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Just go ahead and replace that caption with:

As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to read your mob!peter fics.

Seriously, Hozier is such a talent, soulful artist. Reading what he has to say about his songs and what his thoughts surrounding them are as he is composing teaches one to really think about the world around us. Very inspiring to those who listen and listen carefully.

Look forward to what you will create in the world you envision and share with us.

*edited because I had a brain blip.

should i make a series of mob!peter fics to hozier songs???👀..maybe.

A nice hardworking guy gets up, goes to work, and returns home to find his life upended like a forgotten venti Starbucks left on the roof of a car. One chapter in and we’ve already got the mystery barreling down the path towards a potential conflict, the uneasy reunion of two lovers, and an empire that may or may not be growing with a bequest that seems to be problematic and that’s putting it mildly. Way to set the stage! My interest is piqued; gonna go read Chapter Two!

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter 1 : The Call of a Night Bird

Summary: Peter Parker's wife left him 3 years ago. Suddenly she's back and she's brought some news that is about to change everything, unfortunately that news comes with its own set of complications and he's out for blood.

Warning: 18+ Only, mature themes, eventual smut, weapons, angst, lots of emotional tension

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Hello, welcome, I am so excited to be sharing this story. It has consumed me for the last week resulting in me so far having written a total of almost 20,000! words, including the Prologue which you can find here. As mentioned in the others note for the prologue and in subsequent posts lately, I have come to adore Mob!Au Peter Parker stories after finding the wonderful @liz-allyn's Sugar + Vice series and even more recently @p3mybeloved one shots based on the lyrics of Florence and the Machine's Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up). If you haven't read either and you enjoy this fic and want more like it I would highly recommend checking them out. Anyway this is the first part of a 2 chapter drop, but after that you can expect weekly chapter releases every Friday. Now, without further ado, I hope you enjoy, this is The Angel In The Garden of Evil.

ONE

Peter Parker was nonchalant about journeys home, it was simply routine at this point in his life. Although he had other properties in the city and even around the world, this was his only true safe space. A large mansion on the outskirts of the city. 7 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms and an open living and kitchen space that covered the whole of the back half of the downstairs of the house. With a swimming pool, hot tub and basketball court all in the backyard and a view of the Hudson to die for, anyone would mistake it for paradise on earth.

Once upon a time, he’d get excited about coming home, the smell of dinner being cooked wafting around the house, music permeating the whole of the downstairs, windows lit, guiding his way up the large driveway as his driver pulled in through the gates. But that was then. That was before.

Sure coming home was still his safe place. The place he could mostly let his guard down when work wasn’t being brought home, but it was quieter now. It was darker now. He had to switch the lights on himself. Instead of sitting down at the dinner table, a meal prepared and laid out for him, he now fixed himself a drink from the bar cart, sat at that same dining room table and drank alone. Day in, day out, that same routine ever since she left. His Angel.

Everything had been harder since she left. Work was harder. Getting up and living was harder. Suddenly he had to factor in extra costs she had been taking care of; weekly shopping, the cleaner, the gardener. Heck he had even paid out for a storage facility to hold all her things. He had the whole house redecorated because everything reminded him of her. She was his everything, they were going to rule the whole city together. But now it’s just him. 

He reached forward for the small drinks tray in the car, pouring himself a finger of whiskey from the decanter. He unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and ruffled up his hair as he slumped back into his seat in the back of the car, his head leaning back against the headrest.

“Everything okay back there boss?” Miguel asked from the driver's seat.

“Hmm, yeah.” Peter sighed as he forced himself to make eye contact with his driver through the rear view mirror.

“It’s her again isn’t it.”

Peter said nothing.

“You know boss, I knew she’d be nothing but trouble when-“ Miguel began to berate as he pulled up to the main gate, waiting for it to slide open with their arrival, but Peter’s demeanour suddenly changed, a frown pulling at his brow as he suddenly looked past the reflection of his driver and out the front window of the car. There were lights on in the house.

Peter’s hand slowly began to run along the carpeted roof of the car, his fingers pushing on a particular spot that revealed a compartment that concealed an emergency gun. His fingers tentatively closed around the handle as he brought it down, his senses continuing to assess the situation as Miguel drove slowly up to the house, careful to make as little noise on the gravel pathway as possible.

As they grew closer, Peter’s tension only grew as they realised the front door had been left open. The car had barely stopped when both men tentatively got out of the car, their doors left open in front of them as they each raised their pieces, scouting for danger. Peter motioned for Miguel to watch his back as he slowly edged his way around the car, the placements of his feet careful and quiet. As he got closer to the door he could hear music echoing down the hallway. 

His feet stepped gingerly through the foyer as he followed the sound. 

“Well, then suddenly there was no one Left standing in the hall, yeah, yeah In a flood of tears That no one really ever heard fall at all”

All the way down the hall nothing seemed a miss. Everything was still tidy. No one had broken in to ransack the place and he was definitely sure if they had they wouldn’t be blasting Stevie Nicks in the kitchen whilst they did it. He held a hand up towards Miguel who had slowly been following behind him. He could hear the sound of oil sizzling in a pan and then-

“Well I went searching for an answer, up the stairs and down the hall, and not to find an answer, just to hear the call of a night bird…”

He’d know that voice anywhere. Her voice. Angel. 

It had been so long, almost like a charm that disarmed him, he began to lower his weapon, his stance relaxing. He quietly motioned his hand for Miguel to leave and they both shared a silent nod of understanding. Peter took in a deep breath as he confidently strolled through the doorway into the kitchen. 

She had her back to him as she danced across the tiled floor, lost in the music as she cooked. It was just like before- but it wasn’t. She had left. He had erased her entire existence from his life. 

He put the safety back on his gun and dropped it forcefully on top of the large kitchen island. He expected the sudden noise, the announcement of his presence, to at least shake her, startle her in some way, but she didn’t so much as flinch.

“Honey, I’m home.” He further announced himself.

She finally turned to face him. A part of him couldn’t help but melt when she turned, wooden spoon held aloft, mid-air,  as she turned and smiled at him. 

“I’m just adding a few more bits and it’ll be ready.” She beamed, her voice calling to him over the music and the sizzle of the vegetables in the pan like nothing was wrong. Like she hadn’t been gone for three years.

He rolled his eyes as she turned her back to him again, continuing to sing the last chorus of the song as she cooked. He raised his hands, confused, exasperated, unsure of what to do with himself. He ultimately found his feet already carrying himself to the bar cart, his usual routine kicking in. Was it his usual routine though or the sudden need for a strong drink to help get him through this inevitable conversation.

“I see you’ve redecorated.” she chirped.

He didn’t respond, leaving a long pause as he poured his drink.

“Darling, how did you get in?” He instead said, changing the subject as he took his usual seat at the table.

“The front door.” She innocently responds. “By the way,” she adds, turning to face him with both frying pan and wooden spoon in hand, as she continues to stir, “my birthday Peter really? You couldn’t come up with a more original security code?”

“In my defence Princess, I wasn’t expecting you to come home.” he said, his lips pulling tight.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows in defeat and giving a small nod as she turned back to the stove.

He watched her from his spot at the head of the table as he sipped on his drink, his fingers drumming on the seat of his chair between his legs as he spread out, trying to look confident in his own home. He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over her form as she turned off the knobs to the hob and the oven.

He felt a small sense of pride when she went to the cupboard to find the plates, only to realise he’d also replaced and moved those too.

“You moved the plates.” She sighs, her fingers drumming on the wooden cabinet as she took in a deep breath. When he didn’t immediately respond she turned her head to stick him with her piercing gaze. 

“They’re this side on the left.” He finally said, pointing towards where the cabinet would be on the other side of the island to him.

“Thank you.” She curtly replied as she moved across the kitchen to retrieve them.

She serves up the dinner, switching off the extractor fan, suddenly plunging them both into silence as she carries the two plates of food over to the table. 

Their eye contact is tense as she places the plate of food in front of him, so much needing to be said. Things that should have been said before. Things they’d both wanted to say since.

They continued to dance around each other in silence, cutlery scraping against plates as they ate. Peter didn’t want to admit it, but he’d really missed her cooking. He’d missed her altogether- but he knew he couldn’t get too attached. He didn’t even know why she was here in the first place, let alone how long it was for.

He let his eyes gaze along the long table towards where she sat up the other end and only then was it that he noticed the large envelope on the table. He stared at it, frozen, his hands resting his cutlery either side of his plate, his food now forgotten.

“Princess, whatever you do, don’t tell me those are divor-“

“Peter, my father's dead.” She blurted out. Her hands were now in her lap as she looked absentmindedly at a spot on the table.

“What?” Peter said tentatively in shock as he waited for her to look at him.

She looked around the room for a moment before she said it again, still not able to lock eyes with him. “My fathers dead.” He watched as she suddenly steeled herself. She pushed her chair back from the table, pushing herself to a stand with the arms of the chair. Her heels clacked across the floor as her fingers ran along the wood until they found the envelope that lay in the middle of the table between them. Peter leaned back in his seat to look up at her as she moved closer, her hip leaning against the table top as she handed the envelope to him.

Peter tentatively opened the envelope, his fingers reaching for the paper inside. 

“It’s his will.” She said as his fingers pulled the paper from its sheath and began to scan the text on the paper. She watched as he began to flip through the pages until he was on the last one as he froze. “He left you everything.” She said out loud, confirming what he was reading.

He looked up at her in shock. “But, I don’t understand.” He said as he began to reread the final page to be sure. “He hated me.” He said as he looked up at her again. “That’s why-” Peter couldn’t say it. That’s why she had left. 

Her Father had made her leave. He was his rival, she had run off and married the enemy and he had made her leave. Forced her onto a plane and took her who knows where. Well Peter knew where. Northern Italy. He had had Eddie go looking for her the moment he’d gotten home and found her gone. Their room ransacked, suitcases missing.

“Why would he leave me everything?”

“Because he couldn’t outright leave it to me.” She said.

She wasn’t bitter. She was calm, confident, aware that now she was back by her husband's side. The only place she’d really wanted to be. Her fair, just husband, who, although called her Princess, had always treated her like his Queen.

“Baby, how did he die?” Peter asked as he rose from his seat to stand in front of her. His head hung low, his forehead almost touching hers. It was the closest he could allow himself to be to her right now.

Her eyes gazed up into his and he watched as her expression changed. A fear grew in her eyes in a way he had never seen before. Even when he had first met her on the edge of 17, when his whole empire wasn’t even a dream. When she was still afraid of her Father and his job, even then he hadn’t seen this kind of fear in her eyes.

“He couldn’t let him have it.” Her voice was small, timid as tears began to well in her eyes.

“Who? He couldn’t let who have it?”

He was patient as he waited for her to find her voice, to bypass all of the painful memories that seemed to be flooding her. 

“They call him the Vulture.”

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

New chapters will drop every Friday, but it's okay, you don't have to wait for chapter 2, this is a double drop and it's already waiting for you right here!

If you want to be added to the tag list be sure to let me know in writing or re-blogging this post. All of these initial tags come from the likes on my original teaser, as well as the prologue and those who re-blogged that post and asked to be tagged. (I will not be adding on tags from likes alone from her on out, so if you want the tag you have got to ask for it.)

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

(If you liked the prologue or teaser post but haven't been tagged, it's because for some reason I could't, maybe check your settings and be sure to hit the follow button so you don't miss out.

That was a serious adrenaline rush that was. Loved that you referenced Mr and Mrs Smith. Banter is one of my favorite parts of fanfiction in general.

The mystery deepens. These are people sent by The Vulture? Maybe, maybe not? What happened to Miguel? Is he okay? Peter and Angel racing away in the Porsche, she’s wounded, and the house swarming with whatever number of gun wielding criminals left. Hope Peter has a second cache stored somewhere and I’m betting if he doesn’t, it sounds like Angel has acquired some skills she’s kept hidden during their separation. Maybe SHE’S the one with a stash house. Love it!

Looking forward to the next update!

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter 2: Mr and Mrs Parker

Summary: Things are getting tense in the Parker household as their new enemy starts to make himself known.

Warnings: 18+ Only, mature content, eventual smut, weapons, shooting, life threatening incidents, a lot of emotional tension, swearing

Word Count: 2.7k+

A/N: I love this chapter so much. It's my first real proper action scene I've written. As the name of the chapter hints, it's very Mr and Mrs Smith inspired. I have been falling completely in love with these characters and now I hope you are too. So here we go... (also, any thought's on who might be Angel's Dad?)

TWO

Peter had heard of the Vulture before, but only at a distance. A rumour. An urban legend. Ghost story even, told by scared lackeys who had moved from one place to another looking for work after their last master had disappeared. Aptly named for the way he swooped in to feast off of what was left.  

“No one talks about how he’s the mastermind who causes their downfall in the first place.” she fills in.

They had moved to the adjoining living room. Peter sat perched on the edge of the sofa, his elbows leant forward on his knees as he watched her pace back and forth as she recounted everything.

“He’d swoop in, in the dead of night, picking off anyone he could get his hands on, one by one. My dad didn’t think much about it at first. Thought it was one of the Italian groups getting too big for their boots. Then he took out the warehouse on West 49th-”

“In the Kitchen?”

“Yeah.” her voice was timid.

“Wait, you’ve been back in the city?” How had he not noticed? Why hadn’t Eddie told him.

“Yes.” she said again, the word barely audible. She couldn’t meet his eyes, her guilt clear on her face.

“How long?”

“4 Months.” she admitted. She finally looked at him as his brow furrowed. He sat back in his seat, his hands sliding down his face in exasperation. She could feel his energy twisting, his temper beginning to boil under the surface of his skin. “Don’t be mad at Eddie.” Her words shook him to his core. “I know you had him come find me.” She said as she stepped towards him, but didn’t dare go any further than the coffee table, the unspoken no man's land.

“You knew I had Eddie following you?”

“Peter, he’s an ex investigative journalist not the private investigator you think he is.” Peter didn’t respond, just stared up at her as he leaned forward on his knees again. “I told him not to say anything. I didn’t want it to start another war. It took me long enough as it was to try and convince my Father to let me come home with the promise I wouldn’t contact you. Let alone push my luck.”

Peter’s face fell. After all this time, she was still  the one person he couldn’t keep his facade up with, except maybe Harry. 

“Peter I promise you I didn’t want to leave. Why do you think there were never any divorce papers sent? That was the deal I made with him. I would leave only on the grounds that as soon as he died, I’d be straight back here. He knew that, that’s why he left you the whole Kitchen in the end.”

Peter still couldn’t believe it. After years, the only stronghold in the city he couldn’t penetrate, Hell’s Kitchen, her father’s domain, was now his.

“He’s gonna be coming for you Peter. He doesn’t take too kindly to not getting his meal after he’s made his kill.”

He stared at her, almost like she was a stranger in that moment. The way she spoke. Now hardened by the three year separation. All that time spent with her Father. She dressed differently, did her hair differently. Getting closer to 30 had changed her. No longer was she the fresh faced girl straight out of college he’d originally snuck around with behind her father’s back. Nor the innocent bride, no something had changed her, hardened her. That’s when he noticed it, a small flash of red.

“Get down.” he shouted as he leapt across the coffee table to tackle her to the ground as the first shot went off. 

Her hands instinctively reached to protect her head as they both shuffled across the rug, Peter pushing the coffee table out of the way as a barrage of bullets came hurtling through the windows. They lay hunched down on the floor in front of the sofa.

“Where’s the closest gun?” she shouted over the sound of gunfire. 

His eyes instinctively looked at his piece, still sitting on top of the kitchen island. Upon realising it was too far he looked at a painting on the wall to their left. If he could just get to the safe hidden behind it. 

“Jesus Christ.” she shouted as her hand reached down to her trouser leg, lifting it up to reveal the holster strapped tightly around her ankle. She pulled the smallest pistol Peter had ever seen from it. She nestled closer to the sofa as she removed the safety, using the briefest of windows between shooting to check out the window. She could barely see a thing out there through the cracked glass. “I can buy you maybe 30 seconds, you’ve gotta make it count.”

He gave a quick nod of confirmation.

“Ready? 3…2…1-” she sat herself up, leaning her arms on the back of the sofa and making one shot, then two, both hitting their mark as Peter rushed towards the left wall. He practically ripped the painting off the wall to reveal the safe behind it, his fingers dexterously entering the code to unlock it,

He heard two more shots as his fingers reached for the pieces of the two guns inside. There was one more shot, then another, he was trying to block it out, focussing on sliding the magazine into the guns, one getting tucked into his belt once completed, the other still in his hand when-

“Ahh fuck.” he heard her cry. He turned to see her crouching back low behind the sofa, her hand covering her left shoulder, blood already beginning to seep through the long sleeved white turtleneck she had on. “Mmmmhmm.” she hummed in pain as he slid back across the floor towards her as another barrage of bullets rang out through the room.

“What happened to my 30 seconds?” he tried to joke and lighten the tone as he protectively crouched over her. His fingers tenderly encouraging her to move her hand so he could assess the damage. 

“It’s fine.” she hissed as her eyes closed, head hitting the back of the sofa firmly as she tried to centre herself and push past it. “Merely grazed me.” she confirmed when he wouldn’t let up.

She pushed him away, placing some distance between them again and forcing him to get focused on the enemy outside once more. She watched as his head inched upwards to quickly look over the back of the sofa and out of the window which had completely shattered at this point, leaving a large gaping hole in the wall. His head quickly ducked again as a few more bullets landed in the top of the sofa, closer to his head.

“Bet you’re glad I redecorated now.” He joked as he watched her toss her now empty pistol to one side. He reached into his waistband for the other gun, holding it out to her.

“Thanks.” she grumbled as she propped herself back up onto her knees, assuming a similar crouched position to him as she rechecked the bullets and the magazine before cocking the gun.

“What, don’t trust me?”

“Old habit.” she grumbled. When had that become an old habit he wondered. “Come on Spider boy, what’s the plan here?”

He felt the corner of his mouth twitch upwards, he hadn’t heard that in a long time and it made him nostalgic, almost youthful again. But he quickly pushed it away, getting his game face on. “We need to get out of here, get around the back, take one of the cars from the garage.”

“I’m assuming it’s locked.” she said before seizing an opportunity to pop up from their cover and fire two shots into her target. Peter couldn’t help the admiration he felt as he watched her fire a perfect head and chest shot into her mark. If they currently weren’t fighting for their lives he definitely would have found himself growing hard. “Yo, Parker. Back here please!” she shouted at him, snapping him out of it. “Keys?”

“Same place as always.”

“So you didn’t move everything.” she sighed, as he took an opportunity to take his shot.

When he settled himself back down tight against the sofa, his body turned to face her, he finally said, “You keep low, head through the kitchen and out the back, I’ll cover you.” 

She gave him a quick nod, waiting for his signal as he checked back over the sofa at their assailants as they took a break from firing to reload. “Ready?” She nodded again. “Go!” he said as he stood and began firing out the window at the gunmen. 

She scuttled across the floor, picking back up her pistol as she went. She was halfway across the floor when the shooting started again. She just caught the sight of a dark figure moving along the windows to track her, before a bullet hit the hardwood floor mere inches to her right. She froze, her head turning in shock. “My bad honey, I’m sorry!” Peter called as he turned his body and shot out the window in the rogue gunman's direction.

She quickly slid herself into the kitchen, her body sliding to the left for the wall that stuck out a little further, giving her cover and allowing her to stand and assess her next move. She needed to get across to the other side of the kitchen to where the utility room was with the key cupboard. She peeked her head around the wall back in the direction of Peter who was now back crouched behind the sofa, reloading his weapon. A shot rang out, hitting the wall just to the side of her head and she quickly took cover again. That’s when she spotted Peter’s other gun he’d first come home with on the island. She lifted her leg, quickly placing her smaller pistol back in its holster, freeing up her other hand once more.

She took a steadying breath before sliding across the tiled floor, using her hand to stop herself once she was safely behind the large island, a couple more shots popping off at her heels and bouncing off the work tops.

“How’s it going Princess?” Peter hollered from the living room.

“I’m working on it!” she shouted back. “Would be a lot easier if I wasn’t being shot at every time I moved!”

“Uh, fuck it!” she heard him grumble to himself.

There was a commotion as furniture was hastily moved and she took that as her opportunity to reach up and grab the second gun off the island. She had just crouched back down into her position when she started to hear the gunmen outside grow frantic. “What the-! Ahhhgg!!” she heard one of them scream. This was her moment, she knew she had to seize it. Both guns in hand she rushed, still crouched low towards the utility room door. There were a couple more shots behind her and then another very unmanly wail before she reached the door, skidding through the open door frame.

She quickly made her way to the left wall, opening up the small cupboard in the wall to reveal a bunch of keys all on different hooks. She began to scan her eyes across the labels. Pool house keys, spare front door key, a whole load of window keys… “Aha!” she exclaimed in triumph as she found the garage door key. She then paused as her eyes fell on the different car keys, spotting the keys to the Porsche. She couldn’t help but smirk as she snatched them off the wall too.

There were a couple more shots, this time coming from the kitchen as she took one glance through the doorframe to see Peter rushing across the room towards her. She raced to open the back door, the adrenaline coursing through her doing well to mask the pain in her shoulder but she couldn’t escape the throbbing sensation that radiated from it. She groaned as the door finally gave way and she raced along the side of the house to where she could see the garage, her fingers quickly slotting one of the guns into her waistband. She paused at the corner wall of the house, checking for any of the gunmen. Her answer came by the way of another shot hitting the wall next to her head making her jump back into the shadows. “Fuck.” she grumbled as she closed her eyes, head falling back against the wall. There was a noise to her right, her eyes quickly flying open, back on alert, her fingers reaching for the safety of the gun in her hands, her arms quickly raising. She quickly lowered it again as she saw her husband, creeping across the back of the house towards her. 

“What are you waiting for?” he hissed as he came up beside her.

“Really?” she hissed back, shooting him a look that said she thought he was the biggest dumbass she’d ever met. He merely shrugged. She rolled her eyes as she turned to peer around the side of the house again. Another shot. She recoiled, shooting Peter a look as if to say ‘that’s why I’m waiting.’ Out of the corner of her eye however she could see through one of the back windows of the house, the shadowy figures already making their way through the lower level to hunt them down. Peter, catching her sudden distracted look, quickly followed her gaze before snapping back to her.

“I’ll take care of them, you run.”

“Okay.” she said with a small nod. There was a pause between them before he was holding his hand out to her. “What?”

“I know you took it off the counter.”

She rolled her eyes as she reached back into her waistband for his gun. She slapped the heavy weight of it into his open palm.

“Thank you.” he said. She rolled her eyes at the tiny smirk in the corner of his mouth as their fingers brushed against one anothers in the exchange.

He stepped forward, pushing her back so he was in front as he readied himself. “Ready?” he checked in with her again.

“Ready.” she nodded and he stepped out, arm aloft shooting two bullets in quick succession in two separate targets. She heard their bodies hit the ground as she raced for the garage door, her blood covered fingers fumbling with the key in the lock. There were two more shots behind her, one hitting the top corner of the metal door just as she was turning the handle, pushing the garage door open. 

Her eyes scanned the cars in front of her. “Fuck!” she muttered again as she noticed the silver Porsche further down the garage in the shadow of the other door. She quickly raced over to the second door of the double garage, her fingers working faster this time, but still not fast enough before another bullet hit the bricks that divided the two doors. Her eyes grew wide and she sneered at yet another close call.

“What’s taking so long?” she heard Peter call out.

She ignored him as she threw the second door open, her fingers fumbling for the button on the car keys, a loud chirp and lights flashing as it unlocked. She quickly raced around the drivers side, her shoulder protesting as she flung the door open. “Uhh.” she groaned, clutching it as she quickly slid inside. Her fingers were racing to put the key in the ignition with one hand before she’d even closed the door. There was a loud roar as the car came to life and she reached with her good hand to pull the door to, before she was putting the car in gear, her foot hitting the accelerator.

She broke quickly as she came alongside Peter, her good arm throwing the driver's door open as she simultaneously began manoeuvring herself into the passenger seat. There were two more shots as Peter put one foot and then the other into the car. The driver’s door slammed at the same time his foot was hitting the accelerator, tires squealing as he began to speed down the drive. She watched in discomfort as she shuffled in her seat as a few of the men in front of them quickly leaped out of the way of the car. She groaned in pain once more, as her arm bumped against the car door as Peter skidded off the drive and onto the road, the last few shots ringing out behind them as they sped away from the house as fast as they could.

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

New chapters will drop every Friday!

If you want to be added to the tag list be sure to let me know in writing or re-blogging this post. All of these initial tags come from the likes on my original teaser, as well as the prologue and those who re-blogged that post and asked to be tagged. (I will not be adding on tags from likes alone from her on out, so if you want the tag you have got to ask for it.)

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

(If you liked the prologue or teaser post but haven't been tagged, it's because for some reason I could't, maybe check your settings and be sure to hit the follow button so you don't miss out.)

Lizzy's masterlist.

Most of my works contain dark themes or triggering topics. Most of them also have happy endings or humor. Read all the warnings on each chapter. Do not repost or translate my works on any other site. 🔞 All works are 18+ 

My original stories are tagged #Lizzy writes.

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🍬 fluff 🌶 smut ⚔️ whump/violence ☔️ angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt/comfort

🌒 dark themes/sensitive topics 🦌 Lizzy’s favorites

[Agent Mobius x F!Reader]

shudder | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 [series complete; villain!TVA Recruit!reader] ⚔️☔️❤️‍🩹🌶

“There was no question in anyone’s mind that you were lethal. That was part of Mobius’ plan." Enemies to Lovers. 5+1 format - a little bit of fluff, lots of pining, smut at the end.

[TASM!Peter Parker x F!Reader] 

NEW sugar and vice | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | Epilogue [complete; mob!au] 🌶 ⚔️ ❤️‍🩹

+ The Spotify Playlist

A coffee shop meet cute, but with a Mob!Peter twist.

these violet delights [oneshot; mob!au] ⚔️ ❤️‍🩹 🌒

The Purple Man comes to visit Mob!Peter at home.

🦌 heat of the moment | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 [complete; Groundhog Day AU] ⚔️ ☔️ ❤️‍🩹

Today is the first day of the end of your life. And it keeps happening, over, and over again.

sweet dreams [oneshot] 🌶

You wake up one night with needs. Peter helps you solve them. pwp, no plot at all.

blood-splattered angels [oneshot; assassin!fem!reader] ⚔️ ☔️ 🌘

Spider-Man is kidnapped and held hostage by a mob. And then they make their biggest mistake - sending you the address.

🦌 1 missed call [oneshot] ❤️‍🩹⚔️☔️ 🌘

When Peter listens to a voicemail from you after a fight, the sounds are almost unintelligible and chill him to the bone.

ties that bind [oneshot] ❤️‍🩹 🌘

“You were helpless again. But you were also safe. Vulnerable and protected. Impenetrable and wide open.” Reader ponders the dichotomy of being set free and held captive by Peter's brand of saving. Roommates to lovers, non-graphic depictions of smut.

🦌 dark!peter play series - peter x f!reader cnc character study 🌘🔞☔️🌶

MATURE THEMES/SENSITIVE TOPICS. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

part one: the devil you know | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 

Your intimate relationship with your boyfriend Peter and your own mental health begin to struggle, sending you into a toxic downward spiral.

part two: inner demons | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Peter deals with the repercussions of discovering his dark side.

drabbles

"hungry" mob!peter picture blurb ⚔️

🦌 "your secret is safe with me" - workplace rival!peter 1 | 2 🌶 🔞

🦌"picture perfect moment" - groom!Peter on your wedding day 🍬

"sweat" yoga instructor!peter picture blurb 🌶

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Hi guys, it’s Bambi. With my account growing I wanted to have all this stuff easily accessed so here you go. The links below will help you get familiar with myself and this account. Much love!

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ANDREW GARFIELD

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Wednesday Reblog Reminder

Anyone else orbit around their favorite fanfic author's blogs waiting for a new story, an update notification to a series, a blurb, a headcannon, etc?

I sure do! I love to see what the talented writers and artists across Tumblr are creating and reblogs are a great way to spread that love! Reblogs also introduce material, new and old, to users that may have missed it the first time or not be aware of its existence. This month alone, I have been reading fics in a fandom I'd never really been engaged with until a favorite author released a story in that different fandom, a mutual reblogged it with a few comments, and I gave it a try. It was awesome! Reblogging also gives others multiple fics from which to choose while they wait for chapter updates from their ongoing favorite authors because Tumblr writers are busy people! So please: REBLOG! It creates additional favorite authors!

Below is a shoutout/acknowledgement/encouragement no pressure tag for just some of the many authors I regularly enjoy/follow in several fandoms (*many of these write for the 18+ crowd so please read their bio to make sure you are not violating their consent if you are not 18).

Give them a try! Reblog if you read and enjoy one of their fics. Hopefully the authors will also reblog and spread the love across Tumblr. Reblogging is the fuel for the Tumblr engine!

@ficthotshots @withahappyrefrain @blooming-violets @liz-allyn @periprose @p3mybeloved @rancidpancakebatter @luvablehand @webslingingslasher @she-likesorchids @thursdaygxrls @reidslovely @helloheyhihowdyheya @loveroftoomanyfandoms @delicate-dorothea @jamespottersdaisy @backtothefanfiction @spider-stark

Here's my own blog for a few random works: @backupanddoitagain

I read this on Wednesday when you updated the series but I needed some time before responding because that second scene (basement) was like you (I can imagine you holding back a chuckle here) pulling the pin on a grenade and walking out the door right when you posted the chapter....knowing we (readers) were going to be playing 'hot potato' with it.

Because, woah Nelly, that was a great scene. But let me back up a minute and return to the opener: loved the dream sequence, the feeling of being rooted to the spot is universal and the way you contrasted that with the later scene where Angel is in full control and has agency--brilliant. I love her character, and how you're letting us in little by little instead of exposing her thoughts/personality all at once. It made her actions all the more delicious because it surprised the characters (i.e. Peter, et al) and US, well me anyway as I shouldn't speak for other readers. Well done on that. (Also: "Sorry, tall, dark and broody, looks like I got to him first." Great line! She's got a sense of humor, albeit given the situation, a rather grim sense of humor). Love that.

She sure threw Peter for a loop. I can't wait to see/read the convo they're going to have after the group has dealt with Jackson....

Enjoyed it, thank you for the update!

*adding: got some stuff at work that will need some extra hours so the Friday update may need to wait a few days before I can read it but I am soooo looking forward to the continuing story; it's really got me hooked!

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Eight: There's No Remedy for Memory

Summary: No matter how much we try, we can't live in the past or ignore who we've become.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, typical genre violence, mentions of blood, guns, torture, brief mention of bombing/explosion, angst, tension, complicated marriage, implied death

Word Count: 4.4K

A/N: After last chapters fun, our couple are crashing right back down to reality. Things are about to get very dramatic and tense over the next couple of chapters. No matter how much our lovers wish everything to be okay, you can't just live in a bubble of bliss and sweep everything under the rug. We are also gonna get a little look at their first meeting. Title comes curtesy of yet another Lana Del Rey lyric, this time from the song Dark Paradise. As always if you enjoy, reblog and give me feedback, it keeps me going.

EIGHT

The fluorescent lights were bright as she made her way down the long corridor. Although the doors that lined the corridor were shut, she didn’t feel like they were locked or closed off to her. As she continued to walk down the hall she realised it felt familiar. She didn’t know how, all she knew was that she was supposed to go through the door at the end.

Her fingers reached absentmindedly for the handle with one hand, the other hand seemed to be rooting around for something in her pocket. There was the faint sound of music, but she couldn’t work out where it was coming from.

Suddenly she was in one of her Dad’s old warehouses. She was walking into the office, her feet kicking up onto a faded wooden coffee table as she took a seat on a sofa. 

She turned her head to see her Mom sitting working away at a desk. She was surrounded by mountains of paperwork and looked somewhat stressed, but whenever she looked at her she always had a smile on her face.

“I’ll be right back,” she suddenly said as she rose from her seat and began to make her way to the office door. “Just wait in here, okay?” She said, “I’m just gonna go talk to your Dad. Do you wanna go and get something to eat soon?” She asked as she hesitated at the door.

“Yeah.” Angel said as she looked up from the textbook on her lap. “Can we get Tai?” She asked.

“You know what?” Her mother responded. “I think Tai sounds great. I’ll ask your Dad, okay?”

“Okay.” Angel beamed as she looked back down at the textbook.

She couldn’t make out the writing on the page and she suddenly had this sense of foreboding, like she knew something bad was about to happen. She tried to get the version of herself to look around or stand up or do something, but she didn’t have any control.

‘Come on.’ She thought to herself in her head as she willed the younger version of herself to move. ‘Move. MOVE!’ She said louder in her head, but it was no use.

There was a sudden explosion that knocked her sideways. The frosted glass window to her right shattered and she fell off the sofa, her head hitting the coffee table as she went down. 

She was groggy and groaned as she tried to move, her body was suddenly so heavy. She was acutely aware of the adrenaline beginning to flood through her as her ears rang and took a moment to adjust. 

“Uhhhgg. Mom?” She whined as she rolled herself over. “MOM!” She cried out, but there was no one there.

Her lungs protested as she began to breathe in smoke and she could feel the heat from the now raging fire spreading through the adjacent room as she tried to stand.

Her legs felt like jelly, fingers fumbling for purchase on the closest item of furniture to pull herself up. She coughed loudly before she cried out again, her eyes trying to clear and see through the smoke but her head was throbbing, her ears still faintly ringing, everything sounded muffled. “Mom?! Dad?!” She screamed.

Suddenly a figure came barrelling through the half broken door. She saw a flash of red and blue.

“Hey it’s okay, I got you, I got you.” A boy's voice said.

‘A boy? That couldn’t be right. I thought it was Man, Spider-Man.’

“Hey can you walk?” He asked. She was so confused and dizzy. “Hey, hey! Look at me! Look at me, okay? I’m gonna get you out of here.”

Peter’s neck began to prickle, his body growing tight, adrenaline coursing through him as he slowly became alert, his body dragging him from his slumber, just before-

“Agghhggg.” She cried out as she sat bolt upright in bed. One of her hands clutched to her chest while the other grasped frantically over the bed covers.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He said softly as he sat up, his arm wrapping around her, immediately trying to comfort and ground her. “Hey it’s okay, baby I’m here, I’ve got you.”

She let out a large sigh as she finally began to process the reality around her, her body finding safety in his presence as she folded her body into his embrace. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” He continued to coo as he brushed his hand over the back of her head and rocked her slowly against his body.

Her chest continued to heave, her breaths were shallow and short. “Breathe, baby, just breathe.” He said slowly, elongating the words, coaching her as he continued to do all he could to soothe her. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He kept saying as tears began to roll down her cheeks, her sleep-addled brain slowly processing the dream and the memory.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He continued to whisper to her in the dark.

“Peter?” She finally said, her voice a broken question as if to check it was really him.

“Yeah, it’s me, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you baby, I promise.” He said as he kissed the top of her head.

They stayed there tangled up in the sheets and each other's arms for a moment as her breathing settled.

“I’m sorry.” She finally croaked into the dark.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He repeated as she slowly began to separate herself from him. “You still have the same dream?” He asked, but he already knew the answer.

He felt her head bob in the dark, a silent nod of confirmation. “It’s been a while though.” She sniffed as her hand raised to wipe away the tears from her cheeks. Her skin felt tight and dry as the salty tears began to dry.

He reached out for her, tucking her into his side as he lay back down into the pillows. His fingers traced across her bare skin as he held her close and she settled against his shoulder. His thumb traced the edges of the surgical patch covering her stitches as he listened to her heartbeat begin to slow, her breathing growing deeper and deeper until he knew she had fallen back asleep. 

Peter shifted his free hand behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, sleep eluding him now he was awake. It wasn’t uncommon for her nightmares to trigger his senses, but it had been so long he’d forgotten what it felt like.

He grew restless, his fingers reaching for his phone only to realise it was still downstairs. He checked to make sure she was still fast asleep before he gently eased his arm out from under her. He rubbed the lingering sleep from his eyes as he got up, padding across the soft carpet to the bathroom to relieve himself before grabbing himself a pair of black linen pyjama pants from the wardrobe. 

He paused for a moment in the doorway as he watched her sleep, his ears listening and counting her heartbeats as his eyes followed the steady rise and fall of her chest.

He reluctantly pulled himself away, making his way downstairs to the kitchen. He rubbed at his eyes again as he searched for his phone, finding it on the kitchen counter next to her shoes. When he opened it up and finally took the phone off aeroplane mode there was a flurry of dings and messages.

Angel woke a couple of hours later to find herself alone in bed. Her fingers brushed across the soft cotton sheets to find them cold, his body long gone. She groaned slightly as her fingers clawed at her pillow, willing sleep to return but it wouldn’t, the sun creeping through the cracks around the blinds. She sighed as she rolled herself over before sitting up, her hands scratching through her hair as she yawned. Her body felt so tired yet so sated, the memory of the night before playing back in her mind.

She reluctantly pulled herself from the soft covers as she went to explore the bathroom. The shelves and draws were stocked with all her old favourites. She’d missed a lot of them, many of them unavailable to her in Italy and then forgotten about once she moved back in with her Dad. She pulled a pomegranate and orange scented shampoo and conditioner set off of one of the shelves, placing it on a ledge built into the wall of the black subway tiled shower. She then grabbed a rose and eucalyptus shower gel, placing it next to the other items in the shower, before switching it on. She turned to the large mirror and double vanity as the water warmed. Her eyes fell to the patch on her shoulder, her fingers picking at the corners to peel it off. 

She hadn’t looked at it since Peter had stitched it up. Darker clumps of blood had scabbed under the stitches and there were patchy bruises surrounding the tender skin. She was careful with it as she got into the water, trying not to get it too wet so the stitches would continue to hold and the skin wouldn’t become pliant and split.

She relished in the fruity and floral smells of the products. Although she had enjoyed her showers and even long soaks in the bath at her Dad’s since she had been back, none of them felt as luxurious as this. She stood in the flow of the rainfall shower head, her head tipped back allowing the water to flow down her body as she allowed herself to close her eyes, to relish in the steam, the dim lights of the shower and that feeling of comfort and home.

When she got out the shower she wrapped herself in a brand new towel, the fluffy white texture soft and warm against her skin. She began to search through the cupboards in the bathroom for a first aid kit, finally finding one tucked way in the back under the sink. Her damp fingers fumbled with a new patch to cover her stitches, her hands cautiously dabbing at the wound until it was dry enough she could get the patch to stick. It was a little bit wonky from where she had struggled to get the angle of it by herself, but she could feel the whole wound was covered so she didn’t mind. She roughly towel dried her hair before she went out into the dressing room. She carefully slipped her arms into a plain black vest top before slipping her legs into a fresh pair of cotton pyjama bottoms covered in red, blue and yellow stripes. 

When she went downstairs to the kitchen she didn’t expect anyone to be home, her old routine kicking in as she hunted in the cupboards for her old favourite, English letter box red, Le Creuset mug, placing it under the coffee machine as she reached for one of the pods in a jar beside it, her fingers hitting the button making the machine roar to life.

“Good Morning!” His voice greeted her from the living room area. He couldn’t help the smile that toyed with the corners of his lips as she did a little jump before she turned, her fingers clutching gently to her chest.

“Oh! Morning.” She sighed a smile forming on her face as she looked at him, dressed in a pair of slacks and a black button up shirt, the first three buttons of which were left open, his sleeves rolled up messily revealing his forearms. “I didn’t expect you to still be here. What time is it?”

“Nine.” He replied as the coffee machine stopped and she turned to pick up her cup. She took a sip as she shuffled across the floor towards him, leaning against the arm of the sofa as she took him in. “I’m waiting on a delivery.” He said as he looked down at his phone in his fingers, reading over a message before tapping out a quick reply.

“What kind of delivery?” She queried but her answers were delayed by the sound of the elevator reaching their floor, two male voices echoing around the small foyer outside before they let themselves in.

Eddie and Harry barrelled into the living space. “Took us all night but we’ve finally got him.” Harry said confidently as he swaggered into the room, moving around the sofa opposite them and flopping back onto the cushions. 

“Yo, Pete, you got anything to eat? I’m starving.” Eddie exclaimed as he made his way towards the fridge.

Angel watched as Eddie began to pull out a large bottle of orange juice, twisting the cap off and raising it to his mouth. 

“You know there’s glasses in the cupboard.” Angel said loudly in his direction making him freeze as she took a sip of her coffee, her eyebrows raising at him encouraging him to make the right choice.

“Heh, you got told.” Harry said as he watched Eddie shuffle towards the cupboards above the counters, opening them up and looking for the glasses. As he pulled one down he shot Harry a look as if to say ‘don’t push your luck’.

“So where is he then?” Peter asked to the room, waiting for either one of them to respond.

“We left him downstairs with Cat.” Harry replied as he began to fiddle with his sunglasses.

“You what?” Peter asked.

“Cat’s a big girl Pete, she can handle herself.” Harry replied nonchalantly.

“Felicia’s not who I’m worried about.” Peter said as he began to stand, he had that scary calm look to his eyes again as he began to collect some things; his phone, a lighter, his gun, placing the smaller items in his pockets, the gun getting slotted into his waistband at his back. He then made his way over to his wife, one of his hands resting on her thigh as he leaned into her, placing a kiss against her cheek before he said, “I don’t know if you want to quickly change your trousers but can you quickly go and grab yourself some shoes, I need you to come downstairs with me for a minute.”

She changed into a pair of black wide legged trousers before slipping into a pair of Louis Vuittons and heading back down to meet them. She took the rest of her coffee with her as she followed them to the elevator.

“I see the elevator works now.” She commented as they all filed inside and Eddie hit a button for the basement. 

“Yeah, I had a guy come out and do it this morning whilst you were still in bed.” Peter replied but he didn’t pull his eyes from his phone. They continued to ride the rest of the way down in silence, the only noise, the small bell of the elevator to say it had arrived.

They followed a dark corridor to the end where it veered left, the space opening up slightly, a desk with computer screens showing a range of surveillance camera footage sat to the right side of the square floor space. There were three adjacent doors that surrounded them, one built into each wall except the back wall, the direction they just came. Harry stepped forward leading them to the door set  into the right side of the wall directly in front of them. He opened the door and each one of them filed in. Harry went through the door first, propping it open as Peter entered, followed by Eddie, then Angel, hesitantly bringing up the rear as she tried to work out what was going on.

The room was like a concrete box. There were a couple of steel topped tables that lined either side of the room along with a large red multi drawered tool box, almost like what you’d get in a car garage. In the middle of the room sat a chair and on that chair was a man, face slightly bloodied, hands bound, mouth gagged. Silent tears streaked from the corners of his eyes mixing with the blood; and a mixture of blood and snot dribbled from his nose to his chin.

Felicia stood at a slight distance before him in her token skin tight faux leather leggings and a leather jacket, as she paced back and forth around him.

“Jackson Brice!” Peter’s voice echoed around the room as he got the attention of the man in the chair. His head lifted slowly to look up at Peter. “Oh Jackie, Jackie, Jackie.” Peter teased him as he crouched before the man to make it easier for Jackson to look at him.

Angel hesitated closer to the doorway as she watched her husband work, still unsure of why she was there.

“You fucked up Jack.” Peter said as he slapped the man’s thighs before standing. “Baby, come here.” Peter said, holding his hand out to her, encouraging her to step across the room to him. When she stood at his side he turned her to take a better look at the man in front of her.

“Now this Jack, this is my wife.” Peter said with a smile like the devil. “Isn’t she a beauty?” Peter paused as he waited for the man to lift his head up again to look at Angel. 

Angel could see the small flicker of recognition in his eyes as he hardened his resolve, realising who she was, why he was there, what would inevitably happen.

“Princess, can I ask you a question?” Peter said, turning to her, almost whispering in her ear. She could feel his thumb reaching for the healed burn mark on the back of her arm she had shown him yesterday. “Is this the man who did this to you?” His voice asked softly as his thumb brushed tenderly over the silvery scar. 

Angel looked at the man in front of her. She knew Peter was asking a rhetorical question. They both knew Jackson was the guy to place his burning gun to the back of her arm whilst her Father and Adrian negotiated terms, while she played piggy in the middle. In her hesitancy to respond she could feel that scary calm energy radiating off her husband's body. Once upon a time she would have found it protective, even sexy, the way he would go to the ends of the earth to defend her honour, but she was a big girl now and she could fight her own battles. In her head she could see exactly how this played out. She would confirm it to be him, then Peter would dismiss her so he could do whatever it was he wanted to do to the man to get him to talk until ultimately killing him and having someone, probably Miguel as he was the darkest and most ruthless of them all, to dump him in the Hudson. Peter would act like God dishing out punishments and justice even though it wasn’t him who was even wronged. It was her.

“Yes.” She confirmed as she turned her head towards her husband. She watched as his eyes softened for her as he looked at her. She leaned further into him, her coffee still in one hand whilst her other hand snaked around Peter’s hip. She gave him a look that said ‘you’re so charming and sexy when you’re protective of me’ a small smile playing at the corner of her lip as his arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer into his side so he could kiss her. She pulled her lips away from him with a tight lipped smile as her fingers wrapped around the handle of the gun, wedged into the back of his waistband. She quickly removed it, taking off the safety as she turned and fired a single shot. There was a shout of pain that echoed off the walls as the bullet landed in Jackson’s thigh, just above his knee. She smirked, satisfied with herself as Peter’s face looked horrified. He didn’t like not being in control. She merely walked away from him, her lower back resting against one of the tables as she crossed her legs in front of her and waited, taking a small sip of her coffee as everyone just stared at her. She simply just raised her eyebrows at her husband with a slight nod, encouraging him to start his interrogation.

Felicia couldn’t help but let out a small giggle from her corner of the room. She had never seen Peter so flustered before. ‘Maybe she was gonna like his wife after all’ she thought.

They were all interrupted from their thoughts by another body entering the room. Like clockwork, Miguel made his way silently into the small concrete box of a room. Miguel and Angel had always been amicable but there was something about Miguel that was hard to penetrate. The others had all done their time to get to the heart of him but he had always kept a wall up with Angel. She thought it was because he thought her both too soft but also she was born from the loins of the enemy and Miguel always lived by the notion that blood was thicker than water, always expecting her to run back to Daddy the moment things went sideways. But Angel knew something Miguel didn’t, he lived by a motto that was mistranslated and he had her all wrong.

She watched Miguel closely as he observed the scene in front of him. Jackson sat on a chair grunting and groaning in pain, blood staining his skin and his clothes, Harry stood staring at the body in the chair in shock, Felicia smiling at Angel like the Cheshire cat and Angel and Peter in a death stare with each other. His eyes searched the room for the final piece of the puzzle, Eddie. Eddie stood in a dark corner smiling to himself as he looked from Angel to Jackson in the chair, a look of satisfaction that said he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

He watched as Angel’s gaze broke away from Peter’s to land on him before going back to the staring match she seemed to be having with her husband. That’s when he noticed the gun in her other hand leaning back against the table behind her. “Sorry, tall, dark and broody, looks like I got to him first.” Her voice was playful but sent a chill throughout the room as she continued to poke the bear that was her husband.

Everyone watched as she finished off her coffee, placing the empty mug to one side before lifting herself up to sit on the metal table top. She crossed her legs, her hand with the gun in it hanging loosely over her knee. She motioned with the other hand to her husband once again, encouraging him to start his interrogation. His eyes however didn’t leave hers. His pupil blew wide, consuming the previously warm honeyed brown of his irises. She had never seen him look at her like that before but she wasn’t intimidated, not in the way he expected her to be anyway.

“Come on Pete, we’re wasting time.” Eddie spoke up, attempting to get things back on track and diffuse the tension. 

Peter’s gaze snapped towards Eddie, but Eddie simply moved his gaze back and forth between Peter and Jackson trying to bring Peter back into the room and reminding him of the job and the task at hand. When Jackson started to snicker, enjoying watching the drama and infighting unfold, Harry was quick to get in and punch him in the face to shut him up. Although impulsive, the punch seemed just the thing to break the tension and re-establish the balance of things.

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself, opening them to take a glance back over his shoulder at his unpredictable wife, trying to get a read on her for his own sense of self control before he felt comfortable doing anything else. She continued to sit nonchalantly, her legs crossed, one arm leaning back on the table, the other (her bad arm that would have been unable to take the weight) resting the gun over her knee, the safety now firmly on.

He breathed deeply again as he finally turned his attention back to the man bound to a chair in the room. “Jack, Jack, Jack.” he sighed as he bent down before him, his hand leaning on the man’s knees making him cry out in pain as Peter applied light pressure to the gunshot wound. “Now, I think we can all agree, my wife,” he snarled the words, his anger with her bubbling under the surface again, “has made things- even- regarding the little indiscretion that happened a few weeks back.” Peter’s face pulled into a grimace as he let Jackson know that he still thought it was a light punishment given all things and he should be grateful he hadn’t had to suffer worse for leaving a mark on his wife. Peter left a small pause as he waited for Jackson to give any sign he was following and understanding him. When Jackson met his eyes and gave the minutest nod of his head, Peter continued. “But we still have to deal with the issue of our house being attacked, a scene that once again saw my wife getting injured- do you see where I’m going with this?” Peter said standing. He began to circle Jackson like a shark, eyeing up its prey. “Now, we don’t want you. You aren’t the reason our home was violated or my wife hurt… but if you want to walk out of here, or should I say hobble out of here,” he shot a quick look to his wife before once again giving Jackson his attention, “then I think it’s in your best interest to start singing like a canary in a coalmine.” Peter took a step back to allow him to think about the offer. He chanced a quick look back to his wife again before adding, “You should probably make your mind up quick though, it seems you sent my wife back to me a bit unpredictable and who knows what she’s gonna do next.”

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

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

It's a great story and I love twizzlers, although I admit, if I need a sweet pick-me-up I've resorted to 'nibs' because I can't really walk down the hall at work with a twizzler in my hand, hehe.

Seriously, though, while I enjoy the short one shots that many writers have on their Masterlists, it is the slower developing stories that truly draw me in. I appreciate the amount of effort that takes behind the scenes. It is much more reminiscent of what it was like long ago with print authors in the weeklies or monthlies and I can't quite describe this concept quite as I would like, but whatever it is it serves both writer and reader well. You, the author, must take the time to square up your plot (make it make sense IOW without it dragging on too long), consider everything with the characters/dialogue/motivations, and so on while we, the readers, must wait and while we wait, there is time-- and that time is important because now we are thinking, truly thinking about your work: the story, the characters, the world that is presented to us. It's one of the best parts of fiction in general--getting lost in a story and then finding meaning in what we've read. That's the thinking part--sure sometimes it's just to laugh a little and be entertained; but other times, it is to explore emotions, situations, states of mind, and it is something artists and people who appreciate the arts have been doing for a long long time.

*Yeah, sorry for the potential delay but the update will make a nice reward for getting this project out of my hair.

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Eight: There's No Remedy for Memory

Summary: No matter how much we try, we can't live in the past or ignore who we've become.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, typical genre violence, mentions of blood, guns, torture, brief mention of bombing/explosion, angst, tension, complicated marriage, implied death

Word Count: 4.4K

A/N: After last chapters fun, our couple are crashing right back down to reality. Things are about to get very dramatic and tense over the next couple of chapters. No matter how much our lovers wish everything to be okay, you can't just live in a bubble of bliss and sweep everything under the rug. We are also gonna get a little look at their first meeting. Title comes curtesy of yet another Lana Del Rey lyric, this time from the song Dark Paradise. As always if you enjoy, reblog and give me feedback, it keeps me going.

EIGHT

The fluorescent lights were bright as she made her way down the long corridor. Although the doors that lined the corridor were shut, she didn’t feel like they were locked or closed off to her. As she continued to walk down the hall she realised it felt familiar. She didn’t know how, all she knew was that she was supposed to go through the door at the end.

Her fingers reached absentmindedly for the handle with one hand, the other hand seemed to be rooting around for something in her pocket. There was the faint sound of music, but she couldn’t work out where it was coming from.

Suddenly she was in one of her Dad’s old warehouses. She was walking into the office, her feet kicking up onto a faded wooden coffee table as she took a seat on a sofa. 

She turned her head to see her Mom sitting working away at a desk. She was surrounded by mountains of paperwork and looked somewhat stressed, but whenever she looked at her she always had a smile on her face.

“I’ll be right back,” she suddenly said as she rose from her seat and began to make her way to the office door. “Just wait in here, okay?” She said, “I’m just gonna go talk to your Dad. Do you wanna go and get something to eat soon?” She asked as she hesitated at the door.

“Yeah.” Angel said as she looked up from the textbook on her lap. “Can we get Tai?” She asked.

“You know what?” Her mother responded. “I think Tai sounds great. I’ll ask your Dad, okay?”

“Okay.” Angel beamed as she looked back down at the textbook.

She couldn’t make out the writing on the page and she suddenly had this sense of foreboding, like she knew something bad was about to happen. She tried to get the version of herself to look around or stand up or do something, but she didn’t have any control.

‘Come on.’ She thought to herself in her head as she willed the younger version of herself to move. ‘Move. MOVE!’ She said louder in her head, but it was no use.

There was a sudden explosion that knocked her sideways. The frosted glass window to her right shattered and she fell off the sofa, her head hitting the coffee table as she went down. 

She was groggy and groaned as she tried to move, her body was suddenly so heavy. She was acutely aware of the adrenaline beginning to flood through her as her ears rang and took a moment to adjust. 

“Uhhhgg. Mom?” She whined as she rolled herself over. “MOM!” She cried out, but there was no one there.

Her lungs protested as she began to breathe in smoke and she could feel the heat from the now raging fire spreading through the adjacent room as she tried to stand.

Her legs felt like jelly, fingers fumbling for purchase on the closest item of furniture to pull herself up. She coughed loudly before she cried out again, her eyes trying to clear and see through the smoke but her head was throbbing, her ears still faintly ringing, everything sounded muffled. “Mom?! Dad?!” She screamed.

Suddenly a figure came barrelling through the half broken door. She saw a flash of red and blue.

“Hey it’s okay, I got you, I got you.” A boy's voice said.

‘A boy? That couldn’t be right. I thought it was Man, Spider-Man.’

“Hey can you walk?” He asked. She was so confused and dizzy. “Hey, hey! Look at me! Look at me, okay? I’m gonna get you out of here.”

Peter’s neck began to prickle, his body growing tight, adrenaline coursing through him as he slowly became alert, his body dragging him from his slumber, just before-

“Agghhggg.” She cried out as she sat bolt upright in bed. One of her hands clutched to her chest while the other grasped frantically over the bed covers.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He said softly as he sat up, his arm wrapping around her, immediately trying to comfort and ground her. “Hey it’s okay, baby I’m here, I’ve got you.”

She let out a large sigh as she finally began to process the reality around her, her body finding safety in his presence as she folded her body into his embrace. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” He continued to coo as he brushed his hand over the back of her head and rocked her slowly against his body.

Her chest continued to heave, her breaths were shallow and short. “Breathe, baby, just breathe.” He said slowly, elongating the words, coaching her as he continued to do all he could to soothe her. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He kept saying as tears began to roll down her cheeks, her sleep-addled brain slowly processing the dream and the memory.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He continued to whisper to her in the dark.

“Peter?” She finally said, her voice a broken question as if to check it was really him.

“Yeah, it’s me, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you baby, I promise.” He said as he kissed the top of her head.

They stayed there tangled up in the sheets and each other's arms for a moment as her breathing settled.

“I’m sorry.” She finally croaked into the dark.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He repeated as she slowly began to separate herself from him. “You still have the same dream?” He asked, but he already knew the answer.

He felt her head bob in the dark, a silent nod of confirmation. “It’s been a while though.” She sniffed as her hand raised to wipe away the tears from her cheeks. Her skin felt tight and dry as the salty tears began to dry.

He reached out for her, tucking her into his side as he lay back down into the pillows. His fingers traced across her bare skin as he held her close and she settled against his shoulder. His thumb traced the edges of the surgical patch covering her stitches as he listened to her heartbeat begin to slow, her breathing growing deeper and deeper until he knew she had fallen back asleep. 

Peter shifted his free hand behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, sleep eluding him now he was awake. It wasn’t uncommon for her nightmares to trigger his senses, but it had been so long he’d forgotten what it felt like.

He grew restless, his fingers reaching for his phone only to realise it was still downstairs. He checked to make sure she was still fast asleep before he gently eased his arm out from under her. He rubbed the lingering sleep from his eyes as he got up, padding across the soft carpet to the bathroom to relieve himself before grabbing himself a pair of black linen pyjama pants from the wardrobe. 

He paused for a moment in the doorway as he watched her sleep, his ears listening and counting her heartbeats as his eyes followed the steady rise and fall of her chest.

He reluctantly pulled himself away, making his way downstairs to the kitchen. He rubbed at his eyes again as he searched for his phone, finding it on the kitchen counter next to her shoes. When he opened it up and finally took the phone off aeroplane mode there was a flurry of dings and messages.

Angel woke a couple of hours later to find herself alone in bed. Her fingers brushed across the soft cotton sheets to find them cold, his body long gone. She groaned slightly as her fingers clawed at her pillow, willing sleep to return but it wouldn’t, the sun creeping through the cracks around the blinds. She sighed as she rolled herself over before sitting up, her hands scratching through her hair as she yawned. Her body felt so tired yet so sated, the memory of the night before playing back in her mind.

She reluctantly pulled herself from the soft covers as she went to explore the bathroom. The shelves and draws were stocked with all her old favourites. She’d missed a lot of them, many of them unavailable to her in Italy and then forgotten about once she moved back in with her Dad. She pulled a pomegranate and orange scented shampoo and conditioner set off of one of the shelves, placing it on a ledge built into the wall of the black subway tiled shower. She then grabbed a rose and eucalyptus shower gel, placing it next to the other items in the shower, before switching it on. She turned to the large mirror and double vanity as the water warmed. Her eyes fell to the patch on her shoulder, her fingers picking at the corners to peel it off. 

She hadn’t looked at it since Peter had stitched it up. Darker clumps of blood had scabbed under the stitches and there were patchy bruises surrounding the tender skin. She was careful with it as she got into the water, trying not to get it too wet so the stitches would continue to hold and the skin wouldn’t become pliant and split.

She relished in the fruity and floral smells of the products. Although she had enjoyed her showers and even long soaks in the bath at her Dad’s since she had been back, none of them felt as luxurious as this. She stood in the flow of the rainfall shower head, her head tipped back allowing the water to flow down her body as she allowed herself to close her eyes, to relish in the steam, the dim lights of the shower and that feeling of comfort and home.

When she got out the shower she wrapped herself in a brand new towel, the fluffy white texture soft and warm against her skin. She began to search through the cupboards in the bathroom for a first aid kit, finally finding one tucked way in the back under the sink. Her damp fingers fumbled with a new patch to cover her stitches, her hands cautiously dabbing at the wound until it was dry enough she could get the patch to stick. It was a little bit wonky from where she had struggled to get the angle of it by herself, but she could feel the whole wound was covered so she didn’t mind. She roughly towel dried her hair before she went out into the dressing room. She carefully slipped her arms into a plain black vest top before slipping her legs into a fresh pair of cotton pyjama bottoms covered in red, blue and yellow stripes. 

When she went downstairs to the kitchen she didn’t expect anyone to be home, her old routine kicking in as she hunted in the cupboards for her old favourite, English letter box red, Le Creuset mug, placing it under the coffee machine as she reached for one of the pods in a jar beside it, her fingers hitting the button making the machine roar to life.

“Good Morning!” His voice greeted her from the living room area. He couldn’t help the smile that toyed with the corners of his lips as she did a little jump before she turned, her fingers clutching gently to her chest.

“Oh! Morning.” She sighed a smile forming on her face as she looked at him, dressed in a pair of slacks and a black button up shirt, the first three buttons of which were left open, his sleeves rolled up messily revealing his forearms. “I didn’t expect you to still be here. What time is it?”

“Nine.” He replied as the coffee machine stopped and she turned to pick up her cup. She took a sip as she shuffled across the floor towards him, leaning against the arm of the sofa as she took him in. “I’m waiting on a delivery.” He said as he looked down at his phone in his fingers, reading over a message before tapping out a quick reply.

“What kind of delivery?” She queried but her answers were delayed by the sound of the elevator reaching their floor, two male voices echoing around the small foyer outside before they let themselves in.

Eddie and Harry barrelled into the living space. “Took us all night but we’ve finally got him.” Harry said confidently as he swaggered into the room, moving around the sofa opposite them and flopping back onto the cushions. 

“Yo, Pete, you got anything to eat? I’m starving.” Eddie exclaimed as he made his way towards the fridge.

Angel watched as Eddie began to pull out a large bottle of orange juice, twisting the cap off and raising it to his mouth. 

“You know there’s glasses in the cupboard.” Angel said loudly in his direction making him freeze as she took a sip of her coffee, her eyebrows raising at him encouraging him to make the right choice.

“Heh, you got told.” Harry said as he watched Eddie shuffle towards the cupboards above the counters, opening them up and looking for the glasses. As he pulled one down he shot Harry a look as if to say ‘don’t push your luck’.

“So where is he then?” Peter asked to the room, waiting for either one of them to respond.

“We left him downstairs with Cat.” Harry replied as he began to fiddle with his sunglasses.

“You what?” Peter asked.

“Cat’s a big girl Pete, she can handle herself.” Harry replied nonchalantly.

“Felicia’s not who I’m worried about.” Peter said as he began to stand, he had that scary calm look to his eyes again as he began to collect some things; his phone, a lighter, his gun, placing the smaller items in his pockets, the gun getting slotted into his waistband at his back. He then made his way over to his wife, one of his hands resting on her thigh as he leaned into her, placing a kiss against her cheek before he said, “I don’t know if you want to quickly change your trousers but can you quickly go and grab yourself some shoes, I need you to come downstairs with me for a minute.”

She changed into a pair of black wide legged trousers before slipping into a pair of Louis Vuittons and heading back down to meet them. She took the rest of her coffee with her as she followed them to the elevator.

“I see the elevator works now.” She commented as they all filed inside and Eddie hit a button for the basement. 

“Yeah, I had a guy come out and do it this morning whilst you were still in bed.” Peter replied but he didn’t pull his eyes from his phone. They continued to ride the rest of the way down in silence, the only noise, the small bell of the elevator to say it had arrived.

They followed a dark corridor to the end where it veered left, the space opening up slightly, a desk with computer screens showing a range of surveillance camera footage sat to the right side of the square floor space. There were three adjacent doors that surrounded them, one built into each wall except the back wall, the direction they just came. Harry stepped forward leading them to the door set  into the right side of the wall directly in front of them. He opened the door and each one of them filed in. Harry went through the door first, propping it open as Peter entered, followed by Eddie, then Angel, hesitantly bringing up the rear as she tried to work out what was going on.

The room was like a concrete box. There were a couple of steel topped tables that lined either side of the room along with a large red multi drawered tool box, almost like what you’d get in a car garage. In the middle of the room sat a chair and on that chair was a man, face slightly bloodied, hands bound, mouth gagged. Silent tears streaked from the corners of his eyes mixing with the blood; and a mixture of blood and snot dribbled from his nose to his chin.

Felicia stood at a slight distance before him in her token skin tight faux leather leggings and a leather jacket, as she paced back and forth around him.

“Jackson Brice!” Peter’s voice echoed around the room as he got the attention of the man in the chair. His head lifted slowly to look up at Peter. “Oh Jackie, Jackie, Jackie.” Peter teased him as he crouched before the man to make it easier for Jackson to look at him.

Angel hesitated closer to the doorway as she watched her husband work, still unsure of why she was there.

“You fucked up Jack.” Peter said as he slapped the man’s thighs before standing. “Baby, come here.” Peter said, holding his hand out to her, encouraging her to step across the room to him. When she stood at his side he turned her to take a better look at the man in front of her.

“Now this Jack, this is my wife.” Peter said with a smile like the devil. “Isn’t she a beauty?” Peter paused as he waited for the man to lift his head up again to look at Angel. 

Angel could see the small flicker of recognition in his eyes as he hardened his resolve, realising who she was, why he was there, what would inevitably happen.

“Princess, can I ask you a question?” Peter said, turning to her, almost whispering in her ear. She could feel his thumb reaching for the healed burn mark on the back of her arm she had shown him yesterday. “Is this the man who did this to you?” His voice asked softly as his thumb brushed tenderly over the silvery scar. 

Angel looked at the man in front of her. She knew Peter was asking a rhetorical question. They both knew Jackson was the guy to place his burning gun to the back of her arm whilst her Father and Adrian negotiated terms, while she played piggy in the middle. In her hesitancy to respond she could feel that scary calm energy radiating off her husband's body. Once upon a time she would have found it protective, even sexy, the way he would go to the ends of the earth to defend her honour, but she was a big girl now and she could fight her own battles. In her head she could see exactly how this played out. She would confirm it to be him, then Peter would dismiss her so he could do whatever it was he wanted to do to the man to get him to talk until ultimately killing him and having someone, probably Miguel as he was the darkest and most ruthless of them all, to dump him in the Hudson. Peter would act like God dishing out punishments and justice even though it wasn’t him who was even wronged. It was her.

“Yes.” She confirmed as she turned her head towards her husband. She watched as his eyes softened for her as he looked at her. She leaned further into him, her coffee still in one hand whilst her other hand snaked around Peter’s hip. She gave him a look that said ‘you’re so charming and sexy when you’re protective of me’ a small smile playing at the corner of her lip as his arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer into his side so he could kiss her. She pulled her lips away from him with a tight lipped smile as her fingers wrapped around the handle of the gun, wedged into the back of his waistband. She quickly removed it, taking off the safety as she turned and fired a single shot. There was a shout of pain that echoed off the walls as the bullet landed in Jackson’s thigh, just above his knee. She smirked, satisfied with herself as Peter’s face looked horrified. He didn’t like not being in control. She merely walked away from him, her lower back resting against one of the tables as she crossed her legs in front of her and waited, taking a small sip of her coffee as everyone just stared at her. She simply just raised her eyebrows at her husband with a slight nod, encouraging him to start his interrogation.

Felicia couldn’t help but let out a small giggle from her corner of the room. She had never seen Peter so flustered before. ‘Maybe she was gonna like his wife after all’ she thought.

They were all interrupted from their thoughts by another body entering the room. Like clockwork, Miguel made his way silently into the small concrete box of a room. Miguel and Angel had always been amicable but there was something about Miguel that was hard to penetrate. The others had all done their time to get to the heart of him but he had always kept a wall up with Angel. She thought it was because he thought her both too soft but also she was born from the loins of the enemy and Miguel always lived by the notion that blood was thicker than water, always expecting her to run back to Daddy the moment things went sideways. But Angel knew something Miguel didn’t, he lived by a motto that was mistranslated and he had her all wrong.

She watched Miguel closely as he observed the scene in front of him. Jackson sat on a chair grunting and groaning in pain, blood staining his skin and his clothes, Harry stood staring at the body in the chair in shock, Felicia smiling at Angel like the Cheshire cat and Angel and Peter in a death stare with each other. His eyes searched the room for the final piece of the puzzle, Eddie. Eddie stood in a dark corner smiling to himself as he looked from Angel to Jackson in the chair, a look of satisfaction that said he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

He watched as Angel’s gaze broke away from Peter’s to land on him before going back to the staring match she seemed to be having with her husband. That’s when he noticed the gun in her other hand leaning back against the table behind her. “Sorry, tall, dark and broody, looks like I got to him first.” Her voice was playful but sent a chill throughout the room as she continued to poke the bear that was her husband.

Everyone watched as she finished off her coffee, placing the empty mug to one side before lifting herself up to sit on the metal table top. She crossed her legs, her hand with the gun in it hanging loosely over her knee. She motioned with the other hand to her husband once again, encouraging him to start his interrogation. His eyes however didn’t leave hers. His pupil blew wide, consuming the previously warm honeyed brown of his irises. She had never seen him look at her like that before but she wasn’t intimidated, not in the way he expected her to be anyway.

“Come on Pete, we’re wasting time.” Eddie spoke up, attempting to get things back on track and diffuse the tension. 

Peter’s gaze snapped towards Eddie, but Eddie simply moved his gaze back and forth between Peter and Jackson trying to bring Peter back into the room and reminding him of the job and the task at hand. When Jackson started to snicker, enjoying watching the drama and infighting unfold, Harry was quick to get in and punch him in the face to shut him up. Although impulsive, the punch seemed just the thing to break the tension and re-establish the balance of things.

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself, opening them to take a glance back over his shoulder at his unpredictable wife, trying to get a read on her for his own sense of self control before he felt comfortable doing anything else. She continued to sit nonchalantly, her legs crossed, one arm leaning back on the table, the other (her bad arm that would have been unable to take the weight) resting the gun over her knee, the safety now firmly on.

He breathed deeply again as he finally turned his attention back to the man bound to a chair in the room. “Jack, Jack, Jack.” he sighed as he bent down before him, his hand leaning on the man’s knees making him cry out in pain as Peter applied light pressure to the gunshot wound. “Now, I think we can all agree, my wife,” he snarled the words, his anger with her bubbling under the surface again, “has made things- even- regarding the little indiscretion that happened a few weeks back.” Peter’s face pulled into a grimace as he let Jackson know that he still thought it was a light punishment given all things and he should be grateful he hadn’t had to suffer worse for leaving a mark on his wife. Peter left a small pause as he waited for Jackson to give any sign he was following and understanding him. When Jackson met his eyes and gave the minutest nod of his head, Peter continued. “But we still have to deal with the issue of our house being attacked, a scene that once again saw my wife getting injured- do you see where I’m going with this?” Peter said standing. He began to circle Jackson like a shark, eyeing up its prey. “Now, we don’t want you. You aren’t the reason our home was violated or my wife hurt… but if you want to walk out of here, or should I say hobble out of here,” he shot a quick look to his wife before once again giving Jackson his attention, “then I think it’s in your best interest to start singing like a canary in a coalmine.” Peter took a step back to allow him to think about the offer. He chanced a quick look back to his wife again before adding, “You should probably make your mind up quick though, it seems you sent my wife back to me a bit unpredictable and who knows what she’s gonna do next.”

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Oooof. What a tragedy for the city. The Vulture (presumably) doesn't care who gets caught in the crossfire of his quest for domination.

Angel makes it through and with her spirit intact. Guess she and Felicia were going to have it out sooner rather than later, although it wasn't quite resolved between them was it? I'm not letting Peter off the hook for that yet either, though. If Angel forgives Peter, then my take is that she's going to have to extend that to Felicia as well. No clue what you have planned with that. It may seem like I'm being too hard on Peter, because three years is a long time, but men do not get a different sexual health pass than women in my world, especially if there's a ring on it so I'm going to hold back until the rest is revealed or resolved. Plus, I suspect Felicia has her own moral/ethical code so I'm interested in learning a little more as to how that works.

Am curious about Peter's 'deal' with Stacy. How much pull does a captain have with the heat and all...

I am also verrrrry suspicious about that phone. It may be nothing, but I'd treat it like a drink placed in your hand that didn't come straight from the bartender--a roofie phone until it's been completely cleared. Tech can be compromised way to easily. Am speculating here, but like the earlier comments on Chapter 10, the Vulture is still ahead on the board in this 'game' and Peter is trying to roll doubles.

The Angel In Garden of Evil | Chapter Eleven: Putting The Pieces Together Again

Summary: Hobie's in town and Angel isn't a very good patient.

Warnings: 18+ Only, mentions of injury, soft Peter, angsty Angel, mentions of the bombing, medical equipment, business talk, genre typical tropes.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Okay, so I'm still really unsure about the end of this, I feel like things went from 0-100 real fast regarding Angel and Felicia and feel like the end just feels clunky in rhythm but I don't know how to fix it so we're just gonna let it be and keep moving forward. This is mostly plot and dialogue. We are bringing things down into a slow period here because everything else so far has transpired in the space of around 48 hours and of course with Angel's injuries we need a little time to settle. Anyway we start puzzling together the back story of why Angel really came back to New York in this chapter so I hope you're ready...

ELEVEN

Beep boop… Beep boop… Beep boop…

“I don’t care how much it’s gonna cost, I want her at home where it’s safe, not in some shitty hospital room where anyone can walk in off the street.”

‘Peter?’ Her body was so heavy, her brain foggy. ‘What was that sound?’

Beep boop… Beep boop... Beep boop…. Kurrrrsshhk. Beep boop... Beep boop...

‘Did he say hospital?’

Nothing.

Beep… Beep… Beep.

“Hey, boss, the British cavalry has arrived.”

Eddie?

Beep… Beep… Beep.

There was a change in pressure on her hand. The scrape of chair legs on the floor.

“Thanks man, do you think you can…”

Nothing.

Beep… Beep… Beep…

Ouch. Her whole body ached. She scrunched up her face, her skin felt so dry as her facial muscles creased. Uhhhggg. Why couldn’t she move? Why did she feel so heavy and achy and…

She opened her eyes, blinking a couple times in the dark room. Where was she? 

“Hey Sleeping Beauty- No, no! Don’t move.” A feminine voice said beside her.

She rolled her head to see a woman with bleached blonde hair sat in a chair beside her, a magazine now held closed in her fingers as she sat forward and reached a hand out to her. 

“Hurts.” Angel said hoarsely.

“I bet.” Felicia said as she stood up, stepping closer to something just out of sight of her vision. Felicia hit a couple of buttons on the morphine machine and it let out a small hiss as the next dose was released down the tube, feeding itself into the cannula in the back of Angel’s hand. There was a couple second delay as it took the liquid a moment to start pumping through her bloodstream, but she soon released a small sigh of relief as it began to take effect.

“There you go.” The blonde said as she stepped back into Angel’s field of vision.

“Where’s Peter? What happened?” Angel tried to say.

“Don’t move, I’ll go get him. Just wait here okay.” Felicia said. Angel noted it was the kindest she’d ever heard the young woman speak.

Angel let her head sink back into the pillow as she tried to remember what had happened. They’d interrogated Jackson Brice and she and Peter got into a fight because she had shot him… then she had stopped in at the cafe… wait she had been picked up by Miles… Then it came back to her. The bomb. She grew panicked, trying to sit up, the machines that seemed to surround her suddenly increasing their beeping.

“Hey, hey, hey. Stop! Don’t move.” Peter said, rushing into the room. “Angel stop it. Stay still-“

She sneered at a pain in her side, a bandaged hand bracing her ribs. “Ahhhgg.” 

“Baby- Princess, look at me. It’s okay, you’re okay, relax.” Peter tried to soothe.

“-Miles!” She attempted to interrupt.

“He’s okay, he’s okay.” He reassured her. “He’s currently sitting on the sofa down the hall with his leg up on the coffee table watching cartoons, he’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

His hands helped to relax her back into the pillows of the bed as the beeping machines began to return to their previous steady rhythm.

“The hub.” She croaked, tears in her eyes as she looked at him. He couldn’t say anything, his eyes falling to look at the bed sheets as he gave a small shake of his head.

“No.” She said quietly. “NO!” She said again, her voice breaking into a wail as tears stung her eyes. “How many people?” She tried to ask, her words strained as she fought to contain her tears. He shook his head again, unable to speak. “Peter!” Her voice pleaded.

“They’re still digging people out of the rubble.” He said broken.

Her head rolled away from him as she sniffed, tears silently staining the pillow as she tried not to sob, knowing it would hurt her body too much. He brushed a soothing hand over her arm. She sniffed again as she turned back to him and asked, “how bad-“

“You sustained a small fracture to your wrist and broke 3 of your ribs. You’re probably also gonna have a nice scar here.” He said, lifting his thumb to gently ghost across her left eyebrow, not close enough to actually touch, but still indicate where she’d split her head open. There was a pause as he looked her over. “If you guys hadn’t stopped off at that cafe…” he said, his voice trailing off. Then they probably wouldn’t be here right now. Her mind filled in for her. “What made you…” she could tell he was too emotional to even complete his sentence, just relieved she was still alive.

“My Mom.” She said wistfully. Her brow furrowed, “We turned onto the street and I just, after our argument, I just needed a time out… Peter she was there. I know she was there, I could feel her. She saved me.”

Peter never really believed in ghosts or spirits but he knew there had to have been someone looking out for him that day to be able to bring her back home to him.

“How long…”

“You’ve been asleep for a couple days.” He informed her.

“What else have I missed?”

“Hobie arrived last night.”

“Hobie’s here?”

Hobie Brown was the head of their British operation. They’d sat down with a few people on their London visit four and a half years ago to help expand Peter’s operation and reach. Hobie had been her choice. He was old school British punk with a heart of gold, a stick it to the man attitude with loyalty to the little guy, just like Peter. She thought he had been the perfect pick and it turns out she wasn’t wrong seeing as their London alliance was still going strong.

“Yeah, he called and said he was hopping on a plane the moment they started showing the bombing on the news.”

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” She tried to shift herself back up against the pillows so she sat up, instead of lying down.

“The plan is that you’re going to rest.” Peter quickly said.

“Am I fuck!” she began to protest.

“Angel, you have 3 broken ribs and a fractured wrist, what do you think you’re exactly going to do?”

“I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“Yes you can. And you will.” he insisted. “Unless you’re hiding away any other secrets that are gonna help us put an end to the Vulture, then there’s nothing more you can do and I’d sooner die than let you go back out there and get hurt- again.” he pressed.

She was silent. She had to analyse the facts, no matter how much she hated it, he was right. 

“Look I promise to keep bringing you updates but there’s no way I’m letting you leave this building again until I’ve personally put a bullet in Adrian Toombes’ head.”

There’s a long pause between them before she asks, “So I guess this means you’ve forgiven me for everything that happened downstairs?”

Peter fights the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips at her choice of subject change as he turns his head to look at the ceiling, composing himself, before he can look at her again.

“Princess, I heard that bomb go off and immediately thought the worst, you think I’m gonna stay mad at you for what happened?” There was a quiet raspy chuckle to his voice, like he couldn’t even believe she had asked that question. “But there is something I need to ask you about.” He said, his voice turning serious. “I need you to tell me what happened when you came back from Italy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, your Father was adamant about keeping you out of the city, heck even out of the country to keep you away from me and caught up in our drama. Why did he suddenly change his mind?”

She thought a moment as she tried to work out what he was getting at before recounting the events that had brought her back to the city. “Hymie just showed up at the house one day, said he had orders to bring me home.” she said with a frown.

“And you didn’t think that was odd?” Peter asked her.

“I mean yeah a little, but I had been writing letters to my Dad and asking to come home ever since he sent me there. I figured things between you and him might have died down, that you might have come to some sort of arrangement, but then I got home…” her voice trailed off as she continued to think. “They took me straight to his office when we got back. I was so jet-lagged-” she shook her head as she tried to shake off the drugs and recollect, but it just made her head throb and feel dizzy. Peter recognised the anguished look on her face and immediately reached his hand out to cup her cheek and hold her head steady, his thumb brushing over her temple as she closed her eyes.

“It’s okay, you should rest.” he cooed.

“No, no, no. I can do this,” she reassured him. “They took me to the office.” she started again, “He said he’d allow me to stay home on three conditions.”

“What were they?”

She opened her eyes to look at him. “I mean the first and most obvious one was I wasn’t allowed to see you.” Peter reluctantly nodded in understanding, willing them to get past the fact before it started to consume them again. “Then he said he wanted me to learn how to use a gun properly and how to fight. I was awoken at 5am the following morning by Luka to start my training. I wasn’t allowed out of the building until I was deemed proficient enough.”

“Okay and what was the third thing?”

“I had to do exactly what he said, when he said it. Said it was for my safety and protection.”

“Did he say anything about the Italians?” Peter asked her.

“No, not at first. Not until the stash house on west 53rd and 9th got raided.” her brow furrowed again, trying to work out what her husband was getting at. “Why?”

“Hobie said the Vulture had had a sit down meeting with the Romano’s in Italy not long before shit started kicking off with your Dad.”

“As in the Italian mob?” she asked.

“Yeah, seems they reached out to the Bianchi’s over here who started targeting your Dad’s business.”

“But what’s that got to do with me coming home?”

“Did your Dad mention something to you about a break in at the Phoenix?”

“The club?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“We thought it was just some kids breaking in and stealing some liquor, but turns out it was never about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not about what they took… It’s about what they left behind?” She was silent as she waited for him to get to the point. “It was pictures of you.”

“What?” her voice was a whisper, she didn’t understand.

“They were pictures of you, in Italy.” Peter said, getting his phone out of his pocket and pulling up the snap shots Eddie had forwarded on to him after he’d gone digging and asking questions the day before.

There was picture after picture. Her walking through the little village grocery shopping. Her helping a neighbour pick grapes. There were even pictures taken of her through the windows of her little secluded cottage. Pictures of her cooking in the kitchen. Getting changed in her bedroom.

“They were left on the desk in the club’s office. Jimmy found them when he came in the following morning to find the place had been robbed. Whether the kids were sent to deliver the pictures or just the perfect cover we still don’t know but the message that was left was pretty clear. They knew where you were and they wanted your Dad to know they knew that.”

She was silent as she tried to process it all. “So he brought me home because he thought it’d be safer by his side.” she questioned, her brow frowned to the point Peter thought she was gonna split the stitches above her left eye.

“Hey! There she is! I heard you was awake.” Hobie’s voice boomed as he entered the room. His tone and ever jovial mood instantly broke the brewing tension that had been beginning to fall on the space.

“Hey Hobie.” she smiled for him as he moved over to try and gently hug her. She groaned slightly, her muscles still slightly tense, achy and bruised, despite the morphine now steadily pumping through her body.

“You know, this guy right here has been one moody fucker without you.” Hobie jested, slugging Peter in the shoulder.

“What? Spider boy here?” she jested with a smile, “Never.”

“Haha.” Peter deadpanned, still uncomfortable with being the butt of the joke, ever since she returned. “Look she needs to get some rest, I’ll talk to you downstairs.” Peter said, kindly dismissing Hobie. Although Hobie worked for Peter, he was much taller than Peter and he’d seen Hobie throw a punch many times; and being at the end of Hobie’s rage was not a place Peter ever wanted to be. so he always made sure to speak to him like an equal. “You gonna be okay if I’m gone a moment?” he turned to ask her.

“Depends, how long is a moment?” she asked back coily.

“Get some rest.” he said standing before leaning over her and placing a kiss to her head. “You hungry? I could get Eddie to bring something up if you want?” He checked in with her as Hobie left the room.

At the mention of food her stomach growled and they had to hold in their laughter at its uncanny timing. “Can I get one of those chicken avocado sandwiches from the Diamond?” she asked sheepishly, as if it would be too much of a task.

“I’ll go get an order put in now and have someone run it over.” he said. “I’ll try not to be too long.” he said again before reaching to place another kiss to her head. “Rest.” he commanded as he pulled the door too, but she was having none of it.

With no one else around, she fully assessed the room. It wasn’t their bedroom and it didn’t look like either of the guest rooms Peter had shown her either. She assumed she must be in one of the other empty apartments in the building, the room having been especially kitted out to fit the machines she had around the bed. Her body groaned as she tried to carefully reach for a tv remote on the simple bedside cabinet, her fingers hitting the power button and switching it over to the news channels, eager for any news to start piecing together what had happened.

‘16 dead, 49 still critically injured after Chinatown bombing.’ A headline across the bottom of the screen read.

“2 days after the bombing here on Mulberry Street,” a reporter said as she stood in front of a line of yellow caution tape posted at the end of the street to cordon the area off, “the final number of those injured or deceased is still to be determined. Police are saying the explosion is tied to an increasing number of incidents linked with organised crime families here in the city.”

“Hey, turn that off.” Felicia said as she stormed into the room.

“But I want to know-”

“No, you don’t. Trust me.”

“They said 16 people were dead.”

“Stop asking questions you really don’t want the answer-”

“For fuck sake!” Angel exclaimed, snapping. “I am not a child. I have been wrapped up in this shit since before you were even born.”

“Don’t get all high and mighty with me!” Felicia sassed back. “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“Yeah, I’m sure fucking my husband has been so hard for you!”

“HEY! HEY! HEY!” Eddie said as he rushed into the room. “WHAT IS GOING ON HERE? WE’RE ALL ON THE SAME SIDE, WHY ARE WE GETTING AT EACH OTHER?”

“Uuuhhhgg I’m done here. She can be your fucking problem.” Felicia said as she stormed out of the room. She slammed the tv remote into Eddie’s chest as she left.

“I know you’ve just been through a whole thing and are hopped up on pain meds but not cool Angel, not cool.” He continued to mutter as he went and put the tv remote on top of a chest of draws on the other side of the room.

“I just want to know what I’ve missed and what’s going on!” Angel protested.

“What’s going on is that we’re barely hanging on by a thread right now.” Eddie said to her honestly. “The Vulture has made shit very fucking personal and also put a spotlight on everything going on making it impossible to retaliate. The cops are up our ass, Peter is trying to work out a new deal with Stacy but given their history it is not going well. I’m not gonna lie, it’s an absolute shit show and with you out for the count Pete has been working with one hand behind his back. We need everyone to work together right now, not making shit worse.”

“Did you know that he’d been fucking her?” Angel blurted out.

“I suspected but it wasn’t my place to say.” Eddie said. “But it doesn’t mean he wasn’t fucked up about you being gone. You’ve always been his everything Angel and you know that.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Look, I was coming up here because this just arrived downstairs for you.” He said handing her over a phone.

She frowned for a moment thinking it was a brand new phone that Peter had got for her, but when she clicked the power button she saw it wasn’t a new phone, it was her phone. She’d left it behind at the house when everything had happened. She hadn’t even thought about it. “One of the kids handed it in.” Eddie informed her. By kids he just meant one of the younger recruits around the same age as Miles. “Said he found it when they got sent over to the house.” The screen had a small crack across it now, but it was completely functional. “They umm charged it up, they didn’t know who’s phone it was because it was dead and of course the picture.”

The lock screen picture was an old photo of her and Peter on a beach in the Bahamas. It was where they had gone on their honeymoon all those years ago. It was the only thing that had kept her going the whole time they were apart.

“He really did miss you Angel.” Eddie reassured her before he started to back out of the room.

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

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This Friday Fic Rec is one for those of you who like to....linger...over a story kinda like the lingering looks those big brown doe eyes above are giving you. A multi chapter story featuring mob!peter parker and an OC with a twist. Love and loss and learning how to communicate are not easy things, but with a longer story, there's time for everyone to figure it out...and the best part is the story still continues. Read @backtothefanfiction 's The Angel In The Garden Of Evil as it joins some of the other fantastic mob!peter fics currently in the fanfic library.

The Angel In The Garden Of Evil (fic contains mature content)

Remember to reblog fics and works you enjoy! Reblogging (it's the little arrows next to the heart) is how Tumblr works to spread content to other users. Please reblog what you enjoy so others can enjoy it too!

I wasn't sure where this was heading because the pot was boiling over and I was dancing around your words with two oven mitts and a fire extinguisher trying to protect the two leads from the anger like they were my progeny. And yet, sometimes those words have to be said don't they?! And you did it so well. The catharsis of telling each other what and why it hurts so. Well done!!

Taking the journey from anger and pain and pain and anger but when you do it together, with love and compassion, so worthwhile...

Mob!peter fan club member for life.

Love of Mine

Heeeey @hollandweather remember that request you sent me forever ago?? ii went with the mob!peter version ii hope you're good with that :)

Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: Lots of fighting and yelling, happyish ending, angsty. Let me know if I missed anything cause I'm sure I did.

Kind of a sequel but not really to this

Pretty please read and reblog!! thanks friend

Freshly painted black nails contrasted against the soft cream color of the armchair cushion as she dug her nails into the fabric. Standing in the dimly lit office waiting for him to notice her, she stood like a haunting figure in front of him, simply waiting for an acknowledgment. 

“Peter.” Her words came out soft, yet stern. Swallowing the angry lump in her throat as his eyebrows raised, and his chest fell.

“Yes baby?”

He spoke simply, not even lifting his head to acknowledge her. He was engrossed in whatever he was looking at some paper with a mugshot attached. Ever since the shootout that killed him Peter had been different. He came back different. Angerier, more cruel. Never to her, just others. She hadn’t been sure what happened, maybe it had given him time to reflect. Time to be angry at the cards he was dealt in life. 

“Do you not..?” She fumbled over her words in her upset. 

“It feels like you don’t care about..us anymore Peter.” There was a sad honesty in her voice. She wished she had been making it up, that it was all in her head. Peter threw himself into his work the moment he got better. He’d leave several times for days on end; not a single call to let her know he was okay or when he’d be home. It was unlike him. 

He furrowed his brows, looking at her finally. “Of course I care, baby.”

 Again, there's the distance in his voice. It feels rehearsed, almost like he’d been practicing this delivery for the months he’s been back. There were times where he didn’t seem himself, he was quick to anger and quick to jump. He and Harry having nearly had several physical altercations since being back. Felicia having gone ghost on them after she and Peter had it out over an action plan. His wife was feeling his anger, and it was nesting in her. She could try to nurse him back to his mentality before, she could settle his arguments with friends and colleagues. However, she could only handle him neglecting her for so long. 

“Do you know what today is?” She began to wander around the office. Their wedding picture is sitting snugly on the bookcase in a gold frame. Both are much younger in the photo having gotten married straight out of high school. 

“October 19th..wh- Oh, oh baby.” 

For a moment her Peter was there, the realization washed over the room. She knew he felt like an idiot rethinking the day. She’d made his favorite breakfast, they showered together, and she’d even gone shopping and excitedly showed him everything she had gotten. She was now dressed in a purple slip dress she’d bought today. 

 He forgot their anniversary. 

 Peter stood up from his desk rushing to her. She felt exposed under his touch, pulling her face away as he grabbed her jaw in his calloused hand. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry baby.” 

“It’s whatever Peter.” She backed away, tears pooling in her eyes. “I just wanted to know that you still cared and…well, I got my answer.” Angrily she stormed out of his office, slamming the door shut behind her. A photo of them falling off his decor table in the show of aggression, the frame bursting into dozens tiny pieces. 

Peter followed behind her, his feet slamming against the hardwood of the stairs. “I don’t care! Is that what you’re saying right now?” 

“That's what I said.” She yells back trying to slam their bedroom door in his face. Peter grabbed it, pushing it open. He stared at her in shock, standing there with his arms at his side. His wife glaring back at him, tears spilling down her cheeks. 

“You don’t care about me or us anymore. All you care about is killing those people who hurt you. All you care about is work, what’s being moved in and what's being taken out.” She started pointing a finger at him. “This is the last fucking straw Peter. I’m fucking tired. I can’t keep fixing the things you fuck up because you are so blinded by rage. You are so fucking selfish. You forgot my birthday, and our wedding anniversary. Harry doesn’t even want to see you any fucking more because you are not yourself. I want Peter back not whatever fucking stranger crawled into your body while you were dying. I want my husband because you are not him, he was a good husband.” 

Both her and Peter stared at one another. She knew she shouldn’t have said it.  

Her anger echoed in the room, she expected him to fight back. She wanted him to fight back, yell, scream, let her know that he in some way cared. Instead he turned and looked at himself in the mirror and then down at his socked feet. 

“So me proving I care about you, about Harry. About anything other than myself would mean I’d stop taking down the people who hurt me. I’d stop going after Li or Fisk’s guys who got together and planned to kill not only me but everything I cared about including you?”

 He stared at her like she had five heads. Not knowing how to respond she rubbed her hands down her face. He was putting words in her mouth. 

“Cool, cool  yeah. I’ll stop, fuck I’ll step down from being the head of this organization.  We can totally live a normal life not constantly looking over our shoulders.`` 

“You’re being mean, you’re putting words in my fucking mouth.” She warns. Peter takes a deep breath shaking his head as he looks down, something he did to keep himself from crying. 

“I went to that warehouse to protect all of you. Do you understand that? Because if I didn’t go to them, they were gonna come to us. Now, I am cleaning up a mess I made that has put you all at risk. I’m..” Peter’s hands shook at his side, before coming up to rub his face aggressively. He dropped down to the floor sitting his back against the wall. 

“I’m sorry I’m a bad husband, I haven’t been a good husband since that night and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I left you here, I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry that I put you in any danger by coming back. But as a good husband and as a good friend or boss I have to kill them.” He whispered to her, as she joined him on the floor. 

“You have every right to be mad at me. I’m mad at myself. And this isn’t me guilt tripping you, this is me telling you that you’re right I haven’t been a good husband and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I forgot your birthday and our anniversary and that I’ve been a total piece of shit.”

“I didn’t mean it. I just, I knew it would hurt your feelings and I wanted you to hurt like I did.” 

Peter kissed her head, his hand cradling her cheek bringing her to his chest. She let out a soft sigh burying her head in his neck. “I just got caught up in keeping everyone safe that I forgot what I was protecting. I am so sorry for hurting you and doing anything that made you feel like I didn’t love you” He whispered in her hair, rubbing small circles on her back. 

“I know. And I know I’ll forgive you for it, but can we start by at least having an anniversary night? It’s all I want, just you and me, no work or anything.”

“I’ll give you an anniversary week, how's that?” Peter bargains. “Make up for the missed birthday. We can go anywhere you want.” 

“Anywhere?” She smiles up at her husband, who gives her a loving look before kissing her cheek. 

“Anywhere.” He confirms holding her closer. “I love you.” He assures her, pulling her legs over his thigh rocking her. 

“I love you too.”

Thank you so much for answering the loooong ask! (You did say we could ask, so, I always have Qs for writers)

I liked that you used your favorite flower in the stories. You see, it's these little touches that make things memorable and also, personal. I think that is important, especially so in fanfiction. You write for Readers, but you also write for YOU, and I love that. Also: I'm fond of hydrangeas. Sadly cannot grow them in my area, but they're beautiful plants.

You gave me so many details, thank you thank you thank you! It's wonderful to be able to 'see' what you see when you populate your world with characters and their lives. I also am appreciative of the thought you've placed into this version of Peter, as well as the lead. I don't mind if the lead has a name or not or if an author chooses to use the Y/N, it just isn't something I quibble over in a story. What I do mind is when characters seem like an afterthought or have little depth. In other words, writers who can get me into that headspace (internal dialogue and what have you) are just mmmm. I want to feel the experience through their eyes and you do that because your characters have that depth. They're relatable. Even when they're messed up, behaving badly, or otherwise say stupid stuff (the characters I mean, not you writing them) they are relatable. Because we've all done those things. Well...I have anyway!

Thank you for taking the time to answer the long ask! Looking forward to your next piece!

I have no idea if 'asks' have a character limit so if I get cut off there's potential for more...

I'd like to begin at the beginning because the mob!peter world has several stories and w/o knowing exactly when/how it all came to be or if they're related etc, here goes, starting with 'Flirting':

What are the particulars concerning this business gala at which Peter and Reader meet?

Peter seems to operate in a murky area of legitimate and quasi-legal operations, so in what capacity is he attending? Any rivals also present (guy hitting on Reader notwithstanding)

Why is Reader there?

What was Reader's drink that Peter so thoughtfully refilled? How long was he stalking her attentive he was to notice her glass was empty among other things...

What was Reader wearing and in what way did she and Peter 'match'? You're the writer, but I confess that mob!peter in a suit makes me think things that would make Ed Sheeran blush like a tomato.

What play did they see?

From your excellent series That's The Price & the other piece, Nothing Good Ever Happens:

Is the Peter in these works the same as the Peter above? (the hydrangeas were not a coincidence in other words)

If so, what is the timeline with respect to the business gala, the wedding and the engagement ring being stolen?

What did Reader and Peter talk about during their unchaperoned park 'date'?

What type of wedding band do they each wear?

What is the name of Gwen and Harry's newborn? I can't recall it being mentioned.

Is Felicia single? Do any of the other women run a business (arising from Peter's view on gender roles and curious as to whether that plays out across the other characters)

Questions regarding the honeymoon, etc (I know how the birds and bees work):

Any idea in mind where in Italy? Near the coast (surfing) I assume, perhaps Amalfi? Side note: Still giggling over "Italy makes you mean, dove."

What was her fruity drink?

Did Reader have a boy or a girl?

Am I correct in thinking that When My Time Comes and the loose followup are a different mob!peter verse so to speak? It's all good, I'm mostly making certain if they are distinct that I place the characters in the proper world. I love getting into the weeds with stories that writers create; thank you for indulging me!

Whew that was long! Have a Campari and orange on me!

AHHHH I LOVE THESE QUESTIONS!!!!!

Following your lead and starting with Flirting

In my idea it was that the business gala was being held by the Osborn's. Both families being invalid in the mafia use it as a chance to mingle, make business deals. However, being the dickhead Norman Osborn is he fronts it as a Osborn charity and just funnels the money into his and his business partners money...one of them being Peter Parker.

Peter has his hands in a lot of different businesses in his area. However, he like any good mafia man got his start drug trades specifically getting pharmaceuticals into the hands of dealers which low-key helps people who can't afford prescriptions. But as he grew and his money grew that just became one way profit came in. He's done arms dealings, which by that he found himself pretty interested in being a hitman. But now he just gets to play boss and that's the big reason he's there. Looking out at his competition, seeing who he need to befriend (or take out) and making his presence known...basically marking his territory in the most nonchalant way. And yes rivals are present which is why he has to let everyone know he's there.

Reader is a friend of the Osborns. She also comes from a family who's dealt in and with the mob. Her father ran circles with Osborn for years and it's just the culture she grew up in.

Peter noticed Reader from the moment she stepped in on Gwen's arm. He was lurking behind or at least near her half the night trying to figure out how to approach her. Then he noticed her glass had been empty for about 20 minutes, and he'd learned throughout the night she never changed her drink: which was a very simple Long Island iced tea made with a cherry coke.

So we know this iconic suit. Reader was wearing something similar to this in my mind but more to the purple tone of his coat and a nice slit in the leg.

They go and see the phantom of the opera. Peter came into tickets from a friend and he'd never seen it and reader loved every moment of it cause she'd never been to a play/musical before.

That's the Price and Nothing Good Ever Happens

The Peter from these piece could be the Peter from Flirting. But to me they are two different versions of Peter. Also hydrangeas are never coincidental- because they're my favorite flower thus they are readers also. But if you do read flirting as a part of the That's the Price/Nothing Good Ever Happens universe it would fit in right before Peter agrees to the marriage and the dates become chaperoned and reader finds her self upset at Peter for arranging a marriage and barely even knowing her.

I'm not sure how the timeline would work since in my head they aren't a big fic. I would guess it would be: the gala a couple weeks later Peter and Tony (readers father) agree to a marriage, Reader becomes upset with Peter but moves into the house, married they do trade bands but send it out to get engraved cause that's a Parker tradition. The engagement ring gets stolen two weeks post honeymoon.

Now this is having Flirting not at all apart of this canon. At first they talk about their future together. What they'll do, how much of the business Reader will participate in because what is Peter's is hers and vice versa. But it goes into the more dreamy things. Asking Peter what he'd do if he got to have a normal life (he says he'd be a scientist or a science teacher and reader says she'd be hair stylist or a painter) What they'll name their kids, and what they're dream house looks like.

Peter splurged on the engagement ring and its matching band. green diamond with a solid gold band to match. Reader struggled to pick out Peter's because why are mens wedding bands so boring? So she got one she thought matched hers.

Gwen and Harry have a little girl named Daphne

Yes Felicia is very single and she plans on staying that way. Felicia basically is Peter's business partner no matter what Harry says and he basically runs everything through her as well. Peter will work with Silver Sable on occasion who is obvious a trained mercenary but also a great arms dealer.

Honeymoon Edition

I pictured Capo Mannu which I believe is in Sardinia. It's very pretty and apparently great for surfing from what I read. (Italy makes you mean, dove - the best line I've ever written.)

Reader's favorite fruity drink is a daiquiri. I myself am a strawberry daiquiri girl if I want a fruity drink but I see her as being a pineapple or peach girl.

OHHHHH I love this. So they have twins! A boy named Benjamin that they nick name Benji and then they have a girl name Estella or Stella for short.

When My Time Comes is basically my mob!Peter rebirth. So most, if said otherwise, my mob!Peter stuff will follow that continuity now. So married straight out of high school both still young in their late twenties. Peter in this timeline wasn't born into the mob he was kind thrown into it when he realized Spider-Man wasn't going to solve the problem from the outside and then he got in and realized that not only could he support himself doing this he could get to the bad guys easier.

See you asked another set of question. I'm gonna eat my parmesan crusted chicken and then get to those because this is literally my favorite thing. I love talking about this stuff.

Part Two of Answered Asks Response...

Again, thank you for answering all the questions. You've created a LOT of food for thought and now I am halfway wanting to ask for yet another angsty mob!peter piece that plays up his insecurities and doubts and likewise for Reader/Main Lead. Give them both the flaws that humans possess and see how they play off each other when under duress. I love to see it.

Stress plays strange games with our brains and you've placed these two in a world in which life or death is constantly creating stress with every decision. Couples frequently have stressful situations in nonfictional life as well: you know the usual: getting married, changing jobs, having a baby, money, etc and it can place a great strain on a relationship. In your last piece, Love Of Mine, I had my heart in my throat that the *anger was going to overtake them both and Reader's admission "I knew it would hurt your feelings and I wanted you to hurt like I did" was a simultaneous gut punch AND an honest admission that centered them both. It's something that many couples never admit to each other especially because some couples view relationships as power plays. To be vulnerable is seen as weakness, you get the idea. So having them talk it through honestly was very satisfying because in the long run it made them stronger together.

That being said, if you ever have the inclination or the time to explore those darker emotions and times, I'm here for it. Or, if you wish to write about mob!daddy!peter (to Benjamin and Estella--I was watching Cruella last night and so this hit close to home because I am a big fan of that movie), I'm here for that! Or if you return to frat!peter, I am a willing reader. It's all good, I enjoy your writing, please keep writing!

*I know, I know, you had author's notes at the beginning with a description/warning and I always always read those, but still the anger was very vivid!

Second round of mob!peter questions that are more general in nature:

How do you see mob!peter growing and changing? He lives in a world of violence and sees Reader as his safe haven in your other mob!peter fics. How would he view a Reader who was also capable of violence or who was having difficulty with that aspect (depending upon if Reader was born into it vs. it's all new)

What are mob!peters weaknesses aside from concern regarding the safety of his loved ones and associates?

What happens if Reader is a partner in the business and has an objective with which Peter disagrees and Reader is adamant that this is right and proper and he is just being stubborn? Does he take the same tactic with her?

What happens when they have a child and Reader wants to take the child out and about? How does Peter handle the 'dangers' of freedom when he has enemies who would stop at nothing to go after his loved ones? How does Reader react if Peter grows anxious or has other emotions and actions about their safety?

Also: this was a lot and you have a life. A very busy life. No rush. Just some thoughts for you to consider. Take care friend and write when you want to write and don't when you don't. We'll be here, ready to welcome you!

Alright boys, let's go.

Peter has had to adapt and grow a lot in his life. It isn't something he's unfamiliar with, in fact it's something he is really good at. He's a chameleon, but there are also spiders who adapt to their surroundings. He got pulled into the mafia at a young age, he grew and shockingly it grew with him and the people closest to him. At first he's a bit reckless doesn't really know what he's doing he's following his friends footsteps and is working out of pain and grief. However the older he gets, the better at shielding that grief and anger he is. He promises to only use this business for good, and sometimes that does get away from him. He's only human. Which is how he looks at Reader when she has her moments of violence. Just like him, she hasn't had an easy life. And she does get carried away to sometimes depending on the situation and people they're dealing with. He's supportive though and knows when to remove her when she doesn't know how to remove herself. There are times where she struggles with the idea of what Peter does and herself on occasion. Peter knows when she needs that switch of his hard external self and the soft side she knows that reminds her there is good.

Outside of his worry for family and friends. Peter is his own biggest hater. If anyone brings up anything Peter has done rightfully or not he's gonna spiral the quickest way to get him to doubt himself and how he is- question him, bring up his past.

I think of Reader and Peter as two opposite ends of a coin most of the time. It takes a lot to make Reader get violent or upset, but Peter who has been in the business for years learned that your most extreme emotion and gut reaction is going to give you the best option. Which means he can be more ready to jump to extremes than reader is. She rationalizes with him. Saying he needs to anonymously report his findings, or knock the dudes ass out and drop him off at the station like he would in his spider-man days. Peter does try to rationalize where he can. He'll leave things to other people if she convinces him that him directly handling it isn't going to help. But they usually find a middle ground or talk over the 'why' of why it has to be this extreme.

Peter, no matter how big and scary, has the anxiety levels of a small dog. He wants his wife kids to be able to go out and about, and encourages it. Because he knows that he can't control them like that, that would be wrong. He has eyes everywhere if there's nothing big going on. A few other hitman or 'business partners" in the area that he knows he can trust he lets them know to just keep an eye out. body guards he lets you know there are gonna be guys watching but not to worry about it they aren't watching reader specifically just checking in. He also calls every hour at the top of the hour. And even though reader wouldn't have to be asked she sends him fun updates over text about what her and the babies are doing. Most of the time though if he can go out and about with them he does. He loves every moment of it. If he can't go but you know something big just went down he won't even have to ask somebody to go with them. Most of the time it is Felicia or Gwen jumping up and offering to go to the store or to the park with them. Peters associates and friends ar this family. They all protect and watch out for each other. Also when they first started dating Peter knew Reader could defend herself if worse came to worse, however he did pay and attend self defense classes with her. When he does get anxious Reader will calm him down, talk him down let him know that his feelings are valid because she gets scared but knows she's safe, and he should have that same confidence in himself, herself, and those around them to protect them.

This was sososososo fun!!! Thank you for all your questions I genuinely loved doing this.

Uh-huh. I said multiple times, most recently being my Chapter 12 reblog comments essay that Angel's phone was suspicious and here it is smack dab in the middle of tragedy.

And a cliffhanger ending. Oh that is just cruel, author! I love it but I'm scared to read the next chapter because of Felicia. Her feisty spirit and sense of humor and now what am I going to discover?!

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Thirteen: When You're Eight Lives Down

Summary: Angel's continued survival comes with consequences.

Warnings: 18+ Only, genre typical threat and violence, kidnapping, knife, Angel being stubborn,

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: @tarzinnia I am sorry.

THIRTEEN

After her bath, Peter had helped Angel back out of the tub. He called down the hall to Eddie, asking him to run upstairs to their apartment to grab her a set of pyjamas to change into. “A set with a button up shirt preferably.” Peter had stressed. Eddie came back with a designer pair of pyjamas covered in sketches of dogs. Peter helped her into them before he started to guide her back to the bed she had been in before.

“Nope.” she said.

“What do you mean nope?”

“I mean nope, I’m not going back to that bed. I want to be in our bed, with our things-”

“Okay. Okay.” he conceded before she could finish. “Sure you can make it that far?”

“Oh, I'll make it.” she huffed.

She’d made it to the elevator and up before she gave up, Peter carefully wrapping her up in his arms, bridal style, as he carried her the rest of the way through the penthouse apartment, up the stairs and into their bedroom, carefully going to place her down on the bed.

“No.” she interjected. “I want to brush my teeth.” she said, still focused on her mission for her personal hygiene.

“Okay.” Peter said, lifting her up again and carrying her to the ensuite where he placed her down in front of the vanity to brush her teeth. He sat on the toilet seat, tapping his foot as he reached into his trouser pocket for his phone and began tapping away.

“Oh shit.” she said when she spat.

“What?” he suddenly said looking up from his phone.

“I left my phone downstairs.” she said.

“Your phone?” he queried.

“Yeah, Eddie gave it to me last night. Said one of the guys had picked it up at the house.”

Peter frowned, “Both me and Harry stopped by the house multiple times, neither of us saw it.”

“Maybe you weren’t looking for it.” she sassed back.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go get it.” He said as he stood. “Come on.” he said, readying himself to lift her to bed.

“It’s alright Pete, I can make it to the bed from here.”

“Okay… Do you want anything while I’m downstairs?” he asked.

“Maybe a glass of water.” she said.

“One phone, one glass of water.” he said listing off the list before he kissed her on the cheek and headed off to fulfil his mission.

She hobbled back into the bedroom, slowly easing herself beneath the soft crisp bed sheets. She groaned in relief as she sunk back into the pillows. Yes, this was much better.

“Here we go, one glass of water, one phone.” Peter said, handing the two items over to her.

She noticed he suddenly seemed agitated. “What is it?” she asked as she swallowed the water in her mouth and stretched out her arm to place the glass down on the bedside table. “Pete?” she asked as his fingers began to drum against his mouth in thought.

“It’s nothing, it’s probably nothing. Don’t worry yourself about it.”

“Well now I definitely am.” she bridled, shifting herself carefully to sit up closer to him.

“It’s just,” he said as he reached into his pocket and got his phone out again, typing a quick reply to a message before letting the phone fall to his side to give her his full attention. He sighed. “Felicia didn’t turn up for work today,” he said.

Angel’s face fell. “Is it because of what I said yesterday?”

“No.” he quickly said to reassure her but the little noise he made after the word implied he wasn’t quite sure. “Well, maybe. But she’s not normally one to let things like that get to her. And even if it did she wouldn’t just ghost everyone.”

“What do you mean?” Angel frowned. 

“I mean, if she needs a day she normally messages someone but there’s been nothing, absolute radio silence. I even had Harry go check her apartment but she wasn’t there.”

“Well, does she have a place she likes going to to let off steam and unwind?” Angel asked.

“Yeah, I’ve called Carl down at The Huntsman, even got Jack to take a look in that axe throwing place she likes. Nothing. It’s like she’s just disappeared.”

“Maybe she went to visit family or something?”

“Both of her parents are in prison.”

“What, and people can’t visit people in prison?” Angel reasoned.

“No but for the nearly three years I’ve known her, she’s never once gone to visit them.”

“There’s always a first time for everything?” Angel quickly said, trying to brush off the pang in her chest at the reminder of their relationship while she had been gone.

“I’ll get Eddie to make some calls.” Peter sighed as he lifted his phone into both hands again, his thumbs hurriedly typing out the message.

“You going back out with Hobie?” Angel asked into his sudden silence.

“Yeah.” he said as he shook down his sleeves and placed his phone back in his pocket, slowly stepping closer to her and perching himself on her side of the bed, her legs shifting to the side slightly to give him space. “You gonna be okay while I’m gone?”

“Do I have a choice?” She responded flatly.

“Fair enough. Do you need me to get you anything else?” He said, tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I think I’m just gonna go back to sleep for a bit, I’m feeling pretty exhausted after all- this.” She waved her hand around slightly as she silently referred to the moving and bed changing and being detached from the machines and her morphine drip downstairs.

“Okay. I’ll get someone to run up the painkillers the doctor prescribed as soon as they’re back with them.”

“Okay.” she quietly nodded.

Peter shifted and helped her settle back down into the bed properly, pressing a kiss to her forehead which she quickly chased with her lips. It caught him off guard a moment, not having actually kissed her since they fucked, the night before everything went to shit again. He suddenly pulled away from her hesitantly. His face hovered millimetres from hers as he watched her eyes open. The pain, that feeling of his rejection, reflecting in her eyes.

“I’ll be back later, okay?” he tried to reassure her as his hand reached up to cup her cheek.

“Okay.” she said quietly as she turned away from him, her eyes closing as she turned her head and buried it in her pillow.

-

Felicia’s limbs felt heavy and her head was pounding as she began to wake. She tried to move her arms, tried to rub the sleep from her eyes but they were met with resistance. Her eyes frantically flew open, instantly looking down at her arms in the dim room. She was tied to a chair. Her head throbbed as she began to thrash around.

“Hey!” she called out. “HEYY!!” She was pulling at her limbs so hard she almost knocked the chair over. A quick hand reached out from somewhere behind her to steady it back in place.

“Now, now, no need for that.” A sinister voice crooned. “Besides, no one’s gonna hear you all the way up here.”

“Do you know who the fuck I am!” Felicia spat at the invisible voice until he slowly began to make his way in front of her. She still struggled to make out his face, the only dim overhead lightbulb in the room backlighting him, casting his face in shadows.

“Oh I know who you are.” He said as he crouched down in front of her. “Felicia Hardy, also known as the Black Cat. Daughter to Walter and Lydia Hardy, both in jail or at least they were…” his voice trailed off causing her to stop pulling at the ropes that bound her to the chair, suddenly listening intensely. “They should be moving Daddy’s body out of there anytime, well, now.” he said, checking his watch for dramatic effect. He let out a low maniacal chuckle as her face fell, her bravado faltering. He slowly stood before he began to pace back and forth in front of her. “You picked up skills from your parents from a young age resulting in you getting into a life of crime when you were merely 14.” He continued, listing off her life events. “Cut forward to just under a decade later, parents imprisoned, you’re all alone and you pick the wrong house to burgle. Ooooh. But instead of calling the Police, no Peter Parker offers you a job because, as we’ve said before, you do have a particular set of skills and the infamous Spider is missing someone like you on his team. Not to mention his wife had just upped and left the country and he was in desperate need of someone he could let off some of that… steam with.”

Felicia let out a little chuckle, “See you were doing so well up until the end. You see, he didn’t use me, I used him.” she said coily. “Now, back to my Father, what have you done to him?” she sneered.

“Ooooh Kitty’s got bite.” he said playfully, as he moved over to a table hidden in the shadows of the blacked out room. He slowly dragged a chair across the concrete floor, the sound of the metal legs scraping across the floor making her skin crawl. He stopped it forcefully in front of her before sitting down, his knees brushing her own with how close he was now sitting. “Now here’s the thing, pretty kitty,” he says as the back of his fingers move to trail down the side of her cheek. She flinches under his touch and tries to move herself away, but it's futile, “no matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to send that angelic little wife of his back to heaven and I so- desperately- want to send the Spider a message. So seeing as she seems to have stolen all your nine lives for herself,” he says lowering his hand to his waistband and pulling out a knife, flicking the blade out and flashing it under the light for her to see, before he raises it up to her face, “I guess I’m just gonna have to send my message using you.”

-

Angel woke up a few hours later in pain. She sent a hasty thank you to the Gods when she turned her head to find a small bottle of pills next to her glass of water beside her bed. She switched on the bedside lamp so she could read the small print, ‘take on an empty stomach’. Perfect, she thought as she hastily unscrewed the cap, tipping two of the pills into her open palm, before throwing them back into her mouth. She hoped they worked quickly because she really was feeling uncomfortable.

Unsure with what to do with herself she instinctively looked at her phone. 1 new message, number unknown, the screen read. A small paperclip symbol appeared in the slot where the message usually would be. Her brow furrowed as she began to unlock the phone and open up the message a picture appearing on the screen.

‘What is that?” she thought to herself as she brought the screen closer. It was so random, it just looked like an alleyway. Then she noticed a very pale, blood covered hand in the corner of the screen. ‘What the fuck?’ 

“PETER!” she called out. She didn’t wait for a response, already climbing out of the bed, hobbling in pain towards the bedroom door. “Hey, Pete!” she called out again as she shuffled towards the stairs, one hand bracing her ribs, the other clutching the phone tightly in her fingers. There was still no response.

She clung tightly onto the handrail as she shuffled, one leg and then the other down each stair, wincing as she went. “Pete?” she called again. “Eddie?” still nothing. She groaned as she continued to shuffle across the floor of the empty apartment. Fuck! She looked down to the contacts in her phone. She didn’t have anyone’s number. Shit.

There was a ding in the hallway as the elevator reached their floor, a couple of voices talking as they made their way to the front door of the apartment. A sharp pain spread across her ribs as she began to quicken her pace, eager to reach the door.

“Shit!” A voice exclaimed as the door opened. “Angel, why are you out of bed?” Peter said, rushing to her upon seeing her up and about. She merely held the phone out to him as she braced herself against the back of the sofa. “What? What’s this?” he said as she winced in pain again. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed-”

“NO!” she said loudly, getting his attention. She forced the phone into his hand as Hobie came up beside her, his own comforting hand resting on her back. He silently looked between the couple as Peter held the phone up closer to his face. “Look in the corner.” she said.

“Hang on a sec, is this?” His fingers began swiping at the image, enlarging particular details. “Hobie, look at this.” he said, holding the phone out to Hobie.

“Is that the side of the Huntsman?” Hobie frowned looking down at the phone. “I’ll call them, get them to take a look.” He said before looking back at Angel. “Umm, do you wanna get her back upstairs?” Hobie continued, directing his words towards Peter.

“Princess-” Peter started, but Angel just shot him a death glare as if to say she wasn’t going anywhere until she knew what was going on. “At least let me help you sit down on the couch.” He said, holding his hand out for her to take, her fingers gripping tightly around his thumb as she shifted her weight onto him.

“Hey, yeah Carl? It’s Hobie. Can you check the side entrance to the club for us?” There’s a long pause while Hobie waits on the line.

Peter helps Angel lower herself slowly onto the green sofa and she lets out a small hiss of pain. “Have you taken anything?” Peter asks her, but she just shoots him another stare. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, jeez baby-” he suddenly says defensively.

“Hi, yeah- Pete.” Hobie’s voice says, getting his attention. When Angel looks across the back of the sofa to him his face is dire. “Yeah, yeah, okay. We’ll be right there.” Hobie says down the phone before hanging up. “They found Felicia.” Hobie said, a sorrowful look in his eyes. Peter and Angel wait for him to continue but he doesn’t, he just shakes his head before staring at the floor. 

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

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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.

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

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OH.

I'm blown away once again.

No cut this time for the essay, I'm just going to rev up the motor and head for the edge of the cliff and we'll see if I can make it across...

First off, Peter, you dumb-dumb. Little late for reconsidering that ring toss now isn't it? Regret. Regret. Regret. He should've had a more in-depth conversation with Angel, probably should've had one with Felicia, too, but yeah. Same with Angel and her scene. People pushing each other's buttons. Lot of regrets all around. For Peter, it was fortunate that he had Miguel to give him a little perspective. For Angel, no such luck.

My thinking is that pain and sorrow and regret was driving Angel to do something to 'fix it,' and not going to lie: when I read the beginning of the scene where she whipped out SKETCHY PHONE, I was screaming:

"NO ANGEL! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"

You have no idea how relieved I was that she didn't go the way of Felicia because you have a knack for the unexpected. That is not a complaint, by the way, I love it. Well, if Angel had gotten pushed off the roof then I might've gone a little crazy, but it's your story and you have to write it the way you want.

Toombes was just dropping all that info for us. He knew about the ring? What did he mean about the current whereabouts of Aunt May? He knows where she is or has he taken her? ARGARGARGARG! He knows the contents of the will (!!), and what was that tidbit about the little meeting after her Dad died? Was that different than the one from several chapters back? I may need to reread all 15 this weekend, not that I mind...

Toombes is a contradiction. He wanted Angel dead, and yet, he didn't try and kill her on the roof. Interesting. Now he seems to be twisting the knife in her (implying that he's going to harm Peter) while doing the same with Peter (killing Felicia after the attempt with Angel). It's smart to use a divide and conquer strategy as Miguel stated, but for whatever reason, I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop with this guy. Hmmm. Regardless, well done on this chapter!

Lastly. Read the A/N and see you're coming closer to the conclusion. Damn. Don't want this to end. You have a knack for these more intricate plot pieces that show depth with the characters and it's really nice to have that in the fandom. I've loved this story!

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

I cannot rec this fic enough. For the 18+ crowd only it is a masterpiece of all the emotions one could ever want in a chapter based fiction. From the very first chapter, the scene setting, the plot, the characters, and their thoughts: a just cannot stop reading work. READ IT.

Sugar and Vice Vol 1

Pumpkin bomb. Oh you sly sly author in the notes there. And even with that, you still caught me looking while at the plate.

You were NOT kidding though, this chapter was short and explosive.

The entire scene at The Huntsman just simmering with tension between ALL parties.

And of course, of course, there is that TROUBLE PHONE and whenever it appears, sure enough, no good comes of it. Not going to lie, Peter running out to the car--I thought, 'no Peter, it's going to explode!!' because I watch waaaay to much cinema but dear author was ahead of me on that one and instead waits to throw the curve ball when I'm thinking fastball straight up the middle. Swing and a miss for me because I sure didn't see Harry coming anymore than Peter!! Well done, you, well done. I also like that Felicia has continued to play a part in the plot, even if her role didn't turn out as expected. The many twists and turns in this series has made for quite exciting and enthralling reading! But Peter and Angel--toss the phone because the two of you just completely lose any rational thought when that thing chimes....not that I would be any better. Toomes is a smart cookie and very much a scene setter and I like a villain who is smarter than the average bear. Once again, well done on giving him some skills that aren't obvious right away.

Final thoughts:

Toomes has played Peter like a fiddle and they going to Georgia for sure because Peter would trade his soul for a chance to win Angel back; I'm sure of it.

Loved Hobie's line to Peter regarding Angel's skills. Hehe. Very on point Hobie.

What happened to Eddie exactly? He was with Miguel but he was supposed to be 'with' Harry making sure he was okay....

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Sixteen: From Friends to Enemies

Summary: The Vulture crashes Felicia's wake.

Warnings: 18+ Only, genre typical content, wake/funeral, grief, angst, knife, threat, betrayal, complicated marriage

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: We may be coming to the end of this story but there's room for one more grenade... or should I say pumpkin bomb... This is a slightly shorter chapter but still packs quite the punch with its ending. I hope you enjoy!

SIXTEEN

The moment Peter walked into the Huntsman the energy was palpable. He wondered for a moment if the sudden silence was brought on by his arrival, but as he turned the corner past the central bar to their usual private booth and seating area, it became very clear what was causing the tension. Harry.

He was clearly drunk, his eyes bloodshot, his body swaying back and forth slightly as he squared up to the much taller Hobie. “I’m his right hand man, not you!” Harry spat. “You didn’t even know Felicia.”

“Come on Harry, calm down. Let’s go outside and get some air.” Eddie said, coming up beside the younger man. 

“No!” Harry said as he shrugged him off when Eddie tried to usher him backwards and away from Hobie, who was trying to keep his composure.

“You’re drunk, Osborn. Go take a break before you do something you can’t take back.” Hobie said calmly through a face like thunder.

“Don’t talk to me like you know me, man.” Harry said. “You have no idea what I’ve done. What I’m capable of.”

“Oh really, Osborn.” Ben said, stepping up to stand at Hobie’s side.

“I could take you any day, Reilly.” Harry threatened pushing forward, Eddie quickly reaching a hand out to hold Harry back.

“What the fuck is going on here?!” Peter said commandingly, making everyone stop and stare at him.

“Ahh Parker. It seems Osborn here’s had a bit too much to drink and is getting a little too big for his boots.” Hobie replied.

“If anyone’s stepping in things they shouldn’t and getting too big for their boots it's you!” Harry spat at Hobie.

“HARRY!” Peter said commandingly. “Take a walk and cool off man. We’re all friends here.” He said, placing a hand on his number two’s shoulder. Harry begrudgingly rolled his shoulder out from Peter’s touch but began to back down.

“You’re not my boss.” Harry threw out to Hobie as he began to walk away, his fingers reaching into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes.

“I’ll go make sure he’s okay.” Eddie said to Peter as he followed after Harry.

The moment Harry left the tension dissipated enough for the other patrons and wake attendees to once again begin their chattering. Peter ran an exasperated hand through his hair as he looked to the bar and then back to Hobie. He needed to deal with this but having a drink and checking out was looking more and more appealing by the second. 

“Angel get home okay?” Hobie asked, trying to diffuse the tension and move on.

“Yeah, it's just-” Peter sighed instead of finishing his sentence, his hand with his absentee wedding ring rubbing over his face. Although he’d had a couple pints, Hobie was still vigilant and recognised the sudden absence of the ring, but before he could push Peter about it he was changing the subject. “What the fuck was that all about?” The slightly younger gentleman asked as he used his body language to encourage Hobie to follow him towards the bar. “Whisky.” Peter ordered with the bar man, holding two fingers up as he leaned against the top, before turning back to Hobie.

“I don’t know, Peter man. Dude’s been simmering away in the corner for the last hour and then apparently I said something about Felicia he didn’t like and he snapped.”

“What did you say?” 

“I made a small speech about how important she was to the team and that she’d be missed and he just flipped his lid. There’s something not right about him. Did they have a thing or something?”

“No?” Peter frowned. He was pretty sure nothing had gone on between Harry and Felicia, but knowing how both of them were he wouldn’t have been surprised if they had had a couple hook ups; but there never seemed like there was anything serious between them. 

“I don’t know man. Something’s really got him rattled.” Hobie said as he took his own glass of whisky off the bar top. Peter sighed as he looked down to his own drink, hanging his head in mild defeat. “Anyway man, what’s going on with you? You don’t seem like you’re faring much better? Is it Angel?” Hobie asked.

Peter took a long hit of his drink before he could even look to Hobie to talk about this. “I don’t even know anymore. Miguel says we are better together but…” he sighed once more rubbing a hand across the side of his face, “It never used to be this hard you know.”

“She’s a tough nut.” Hobie said starting to relax, hoping his vibe would rub off on his partner. “Kinda has to be considering everything that's happened to her over the years.”

“Yeah, but she’s just… different now. She’s shooting guns and getting in on interrogations and she’s…” Peter’s words trailed off as he struggled to find the words.

“She’s better than you at it.” Hobie jokes. Peter flashes Hobie a look out of the corner of his eye that wipes the smile on Hobie’s face clean off before it has fully formed.

“Uuuuhhhgg.” Peter groans as he dips his head to try and compose himself again, his hands leaning wide against the bar top. He looks up to the ceiling, willing his control to return but it’s getting harder and harder for him. He’s stuck in a gang war he never wanted, his marriage is completely falling apart, he’s just lost one of his closest friends and now Harry was acting extra rebellious. He threw back the last of his drink, his head turning towards the picture of Felicia placed on top of the bar.  ‘You’d know what to do right now.’ Peter thought to himself as he looked at her.

“It’s gonna be alright man. We’ll get through this, you’ll see.” Hobie tried to reassure him, but before Peter could find hope in Hobie’s words the door to the Huntsman flew open, the shadow of a figure pausing in the doorway for extra effect.

“Sorry man, this is a closed event.” Carl said loudly over to the guy. Instead of heeding the warning, the man stepped further into the bar, the door slamming closed behind him.

Peter and Hobie slowly stepped around the side of the bar to investigate as the bar grew silent in recognition.

“You’ve got some real nerve coming in here.” Hobie threatened as he came face to face with The Vulture.

“Easy does it Luther,” Tommes said, likening Hobie to the gritty fictional British detective, “I just came to pay my respects.”

“I don’t think you can pay respects when you’re the one who butchered her.” Hobie said, stepping up to him, whipping out a pocket knife as he got in Tommes’ face. “Tell me why I shouldn’t carve you up like you did her.” He said, raising the knife to Adrian’s face.

Toomes laughed. “Now if you do that, you won’t hear what I have to say about his lovely wife.”

Peter’s face fell as he stepped forward, a hand outstretched to lower Hobie’s arm away from the Vulture’s face. “You know, she’s quite the little firecracker that one. I see why you married her.” Toomes continues to taunt, not looking away from Hobie until he begins to back away and give him some space again. “Thank you.” He says as he brushes down his clothes as if he’s wiping off Hobie’s energy from him.

“Where is my wife?” Peter says threateningly, that unconscious need to protect her despite everything going on kicking in. “What have you done-”

“Oh I haven’t done anything. She came to me actually. Did you know we’ve been texting?” Adrian taunts as he holds up his phone and gives it a little shake in Peter’s face, causing Peter to bristle. “As for where she is now?... Well the last time I checked I think she was packing up her bags and making a call about a jet. Just thought I’d let you know.”

Hobie’s hands reached out to grab Adrian’s jacket, squaring up to his face, but Peter wasn’t paying attention; he was already moving for the door. He couldn’t let her leave. He couldn’t even begin to start unpacking everything Toomes had said. 

“Miguel, keys!” He commanded when he saw him stood with Eddie having a cigarette. Miguel was taken aback for a moment. “KEYS. NOW!” Peter shouted. Miguel quickly reached into his inside pocket and tossed the keys to him.

“Pete? What’s going on?” Eddie tried to ask. “Pete?!”

Peter ignored them climbing into the drivers seat of the car, starting the engine. He almost caused an accident as he hastily pulled into traffic, tires screeching and horns blaring but he didn’t care, he had to get to her. Had to stop her.

--

Peter didn’t even shut the engine off as he skidded to a stop and immediately got out of the car, the driver's door left wide open as he raced to get into the apartment building. He took the stairs two at a time, not wanting to waste time waiting for the elevator. 

“ANGEL!” He shouted as he burst into the penthouse apartment. “ANGEL!!!” He shouted even louder as he began to race upstairs to the bedroom.

The doors to the bedroom were left wide open. He stopped, spinning in place as he quickly surveyed the room. He noticed certain items were missing and quickly raced to the wardrobe. He froze, his stomach churning as he was met with the sight of the now half empty wardrobe, certain items of clothing still strewn across the floor indicating she had packed hastily. SHIT! He couldn’t just let her leave, not again.

He began to race back out of the room and down the stairs to the open plan living space, his hand racing for his phone as he began to search through his contacts. That’s when he noticed it, her ring next to his on the kitchen counter. He slowly began to walk towards it, his fingers reaching for it when-

“I’m sorry Pete.” Harry’s voice came from behind him before there was a blow to his head and everything went black.

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

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

Yes….and no. Honestly I appreciate whatever writers have time to post but I don’t like to place pressure on them either. If you’ve the time then YES! If not, that’s ok too….

Who’s ready for a surprise character in todays chapter of Angel?