring your pleas of it being too sensitive. He wants you to cum until you’re brainless and can only paw at him while muttering nonsense. To see you come undone is his idea of heaven. When he finally relieves you of your emptiness and gives you his dick, it’s a slow stroke that makes you hyper aware of how big he is, you can feel every single aspect of the stretch and the throbbing of his swollen cock inside you. He always grips your jaw and makes you focus, tells you to look at him or if you’re in a position to do so, tells you “watch me stretch out that pretty pussy” and notices how you hesitate before you do as you’re told. That split second of your good nature coming through drives him mad, because he knows he doesn’t deserve to touch something so pure and perfect but he is—you’re letting him feel every part of you and he is going to make sure you never forget it.
Due to my rant about sugar daddy!Kishibe on tiktok… I am halting my other Shishiba fic so I can write about Kishibe buying your love the way an old rich man with nothing to live for would and should.
⭒ tags: fluff for perverts • heavy petting • emotional foreplay • pda • exhibitionist Shishiba • reader is a “honeypot” spy • secret relationship • canonically disabled Shishiba • praise • pleasure d-m Shishiba • mild jealousy and possessiveness
⭒ umm I had no idea how to end this before it got too long lol my bad I may redo the ending but enjoy it for now. I did not proofread this either lol
Shishiba has a fierce set of ethics and rules about how he performs in his job. He doesn’t get upset when people close to him die because he knows that’s just the nature of the job. It’d be hypocritical to be upset at death when you kill people for a living. It’d be even more hypocritical to hate experiencing violence when you operate as violently as possible. Any feelings that conflicted with the nature of his work were deemed pointless, selfish, and ridiculous. He threw them away and fulfilled his duties without a shred of insincerity. Or he did before meeting you, anyway.
It’d been a few months since you’d turned him into a hypocrite. He still remembers your first meeting like it was yesterday. The way you sauntered into the Order’s dining room when the chairman gave his cue was burned into Shishiba’s mind. Your dress was pitch black and a perfect fit for your curvy body; accentuating all the right things. Your hair and makeup were flawless—he couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking to your glossy lips as the chairman introduced you.
“She’ll be gathering intelligence from extremely high profile targets that have a weakness for the flesh.”
Suddenly the unbelievable beauty made sense. You’d essentially be used as bait and work in tandem with at least one member of the Order to eliminate targets when you weren’t gathering information. At first he resigned himself to not being able to pursue you at all, but after two missions with you he started convincing himself that something strictly physical wouldn’t be a problem. How shortsighted and stupid of him.
You two have been working your latest target for the last month, a ceo that turned out to be the host of a human auction, and not a second went by where jealousy didn’t try to consume Shishiba whole. Due to his low casualty rate and high discretion you were paired up often and for long stretches of time. He couldn’t bring himself to be rude or cold with you for too long but God knows he tried so hard to resist you in the beginning.
He tried to write you off, figuring your sweet personality and elegant demeanor were manufactured for your job. The more time you spent with him, the more he saw that you were a true natural charmer. In fact, he noticed that the way you speak to your targets and the way you speak to him differed only slightly. You didn’t praise him or stroke his ego in any way and never tried to manipulate his feelings or thoughts. That last part didn’t change when the two of you started fucking either. You weren’t shy about letting him know you enjoyed his mouth when it was clamped around your pussy and would even tell him you thought of him when you took targets to bed. The problem was that you did it so matter-of-factly. As if it should be obvious enough to not need saying that you enjoyed him more than the scumbags. He was desperate for the emotional side of you, even if it was fake.
Every second you spent in the hands of someone else was sandpaper to his soul. Hearing the playback of your intelligence gathering sessions made him want to tear someone apart. Your voice dripped with a cocktail of lust, respect, and adoration made specifically for the target. Flirty giggles punctuated your responses and the subtle, almost chaste physical affections you’d give them to solidify the fantasy often force him to disable the visual feed.
You were never so intentionally emotional with him and he refused to let yet another despicable man enjoy his idea of heaven without experiencing it himself. You came back to the safe house after your latest session with the ceo. Shishiba noticed that your hair was in a different style and your lips were swollen. He couldn’t help but picture you suckling on the fingers and cock of the ceo and had to turn away to hide his reflexive grimace. Your heels clattered against the floor as you slipped them off with a relieved sigh.
“Welcome back,” Shishiba said without facing you, choosing instead to make it seem like he was searching in the near-bare fridge for something. “Anything to report?”
“In three days there will be another auction. Our goal should be to identify the guests—specifically the bidders—and eliminate our current target. If we can set up to probe or eliminate others, that’s a bonus.” Your voice sounded softer than normal with exhaustion leaking through.
“Excellent work. We should go out to eat and celebrate.” Shishiba closed the fridge after coming out empty handed. “There’s nothing to eat here anyway.”
“Sounds good to me. It’ll be nice to spend time with someone who doesn’t make my skin crawl.” You said the last part more to yourself than to him but he saw an opening and took it.
“Such high praise,” he said sarcastically as he walked towards you slowly. He held his left hand out to you—two sleek black prosthetic fingers reflected the soft light—an offering of gentle affection. A code between you two ever since you first came close enough to notice he wasn’t just wearing a half glove. Genuine curiosity and concern for him gave your voice a comforting quality. He didn’t feel weaker or defective under your gaze. You didn’t probe him about how he lost the fingers. He extended his hand and you took it wanting a better look, next thing he knew he was taking off your clothes. Now every night he’s blessed to be inside you begins this way.
He nuzzled his face into your neck while his left hand interlocked yours and his right snaked around your waist. Your scent flooded his nostrils, your perfume an intoxicating mixture of sandalwood, marshmallow, chocolate, and coffee. Bittersweet and sharp, the best way to describe it and it’s wearer. You whined softly as his lips moved over your neck, soft licks and bites peppered between kisses.
“If you keep this—mhm—up any longer, anywhere decent to eat will close.” You failed to stifle a moan as his hand gripped your ass in the middle of your protest. “Let me shower and we’ll go.” Your right hand had found its usual home in his hair and as you pulled away you cupped his face. He kissed your cheek and shooed you off to the bathroom.
Shishiba gripped your thigh as he drove through the foggy streets. Once you two arrived at the restaurant he was the perfect gentleman, opening doors and pulling out your chair. The change of pace in men was refreshing. Sure, he enjoyed your body but he wasn’t disgusting about it and he wasn’t irredeemable like the men you usually see on the other side of the table. In fact, he was so sweet in secret that he made sugar look like salt. You had decided to order some lily raspberry sake for yourself since you didn’t have to see the ceo again for a few days. Shishiba didn’t think you drank at all, so this made him curious.
“Is it good?” He asked as you lifted the cup from your lips.
“Very, I’ll have to pace myself.”
“Lightweight?”
You gave him a soft “mhm” as you took another sip. Maybe you’d become surprisingly honest and he could ask you to give him exactly what he wanted. You two continued to talk and laugh even on the walk back to the car. It felt like a real date to both of you, but you wouldn’t be the first to admit it. As he opened the car door so you could get in, you ran your index finger across his jaw and gently traced a small circle around his scar. He didn’t want to, but he pulled away from your touch and stared at you hard. The immediate pout you gave him nearly disarmed him though.
“Don’t look at me like that. Someone could see us.”
“Who cares who sees anything?” You locked eyes with him and watched his cheeks turn light pink.
“You’re drunk. Get in the car, please.” You pouted again but complied. He shut the door and got in the driver’s seat. He didn’t reach for the keys or anything—he just stared at the steering wheel for a second. You got nervous that pretending to be more intoxicated than you actually were was backfiring, so you went to tell him but he cut you off with a confession of his own.
“I… Will you talk to me the way you do your targets?” He blurted out but didn’t look at you. Now you feel like maybe you did drink too much.
“What do you mean?” You tiled your head in genuine curiosity and reached out to touch him so he’d look at you.
“You know. The way you talk to them with desire and passion…” He looked like he was asking you to do something so unspeakable. It made you giggle a bit.
“You want me to be sweet to you?” You had a fire building in the pit of your stomach, you let genuine desire coat your throat before you spoke again. “Oh, Shishiba… why didn’t you ask me sooner? You know I’ll do anything you ask me.” You let lust soak every last bit of your speech and his reaction was priceless.
“Yknow… you’re really dangerous.”
That’s all he could manage to say before his lips crashed against yours. Your tongues didn’t dare part before it was necessary. You slid across the bench seat to snuggle into his arm, making sure to gently press your breasts into him. He started the car and drove in the direction of the safe house. He had his right arm around your shoulders, occasionally ghosting his fingers over your neck—he knew that teasing touches really turned you on and the sake wasn’t helping at all.
“Shishiba,” you cooed up at him. “I can’t wait, will you pullover?”
His eyes flicked towards you and then back to the road. His silence was deafening and that intense look on his face made you squeeze your thighs together in hopes of getting some relief. His fingers brushed over your neck and ear again as the car peeled onto the gravel of the roadside. He cut the headlights off and then turned to face you completely. His expression was hard to read. The eyes were still lustful but his telltale smirk was nowhere to be found. You reached for him and he grabbed your hand only to set it down on the seat with his loosely in it. A sigh left him and you could feel rejection threatening to bubble up in you when he finally spoke again.
“You remember the rules we agreed to follow with each other? What’s gotten into you?” He wasn’t actually scolding you but it sure felt like it. You had two options now: answer him seriously or double down on his request.
“Nothing besides you,” you replied while looking at him through your lashes. “Maybe we should change the rules. Or just break them.” You let your fingers dance against the palm of his hand. Everything about you made it hard for him to think rationally. His eyes roved over your face and body with more feelings than he’d ever had before.
“Then let’s start with the one that keeps me from telling you,” In one fluid motion he had a grip on your chin and was running his thumb over your bottom lip. “How beautiful you look when you beg me not to stop.”
He kissed you before you could say anything else. Hands roamed your body hungrily and squeezed away as they traveled to your chest. His words made your entire body hotter than the sake did. You leaned against him and spread your legs more, hoping he’d read your mind. He laughed at your desperation for his touch. He gave you the relief you wanted, slipping his fingers past your panties and swiping them over your clit and folds.
“You’re soaked already. Did you miss me that much?” He chuckled lowly as you moaned in reply. Once he slipped his fingers inside, you knew it’d be a long time before you made it back to the safe house.
OH NOOOOOO I WAS SO EXCITED FOR THE SHISHIBA FIC BUT THEN I SAW YOUR POST, I hope you're doing alright 🥹
I am currently finishing up a Shishiba fic where he’s your ex-bf and you get back together inspired by the song “let you break my heart again” by laufey! 🖤
I have sugar daddy!Kishibe brain worms… I’m lowkey manifesting that for myself but like… that old geezer thinks pretty girls should have pretty things and his emphasis on traditional living is almost all on his ability to afford to keep his woman living like a princess in the cold dark castle he calls his life
Hey y’all, thanks for the love on this already. I’ll have an AO3 account soon so the formatting will get better but bear with me for now. I’m incorporating certain parts of the comics version of Miguel’s powers and the city, so it’s more dystopian cyberpunk and he doesn’t have a spidey-sense.
Premise: Miguel has always felt like an outcast in spider society because of the way he got his powers. But after meeting Saanvi, he’s never felt more proud to be one-of-a-kind.
Pairings+Tropes: OC x Miguel O’Hara, anti-hero x hero, enemies to rivals (it’s complicated) to lovers
Warnings: violence, depictions of alcohol and drug use, adult language, and the objectification of an unconscious Miguel
Here’s the playlist for this story. Songs 3-5 fit this chapter.
Sunlight poking through the blackout curtains of the studio woke Saanvi up gently. The involuntary stretch and yawn felt like heaven after a night asleep at the large L-shaped desk. She pushed the chair back and stood up, noticing the soft blinking notification lights on the idle holo-screen and her cellphone. In a fluid motion she pushed in the chair and grabbed the phone, scrolling down the notification board while making her way through the loft towards the kitchen.
🔘 Jai Drago (3) WHAT ABOUT THE SAMPLES…
🔘 Nekyo (1) What’s in it for me?
🔘 Rordan Hilt (5) I can try to get you some…
🔘 Guavin (1) Sure, but only if you get me…
A smirk played on her lips as she pulled the fridge open with one hand and jammed the phone in a pocket with the other. After breakfast, she called her team to set up a meeting.
***
“So, what are we getting dragged into now?” Nekyo probed the group sarcastically. Chuckles resounded in different voices as they all got more comfortable.
The five of them were all gathered in the basement of Drago’s workshop. They sat around a table with a built in holodex that Saanvi had projecting her research notes.
“I’m going to personally investigate Spider-Man and you’re all going to help me. You know I’ll make it worth your while.” Saanvi smirked.
“When you say investigate… what do you mean exactly?” Drago chimed in, not wanting to lose his best customer.
“I’m going to figure out what kind of beast he is, and then figure out a way to stop him.” Saanvi didn’t want to explicitly tell them that she wanted him dead, that would reveal her fear too much.
“Isn’t he just some buff freak who has a lot of tech? I mean his webbing is neon…” Guavin trailed off to stuff some chips in his mouth, letting crunching sounds finish his sentence.
“I thought that too, until I was in the same room as him during that data pirate job. He’s… like me… but man-made.” Saanvi struggled to choke down the cocktail of disgust and fear that stirred in her as she said that. The only people who knew exactly what she was were sitting in the room with her. Saanvi was from a race of spider demons. They could take human forms, lived well beyond centuries, and spoke what was now a dead language, thanks to Thanos. As a brown recluse, her kind never had large numbers due to their behavior. She was an even more rare creature in the universe now since the destruction of her home world.
“How could you tell?” Guavin grumbled through a mouthful. “I thought it was all a gimmick.”
“Instinct. He reeks like a huntsman and has the size of one, but we all know it’s not possible he was born that way. Someone made him like that, and what if they make more?” Saanvi’s question threw electricity into the air, as if forcing all their minds to imagine an army of those self-righteous pests in the city.
“Okay so what? You’re going to stalk him and then…?” Nekyo piped up. She was already wavering on her interest in this, and Saanvi wasn’t close to convincing her to lending a hand.
“No, I’m not going to stalk him,” Saanvi rolled her eyes hard before cutting them at Nekyo. “I’m going to get close to him, find out who and what gave him those abilities and then…” She searched for the right words. “Get rid of the source and deprive him of them. At the least, he’ll be completely out of our way so we can have our way in the future.”
Now everyone was listening with real interest. A city without Spider-Man’s morality keeping trash alive was a city to smile about. They’d be able to take out their competition and deal with the psychos that terrorize their home permanently. A sigh came from Nekyo that let Saanvi know she would cooperate.
“What’s the plan then?” Rordan finally said something. Always soft spoken, his question finalized the discussion’s move from “convince the group” to “create a play”.
“I can’t see how you’d get him to come out of hiding without making yourself an enemy.”
“It’s easy… I’m going to use his nature against him. When I sensed him, I took to hiding in the vents. I was able to watch him for a bit—he had no idea I was there.”
“He doesn’t have any spider senses?” Saanvi shook her head and Rordan made a note of that, mind immediately running to ways of exploiting it. “We can definitely work around that.”
Their meeting went on for another two hours until their game plan was finalized.
***
Nekyo had cashed in a few favors to get the intel that led to their setup a few weeks later. She found out there was a group of anti-Spider-Man enthusiasts who were planning to use hostages as bait to lure him out and kill him. They made sure that Saanvi would be among those hostages tonight.
In the city’s most prestigious museum there was a gala being held for charity. No doubt those funds were just being recycled back into the rich pockets they came from but that wasn’t uncommon. Saanvi had an invitation and came dressed to the nines. A black form fitting gown that skirted the floor showed off her toned hourglass figure. Matching black heels with a silver ankle strap complimented her jewelry. Her long, dark hair was curled and worn in an elegant updo. As she made her way through the lobby she surveyed the room, noting exits and taking stock of the guests. A familiar voice spoke to her through a nearly-invisible earpiece.
“Their plan should kick off in an hour, feel free to enjoy yourself until then.” Rordan playfully suggested, noting the fact that on his feed from the contacts she was wearing a tall, black haired woman hadn’t left Saanvi’s field of vision. “Try talking to her instead of just staring.” His comment made her face burn, and she took a glass of champagne off a tray held by a nearby waiter. Waiting around in big crowds was never her strong suit. She felt naked without her usual mission gear—she hadn’t done anything like this in over eight years.
The hour passed uneventfully, conversations with the extremely wealthy weren’t interesting at all. However the energy shifted immediately as the opening speaker’s speech took a dark turn announcing that everyone in the museum was now a hostage and how they’d been given poison via the champagne.
How cliche… Saanvi thought, taking another sip of her third glass of champagne. Her resistance to poison making this reveal a non-event. Soon enough, she could hear far-off sirens coming towards the front of the building. First the cops, then the spider… She opened her clutch to look for the weapon that Rordan and Drago had devised for this night. Using an isolate compound from her venom, they devised a perfume that would make their target immobile and a sickness would follow. All she had to do was wait for him to take out the group before spraying herself with it and then haul him off as soon the commotion granted her enough cover.
Everything happened so quickly. Saanvi’s spine tingled with the awareness that her quarry was near. Once he appeared he made quick work of his attackers. His combat abilities were actually impressive to her. As his fight came to a close and cops and emergency responders flooded the scene, she saw her opportunity and gave herself three sprays of the perfume before putting on her best performance of a terrified socialite. She threw herself into him, screaming with fake tears in her eyes.
“You have to get me out of here! I’ve been poisoned! They laced the champagne!” Her hands thumped against his well-muscled chest as dramatically as possible. She watched his mask contort in shock and then turn serious.
“Ma’am please calm down! The EMTs are aware of the situation and they will help you, they already started pumping a neutralizer into the air.” His voice was stern and deep, she noticed a Spanish accent as well. He was grabbing at her wrists and missing each time, his reflexes already affected by the perfume wafting off her chest.
“No you don’t understand! It’s not enough!” Saanvi’s theatrics had her ear piece erupting in giggles from both Rordan and Drago now. She watched as her quarry started to sway on his feet and that was her signal. In a swift motion she pushed him through a set of doors that led to a closed off gallery where they were alone. His body stiffed and he tried to speak but no noise came. The world swirled around him and the floor came up to meet him. Standing over him, sure he was down for the count, she finally spoke to the two men privy to her sight. “Time for extraction. Send a nice car, please.” She removed the contact lens that was streaming her vision and took a long look at the man on the ground beneath her. His body was certainly a marvel, every muscle pushed past normal human standards. He might as well have been made from spun steel, or sculpted from marble. Even unconscious he had a menacing effect on her, like he was made to be aggressively intimidating. His waist was almost impossibly small compared to the broadness of his shoulders. Instinctively she knelt down and reached out to gently touch his face. The mask buzzed to the touch, as if it was full of electricity. She could feel the prominence of his cheekbones and began imagining what he might look like. The arrival of her extraction vehicle shook the images from her mind. She picked him up and threw him over her shoulder, making her way to the car.
“Talk about role reversal,” Guavin snorted a laugh as he watched Saanvi lay the hulking figure down in the back seat. “Where are we dropping him?”
Teaser/chapter 0 for the fic I’m writing since I have Miguel ATSV brain rot and I can’t keep all this good stuff to myself anymore. This wasn’t edited or anything like that so expect possible changes to both the characters and the plot in the future. Okay byeeee! EDIT: I made a playlist to go along with this story, the first 3 tracks accompany this chapter.
Premise: Miguel has always felt like an outcast in spider society because of the way he got his powers. But after meeting Saanvi, he’s never felt more proud to be one-of-a-kind.
Pairings: Original character x Miguel O’Hara, anti-hero x hero, enemies to rivals (it’s complicated) to lovers
Warnings: Violence… and that’s about it for this piece of the story but this list is going to get much longer very quickly.
Driving rain and the slight fog that followed with it brought a neon haze upon Nueva York tonight. A fusion of colors so outstanding that memories of another life were starting to shake off dust in her mind. Flashes of memories from an annual fireworks festival sparked a little warmth in Saanvi’s heart. Less than thirty seconds went by before she snuffed it out, leaving herself icy; instincts sharp and ready. Long, slender fingers on sure hands opened the heavy black case that lay next to her on the rooftop. Satisfaction curled her lips into a small smile as the new and improved rifle looked back at her, gleaming in the neon haze.
Hellooo beautiful, she thought. While assessing all the upgrades, the multi-functional scope and walkable trigger she requested had her grinning maniacally. She made a mental note to give Drago a little more praise for his gunsmithing as she set up a stand in the darkness of the alcove. Cycling through the scope’s options allowed for eight different modes of visibility and detection, with heat-seeking sensors that stood up against even this night’s hellish weather.
Scanning the city for a few minutes allowed Saanvi’s dark eyes to adjust to the new level of detail the scope afforded them. Once her senses were fully immersed, the hunt was on. A den of data pirates had been having way too much fun with the identities of over half the city’s even-remotely-wealthy citizens. Ever the champion of fair play, she was going to bring that fun to an end by leveling their ranks. A glance at the watch face on the inside of her left wrist showed it was just before 02:00 AM. If the intel she scrubbed was accurate, a 12-person heat signature would pop up in less than 60 seconds.
Rifle loaded and ready, she took aim and waited. Intel was good—a warehouse four klicks away lit up with bodies. Once she had a count of twelve, her finger slipped into the trigger guard and onto the trigger in a swift motion. It didn’t leave the trigger until none of them were left standing. Smoke drifting from the barrel caught the light of an ad for aphrodisiacs and coiled pink and red against the shadows of the alcove. A smile cut across her face again as a leap off the building’s edge plunged her into the deluge.
Broken glass and rubble crunched underneath graceful steps as she leisurely filled a bag with data drives, cash, and whatever valuables her victims had stashed away. Once their warehouse was picked to the bones, Saanvi took a few photographs of the scene. Horrific images of bodies that were all bloated and bruising from the new ammunition she and Drago had developed. She knelt down near the worst-looking of the bodies, preparing to take a sample. As she pulled out a small vial and tool kit, the incoming presence of another threat sent her up the wall and into the ceiling’s vent system. Damn… intel must’ve been bad… there’s more of them. Sight limited by the vent grates, alarms went off in her head to escape as she felt the intensity of the aura peaking. There must be at least five more people about to walk into this room. Morbid curiosity won over her senses, so she repositioned herself in the vent to catch a glimpse of the intruders. Footsteps that seemed almost deafening from the intensity with which she listened for them indicated it was only one person. Good strategy, sending a scout. Eyes glued to the vent, she saw a massive silhouette peel around the corner. Her senses flared up at the sight of the figure beneath her: a man standing at least six feet tall, clad in a form-fitting suit that was dark blue with pulsing sections of red. The mask on his face had a menacing symbol on it that seemed to move the way facial expressions would. It started to stir a memory inside of her but an old emotion bloomed before recall could happen. For the first time in years, fear filled Saanvi’s veins. Thoughts only of escape and safety pinging in her mind. Run. Hide. Home. Run. Hide. Home. Go. Her head became a glitched mp3 but she couldn’t take her eyes off this predator. While the hulking figure below spoke in a low, annoyed growl to someone she couldn’t see, she stilled her mind and listened for the sound of pouring rain. The sound that would lead her away from this thing beneath her as fast as possible. Her crawl through the ducts to safety began with bated breath, a silent prayer that finished only after putting two klicks of distance between herself and whatever anomaly was in that warehouse.
Once back on the rooftop where her night began, her body shuddered hard, trying to fight off every feeling of the last few moments. She failed, senses made raw and primal by a hit of animalistic fear. Suddenly she could feel everything—single drops of rain and the chill that was trying to rob her of every last iota of body heat. Memories of another life came to her again, this time in echoes of her mother’s voice bewaring her of those made to be like her but not born as they were. ‘The universe is wide and more wild than our forest. You may meet something made to be even deadlier than you or I.’ The steel in her mother’s voice at that moment wasn’t lost on her then or now.
Saanvi had finally crossed paths with Miguel O’Hara that night. Only she didn’t register him as such. To her, she had come face to face with her mother’s fear made flesh: an unnatural union of arachnid and human.
***
It had been two weeks since that night and the nightmares weren’t letting up. Tonight was no different. Having been woken up by her own fearful thrashing yet again, Saanvi migrated from the bedroom to her studio. A pot of Cuban coffee brewed in the corner, filling the air with a pleasant smell. Fingers rapidly gesturing at holo-screens that were returning more of the same useless information. She knew everyone called him Spider-Man. She knew everyone (or almost everyone) considered him to be a hero. But she wanted more than just news articles and conspiracy theories from bloggers. What she wanted more than anything was to find out what Hell he came from so she could send him back to it. There was only one way to do that where he wouldn’t be pointing his fangs at her. Before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep at her desk, Saanvi had pinged a few connections. By the time the sun shone on the city again, she had unofficially launched an infiltration and intelligence gathering mission against Spider-Man.
