Could you do a peter Parker story where the reader dies you can decide of what I just want a sad death story where peter suffers thanks
I have no idea why you’d want this horrible pain but here you go...
Words: 868
School was finally over for the day, so you and Peter raced out of the classroom, talking and laughing as you went. Both of you were wearing your suits under your outfits, so when you’d left the school and found a nearby alley, the two of you pulled off your clothes and slipped on your masks, grinning at each other.
“Do you want to sit over there today?” Peter asked, pointing over at the rooftop of a tall building. “I checked it out, and it has quite a good view; you can see a lot of the city.”
“Sounds good. Give me a lift?” You asked, and he quickly jogged over to you before wrapping an arm around your waist with a smile. Seconds later, the two of you were flying through the sky, and you were holding onto him for dear life. No matter how many times you did this, it would never cease to make you feel sick. But when your feet were planted firmly back on the ground, you took a deep breath and stepped away from him, before sitting on the edge of the rooftop.
A sense of peace washed over the pair of you as you silently watched the city, exchanging the occasional joke or random comment. Just as you started to consider going home, a scream caught your attention. With a quick glance over at Peter, you followed the sound.
As you got closer, you could see two men pointing their guns at a helpless woman, so you quickly made your presence known.
“It’s rude to steal things, you know.” You hummed, before Peter landed beside you.
“It’s also illegal.” He added, and you nodded, though the men appeared mostly unfazed - they still had the guns, after all. Until seconds later, they didn’t. Peter had shot webbing at both the weapons, and they clattered to the ground somewhere nearby.
“You web ‘em up, I’ll get the girl.” You whispered, before walking over to her and starting to direct her away from the area. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, thank you so much.” She said, before glancing over at the men anxiously, while Peter dealt with them. Hearing a shout from behind you, you tried to rush her out of the alley so you could turn back and help him, but seconds later a familiar tingling sensation ran up the back of your neck, and you stepped closer to her in order to push her away. You saw her hit the wall, and heard a scream. As your mind tried to catch up with what had just happened, you suddenly realised that the scream was coming from you.
“Oh my god-” Someone mumbled, or shouted, you weren’t really sure. To you, everything sounded off. Like you were sitting in the bottom of a pool, trying to distinguish the sounds from above the water.
Hands grasped at you, but came back red, covered in blood. Your blood.
“You’re gonna be okay…” Peter assured you, before shouting at the woman to call the police, call an ambulance, call anyone who could help. “The men are webbed up, you’re safe now, okay? We’re going to get you help, and you’re going to be okay.”
You nodded in response as you looked down and saw the bloody knife sticking out of your abdomen. Peter may have taken their guns, but they’d still had a few tricks up their sleeve. Though, in this case, it was a knife, and it was in a pocket.
“Peter…” You mumbled, as he desperately tried to cover the wound with material. “Think I might be bleeding out.”
“No, no, you’re fine. You’re not bleeding out, ‘cause that’d mean you’re dying, and you’re not doing that, okay? You’re not allowed to die.” He said, his voice getting louder as he spoke, and his face taking on an even more panicked appearance.
“It’s okay, Peter.”
“No, it’s not. You can’t die. We have so much to do, and I have so much that I want to say to you.”
“Then say it now.” You suggested, looking up at him with wide eyes as he got more and more stressed.
“No, I’m not having this conversation. I’ll tell you another day, yeah? Make it out of here alive, and I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Peter…” You whispered, and the look in your eyes somehow calmed him down. For some reason, you were calm. You always knew that your job was dangerous, after all. And dying like a hero is probably the best way to go.
“It’s just-” He started, and as you closed your eyes, he let out a sob. “Stay with me, okay?”
“Jus’ closing my eyes. Tell me.” You responded, but your voice sounded dangerously weak.
“I love you, okay? I love you. And I wish I told you sooner, ‘cause you mean the world to me.” He whispered, as tears fell down his cheeks. His fingers stroked your hair, pushing it back behind your ear. Peter said your name, and when he didn’t get a response, he shouted it, his voice full of desperation. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you.” He cried, but he knew you couldn’t hear him.
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