Marvel Imagines

Warning: violent themes, attempted assault

     You shivered in the cool night air of Queens, clutching at your phone tightly. You were on your way home from your night shift at the hospital, where you worked hours for community service, because you were attempting to get a medical degree. It had been your biggest dream since childhood; there were so many injured people out there, and you so desperately wanted to help them.

     "Hey, sweetheart," a gruff, slurring voice called out from an alleyway. "What's a pretty girl like you doing all alone?"

     You only quickened your pace, breathing deeply and keeping your gaze glued to the cracks in the pavement. Just ignore him, you told yourself reassuringly.

     "Hey!" The man called out again, much more closer. His hand landed on your shoulder and you froze, terrified. "I was talking to you!"

     His fingers dug into your skin as you let out a fearful cry, attempting to wrench yourself away. "Let go of me!"

     He chuckled, and the foul odor of alcohol filled your nose. "Young girls like you shouldn't be all alone this late at night," he murmured lowly, wrapping a hand around your waist, entrapping both arms in his grasp. The cold edge of a knife brushed your throat, and you cried out, struggling.

     "Go ahead and scream all you want," he sneered, fingers fumbling for his zipper. "No one will care, even if they hear you."

     "Help!" You shrieked, kicking out, "help! Anyone, please!"

     "Let go of her," a new voice intervened, "before I make you."

     You caught a brief glimpse of the famed vigilante of Queens, hanging from an intricate thread of webbing. His voice was steely, and the man released you as though you were on fire, more than aware of who the masked person was.

     "Thank you," you gasped out, taking in deep, shuddering breaths, "thank you."

     Instead of merely nodding in acknowledgement and swinging off as you had thought he would, he dropped down from his perch, approaching you cautiously.

     "Are you alright?" He questioned, hands out to signify his lack of evil intent. You eyed him warily before nodding reluctantly, shivering, though the cold had nothing to do with it.

     "Thank you," you repeated, "I don't know what might have happened if you hadn't stopped him."

     "Did he hurt you?" He asked, gazing at you in concern, looking you over.

     You paused, surprised to hear his voice sound so...youthful. He sounded just about your age, though his height far surpassed yours.

     You blinked, flushing when he tilted his head, confused by your lack of reply. "I-I don't think so. He had a knife, but I don't think he cut me."

     The masked hero examined your neck, clearly unconvinced. He removed his glove, the pads of his fingertips brushed against your skin, grazing the surface lightly.

     "I think you might be bleeding," he said, panicked. You winced at his touch, reaching up as well. You felt a small cut, just barely there, though your finger did come away speckled with drops of blood.

     "It's alright," you murmured quietly, "it's just a small cut. It's not too serious."

     "Are you sure? You might want to go to a hospital." He said doubtfully.

     You smiled slightly, rummaging about in your bag for a piece of gauze or a bandage. "I'm okay, I promise. I work at a hospital."

      "But if it makes you feel better," you smiled, "I'll put a bandage on."

     "Yeah, you probably should." He agreed, laughing. You hesitated at his laughter, staring at him curiously.

     "What's your name?" He asked you, when the last dregs of laughter had faded away, leaving behind an awkward silence.

     "Uh-(Y/N)." You answered, forcing down the smile that was creeping up your mouth. "What's yours?"

     He only laughed once more as he raised his arm to the sky, another strand of webbing shooting out and attaching itself to the top of the building.

     "I'm Spiderman."