#spider-man x-reader

I pulled my hair away from my flushed face as if that could help me hear my surroundings better. A static sparked from my cell phone. I picked the phone up, holding up to my ear. "We've got 10-56 on Smokey Avenue right on the corner. Two men, tall stature, not sure what their intentions are," the woman said.

A smirk rose on my face at the sound of the officer's voice. I didn't hesitate to hop down from the fire escape, using my abilities to glide through the crisp air of New York city. The sight of Smokey Avenue came into view. My feet landed softly behind the two burly men.

They stuffed their black duffle bags from the machines aligning the sides of the room. The two criminals wore black masks. I cleared my throat to gain their attention. "Not sure if stealing is a good thing to add to your reputation," I spoke with my hands resting on my hips.

Each of them jerked their heads to me. With the white light casting a shadow on each of their faces. I could hear the sound of sirens commence, getting closer towards Smokey Avenue. I wiggled my fingers in a waving motion. The man with a black and brown leather jacket yanked out the gun from his pocket.

Luckily, I ducked just before the bullet brushed against my shoulder; ripping the thin hem of my sleeve. I hissed in pain and stepped to the left. He swung his arm, hitting my cheek. I fell to the ground with a grunt. Using my telekinetic powers, I was able to pull the men away from the machines.

The green orb was transformed into a thick sage green rope. It wrapped around the men, preventing them from escaping through the double doors. I knelt in front of the two of them with a victorious smile sitting on my face.

"Didn't your mothers tell you not to shoot someone?"

I stood up from the tiled flooring of the bank just as I heard the police sirens getting closer. I was able to escape through the back door of the bank. The wind continued to hit my bare skin, cooling me down from the fight. Instead of going to my house, I flew down to my best friend's townhome which was on the same street as mine.

Peter was sitting at the desk with his chin resting on the palm of his hand. His laptop was sitting in front of him, displaying our Chemistry assignment. I reached up and knocked on the window with my free hand that wasn't covering the bullet graze. My best friend since diapers trailed his focus away from his laptop

His smile dropped at the sight of the bruise underneath my eye including my hand on my left shoulder. Peter slid open his bedroom window, helping me inside. "Greetings, spider-boy," I cheered. Peter chuckled and brought me over to the bathroom which was attached to his bedroom. He searched for the first-aid kit.

"Right cabinet, towards the back," I said.

Peter gave me a thumbs up and finally found the red and white first-aid kit. He stood beside me as I sat on the counter, my legs swinging back and forth. Instead of asking me what happened, all he did was reassure me about the cuts and bruises.

I tried pulling down the sleeve of my suit but was stopped by Peter setting his hand on mine. He gave me a pointed look and waved my hand away. Peter ignored the glare I sent him. He pulled the zipper down. I shivered at the feeling of his fingers brushing against my skin.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of us as Peter tended to the graze. It didn't appear to be fatal. "How deep is it?" I inquired, stealing a look at my friend's intense expression. He dabbed the dried blood away to clean it up. "You should be fine, just a graze," he replied.

He reached into the kit to pull out the needle and medical thread, a procedure that my mother taught us. I cursed in pain when he began stitching the wound. My hand grasped Peter's opposite hand as I breathed deeply. He looked up at me with a worried expression. I reassured my friend and motioned for Peter to continue.

My best friend finished up stitching the bullet graze then set a white bandage on top of it. He pulled my suit's sleeve up, fixing the back zipper. "Appreciate it, Pete," I thanked. "Just returning the favor," he responded. Peter wrapped an arm around my shoulders and helped me off the counter. He led me over to his bed, letting me sit on the edge.

Peter looked through the drawers of his dresser to try and find some clothes for me to change into. I leaned against the wall behind his bed, stretching my legs out. When Peter and I were in gym class Missy had gone up to me, asking if Peter and I were together, of course I said no.

"You didn't happen to hear what Missy was saying? At the gym," I questioned.

He looked up from the dresser when he found the t-shirt and shorts. Peter shook his head in response then sat down on the leather swivel chair. I nodded my head as he handed me the clothes I had once left.

"Okay, okay. Good," I said. Peter played with a pencil beside him, taking off the pink eraser's crumbs. "Was-was I supposed to?" he asked.

"I mean, no, it's just. What she said was kinda weird," I replied, shrugging. Peter leaned back in his chair with furrowed brows. The back of his chair hit the edge of the organized and clean desk. "What, kinda weird?" Peter asked. I hit my lip and shrugged again while my eyes were fixated on the hardwood flooring of the bedroom.

Funny little lines and shapes were on the middle of the floor boards, different shades of browns on scattered about them as well. I swung my feet back and forth with them brushing up against the rug that a was underneath Peter's bed.

"Oh, you know, just questioning if we were together," I said, chuckling nervously.

Peter set the short yellow pencil into the mason jar beside his computer. "That is weird," he said, putting emphasis on the word 'is'.. "Yeah, you could say that," I replied. An uncomfortable silence grew between the two of us with him asking what I said, and me responding with 'I told her no'.

He said 'okay' as a response and grew quiet yet again, his cheeks turning a dark shade of pink. Peter closed his laptop, sliding to the back and plugged it into it's charger. I glanced down at the clothes neatly folded in my lap, consisting of a blue NY Mets t-shirt and a pair of grey basketball shorts.

I usually left a pair of clothes over at Peter's just in case I needed to stay over for things like this. "I should probably get changed," I spoke as I carefully stood up from my friend's messy comfortable bed. Peter looked up from his desk, seeing me stumbling over to the bathroom door.

"Do you need help?" he asked, stopping me from approaching his bathroom.

"What?"

"Getting dressed. Cause of your stitches," Peter pointed to my left shoulder. My mouth curled into the shape of an 'o'. He insisted on helping, referring to the fact that we've known each other since we were in diapers; and that there wasn't anything else that we haven't seen.

He took ahold of the blue baseball shirt and stepped over to me. I set my messy hair to the side, allowing him access to the zipper on the upper part of my suit. The suit fell to my knees. He helped me with the t-shirt. "I think I should be fine for now," I claimed. "Yeah, yeah. You do that," he said, waltzing over to the desk chair.

I pressed my lips into a thin line and quickly made my way over to the bathroom. It took me a bit to put the shorts on, but soon reached success. When I walked out of my friend's bathroom, Peter was now sitting back at his desk. "Got you a bag to put your suit in," he directed to a brown grocery bag on his bed.

I thanked him and stuffed my suit into the plastic bag. The door to his bedroom suddenly opened up, revealing Uncle Ben. Me and Peter turned to the source of the sound. "Hey, Peter, dinner's re-" Uncle Ben stopped himself, opening the door. I finished putting my green and black suit into the bag and looked up at the man.

"Oh, Y/N. I didn't know you were here," Ben said, "Staying for dinner?" I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Peter. "Yes, she is," he cut me off.

Uncle Ben pointed to the bruise underneath my right eye. Peter and I exchanged a look, he motioned for me to think of something convincing. "Oh! Got hit in the head by a textbook. You know how big those Literature textbooks are," I lied, terribly.

Ben looked at me questionably then dropped the subject. He told the two of us that dinner will be ready soon. Mr. Parker added that he and May had made an extra plate for me, just like they always did.

Peter removed his focus from the door and back to me. His brows raised when he thought about my response to his uncle's question. "Got hit by a textbook?" he repeated, "Thought you were good at lying." I rolled my eyes and ran my hands through my hair.

"Oh shut up, spider-boy," I remarked, pushing passed him to go downstairs.