requested! thank you.
content: suggestive tension, flirting, superpowers, reader as spider-powered hero, mutual attraction, mild teasing.
you don’t become a hero on purpose.
one moment you’re a regular girl with a strange sense of danger and an even stranger pull toward tall buildings, and the next, you’re clinging to the side of a skyscraper like gravity personally gave up on you. enhanced strength. sharpened reflexes. webs shooting from your wrists as easily as breathing.
your body adapted before your brain could catch up.
the media was fast, of course. they always are.
spider-girl spotted in brooklyn.
new vigilante swings through manhattan.
you never bothered correcting them.
that’s how you end up on a rooftop in new york at two in the morning, suit half-zipped, mask off, cooling down after a long night—
when the sky suddenly ignites.
orange light spills across the concrete, heat brushing your skin seconds before he lands.
“wow,” a voice says, amused and way too confident. “you know, most people wait for an introduction before staring like that.”
johnny storm touches down like he owns the skyline—fire crawling lazily over his shoulders before fading away, like a trick he’s done a thousand times. blond hair a mess, grin bright and shameless, eyes already locked on you with interest.
you know him instantly. everyone does.
“okay,” you say slowly. “either i’m hallucinating, or the fantastic four just crashed my rooftop.”
he laughs, delighted. “crashed is such a strong word. i prefer graced.”
you snort despite yourself. “you’re literally on fire.”
“occupational hazard,” he shrugs. “johnny storm. human torch.” a beat. “but again—most people already know that.”
you tilt your head, studying him openly now. “yeah. hard to miss.”
his grin sharpens. “and you are…?”
he likes that. you can tell.
his gaze flicks over you—not leering, but curious. calculating. the kind of look that clocks danger and attraction at the same time.
“you’re the spider one,” he says. “the internet’s obsessed with you.”
“the internet has too much free time.”
“true,” he agrees. “still—wall-crawling, webs, disappearing before anyone gets a good look at you? mysterious.” he leans back on his heels. “people eat that up.”
you cross your arms. “do you flirt like this with everyone you meet on rooftops?”
“only the hot vigilantes,” he replies easily.
the heat between you isn’t just his powers. it’s the way your bodies naturally mirror each other—your stillness against his restless energy. your focus against his reckless charm.
your fingers flex without thinking, webs twitching beneath your gloves.
“that’s… impressive,” he says, voice dipping just slightly. “not gonna lie.”
“you’re staring,” you point out.
“yeah,” he admits. “i do that.”
sirens wail somewhere below, distant and unimportant.
for a moment, it’s just the two of you. the city holding its breath.
“so,” johnny says, rocking on his heels. “you working solo, or are you allergic to teams?”
you smirk. “depends. you always recruit like this?”
“only when i think it’ll work.”
you step closer—not enough to touch, but enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. his flames don’t spark, don’t flare. they respond instead, like they’re paying attention.
his smile slows. softens.
“careful,” he murmurs. “hang around me too long, you might get burned.”
you shoot a web past him, launching yourself backward into the night. upside down, suspended in midair, you call back—
“careful, torch. spiders like it hot.”
his laughter follows you across the skyline, bright and unbothered.
and somehow, you already know—
this won’t be the last time he finds you.
or the last spark you feel when he does.
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© lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.
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