[Silk X (m) Reader!] Cupid's Web

Elevate

Your first reaction to the officer was to protest this course of action, perhaps throw in a quip or two in between... but when his ears elongated and his skin went full pumpkin-green, you decided that your fists should do the talking without the humor.

You webbed his hand, wielding the gun just after he fired his first shot. The bullet sailed somewhere behind and (hopefully) landed without injuring anyone. Now that the goblin-officer was disarmed, you slingshot yourself forward, landing a balled fist squarely into his nose. It felt pulpy as his face connected with your knuckles.

Unlike Hob Goblin, this guy went flying and didn't didn't get up. "Oh, %#!$... hope THAT didn't kill him. I didn't hold back."

Silk grabbed and yelled at you. "Midnight! What are you doing?! That was a police officer!"

  "I didn't know NYPD was hiring from the Goblin Nation," you counter. "That guy nearly shot me, Silk!"

Her eyes darted to the limp body in the street. "Did you kill him?"

You followed her gaze. "I did not hit him too hard," you lied.

In song of your comment, the goblin moaned in pain about a block down the street. Silk looks at you, and you shrug. "Need I say more?"

Silk seemed to want to say more, but the sirens were coming in to prevent anything from her mind from coming out. She shook her head and pointed a finger at you. This time, none of the webs came out to stick you. "Look-wise, kid. We're about to have an interesting conversation with the law enforcement... assuming they are, anyway."

It kind of bugged you whenever Silk referred to you as "kid" since you were older than her, despite it being just a few days. Your senses dull, and you exhale, leaving your lungs deflated. The weight of the actions before lays on your shoulders. You hadn't exerted yourself like that in forever. Even your screw-up in the sewers didn't force you to spit out so much energy in such little time. Behind the eyepieces of your mask, you lazily let your mind wander as you explore Silk's figure. You wonder if she's had to worry about soreness or inability to keep up in prolonged engagement. Her brown eyes are watching the flash of red and blue lights, either not noticing your fixed position or choosing not to mention it.

Finally, you looked away and placed your hands on your hips. Sharing the directional gaze with Silk. "I am doing the talking?" You cough.

  "Yessir," she sing-songs.

...

...

Your alarm clock is destroyed in an instant when it sounds beeping. Your webs are as solid as a rock as it slammed into it, breaking the plastic and circuit body in one second. You curse as you fix your belt and adjust your web-shooters on your wrist. You pluck the webbed mess on your side table and throw it in the trash. Truth be told, you don't know why you had a clock— you had a smartphone and usually woke up to the sun shining in your face in the morning anyway. It wasn't much of a loss.

Last night, the conversation with the police was interesting, especially since you had to plead your innocence as soon as they stepped out of the car. Apparently, pointing at a webbed uniformed cop wasn't a good way to introduce yourself to law enforcement. You supposed you couldn't blame them, but at the same time, was it necessary to try to handcuff you?

On your way out, you saw yourself in a mirror near your apartment door exit. Despite the long days and short rests, you maintained a decent appearance. The magical wonder of radioactive blood was truly inspiring! You exhale. Inspiring maybe wasn't the right word when describing your daily life and night habits.