Spider-Man Imagines I

It's Too Cliche (Part One) | Peter Parker [TH]

Peter bid Aunt May goodbye before leaving for school, the sunrise over Queens a soft mixture of early morning orange and late night blue. He put his earbuds in and headed quickly for the bus, scarfing down a granola bar on the way.

With one of his favorite songs playing in his ears and a Spanish vocabulary list memorized in his head, Peter assumed that today was going to be a good day. He was going to hang out with Ned, a Harry Potter movie or two, and a couple of sandwiches from Delmar's after school - and after some crime fighting. Overall a normal, easy day.

As soon as he thought that, sending Ned a quick text as a reminder, he felt his spidey sense start to tingle. Buzz. Buzz. He groaned, his head falling back as he listened for a brief moment. If he was lucky, it would be something easy, like a kid lost in a crowd or an old man too afraid to cross the street alone.

He was already darting off towards an alley when he heard a woman's scream, clear as day.

...

You groaned loudly as you were thrown against a dumpster, feeling your forehead collide with the lid. Gross and also ow, you thought, falling on your back, your elbows scraping against a metal fence.

Your attacker - also, who the heck attacks someone in plain daylight? - wasted no time to grab you by your backpack straps and lift you up, carelessly slamming you against the fence.

"Stay still, cutie, and let me get what I want," a voice said. The breath smelled stale and like old cigarettes. You grimaced at the smell, hearing the main part of your backpack open. He tore through your new notebooks and folders, cursing when he came up empty handed. He moved on to the next pocket. Calmly, you fished around in the pocket of your sweats for the tiny bottle of pepper spray you kept.

Moving your fingers at a snail's pace, you knew he was tearing into the final section of your backpack, where your wallet was. If he got to it, he would take the three twenties you had inside and you could say goodbye to the three books you'd been meaning to purchase this weekend.

The man chuckled. No doubt he had his grimy fingers on your wallet now. "Well look what we've got-"

"You know, the easiest way to make some cash is to get a job," a new voice said, much younger than the cigarette smoking weirdo pinning you against the fence. "That way doesn't result in getting tossed in the slammer."

You peeked over the guy's turned head and saw a suit of red and blue. You snorted slightly. So Spider-Man was real. Your step cousin wasn't bluffing.

He stepped forward. "Now, I'm gonna have to ask you to hand over this young-"

"Keep moving, junior," you grumbled.

"Lady," he finished. Despite not seeing his face, you could sense the defeat. "But you - aren't you - a damsel in distress?"

You nearly scoffed at the term. "I'm a damsel," you continued, pulling out your pepper spray, "I'm in distress... I can handle this. Have a nice day." Then you sprayed the man in the face.

He roared in pain, eyes screwing shut and hands flying to his face, allowing you to finally breathe without his body against you. You released a breath and sucked in some clean air.

You closed your backpack. "Well, thanks for the distraction, Spider-Boy."

"S-Spider-Man," stuttered the masked hero.

"Right," you said. "Thanks. Are you gonna call the cops or am I?"

"Don't matter," he mumbled. You shrugged and put your backpack on your shoulders, walking around the two. "Hey, wait! Are you sure you're okay? You don't want me to walk you to wherever you're going?"