Fast Food Nation (2006), Directed By Richard Linklater, Aired Recently, And It Served As A Chance To

Fast Food Nation (2006), directed by Richard Linklater, aired recently, and it served as a chance to rewatch Glen Powell (briefly) early in his career. The upcoming release of another collaboration between the two Texas natives is Hit Man (2023) and I'm looking forward to it. They wrote the screenplay together, along with veteran writer, Skip Hollandsworth (a Texas transplant from childhood), and it's been getting generally positive reviews from the various film festivals where it's been shown. Netflix acquired the rights for a cool $20 million and it's scheduled to be released in theaters prior to streaming. Let's see if Mr. Powell is ready to move up in the Hollywood pecking order.

The fact that there are people who can use planners and somehow the things being written in the planner or calendar or whatever means that those are the things they do. Truly I could not relate to anything less. The planner isn't the boss of me. I can simply look at the planner and not do that

The one above (like yours, from Under The Banner Of Heaven) is also very moving because he has the very real whole body quiver of deeply felt emotion. If you've ever had moments like that, it's just powerful and you cannot stop it. That plus his wedding ring on his hand which signifies love, in the juxtaposed context of the story of what the show was about is very well framed. Good job all around on the crew there. Not an easy scene to act I would imagine.

There's nothing more beautiful than Andrew Garfield's crying face:

I want to hold him everytime... 😭😭😭

(via)

Was I somewhat smug that Matt was not awakened by the soft cooing of doves or otherwise soothing sounds? Why yes, yes I was. No shame here. Little stinker he was and now he's realized he lit the bridge on fire and is frantically trying to race across before it all crashes into the river.

Good for the friends that support Reader and hold Matt accountable for his behavior. Look forward to discovering the way in which this is resolved because Matt may have excellent hearing but he needs to learn how to LISTEN.

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Three]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3k

[Full summary and installment list for this series can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

a/n: This one is entirely in Matt's POV and I'm curious to see how y'all react to his side of things! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably@two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @thychuvaluswife @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this--is--music

The ear-splitting and repeated honking of car horns on the street below harshly woke Matt, the sound shrill and piercing first thing in the morning. Seconds later the continuing noise drew forth a pounding headache that reverberated painfully in his head. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he rolled onto his side with a groan, his entire body loudly protesting the movement. He could feel a few new bruises he'd added to the others already scattered around his body, the new ones violently throbbing along his lower back and his left shoulder as consciousness abruptly returned to him.

Matt had been out well into the early morning hours running around Hell’s Kitchen tracking a man by the name of Petrov. He was the man that Matt had recently come to learn was the current leader of the Russian mafia now settled in his city. All of last night he had been trying to figure out where the new shipment of drugs would be coming into Hell's Kitchen at, but he'd yet again come home without the information he'd wanted. In a sour mood, he'd taken his anger out on a mugger while returning to his apartment, leaving the man more battered than he probably should have. 

And his sour mood quickly returned when he realized he was alone in his bed again, the cold from the lack of you often curled under the sheets with him exceptionally noticeable this morning–more than it had been for the past few weeks. Because you had left him, deciding not to stay and wait for him to return the other night. Leaving him like everyone else always did, unable to accept that he and the Devil were the same man. That he needed to let that other side of himself out to protect Hell’s Kitchen.

He'd heard the way you'd slammed the door on your way out of his apartment that night. He knew how hurt and upset you’d been. But when you’d started crying because he had been planning to go out again, he'd wanted to comfort you– tried to–but you'd rejected him so easily instead. And that hurt him deeply. Because Matt had always thought you were different, that you understood him. That you loved him for who he was–you'd certainly always assured him that you did. 

But it sure as hell hadn’t felt like that to him the other night. Not with how quick you were to reject him and walk out on him. You’d never tried to reach out to him all of Friday, either. Whatever important thing you’d wanted to discuss with him the other night must’ve been what he’d initially suspected it to be. That you wanted to end the relationship. Truthfully he hadn’t wanted to hear you say the words out loud which was partially why he didn’t want to give you a chance to speak.

Matt knew he'd been canceling plans on you repeatedly, though he admittedly hadn't realized just for how long he'd been doing it with the way his days had been blurring together from his lack of proper sleep. But it hadn't been intentional. He hadn't meant to hurt you and he'd felt terrible every single time he had. It always nagged at him while he was out, the memory of the way your heart stuttered each and every time you saw him in his suit never far from his mind as he tried to focus on his late night task. 

And it wasn't like he was out cheating on you or ditching you for his friends. What he was doing was the equivalent of being needed at a job–because that's how he saw what he did. As a responsibility he had to the people of Hell’s Kitchen. He'd honestly thought he'd be able to make it up to you once he'd gotten the situation with the Russians under control, but apparently he wasn't important enough for you to wait for him. And sure, he had to admit that he'd been awful to you the other night with the way he'd spoken to you, but the judgment and rejection from you had really upset him, as did the fear of hearing you tell him you were done with him. So he'd closed himself off to you, hoping to lessen how much you leaving him would hurt.

But Matt didn’t want to think about that this morning. His head ached enough from all the physical exertion last night and from not getting enough sleep. Those damn cars honking had ruined whatever sleeping in he hoped he’d have this Saturday morning, the sound of the city far too loud for him to lay back down and fall asleep now. 

Though if you’d been here–

With a growl Matt tore the sheets off of himself, tossing his legs over the side of his bed and shoving all thoughts of you to the side. He didn’t want to think about you right now. He wanted coffee, desperately hoping that would wake him up and help the throbbing of his head.

Shuffling out of his bedroom, half limping in pain as he walked, he navigated his way through his living room and into the kitchen. He went straight for his coffee maker, turning it on and preparing a pot of coffee. He knew he was going to need a few cups already. 

As the coffee brewed, Matt leant his back against the kitchen counter. His eyes closed as he ran a hand over his tired face, aware that his apartment seemed noticeably quieter and lonelier without you here. He’d been noticing that for weeks now, and every time he did he felt his heart sink a bit in his chest. Though this morning he almost felt sick at the emptiness here, as if someone had punched him right in the gut when he realized you were never coming back.

But you’d made that choice, he reminded himself. You had walked out on him. That thought only had Matt grinding his teeth together, anger coursing through him.

You weren’t the woman he’d thought you were after all. And that hurt.

The coffee machine began to sputter out his coffee, the noise loud and irritating to his ears this morning. Matt turned around, reaching a hand up to grab a mug from the open shelf on the wall. But a round of knocks coming from his apartment door rang out and he hesitated, his hand hovering just before the row of coffee cups. Brows furrowing together, his head shifted over his shoulder as he wondered how he’d been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn’t realized someone had approached his door. Though after a few seconds he soon realized that it was Foggy standing in the hallway and flipping through some paperwork that he’d brought with him.

Matt’s hand dropped to his side and he turned, a frown settling on his lips as he made his way through his kitchen and down his entryway hall. He unlocked the door, briskly swinging it open. It didn’t escape his notice how Foggy had startled in the hall at the abruptness.

“Fog,” Matt greeted flatly.

He could practically feel the way his friend’s eyes scanned over him, the sound of Foggy’s face shifting into a frown not lost on Matt. He imagined the bruises were quite visible, especially since he hadn’t managed to put a shirt on.

“You look like shit, Matt,” Foggy stated bluntly. “How long were you out last night?”

Matt turned, leaving the door open as he half-limped, half-shuffled his way back down the entryway hall. He listened as Foggy stepped inside, closing the door after himself before slipping out of his shoes. By the time Foggy had followed Matt into the kitchen, Matt had already managed to pour himself a cup of coffee, drinking a sip of it black.

“You want some coffee?” Matt asked him, avoiding the initial question.

“No, I’m good,” Foggy answered slowly, resting his arms on the kitchen counter and leaning over it. “I had some earlier before I left to come deliver the documents I told you I was bringing over this morning. Which I’m guessing…you forgot about, judging by the fact that it looks like you just rolled out of a dumpster that you used for a bed.”

Matt’s lips pursed together at Foggy as he drew his mug back up to his mouth, his eyes narrowing in obvious irritation. “Not a morning for jokes, Fog.”

“Is there ever with you lately?” Foggy grumbled. 

Matt drank down more of his coffee, the throbbing of his head not helped by the way Foggy was drumming his fingers along the countertop. He could hear the way his friend was looking around his apartment, probably noticing the way it had looked neater than usual. Which was due to the fact that neither of you had been in his apartment much for the past few weeks. The moment he heard Foggy’s mouth open, inhaling that small bit of breath, Matt knew what he was going to say. And it wasn’t a subject he wanted to discuss.

“Where’s your other half?” Foggy asked, glancing back towards the closed bedroom door, entirely missing the way Matt had winced at the question. “Thought she usually spent the weekends with you. Is she still asleep?”

Matt ground his teeth together, roughly exhaling a sharp breath. He knew he’d ask about you.

“No, she’s not here,” Matt replied coldly.

He heard the way Foggy had stiffened against the counter at his words and the tone of his voice. Slowly, Foggy’s head turned back towards Matt. Matt’s lips thinned out in irritation, not liking the minute shift in Foggy’s posture.

“So the documents–”

“What’d you do, Matt?” Foggy asked sharply, cutting him off.

Matt’s hand gripped his coffee mug tighter in his fist, surprising even himself when it didn’t break in his grip. His jaw clenched at the question and the accusation from his best friend.

“What makes you think this was my fault?” he growled back, voice low and dangerous.

Foggy was nodding swiftly as if he’d known something had happened. He didn’t seem remotely affected by Matt’s obvious anger, clearly prepared to discuss this more. That only annoyed Matt further.

“So you two broke up? Karen and I thought as much with the way you’d been mopey and snippy around the office yesterday,” Foggy said. “What happened? Because one minute you’re telling me she’s the one, that she’s going to move in with you soon, and the next–” he waved a hand around the apartment, “–you’re a damn bachelor again. So what’d you do? Because I know damn well she didn’t end things, not with the way she always looked at you like the sun rises and falls out of your ass, Matt.”

“ She left me ,” Matt snarled back. “Why the hell is that so difficult for you to understand, Fog? Why must you always assume that I did something? Clearly she wasn’t who I thought she was because she couldn’t accept me and what I do. Who I am .”

“Ahh,” Foggy said, pushing off the counter. “This is because of Daredevil. I figured as much. So tell me what happened then, because I’m about to slap you upside the head and tell you you’re wrong.”

Matt stalked across the kitchen in aggravation, slamming his mug down onto the counter that separated him from Foggy. The hot liquid splashed over his hand as Foggy briefly jumped at his outburst. The faint scent of fear soon hitting his nose was what had Matt’s eyes snapping shut, aware he was getting too riled up at this topic. That his anger was finally starting to make Foggy nervous.

Because it was about you and it hurt.

“She said she had something she needed to tell me,” Matt replied through clenched teeth, trying to rein in his frustration and heartache. “But I needed to go out as Daredevil. I was planning to interrupt a meeting with the Russians. The ones I’d been telling you about.” He exhaled a sharp breath, his left hand clamping onto the kitchen counter as he continued, hoping to ground himself and control his rage. “She was upset that I was going out again when we’d had plans. Said she really needed to talk to me. So I told her she could tell me afterwards when I came back and she got upset.”

There was a brief silence following his explanation, Matt hearing the way Foggy’s head had shifted to the side.

“And you were…growly Devil when you were talking with her weren’t you?” Foggy asked, gesturing a hand at Matt. “Like you are now?”

Matt grunted, shame burning through him as his eyes once again fell shut. Yes. 

“Maybe,” he grumbled.

“Okay, so,” Foggy continued carefully, “if I’m understanding this right, you’ve been canceling plans on your girl for a while now and she’d been upset about that. And then she comes and says she really needs to talk to you, and you what? Bail on her again? Quite aggressively, I’m gathering?”

“That’s–that’s not exactly right,” Matt said, shaking his head. “I didn’t bail on her. The city needed me, Fog.”

“Sounds like she needed you more, buddy,” Foggy countered.

Matt’s eyes snapped open, his sightless gaze landing somewhere near Foggy in a glare. “I gave her the option to stay and wait for me to come back. To tell me what she needed to then. She chose to leave. I haven’t heard from her since, so I’m guessing her important talk was about her wanting to tell me that she wanted to end things. That she couldn’t handle me being Daredevil after all.”

Foggy scoffed, shaking his head at Matt. He could hear the way his friend’s mouth had yet again curved into a frown. Something like guilt twisted in Matt’s stomach at the way that night had played out but he quickly buried it under his anger and hurt. 

“Why do you do that?” Foggy asked softly.

“ What ?” Matt snapped.

“This,” Foggy answered, waving a hand frantically at Matt. “That self-sabotaging thing you do. Things were good with you both. Great, actually. You were happy , Matt. And then you go diving into your hero bullshit and push people away. Making assumptions about her wanting to end things like you know that’s exactly what she wanted to talk to you about.”

“I do not self-sabotage,” Matt shot back. 

“Then why’d you push her away?” Foggy countered.

“Because the city needs me!” Matt exclaimed in exasperation, throwing his hands on his hips. “You know that and she knew that!”

A glaring silence settled in Matt’s apartment after his loud outburst. Matt’s tongue slipped out, wetting his lips repeatedly in his agitation. He heard the very faint sigh Foggy emitted, even with the way his headache had worsened.

“I think you’re reading things entirely wrong, man,” Foggy said, tone softer. “I don’t think she was trying to break up with you. I think you fucked up. Big time. And judging by the way you’re incredibly defensive and angry, you really, really love her.”

Matt’s nostrils flared, his eyes still glaring sharply in the direction of his friend. Though a part of himself was beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, Foggy was onto something. At least, about him fucking up. He was still pretty certain you’d wanted to break up with him. Because he had been canceling plans on you for weeks now. And you’d been getting hurt by him doing that pretty quickly, too. And he’d noticed, but he kept on putting off making things up to you because he’d been too focused on prioritizing the Russians. He’d hurt you, too. Long before you’d hurt him.

That guilt and shame stirred in Matt’s stomach again, threatening to overtake his own rage and heartache. But he couldn’t have been wrong about what you’d wanted to talk to him about, right? Because what else could it possibly have been besides an ultimatum for him to quit being Daredevil and to choose you instead?

“I think,” Foggy continued slowly, “that you need to go call her up. Put your tail between your legs and go beg for her forgiveness, Matt. Because you fucked up, admit it. I can see that realization dawning on your face right now, buddy. Talk to her. Apologize on your goddamn knees every day until she takes you back. Because we both know she was the best damn thing that ever happened to you.”

“She was,” Matt whispered, his gaze dropping down to the floor. “She always was.”

“Then go get her!” Foggy exclaimed, slamming his fist onto Matt’s countertop. “Fix things!”

He stepped around the kitchen counter, reaching out to slap Matt good-naturedly on the shoulder. Matt winced at the gesture when Foggy’s hand landed on a bruise and Foggy quickly muttered out an apology. 

Rubbing his arm, Matt let out a sigh. “How am I supposed to fix things, Fog?” he asked. “What if she really doesn’t love the part of me that is Daredevil like she thought she did? I can’t give this up. I’m not going to.”

“There’s no way that bullshit is the reason,” Foggy told him. “Not with all the different ways she’s been there for you and your vigilante ass this whole time, Matt. She loves Daredevil just as much as you. But as for fixing things?” Foggy shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know, man. I think your first step is to reach out to her, though. Try to get her to talk to you. Apologize and maybe find out what it was she needed to tell you. Because I’m guessing knowing what that was will tell you how royally you fucked up here.”

“Yeah,” Matt said with a sigh. “You’re probably right. Though I have a feeling she’s not going to want to talk to me.”

“You just keep trying until she does,” Foggy told him. “And if all else fails, maybe you can romantically show up on her fire escape and profess your love to her or something?”

Matt scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m sure Daredevil showing up on her fire escape would go over real well with her right now.”

Going to use a series of GIFs instead of an essay. Still a little choked up from the last chapter and this one.

Felicia's funeral:

Back at the apartment with the death by a thousand mean-spirited words and every once in a while a truth bomb landing and leaving a gaping wounded heart:

The final words and leaving the wedding ring behind:

The longer comments are on Chapter 12. The last two chapters have been quite emotional. It's really riveting. Well done.

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Fourteen: Family Feud at the Funeral

Summary: As the team lay Felicia to rest, emotions get too much for Peter and Angel.

Warnings: 18+ Only, genre typical content, graphic depictions of dead body, bodily harm, funeral, grief, angst, complicated marriage, drug misuse

Word Count 2.5k

A/N: So I didn't say much in my authors note last chapter but trust me killing characters for the sake of it isn't my thing and I had no idea that that would be where the narrative would take me but we really needed something to break our characters and push them to the end. It goes without saying but don't abuse drugs.

FOURTEEN

Her funeral was held a week and a half later at the same cemetery Angel and Peter used to visit all those years ago. Although the group of them was small, the security detail they travelled with was large. It was the perfect place for The Vulture’s next attack but Angel knew he wasn’t that cruel. 

When Peter and Hobie had gotten down to the Huntsman it wasn’t a pretty sight. Carl and a young bartender called Robbie, had carried her body inside from the alley, the young bartender the only one with a strong enough stomach to carry out the task. They laid her on her back on top of a table downstairs, a meeting room that never really got used anymore after Peter had expanded his operation and set up an official office across town. She had slashes all over her skin, her throat was bruised and across her chest had been carved a giant spider with a large X through it.

Peter thought he had a pretty solid stomach after all of these years, all of the bodies he had seen, the people he had killed and tortured; but seeing her body lying there like that, someone he held close, the only person who connected with him when he felt most shut off from the rest of the world when Angel left, his stomach turned, bile rising in his mouth.

Her Father’s body was still unaccounted for. They had just found out from Eddie that Felicia’s father, Walter, was suddenly missing after he got jumped in the prison yard at lunchtime, when they arrived home. Peter had gone to visit Lydia out of respect, to tell her what had become of her daughter and husband. A mother’s wails over losing a child never truly leave you.

Angel and Peter clung tight to each other at the funeral, each with their own reason. He wanted her close to protect her. It was the first time she had left the building since he’d transferred her from the hospital back home. It would be just their luck that someone would try to take her out again and Peter was determined to protect her at all costs, even if it meant sacrificing his own life for hers.

Despite her still healing injuries, Angel had tried to be by Peter’s side as much as she could the moment he had gotten home that night. It was three thirty in the morning and she remained sitting patiently in the living room until they had returned. She saw from the look on his face the moment he walked through the door that he was not okay. As much as he would deny it, Angel could see that Felicia had meant something to her husband. She had been there for him when she hadn’t been. Not to mention she knew better than anyone that you can’t just have sex with no strings attached, sooner or later, someone’s feelings always got involved; that’s how her and Peter had got to where they were in the first place. She was also still on a large concoction of pills to help her function through the pain in her still healing ribs.

Nurse Temple had stopped by again two days ago to check on her bandages, change them for some new ones and re-set and wrap her ribs. She also dropped off another prescription slip, written out by Dr Healey which Angel had used to full advantage, doubling up her dosage to get her through the next two and half hours of proceedings and the start of the wake, which was being held at the Huntsman. She felt like she was floating, holding on to her husband just to keep her grounded. She was grateful for the large pair of black Prada sunglasses she wore on her face, hiding her eyes so no one could see just how spaced out she was. She was trying to focus on the officiant speaking next to the casket, a jet black number Felicia would have been proud of, but her eyes kept wandering back and forth. They suddenly came to a stop, focusing in on a large figure standing by a set of graves a few rows over. She blinked hard, sure she was seeing stuff. Sure enough, when she looked again the figure had gone. She tried to turn her head back towards the casket and the picture of Felicia that was displayed on top of it but- there he was again. Her Father.

No that couldn’t be, he was dead. He was definitely dead. She had seen his body. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. When she looked again, just as she suspected, he had gone. She slipped her hand into Peter’s squeezing it tightly. 

Peter didn’t need his spider senses to tell him something was wrong. He knew his wife well. When the service was over he helped her to her feet but didn’t move, waving everyone else away, telling them to start moving back towards the cars as he turned her to face him. She was swaying slightly. His fingers reached out carefully for her sunglasses, lifting them carefully from her face. Her pupils were blown wide. “Fuck, Angel!” He sighed. “How much did you fucking take?”

“I knew we weren’t going back to the apartment for hours so I doubled up.” she said but she was clearly distracted. One second she was looking at him, the next she was looking at something over his shoulder. He turned his head but there was nothing there. She blinked heavily as she swayed and tried once again to get a handle on herself. “OH MY GOD CAN YOU JUST FUCK OFF!” she suddenly snapped. Peter gripped her face in his hands forcing her to look at him but she wouldn't; she just kept looking past him. “Great, now there’s two of them.” she huffed.

Peter looked around again but there wasn’t anything there. “Angel.” He said her name trying to ground her and get her to focus, “Princess. Baby.” Nothing, nothing was getting through to her.

“Go away! Leave me alone!” she said forcefully.

“ANGEL!” Peter snapped and her eyes locked onto him with one harsh blink. “What the fuck is going on?!” he said forcefully.

“My Dad.” she said.

“But your Dad’s dead.” He said. She was expecting for her to give him one of those looks she usually gave him. The ‘my husband is an idiot look’, but she didn’t.

“You don’t think I know that.” she just said to him as her eyes wandered again. She groaned as she forced her eyes closed. She breathed deeply and counted to ten under her breath, Peter’s hands moving to rub soothingly over the tops of her arms. When she opened them again her father was gone. Peter felt her breathe a sigh of relief. He observed her eyes closely. Her pupils were still big but not as large as they had been a moment before.

“You gonna be okay?”

Angel swayed again then blinked before saying, “Yep.” but Peter wasn’t convinced.

Harry and Hobie were stood waiting by their car as they approached. “Everything okay?” Hobie asked.

“Yeah, this one here’s just decided to start seeing dead people.” Peter deadpanned frustratedly. Angel rolled her eyes equally frustrated. “Harry, can you get her in the car?” Peter ordered as he sidled up beside Hobie.

“Yeah, sure.” Harry said as he reached a hand out for Angel to take so he could walk her round to the other side of the town car and help her into the backseat.

“She’s popped one too many pills.” Peter sighed as he began to have a muttered conversation with Hobie, his voice keeping low as no doubt he thought she’d be eavesdropping. 

“I can do it, I can do it.” She said, holding her hand up to Harry who was stood awkwardly at her side with the passenger door open, trying to work out what he was supposed to do to help her in. When she was sat, his hand reached for the seatbelt. “I swear to god Osborn.” her voice chastised once more, stopping him in his tracks.

“Fine. Fine. Jeez.” Harry said as he let the seatbelt go, his hands thrown up in surrender. “I’ve got it.” she heard his voice quietly mock as he closed the door forcefully on her.

Despite the amount of painkillers currently flowing through her system, Angel rubbed a hand over her forehead, a headache forming. She allowed her eyes to close as she leaned to press her head against the cold glass of the car window, continuing to breathe deeply, once, twice- DING.

She knew who it was going to be before she even looked at the message. It was that unknown number again. Another picture attached. This time there was a little message with it. ‘Such a touching ceremony.’

It made her skin crawl. She had tried to message back multiple times but he never responded to her messages. Her questions. Her demands. She just stared at the screen, her eyes blurring at the edges. When the car door opened on the other side of the car, she quickly put the phone back in the pocket of her black trenchcoat. 

She tried to ignore Peter as he unbuttoned his blazer and smoothed down his shirt as he climbed into the car beside her.

“I’m taking you home.” he said curtly, not making eye contact with her.

“Pete, I’m fine-” she tried to protest but he wasn’t having it.

“Angel, you are not fucking fine. I’m stressed enough today without having you hanging around like a fucking liability.”

She looked at him as if he had just slapped her. “Are you serious right now?” she shrieked. He continued to ignore her. “LOOK AT ME!” He finally snapped his head towards her. She noticed he had that look in his eye. “You’re fucking ridiculous.” she spat at him. Although he didn’t say anything, she knew her words were getting to him. Could practically see the bubbles under his skin as his blood began to boil. “Fucking man child.” she hissed. “However the fuck did you manage while I was gone, huh? You know ever since- I was the one- who got blown up, you’ve been acting like a lost little child without his Mommy there to hold his hand-” her rant was cut off by the feeling of his hand squeezing at her wrist.

His grip was tight and bruising and his chest heaved, nose chuffing as he tried to keep himself in control, trying not to lose it completely. She continued to meet his stare, not letting him intimidate her but she had never seen him look at her that way before. Never felt him touch her that way before. He suddenly released his grip on her, pushing her arm away as he turned to look out the window instead.

“You’re going home Angel, there’s no debate about it.” His word was final.

“Boss.” Miguel said as he came to a stop in the car park. 

“I’ll be back in a minute.” Peter said as he got out of the car.

Angel snapped her limbs away from him when he tried to help her from the car. “I can do it.” She snapped but her legs wobbled as she stood and Peter had to hold an arm out for her to steady herself. 

“And you called me a child.” He said as she rolled her eyes, frustrated by her body betraying her and needing to take his help after all.

He was a silent force at her side the whole way upstairs, helping her into their bedroom where he sat her on the end of the bed. “You know if you go back without me people are gonna talk more than they already do.” She said as he knelt to take off her shoes for her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked her, exhausted.

“About you and her.”

“I told you, she meant nothing-“

“Really? Then why have you been acting like-“

“-BECAUSE SHE WAS STILL MY FRIEND ANGEL! FUCK!” He shouted, drowning her out.

“SURE!” Angel fired back. “IS THAT WHY HE KILLED HER THEN? JUST BECAUSE YOU WERE FRIENDS PETE? COME ON!” She fired back. “HE KILLED HER BECAUSE HE KNEW IT WOULD GET TO YOU.”

“Fucking Hell! It’s like trying to have a conversation with your FATHER!” He spat at her.

“You take that back right now! I am NOTHING LIKE MY FATHER!”

“REALLY BABY, Because you seem to act JUST LIKE HIM!”

“Are you KIDDING ME!” She said standing.

“You know I think this is EXACTLY what your Father wanted!”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“I mean, I think he knew he could turn you into a bomb and FUCKING DESTROY ME!” He said, hand beating at his chest. “Ever since you’ve come back, one second I think I know you and then the next BOOOM. You’re just a fucking grenade baby. Just another pawn in your Fathers game.” He said as they squared up to each other. “Even in death.” He hissed into her face.

She was silent as the words hit her like a slap to the face.

“What happened to you?” He asked softer. “What happened to the girl I pulled out of that burning building all those years ago. The girl who visited her mothers grave religiously. Who told me she didn’t want to have anything to do with her Father’s business.”

His words brought tears to her eyes but she swallowed them back. “She married a man who couldn’t help but get himself in her Fathers business and play his games so he could destroy him. How did that go for you Pete? Huh? Because I saw how you were with Jackson Brice. Seems like you became a real expert at the game.”

“ANGEL! PEOPLE ARE DYING! THIS ISN’T A GAME!”

“LEWIS! HAZEL! VERONICA!” She began listing off names. “DAVID! SANJAY! LIZ!” His hands flew into his hair as he paced away from her, realising what it was she was doing. “THEY’RE ALL DEAD PETE! ALL BECAUSE THIS SHIT IS A GAME TO THEM! DON’T YOU KNOW THAT BY NOW! IT'S ALL A GAME! ALWAYS HAS BEEN” Peter turned his back to her as she continued to rant. “MY DAD. THE VULTURE! THEY DON’T CARE!”

Silence. She watched him closely as his gaze moved to the floor as he shook his head. “I thought you knew that.” Her voice became wistful, the sadness of a long forgotten life, a long forgotten goal falling over them. She watched as he recognised it too, his fingers moving to play with the wedding band on his finger, twisting it back and forth. 

Her stomach lurched as she watched him pull it from his finger. He still wouldn’t look at her. He took a long hard look at the ring, turning it over in his fingers. “Well maybe I’m done playing games.” He said and he walked away from her, placing the ring on a side table next to the door as he left.

-----------------------------------------

New chapters go live on Wednesdays and Fridays! If you want to be added to the tag list make sure you put it in writing for me. Also if you are enjoying the story don’t forget to tip me like you would your waiter by reblogging and leaving feedback and letting me know what you think!

@scmdsblog @angiexsv @thef1nalgirl @did-someone-change-my-name @sincericida @tarzinnia @liz-allyn @blacksoul09 @humxncrxvings @sunnycolors @suicide-sweetheart636 @ahryi @ms-wild-card-56

"And as we know she has kept things close to her chest a little regarding that time before she came back."

Bwahahaha! You say that like you haven't been keeping those things from us readers as well, hahaha! Seriously though, it's been nice to have a longer series with some depth to explore the characters. I know those can be a bear to write, but they are the stories that stay with me longer.

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Fifteen: Me and The Devil

Summary: Angel is trying to hold the cracks together, will a meeting with the devil himself make things better?

Warnings: 18+ Only, genre typical content, threat, emotional distress, mentions of character death, angst, panic attack

Word Count: 2k

A/N: So I thought this would be two separate chapters but as I was writing the first half it didn't feel enough. We are winding towards the end now, there's only a few chapters left. I'm hoping to get the rest of the chapters finished to a better standard than what I feel this chapter has become, this weekend. Anyway, that being said I hope you still enjoy the content of this chapter.

FIFTEEN

Peter regretted it the moment he did it. His stomach turned all the way back down to the car.

“Everything okay, boss?” Miguel asked.

“Yeah.” Peter sighed as he unbuttoned his suit jacket, ready to slide himself into the car. Miguel knew he wasn’t okay, but he didn’t want to push it. If Peter responded like that it meant he didn’t want to talk about it, just move forward, but the lack of flashy metal around Peter’s finger spoke volumes.

They sat in silence all the way to the Huntsman, Peter stuck in his thoughts in the back seat. ‘Why had he done that? What happened with Felicia wasn’t Angel's fault. If anything it was his fault for not saying no all those years ago when she had first tried it on with him. Should have stuck to his guns, then the Vulture wouldn’t have seen her as a target of weakness. But both of them were right.’ He hadn’t realised it, hadn’t wanted to believe it, but Felicia had meant something to him. Sure not as much as Angel, but she was there for him. She listened to him. Yes it just started as sex, but she had become a place for him to share his feelings when he had no one. Someone who made him feel more than just the Spider. Even if it had been just an act on her side, to keep her boss happy.

Miguel watched Peter through the rear view mirror the whole way to the bar. From the way Peter looked out the window, to the way he fidgeted in his seat, Miguel knew he was conflicted. He also knew he couldn’t let Peter get out of the car and go into a room of people like this. At a time when their enemy was always circling, they needed to be strong. Peter needed to be strong.

“Boss, can I say something?” Miguel asked as he pulled up to the curb and turned off the engine. Peter didn’t say anything, but the way he met Miguel’s eyes told Miguel he was able to speak freely. “You’re better with her.” Miguel said. “You know me and Angel have never really been able to see eye to eye, but she’s good for you. You wouldn’t have the business or success you do if it wasn’t for her.” He paused for a moment to make sure Peter was listening. “If you want to end all this mess with the Vulture, you need her by your side, not against you. We know you as the Spider, but she knew you before. She knows all of your strengths and weaknesses and how to work with them. And I hate to admit it but, she knows this business better than any of us. As much as I hated Kingpin, the fact he was her Father, everything he taught her, that’s what made you successful. She made you successful. And ever since you’ve been apart both you and the business haven't been the same. She’s the one who said you should work with Hobie, not those Peaky Blinders, Kray wannabes over in London and look at you and Hobie now? It was her push for F.E.A.S.T that not only helped with our finances but actually helped the city in the way you always wanted and even kept Stacy on our side.” They sat in silence for a moment as Miguel’s words sunk in. “When she left it was like seeing a piece of you die and sure since she’s been back you’ve done nothing but struggle and feel more conflicted, always feeling like you have to watch over your shoulder for her, to protect her, but I saw her when we were downstairs with that shithead Jackson Brice. Imagine if you had that version of her by your side everyday, not hidden away. If you embraced this version of her. Can you see how much stronger you’d be? It’s the only way you can take down Toomes. Together.”

Peter’s eyes had wandered to stare at his feet as Miguel spoke, but the moment he had said ‘together’ Peter’s eyes met Miguel’s once more. Those dark, life hardened eyes, suddenly soft. The care he had developed for Peter over the years, clear on his face.

“I know you’re all cut up about Cat, we all are and we all want to avenge her, but we’ve got to be smart about this, because right now, you’re playing straight into his hands. He knows that we are all stronger together. With us all working together as a team, he doesn’t stand a chance. That’s why he went running to align himself with the Italians. He needed to have a team of his own, but the Italians are only loyal to themselves, that union is tentative at best. If we’re gonna take him down, we all need to work together.”

****

Angel sat on the end of the bed in shock. She immediately wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Wished she hadn’t said anything. Wished she’d never taken those pills. Wished she hadn’t made so many decisions. But she had. Those whole three years she wanted nothing but Peter, to be back by his side, so why was she making this so difficult. In sickness and in health. For better or worse. They’d both made those vows and now their marriage felt more irreparable than ever. 

Her breathing suddenly became laboured as the reality of their situation really sank in. She didn’t want this. Her hand clawed at her chest as panic seeped in, tears welling in her eyes as she began to sob. Alone, her wails echoed off the walls back to her ears, only making the feelings trying to burst from her chest worse. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” she repeated to herself as her body became too heavy for her, her legs buckling as she slid off the end of the bed and onto the floor. She could barely feel the pain in her ribs now over the aching of her breaking heart. Her hand clasped over her mouth, trying to keep her breaths and wails in, trying to hold herself together again long enough to get a handle on herself. She needed to fix this. It was all her fault. She needed to fix this. She removed her hand from her mouth to let out one last guttural scream. She breathed deeply as some of the weight on her chest subsided, silent tears rolling down her cheeks as she sniffed and tried to compose herself.

She reached into her pocket for her phone, pulling up the message thread from Toomes. ‘Meet tonight. The Mill Rooftop, 8pm.’ Send.

She leaned back against the bed frame, her breathing slowly coming back into control as her plan was beginning to form. She continued to look over to Peter’s ring on the top of the side table. ‘I will fix this.’ she repeated to herself, ‘I will fix this.’

She continued to repeat the mantra to herself as she slowly stood, mustering up her strength and heading towards the adjoining ensuite and walk in wardrobe to ready herself. She touched up her makeup, adding a deadly red lip, still muttering her mantra to herself as she looked herself dead in the eyes. 

“You are the daughter of Wilson Fisk. You are the wife of Peter Parker. You’ve got this. You can fix this. You will fix this.”

----

She was grateful that between the three of them, Peter, Harry and Miguel had been moving the cars from the old house over to the parking garage here in Queens. As she climbed into the McLaren (Peter had of course got it for the use of Spider in the name), she wasn’t sure if it was from the drugs still coursing through her system or the adrenaline, but she was thankful that she was numb to the pain in her body right now. As she hit the ignition, the car rumbled to life beneath her, flooding more adrenaline through her body; and as she sat waiting for the gate at the top of the ramp to open, she began to mutter her mantra again, “I can fix this. I can fix this.”

----

She wasn’t even sure if he’d come. As she slowly made her way up the stairs of The Mill, one of her Father’s old buildings in the Kitchen, known for its drug labs and exports, she feared she’d psyched herself up in vain. As she opened the door to the rooftop, her heels echoing powerfully on the concrete, she was relieved to see him stood waiting for her in the shadows.

“Interesting choice in meeting place.” he said as he turned away from the edge to face her. “The same place your Father fell to his death.”

“Don’t play innocent Toomes, we both know you pushed him.”

“What makes you think you’d walk away when he didn’t?”

“You said it yourself,” she said as she came to a stop before him, “you just can’t seem to kill me.” 

He raised his eyebrows at her, a flash of a smirk in his eyes, a taunt, I’d happily try again. He’s cool and collected, casual even as he sits himself on the edge of the building. “So come on then, what are your terms?” She took two steps back, her arms outstretched indicating to the building. “The Mill?” He asked in confirmation.

“Peter doesn’t do drugs. You want something to chew on, we’ll sign it over to you, let you run it, but you have to respect us and you have to respect the city.”

“That’s it? Your big bargaining chip? An old dusty drug factory?”

“Be grateful I’m not asking for a pound of flesh after blowing up the hub.”

He chuckles as his head turns to look out over the city. “Aaah yes of course, why would you care about the Black Cat after she fucked your man.” She pursed her lips, trying to keep her composure as the cut smarted. “Did you a favour really.” he continued to taunt. “You should be thanking me for making that little problem go away.”

“She wasn’t a problem?” 

“Oh, really? Because I think your husband's wedding ring currently sat on that side table in your bedroom says otherwise.” Angel’s face finally fell. “Oh you didn’t think anyone knew about that? There’s a lot you don’t realise I know. Like…” he paused for dramatic effect as he drummed his fingers against his chin, “you should be a lot nicer to the people that help you. Or how about the current whereabouts of Aunt May. Or how you aren’t in a position to negotiate anything with me, after all, it’s your husband’s name that’s on your Father’s will, not yours and last time I checked, old Petey boy doesn’t negotiate with- what’s the word the Brit used? Terrorists, was it?”

“Fine, but something needs to change. Innocent people have died. They didn’t ask for this.” Angel said growing frantic.

He smirked as he stood pacing towards her. He gripped the lapels of her suit jacket, turning her with ease, holding her over the edge of the building. Her fingers gripped tightly at his wrists, her own fractured wrist smarting with the strain. He chuckled harder as he took in the look of fear on her face as she looked between him and the ground far below. “You’re right little Angel,” he sneered, “they didn’t ask for this and it doesn’t matter as this will all be over soon.” She breathed a sigh of relief as he slowly righted her again, moving her away from the edge. “I gave you a chance to make this easier Angel when I visited you after your Dad’s little ‘accident’, but instead you ran back to him and started playing house and now look at the two of you. You put your faith in the Spider and now you will watch when I make him scream. And I will make him scream.” He paused for a moment, releasing her suit from his grip and brushing it smooth again before starting to walk away.

-----------------------------------------

New chapters go live on Wednesdays and Fridays! If you want to be added to the tag list make sure you put it in writing for me. Also if you are enjoying the story don’t forget to tip me like you would your waiter by reblogging and leaving feedback and letting me know what you think!

@scmdsblog @angiexsv @thef1nalgirl @did-someone-change-my-name @sincericida @tarzinnia @liz-allyn @blacksoul09 @humxncrxvings @sunnycolors @suicide-sweetheart636 @ahryi @ms-wild-card-56