Chapter 1.

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 ( Otto Octavius x female! reader. Based on the movie 'Spiderman 2'.

I noticed there wasn't many Otto fics on wattpad, so here's one more lmao.

This fanfic is also posted on Ao3. My ao3 name is devotedtoafrozenheart )

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Your trench coat was lifesaving, in this situation.

You were currently standing on the college campus for the very first time, and you had no clue what you were doing. It was a bright and sunny day, a Monday, your very first day of college classes. People were milling about all around you. Some people were laughing, old friends catching up for the semester, and professors rushing off to attend their morning classes.

You observed the unfolding scene with a sad smile, wrapping your trench coat tighter around your body.

You had to do this because of your wings.

Protruding from your back, in between your shoulder blades, were a pair of large, feathered wings. Like the wings of a dove. The wings of a religious angel. Impossibly white wings. Beautiful wings.

You had always carried these wings, ever since you were small. When you were little they had only been tiny shrubs, a small dent poking out from your back. But now you were twenty and your wings were fully grown, white, feathered, flexible wings. Wings that allowed you to fly, even.

Humans were not supposed to have wings. In any way. Shape. Or form. Only birds. Only birds were special. You hadn't been born with the beak, or the sharp claws, only the beautiful wings.

In fear of being screamed at, harassed, or kidnapped for a sketchy government experiment – you had always kept your wings hidden from public view. Thus - Why you were wearing a heavy trench coat during summer. A massively oversized trench coat, the largest size possible.

You swallowed down fear and treaded forward, heading further into the bowels of the college campus.

Today was your first day of classes at Columbia University, and you knew better than to be late. New York was your home. So the constant thrum of people wasn't unexpected, but as always, it was hard to process. You entered the main building of rooms, a large satchel swinging up against your hip.

You had never worn a proper bag in your life, the weight was uncomfortable against your delicate wings.

The year was 2004, basically the first proper year of your life.

No more high school. No locker rooms. Actual adulthood. Today? College classes.

Keeping your head down you tried not to bump into anyone, lest they somehow feel the distinct shape of your wings. That would take a lot of explaining. Not a good look, for your first day.

The hallway was jam-packed, absolutely full, and you moved with painstaking precision, more so than anybody else currently on Earth. Your wings were large and pure white, like your genes had been biologically mutated with a dove. You were, in all terms, a genetic freak, you didn't want anyone to know about that fact.

Only your parents knew, and two of your very closest friends. So. Four people.

You checked your university map, looking for directions to your auditorium. You turned down a hallway which was emptier and quieter, a lessening of people that made you feel relieved. Crowds were overwhelming. On a whim you approached the nearest door, just hoping at this point that you had found the current room.

You peered into the room, which revealed sprawling math equations written high up on a chalkboard. Also coupled with what looked like high-level science. Well. This couldn't be right. Wrong room.

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