Stay With Me [Female!Reader]

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Spider-Man was not one for killing people. He absolutely did not want to have to do it, ever. He much preferred subduing his enemy and locking them tightly away forever. He wasn't God, he didn't get to decide wether or not someone got to see tomorrow. That was his belief and he chose to keep it that way. Doing so did make it difficult to keep crime low sometimes. Considering some guys would break out of jail and make it their dying wish to take Spider-Man down. Still, he took no life.

And then he met you.

Oh, you. You were his sunshine. His one and only true love. Peter adored you the moment he met you, and oh how lucky he was to have met you as Peter. It had been a stormy night, and yet there you were, trudging along, soaking wet, no umbrella, and your groceries. He couldn't just simply let you walk alone like that, he wouldn't have it, Spider-Man wouldn't allow it. He offered you his umbrella, and walked you safely through the shady part of your neighborhood. Right there, under the dim streetlights some ways away from your apartment, he saw your face for the very first time. Your bright e/c eyes drew him in and never let him go. Your dazzling smile stole his breath. He didn't know what to do, what to say, but you had. You gave him your number and offered to take him out for coffee for going out of his way to help you, and so began your relationship.

He felt like he was dreaming when you first kissed him. Your lips were like the sweetest candy, and quickly he became addicted. Your kisses could brighten even his darkest of days. He could be in so much pain from a rough fight, and yet, somehow, the smallest peck would take it all away. Though, nothing prepared him for when you first said I love you. It was a whisper, soft and low. Something uttered around two in the morning, when he'd stopped by unexpectedly, needing your comfort after what he'd seen that night. Though now, it was long forgotten, those three words being his only memory of that night.

Your first time with him had been a late stormy night, somewhat like when you both had first met. It was sweet, and it was slow. He whispered sweet nothings against your lips, held you as close as he could and entangled his fingers with yours. Your sheets smelled like him for a week. Like his warm cologne. Your fingers could feel his still, sometimes even being able to feel his soft hair on your fingertips, despite his absence. You had been giddy and glowing for such a long time, and he fell in love with you all over again. Ha, he fell in love with you every single day. He was absolutely addicted to you, and you to him. It was beautiful.

He never did get to tell you that he was Spider-Man, though, at least not the way he had imagined to. He could save anyones life, could help anyone from danger, but- god- he could not save you. He was not fast enough to get to you, and absolutely not strong enough to lose you. He never would be.

It was a horrible accident. Tragic, really. You had no idea that just around the corner, just before you got to your apartment, you'd die. You were oblivious, caught up in thoughts of seeing your love and holding him close. Of spending the weekend curled up with movies and snacks. You didn't hear the screams, you didn't hear the scuffling just before you-

You heard a shot, but you didn't know it had hit you. Not until a dark color started to stain the chest area of your t-shirt. Even then, you weren't sure. It had hit you right in the heart, and the nearest hospital was much too far away. There was instant silence, the thug and the popular masked hero, staring at you for a heartbeat. Peter's heart crashed to the floor, breaking entirely, and honestly, most of those pieces were still there. Still in that alley, some rotting away next to your blood stain in the concrete. It all happened so fast, Peter webbed the thug up to the wall and ran to you, ripping his mask off.

"No- nononono!", he had gasped, "Y/n! Y/N!"

"Peter..?", was your whisper. It was all you could say. The bullet stopped your heart from pumping, and without the constant flow of blood, of oxygen, you were fading fast, not having the energy to do much else but breathe slower and slower. Till the very last breath came out of your lungs, your confused eyes slightly open, staring at him until they held nothing but his reflection. Right there, right in his arms, on that empty sidewalk, you died.

He must've screamed forever. Even when his mouth had closed and his throat was hoarse, he was screaming. He held you for so so long, just until he recalled that you had been killed. Murdered. The thug may have not meant to have shot you, but he had. He had shot you. You were dead. Peter's greatest love, was now his greatest sorrow. His biggest ache. The hole in his chest..

So, he laid you down gently, tears still spilling from his cheeks, and walked up to the man who did this. He did not put his mask back on. He did not think twice. He wanted the man to see his face, to see the person who would take his life.

"No- hey man- it was an accident, y'know? I- I'll take back what I said- about wanting to kill-"

Bang.

An eye for an eye, a bullet for a bullet. It was over. He left the man to rot, lifted your lifeless body into his arms and took off.

Though his arms shook and his breaths were choppy, he had to leave you. He had to lay you in front of that hospital and let them find you. He had to let go, even though his heart screamed 'Stay with me..'. He had to go, had to keep on living.

He would see you again someday...

But every day would be hell until then.

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