Mob!peter Parker - Tumblr Posts

"...in a still limbo. None of it felt in order." THIS.

AND THIS:

"Grief was a funny thing, it’s a terrible gutting feeling one minute that had her laying in the bloodied bedsheets with your dead husband one minute, and sitting in the bathroom with her high school best friend laughing at memories another."

It is all of this and you captured the see-saw emotional state quite well. Grief is a thief that slips behind you and taps you on the shoulder before you feel that gut wrench of sharp stabbing pain but grief just as abruptly leads you to some of the happiest remembrances you've ever experienced. I just love that your story caught that because it is (or has been for me) so very real.

Best of all was the renewal and rebirth because the two angels were reunited on earth...just as they should be.

Thank you for writing despite your not feeling well; don't know how you do it, but thank you for it.

mob!Peter fan club for life.

When My Time Comes

Content Warnings: Graphic depictions of:gun violence, murder, blood, throwing up, and panic attacks. Suicidal ideation, and a few swear words. Reader goes by the name 'Angel' throughout the story. Slightly supernatural/horror I'm not sure how to take it. Very different than anything I've written before please just hang in there lol. It's also unedited because I wrote it in a one day and wanted to get it out as fast as possible before the inspiration left me.

Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader/OC

Word Count: 5k

Genre: Angst with happy ending

I told y'all Mob!Peter was making a comeback..this is his rebirth. Thanks to Hozier's Work Song.

Please reblog and/or leave a comment instead of liking or hearting this post! Thank you.

There’s an uncomfortable frigid feeling in the room. It’s like that moment when giving a class presentation and everyone is looking dead at the person. Waiting for them to drop because they can tell the speaker doesn’t want to be here, and that they’re waiting for the worst to happen and the other shoe to drop. 

“Angel-” 

Felicia’s voice carried throughout the room. The legs she stood on grew wobbly, her vision narrowing. A mix of bitter bile and anger grew in her throat as she shot the platinum haired girl a heated look. 

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me-” She shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her. “This is your fault!”

 It wasn’t. But it was easier to blame her, the person delivering the blow than it is to blame others. 

Harry’s hands grabbed the distraught girl from under her armpits, to keep her from falling and approaching Felicia any closer than she already was. Harry tucked her into his arm, hand flattening out against her back, trying to soothe the heart he knew was breaking. The smell of the iron on his shirt flooded her nostrils, and only provoked more tears. She fought against Harry, who only held tighter. 

“I wanna see him. Let me see him. I-”

“Angel, that’s not a good i-”

“Let her, Harry. Let her.” Felicia’s words were soft yet firm. Her lip was tucked in between her teeth as she wiped at her face. Harry looked between the two women, and at Miles who was standing in front of the door. He was fighting his own losing battle, and denying her would put him in his own grave. Once he released the girl, she ran as fast as she could and wobbled up the stairs to the bedroom all the way at the end of the hall. Vision so blurry from anxiety, and tears that she couldn’t even make out May, who'd just left the room shutting the door behind her. 

“Angel, you can’t go in there. You shouldn’t. Pete, he wouldn’t want you to see him like this. Just stay out here for a li-”

Usually she’d respect May’s wishes, and listen to her wise words. Angel knew deep in her heart of hearts that she was right. That this was an event that would stick with her for life and couldn’t be treated so loosely. But, her husband, Peter, was sitting on the other side of that door and you needed to see him. 

Pushing May aside, nothing, absolutely nothing, could prepare her for what laid on the other side of that door. 

“Pete.” Her words faltered seeing his entire torso bandaged, a deep red of blood already seeping through the clean white color of the bandages. Angel carried herself as far as she could before dropping to her knees, crawling across the floor to the bed. 

“A..Angel.” 

Peter’s eyes wouldn’t open, but his voice was somewhat there. Tired and strained, her hands grasped his, as she bowed her head against the memory foam of the death bed. He wasn’t dead. Not yet. 

“Shhh, I’m right here.” There was a sense of dread crawling into the bed with him. It’s the same bed they’d shared for years, but it’s different now as he lays dying. Out of pure reflex her hand reaches out, resting on his torso. He’s too weak to even flinch, her hand soaking with his blood. They’d been trying for hours to stop the damage the attack did to his insides.

“It happened all too fast and there were..too many. His body isn’t healing as fast as it usually does.” Felicia’s explanation came back to her. So much for being superhuman. Angel’s head pressed against his temple, as tears trickled down her cheeks hitting his bare collarbone. 

“Oh Angel..” Peter whispered, pressing his head back against hers. “Don’t cry over me.” 

She shook her head. “‘M not crying Pete, cause you’ll be fine. May gave you more of your blood, and your body is gonna speed up its process. And..and you’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m dying, Angel.” 

‘Shut up.” 

“No listen okay.” He used what strength he had to open his eyes, looking at her through half lidded eyes. “I am going to die. I know it and you..” 

He coughed, blood splattering out of his mouth. “You kn-kno-know it.” She wiped the blood off his mouth letting tears fall. 

“I love you…so much. You have been..the best part of my life.” She opened her mouth to respond. He closed his eyes again. Bringing his hand to hold her side close to him. “Just..just lay here with me okay?” 

His chest rattled with a shaky breath, she hiccuped choking on her sobs. Laying her head against his cold one. She'd always pictured dying in this bed with him. But she thought she’d be older, thought she’d at least have had some kids- some grandkids. Thought it would be both of them on a quiet, average night. One where she’d go to sleep and just never wake up. 

Never did she think Peter would be lying here dying at only 31 one years old. Angel knew what Peter did for work was dangerous, deadly even. It killed her father, it killed his uncle. Both knew these actions had consequences.  Yet, Peter wasn’t human like everyone else. He had altered DNA from being studied as a kid, from being bit by a spider at seventeen that gave him powers that he used to climb his way up the ladder of organized crime. Yet, those same powers and abilities were what had him lying here fighting to keep going. 

“Peter..” She whispered against his cold skin. “Peter.” Nothing. She put her hand over his heart and felt nothing. No warmth, no movement, nothing. Her hands shook, looking around in panic for anything..anyone. 

“Peter!” 

The yell was louder this time. One that burns the lungs. She shakes him, and shakes him trying to get him back. Starting to attempt her own CPR screaming for him to come back, to not leave like this. Being so engrossed with her own grief and anger, she doesn't even process everyone rushing in. Harry and Felicia pull her off of him kicking and screaming, as May calmly pulls the sheet over his head, before kissing his forehead. 

Angel hated her. She raised him and she’s not even fighting for his life right now. 

Not her, not Harry, not Felicia. None of them. 

“He’s gone.” Harry spoke sitting on the floor with her, holding her as she screamed through the sobs. His legs pinned hers down rocking up back and forth. The smell of the iron from the blood on Harry’s shirt and her body wafted through her nostrils. Between the smell of her dead husband's blood and the pure panic seeping through the body she couldn’t hold back any longer. Angel’s body hunched forward on reflex as vomit spewed out of her mouth and onto Harry and the floor. 

The blonde man didn’t even flinch, rubbing her back as you slumped forward and cried. A part of her laid dead on that bed with her husband's cold body. 

-

The days lingered, in a still limbo. None of it felt in order. Felicia fed her some cocktails of sedatives, to keep her sane as they both helped May plan the funeral. “He didn’t want a shiva.” Angel spoke from the couch, biting down around the cuticle of her nail. 

“I know we aren’t giving him one, just a wake and funeral and a remembrance party.” Felicia spoke, her hand reaching out to hold the woman's leg. Her free hand pulled her fingers out of her mouth. 

“A fucking party?” She spat. “Is that what his death means to you? Some fucking excuse to get shit faced, so you can live with yourself for walking him into that fucking warehouse.” 

Felicia bit down on her cheek, and took a deep breath. She could almost feel Peter’s hand on her shoulder and his stern yet soft demand for an apology to Felicia. 

“I’m sorry. I should-”

“It's fine.” Felicia says, pulling the widow into a hug, letting her head rest on her shoulder. Angel thanked Felicia for her patience, because at this point she had none left. May’s shaky hand covered her own mouth holding back a sob, Angel pulling her into the hug, the three of them taking a moment to cry. 

-

Harry and Miles had dealt with the dirty part. Harry had come home with a bag of medical supplies the night Peter died. He and May injected him with more of his blood that Harry had altered at Oscorp, both hoping for some last resort. Angel sat on the chair in the corner watching them. She had volunteered to wash and dress him before the coroner took him away. The man, Mr. Weekes had dealt in Peter’s dealing before, and he was listed specifically as who Peter wanted to treat him post mortem. 

“Your death wishes list in your will is super morbid.”

 She spoke in a low monotone voice, washing the blood off his arms. It was weird to see him like this: cold and still. Not bantering back and forth with her. “I appreciate it though, I just wish you’d told me about all this sooner. You’re demanding even in death.”

She washed his face next, and stitched up some of the wounds on his chest before dressing him in some of his more comfortable casual clothes. 

“If only you’d tell me what suit you wanted to be fucking burried in. Planned everything else out..” 

Shuffling through his suits, she started fighting back the tears as she came across his wedding suit. Again, feeling his hand on her back, trying to talk her through it. He always knew this was happening before she did. Angel pressed the palm of her hands into her eyes as she started to cry. Heartbeat racing, it felt like it was crawling up her throat and getting stuck. It felt like choking on nothing, causing her to gasp for breath. She dropped herself down into the soft green chair in the back of the closet, crying and gasping for air as she progressed. She started walking herself through it the best one could. Putting a hand on her chest following the breathing techniques, she tried to alter her breathing as much as she could. Once she started coming down, her vision settled back into normal. She looked up at the racks of clothing and let out a shaky, yet normally paced breath. She had settled on the grayish green suit he’d worn only a couple days before. Slamming the closet door to the closet behind her, she shoved the suit into the bag wanting to be done with it all.

“I shouldn’t hate you..” She started, sitting on the bed with him. Putting his watch on him and staring at him. “And I don’t..I don’t think I do. I’m just so..fucking angry. At everyone, at myself, at you. I shouldn’t have let you go, I should have gone with you.” 

Angel laid next to him, his body cold and their sheets still slightly stained in blood. Maybe it was gross and fucked up. However, next to him, was the only place she felt peace. There was a brief staring contest with the syringe filled with some  liquid that laid on a night stand. One stab to the heart would make everything go away, she could be with him again. Maybe the cocktail of sedatives everyone kept feeding her would do it for her at some point. 

“Mrs. Parker.” Mr. Weekes says walking in, rolling the gurney in with him. Harry and Miles in tow behind him. “I have to take him now. Is that okay?” 

“Angel..” Harry’s voice sounded pitiful, she felt her heart squeeze as she sat up.

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed, scurrying out of the bed. Flattening out her clothes, watching Harry help Mr. Weekes transfer Peter to the gurney. Miles comforted her, his arms wrapping around her rubbing her back. Harry nodded his head towards the door, telling him to walk Angel out of the room. He followed directions sitting her in Peter’s office downstairs, both sat in their grief. 

“Why does everyone call you Angel?” Miles asks, wanting to take her mind off Peter. Funny enough, Peter was the reason why she even had the nickname. 

“When Peter and I started dating he brought me home and everyone was there with him at the time. They were ready to meet me if they didn’t know me already. Him, May, Gwen, Felicia, pretty much all of us…he walks me in and he goes "everyone this is Angel, Angel this is everyone.” 

Shr laughs, and Miles smiles. “Everyone just kept calling me Angel till he realized about 30 minutes later that he’s called me Angel instead of my real name. So it was just a pet name that became a nickname. So everyone, including my own mother, calls me it now.” She watched Miles walk around Peter’s office taking in every piece of him. 

“I’m really gonna miss him. He taught me so much, he helped me and my mom. I just..he was like a brother to me.”

“He thought a lot of you too. He cried on your 21st birthday, talking about how much you grew up and how proud he was of you.” She looked at Peter’s will open on the table, her and Harry had gone over it earlier. “You should head home Miles.”

“Are you gonna be okay? I can stay here.”

“Yeah, I have Felicia and May..and Harry.”

Miles nods, engulfing her in a hug. Angel smiled sadly, hugging him back, sliding an envelope from Peter’s desk into his pocket. “No questions. It’s what Pete wanted you to have. There's a note in there you should read it.” 

Miles nodded and patted his pocket, taking the keys off the desk and headed out the office doors. 

-

Grief was a funny thing, it’s a terrible gutting feeling one minute that had her laying in the bloodied bedsheets with your dead husband one minute, and sitting in the bathroom with her high school best friend laughing at memories another. Gwen had flown in from London the moment she heard, she helped get Angel out of bed and bathe her for Peter’s funeral seeing as she could barely bring herself out of the guest room.

 “He really loved you.” Angel whispered, her head resting on her knees as Gwen sat by the tub with her. Gwen tilted her head to the side laughing, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder. 

“He loved you more.” Gwen says. “I remember when we broke up and I told him if he didn’t ask you out I was going to do it for him. And I think that terrified him more.” They both laughed. “I knew he was going to marry you before he knew, before you knew even” 

“Yeah?” Angel asked, smiling at her, tears rolling from her eyes. 

“You two were made for each other. And I was lucky enough to love both of you.” Gwen whispered, taking her hand. “Let’s wash your hair, yeah?” 

“Okay.” Angel nodded leaning back in the tub.

-

Standing by his coffin was awkward; she felt like a little girl at her daddy’s funeral again. Not knowing how to stand next to the body, not liking the way the pity filled stares felt, so she focused on his body. There was a rosy tint to Pete’s cheeks, and he almost looked alive. She rubbed his cheek looking at the gifts lining his coffin, stuff people wanted to lay to rest with him. “It’s only been five days, and I’m losing my mind.” Her voice whispered to him, her hand holding his.

 “I don't know if I can do this without you.” She flattened out the white shirt under his tux and took a deep breath. 

“Let's sit dear.”

 May sniffles, holding her side reassuringly. Angel nodded, wrapping an arm around May, rubbing her shoulder. No one knew her pain like May Parker. She’d become her rock in the haze of grief. She had lost her husband and her nephew who was more her son than anything. She’d been staying at the house with Angel and everyone, she’d even climbed into bed with her most nights like a child seeking comfort from her mother. She was thankful for her and thankful Peter had brought May to her. They were the two most important women in his life and bonded like no other. 

-

“Peter Benjamin Parker was the love of my life, and he was an amazing man.” Angel spoke into the mic standing before friends, family, and acquaintances. She looked down at him in the coffin, and smiled at him, already wiping away tears. 

 “I know to many of you he was frightening, and strong. He seemed unforgiving, cold, and inhumane on occasion but he was my best friend, and my soulmate. He was a complex human and that…is what brought his life to such a short stop. I’m no good at public speaking. I'm sorry, this was always his thing. He was so charming and knew how to talk to you all, and I stood behind him every step of the way. But in the last few days, I discovered he was actually the one standing behind me every step we took together, and he also stood behind many of you and helped you all in numerous ways. I think he left a part of him in all of us, and I hope we can all be half the person he was one day..I- I’m sorry. Harry..Har-.” 

“I got you go, go.” Harry ushered Angel off the podium covering her crying frame from onlookers. She sniffled, wiping her eyes stepping off the podium into Gwen’s arms sitting back down between her and May. May kissed her head, assuring  that it was all going to be okay. Her hands comforting and cradling her face as Angel tried to quietly bawl her eyes out. She stared at the casket in front of her during Harry’s speech, slowly turning everything around her out. 

-

“Angel.” Eddie Brock smiled as she stood outside watching Peter be lowered into the ground. She smiled at him in return, letting him engulf her in a hug.

 “Oh I’m so sorry, Peter was such a good guy. Kind of scary..but..good.”

Angel laughed sadly, squeezing his shoulders. “I know he meant a lot to you Ed.” 

“He did, he really saved my ass more than once. I don’t know what I’ll do without him.” 

She tilted her head, and tried her best to smile at him. “Hopefully stay out of trouble.”

Eddie shook his head back and forth, giving a smirk that said ‘We’ll see.’

They exchanged sad goodbyes and she watched him leave heading towards his car. She was thankful that Peter’s death was kept out of the headlines, it took some begging and bribing Betty Brant but it was worth it for such an intimate and private time. 

She watched the grave diggers starting to fill in the dirt, and she contemplated staying the night on the bench. But May came, wrapping her arms around Angel, a jacket you immediately identified as Peter’s from smell alone. 

“Why don’t you come home with me tonight?” May offered, pushing hair from the girls face. 

“That’d be nice, yeah.”  Angel whispered. “How have you not lost it yet? All I want to do is crawl in that hole with him.”

“I know you do. I was there once, it’s a terribly awful feeling Angel, I know.” May frowned, holding her arm with hers as they walked together to the car. “Peter, bless him. I love him, he was my son no matter what anyone said he was my boy. But because of that I saw every side of him and Peter had been ready to go since Ben died. And I find peace in thinking that they are together again, and that he is safe and protected..and- I’m sorry” May’s voice broke and she fanned her face. “And they are here in any way we want them to be.”

There was quiet for a moment before Angel let out a soft, yet grief riddled laugh.

“I need what you have.” You laughed sadly, both of you crying now. 

May let a teary laugh burst from her chest. “We’ll go make some tea and talk about it.”

That's what they did. The two had a girls night with Gwen and spent it remembering Peter in their own way. About twenty minutes in She had wandered off into Peter’s old bedroom. Smiling as she stood in the doorway, and she knew grief was a funny thing because she could see the two of them about fifteen years younger dancing in his bedroom practicing for prom. 

“Ouch that was my foot!” She yelled out. Peter dropped to his knees dramatically, grabbing her leg inspecting her foot playfully. 

“Not broken.” He placed a kiss on the top of her foot before jumping to his feet. Watching her smile and scrunch her nose.

“I didn’t say it was.” 

‘Well I had to make sure I didn’t hurt my girl.” 

She shook her head in response, rolling her eyes. Hands rubbing his shoulders, placing his glasses on the top of his head. “Are you gonna do that at our wedding too?” She teased. 

Peter pulled a face laughing, racking his head back and forth thinking. “Maybe! But since when are we getting married? What have you and Gwendy been planning, mhm?”

Angel looked over at his desk where she’d found her engagement ring tucked away only a couple years later. 

“I couldn’t find the blue quilt but I found the gray one and everything is set up and ready when..”

They both froze looking at the green velvet box in her, now shaky, hand. 

“Shit I knew I should’ve put it in the safe. My girlfriend is so nosey.” He laughed it off taking the green box from her hand. “You just couldn’t wait a couple weeks till your birthday mhm?” He laughs, kissing on her face. Angel could feel warmth wash over her face and body, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“I was just looking for those pictures from our trip upstate you had processed.” 

Peter smiled tugging up his gray sweatpants, dropping onto one knee. 

“Angel, my sweet girl. I have loved you for years, for far longer than I remember. Ever since we were in middle school, and I got lucky enough several years ago to have you want me. Maybe we are a little young to get engaged, but I know I want to be with you forever. I’m not asking for a wedding anytime soon, I just want to know that eventually in-”

“Yes.” You cut him off excitedly, hands cupping over your mouth. “Sorry, sorry.”

Peter scrunched his nose, standing up as he slid the ring on your finger twirling you around. 

“She said yes!” Peter yells throughout the house, the announcement bouncing off the walls and making a home in its fixtures. 

May’s excited cheer could be heard all the way up the steps. You laughed, wrapping your arms around him as he spun you. 

Walking towards the perfectly made bed, she mentally thanked May for never changing it. For keeping it the same all these years later. She took her shoes off, crawling into the bed closing her eyes waiting for sleep to wash over like a wave. For just a second she swore the other side of the bed dipped down, and in instinct made room for his tired frame to crash beside her. 

-

“A distraught man was seen walking up around the streets of Harlem this morning, the man was described as looking dirty. Wearing a green suit, and was seemingly distraught and confused, mumbling to himself.” The anchorwoman spoke, reading off her cue cards shocked by the news herself. Angel scrolled on her phone wrapped in one of May’s quilts as she made breakfast.

 “Witnesses say the man seemed distraught, and in a rush. Looking like he had climbed out of a hole, his suit askew and ran past anyone who offered help. Seemingly not wanting to be seen.” 

She switched the channel before she cared to hear the other stories, not thinking she could handle the grief of another depressing story right now. Angel wrapped the blanket around herself, walking to the kitchen to talk to May. Her phone pinging, the front camera at the house notifying her that motion had been detected. 

“I’ve gotta get to the hospital after I eat, are you gonna be okay getting home? I know it’s not that far of a wal- everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I actually should get a cap and head that way. I just got a weird notification I need to check out.”

“Okay yeah. Do you need me to go with you?” May asked.

“No, no. I, I don’t know what it is. Could be nothing or an error on my end.” Angel says, pulling herself out of the chair rushing towards the door. Quickly calling a cab she climbed into the back refreshing the ring app trying to get it to load. The dark screen freaking her out. She had called Harry, bouncing her leg in the back of the cab watching the houses fly by. 

“I was just about to call you.” Harry’s panic was evident from his voice. “Someone dug up Peter’s grave. Kicked the headstone over and everything.”

“You don’t think it was Fisk’s guys do you?”

“Could be..could be anybody. I love Pete but he had a lot of enemies.”

“I got a notification that there's motion at the front door, but it’s not loading now. It's a network error.” She spoke as the cab pulled into the neighborhood, already unbuckling her seatbelt waiting for the sudden stop. 

“Okay listen to me.” Harry says starting the car. “I’m thirty minutes away, there’s a gun hidden in a fake drawer in the table by your door. It’s loaded, and I know you know how to use it. Let’s just be prepared for the worst.”

“Yeah..” Angel nodded, rubbing her forehead wishing Peter was there to talk her through this. “Okay I’m heading in. I’ll let you know.” 

Angel handed the driver a hundred that she had on her and hung up the phone, tucking it into the pocket of the pajama pants she’d been wearing at May’s. The front door was left ajar and slightly off its hinges. She looked down seeing a track of dirt leading from the front walk away all the way into the house. 

Quietly she found the gun Harry was talking about, leaving the safety on till otherwise needed and slowly following the muddy footprints. The fridge was left ajar, food and drinks sitting on the counter. Whoever broke in was pretty hungry, having pulled out the pastrami and other gatherings for a sandwich. A soda poured into a glass and half gone. She checked Peter’s office, his file cabinets open and a couple files pulled out. As she went to open the files to see who it was research on, she heard the water upstairs turn on. Slowly and as quiet as possible she snuck up the steps, and through her bedroom. Her jewelry box was left open but nothing was taken out, everything in the closet was practically untouched except for a couple of Peter’s items thrown onto the floor. Taking a deep breath she pushed the door to the bathroom open, and nothing could prepare her for what stood on the other side of the door. 

“Angel..”

The voice nearly caused her to drop to her knees. She knew grief was a funny thing, because Peter Parker was standing before. Dirty and clearly sore, his voice strained from not using it for a couple days. Her knees fell out from under her, Peter using his reflexes to catch the gun and her all in one go. Smearing mud and blood lightly on her as he caught her. He placed the gun on the counter away from them as he slid down onto the floor with her. 

“Shh, shh I know. I know. It’s scary. It’s okay, Angel. Breathe okay. In and out.” 

She couldn’t even find her voice to scream, she reached out hitting him trying to get him away from her. A ghost from her nightmare.  The harder she hit though, the faster she realized he was real..this was all real. 

“You’re dead.” 

“I was..technically. Kind of yeah.” 

“Not technically, legally.”

Peter laughed shakily holding her, tears starting to pour out of his own eyes. His lips pressed against her forehead letting out a gasp of air. 

“Spiders..play dead when they sense danger. Meaning their bodies shut down completely out of their control, as a way to replenish and prepare to attack and prevent further damage.” She watched intently as he explained his mad man ramblings. 

“I guess when I got bit that’s something my nervous system developed the ability to do. I read about it all those years ago after I got bit. It just never happened until I took so much damage. So, yes. I was..I did die. However, the amount of my own blood that Harry and May pumped into me. Helped me heal in that shut down state.” Peter laughs hearing himself. He sounded fucking crazy. Angel reached her hand out cradling his face, gasping at his warmth. His heat radiating off his body again. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she lunged forward holding him in a hug sobbing happily. 

Harry’s feet pounded against the hardwood floor as he yelled for her. 

“Oh fuck.”

“Hey Harry.” Peter laughed awkwardly. “Long story.” 

Harry, in shock, stumbled out of the room immediately making phone calls. Letting out a scream of shock and awe.

“Angel..” Peter whispered. “I need to shower okay. You can stay with me though if you want.”

So she did, she washed his hair and body. Rubbing her fingers over the held wounds that once littered his chest now just scars in their place. So much for being superhuman.

“We’re never gonna have a normal life are we?”

Peter shook his head, kissing her head. 

“No, no we won’t. But we’ll have each other, and no matter what happens. No grave will hold me down.” He laughs holding them together, making her look up at him. “I’m coming back here, back to you everytime.”

 She shook her  head holding him close listening to the beat of his heart, finally feeling that piece she lost crawl back home into her chest.

I know that was different...I hope you guys liked it. I really wanted to bring Mob!Peter back but I'm nothing if not dramatic..so :)

tags: @helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @a-lumos-in-the-nox @moonyslove78 @messymissy @adhdhufflepuff @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @ateliefloresdaprimavera @eevylynn

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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.

Thanks for reblogging this @sincericida --I probably wouldn't have seen it otherwise.

Wow. Just wow. What an intro/prologue (and a little steamy too, hehe). On the surface, just a girl and her hero boyfriend but oh so much depth to the interaction. Weight of the world on their shoulders, and seeing the injustice of it all.

Great start, can't wait to read more!

*and yes, @liz-allyn is a splendid writer!

You Either Die The Hero, Or Live Long Enough To See Yourself Become The Villain. | Prologue: The Angel In The Garden of Evil

Summary: All it took was one night, one conversation for Peter Parker to change the course of his life. Being the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man didn't seem to be getting him anywhere, clearly it was time he took matters into his own hands and began playing his foes at their own game.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: fluff, little smut and a little bit of teasing for what's to come! 18+ ONLY!

A/N: So as teased the other day, I have become a little bit obsessed with Mob!AU Peter Parker stories, especially after reading the absolutely delicious story that was Sugar and Vice by the wonderful @liz-allyn (if you haven't read it, I highly recommend), anyway, it got me thinking about how I would construct my own Mob!Peter story and when I was day dreaming at work the other week, while listening to Liz's Sugar + Vice playlist (thank you by the way Liz, that playlist is a god send) it all started to come to me. So here is the Prologue, the tease, the moment that turned Peter Parker from the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man to a life of organised crime and the woman who was by his side through it all... until she wasn't.

PROLOGUE 8 YEARS AGO

Knock, knock, knock.

Her head turned to the window at the sharp tapping sound. It was late, really late, she shouldn’t have even still been up, late. But midterms were in a week and she didn’t feel anywhere near prepared, so unfortunately she was burning the midnight oil. She smiled to herself, that giddy feeling taking over whenever he decided to show up at her window. His gloved fingers pointed at the latch and she rushed across the room to let him in, sliding the window up before stepping back so he could swing his legs into the room.

“What are you still doing up, missy.” he chastised jokingly with one hand on his hip, the other held out in front of her wagging back and forth.

“Would you believe me if I said I was waiting for you?” she asked with a tilt to her head and a butter wouldn’t melt expression on her face.

“Not a chance.” he replied as he reached up and ripped his mask off his face. Her lips pursed together as she tried to fight her smile and he quickly moved past her to her desk before he got too wrapped up in how that face made him feel. He was Spider-Man after all and he’d already learnt the hard way that emotional attachments were a weakness. No this was purely a relationship of convenience he tried to remind himself.

“What are you working on anyway?” he said, sitting himself down at the small dorm desk and reading through the essay that was currently on the screen. “You know I can’t understand a word of this.” he joked, pointing at the screen.

“Now you know how I feel when you start talking physics to me.” she said, crossing the room and sitting herself down on his lap. “How’s patrolling the big bad city?” she asked as she began to type away again.

“You know, same old, same old.” he replied nuzzling into the back of her neck as his arms wrapped around her.

“If there’s anything about my Dad, I do not wanna-”

“Know.” he said at the same time as her. “I know, I know.”

“I mean it Peter, I’m not getting tangled up between you two. Not to mention, the less I know about my Dad’s work, the safer I’ll be, you know what happened to my Mom.”

“Yes, I know, I know.” he repeated as he tore himself away from her neck. “You still don’t wanna talk about it?” he asked after a pause.

“Nope.”

“Okay.” he conceded quietly. It was a hotly debated issue between them, both of them always trying to get the other to open up further about their emotions, yet still neither one of them was ready to trust that with the other.

“Uhh, come here.” he groaned as he grew bored, his feet rolling the chair backwards away from the desk, forcing her to give her attention to him. She sighed, her head falling back slightly as she surrendered to him. She quickly turned herself around so she was now facing him, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he tilted his head back to look at her.

“You’re so beautiful.” he cooed quietly into the dim room. 

“What even like this.” she joked pulling at her college hoodie and old sweats.

“Especially like this.” he said, lifting her up and making her squeal as he carried her the short way to the bed, before dropping her down on it.

She beamed up at him as he came to settle between her legs, his lips finding hers.

Her hands reached into the hair at the nape of his neck and neither of them could help their growing moans of arousal as their makeout session deepened.

“Uh, uh, one sec.” she said, breaking her lips away from him.

“What?” his teeth grinned against her mouth.

“Before we go any further, are there any injuries I need to know about and be careful of?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” he said, playfully shaking his head.

“Oh really? Because I seem to remember the last time you climbed through my window you’d pulled a hamstring which you tried to hide, that ultimately ended our night very abruptly I might add.”

“No. no. I am the picture of health.” he continued to gest as his head lowered and his lips tickled her skin.

“Sure you are Parker.”

“Really? Okay.” he said as he started to get off of her.

“No, NO!” she protested with a large smile on her face and a rasped giggle on her breath. “Come on Pete, I was only joking.”

“Yeah?” he said as he stood before her. “Well I’m not.” 

With one quick sweep he rolled her over, bringing her up onto all fours. She couldn’t help the small shriek and giggle that escaped her lips, but Peter knew right then, there would never be another sound in this world that would sound as sweet.

He was suddenly tender as he pulled down her sweats, tossing them across the room, before he leant over her, encouraging her to turn her head and give him a kiss, his tongue slipping tenderly past her lips. She moaned into his mouth as he continued to deepen the kiss and she quickly rose back onto her knees so she could hold his face in both of her hands.

“Take this off.” Peter muttered into her mouth before he reluctantly broke away, his own hands reaching for the zipper for his suit, quickly stripping himself of it and kicking it across the floor.

When his eyes focused back on her naked body he couldn’t help what fell from his mouth. “Fuck.” he sighed. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” he said, climbing across the bed to her. 

She smiled, reaching her hands to his face to pull him in for a kiss again. He obliged for a moment, but quickly flipped her back onto all fours, his fingers reaching for her sex. 

He ran his fingers down the length of her seam. “Damn, always so fucking wet and ready for me.”

“Stop teasing Spider boy.”

“As you wish.”

In one swift move he lined himself up, thrusting deeply into her pussy. She gasped and he stilled, allowing her a brief moment to adjust to him before he slowly started to rock inside her.

~

20 minutes later they were both panting, laying back on the bed naked. Peter spread out his arms and she quickly nuzzled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder, as they found their space on the small single bed. She gazed lovingly up at him as she watched his face intensely, observing every brow furrow, every lip and eye twitch as he stared up at the ceiling, one hand behind his head, the other absentmindedly stroking at her bare back.

“Everything okay there, Spider boy?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s just-” he paused as if he was trying to think of how to word the thoughts running through his head.

She had noticed he’d stopped by a lot more lately, regularly needing to blow off some steam, looking desperately for constructive human interaction, not always just battling and fighting and jesting with people.

“You’re starting to wonder if it’s all worth it.” she filled in for him quietly.

Peter was always surprised when she came out with things like that. It was like she could see inside his head, but not just see into his head, articulate how he felt better than he ever could.

“Mmmm.” he hummed in agreement as he rolled her closer to his body, holding her tight as his head turned to place a kiss on her forehead.

“You know you can talk to me about it.” she said tentatively into his bare chest, her voice ghosting warmly across his skin.

He lifted his head to look down at her. “But you said you didn’t want me to talk about your Dad.”

“I know, but,” she replied, staring up at him with those eyes, those eyes that felt so old, so wise, so sweet and innocent, but oh so sad, “it’s not just about my Dad though is it.” she continued, rolling to prop herself up on one elbow. He remained quiet as he waited for her to continue. “The whole city’s fucked Pete and no amount of vigilante, neighbourhood spider power is gonna change that. Most of the guys who turn to work for my Dad only do it because they have no other choice. They don’t have qualifications to get good jobs. They can barely afford food for their families, let alone health care. Regardless of what my Dad does or any of the others, no matter what you do to try and take them down, someone else will always just come and take their place because the system itself is fucked.”

He sighed, his head falling back into the pillow as he looked back up at the ceiling, the weight of her statement, the fact that she was right, it was like a punch to his gut, yet also, somehow, brought him so much peace. Confirming all of the thoughts he’d had racing around his head and validating them, solidifying the ideas he had been having into his head.

“What are you thinking?”

“Just that… you’re right.” He paused and she blinked patiently at him in the dark as she waited for him to continue. Then he said the words she never thought she’d hear come out of his mouth. “I think if I’m gonna get anywhere, I’m gonna have to start playing them at their own game.”

__________________________________

*******

Chapters 1 + 2 will have a double drop on Friday with a weekly 1 chapter drop every Friday from then on.

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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!

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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+ 

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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 🌶

Chapter 3 is here! Love it!

Thank you for the update on Miguel's whereabouts; one worries about supporting characters sometimes. When I think about it, that's a benefit to fanfic in a way. A canon fiction will have a character and then someone in fanfic will ponder: and just what made Gilderoy Lockhart such an insufferable self-centered bastard and write a story about his childhood...but I digress. Back to your story...

Three years separation is a long time in a relationship, even a committed one such as a marriage, not to mention one that ended as abruptly as theirs did. Angel may have missed Peter, but from the earlier chapters describing her...um...dysfunctional dad, it's not like Peter kicked her out, and he felt it, felt it deep. That's how love is--it doesn't just give us joy, it has the potential to rip out our hearts with loss. (Even with learning that she left against her will due to said dad) Glad to see Aunt May worrying about her 'boy.' I would too. Angel seems aware of this hurt ('couldn't see past the hurt in his eyes') on one level, but does she on another? As a reader, I'm kind of hoping that in addition to a reckoning with The Vulture, there is also one between Peter and Angel. I mean, I suppose they could just fall into bed together but doing that can sometimes just push the reckoning further down the path and doesn't address the pain, the misunderstandings, the things that weren't ever said because she wasn't there and Peter likely filled in the blanks with his own thoughts...dang, now I'm wishing I could read that man's mind--ha! You've got me now, author! Anyway, I understand Angel's loneliness--she's been pining for Peter, missing their intimacy and closeness, thinking of him all this time, but his perspective is going to be different (I am speculating/imagining.) No matter the physical longing he might have for what they shared in the past, everything seems to this reader like it will have to start anew. Will they confess to each other? Only you know and we'll have to wait to find out.

Couple of additional notes: did either of the duo think to grab that copy of the will prior to going on the lam? I mean, there's probably another copy, but one wouldn't want that info left right out on the table where anyone could read it (it would become public record eventually, but I'm going to assume that hasn't yet happened). This Vulture person sounds smart and able to spot weaknesses, so I'm worried for Peter and Angel. (if the will isn't integral to the plot, please excuse my digression/pondering; when writers draw me into their world, sometimes I get drawn in pretty far!)

Secondly, daaaang, Angel is a tough cookie. I've had stitches more than one time and yeah, that hurts even if it's only a couple. No deadening? That's a nope nope nope from me. (True story, once had a doc start to scalpel into my skin and the numbing shots were not quiiiite thorough enough. That'll get you sitting right straight up in the chair let me tell you.)

Really looking forward to Chapter Four!!

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter 3: There's No Place Like Home

Summary: Unsure where else to go, Peter takes Angel back to the only other home he's ever known.

Warnings: 18+ Only, mature content, eventual smut, plenty of feels and patching up wounds

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: SURPRISE! Okay so I have been writing up a storm and realised if I only release these once a week it’ll be months between me finishing the story and you guys getting to read it, so I am gonna do drops on Wednesdays as well as the originally planned Fridays. (Also I’m an Aries who likes to be praised and whenever you guys give me good feedback it’s like a drug and I want more). For those asking at the end of part 2 where was Miguel, Miguel had already gone home, theres about half hour to 40 min time difference to Peter telling him to go home and shoot up happening. Anyway that being said, there’s nothing like going home to lick your wounds. Enjoy…

THREE

When they pulled up outside a high rise in the city 30 minutes later, the adrenaline that had been coursing through her body was finally wearing off. The dull pain in her shoulder was coming back full force; and as she sat waiting in the passenger seat, her hand bracing the injured shoulder protectively, she closed her eyes and counted her breaths and tried to work out where it had all gone wrong.

Her husband, still sitting in the driver's seat also taking his time to process the events that had just happened, lowered his head to the steering wheel. She could feel his anger brewing, that scary calm energy he was known for rolling off of him in waves. He suddenly sat back, his head slamming back against the headrest as his hand gripped the steering wheel forcefully, forcing her to open her eyes and look at him. His hands quickly flew into his hair, he was coming apart at the seams. She wondered if for a moment he had forgotten she was there.

She was about to say something when he was suddenly getting out of the car, slamming the door closed behind him. She watched out the front window as his hand tugged at his hair again before he ran it down the length of his face in an attempt to compose himself as he began to make his way to the passenger door.

The door opened with a low click as he held it open for her. She quickly unbuckled herself before sliding out of the car. She watched carefully as he stood like a sentry beside her, the only thing indicating to him being a living human, the heavy rise and fall of his breaths, the air chuffing powerfully from his nose as he attempted to calm himself down. She raised her hand again to her shoulder as she stepped forward onto the sidewalk as he closed the door behind them.

She watched over her shoulder silently as he ushered her forward with his hand splayed protectively across her back, keys clutched in his fingers as he guided her to the front door.

Neither of them said anything until they got to the elevator, the large metal doors sliding closed, encasing only the two of them safely inside. 

“Does it hurt?” he finally said, his body turning towards her as his hands reached out to manoeuvre her gently, turning her to face him.

She wanted to respond with something sarcastic, but looking up into his eyes, she couldn’t seem to find her voice. His thumb suddenly added a little bit of pressure below the wound as he checked it over and she sneered, recoiling from him protectively.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” he quickly said, holding his hands up in surrender. He watched her closely, waiting for her breathing to steady again, her body leaning back towards him, trusting him. “It might need a couple stitches.” he said as he moved the damaged fabric of her top to look at it better. She grunted again as the pressure of his fingers made the wound smart once more, but she didn’t pull away.

They felt the elevator begin to slow beneath their feet, coming to a stop and pausing before the bell went off, signalling its arrival.

He gently ushered her down the hall but she already knew where they were and which door to go to. She paused outside the door as she watched him reach behind the frame of one of the pictures on the wall. She shuffled herself to the side as she let him squeeze past her to put the key he had retrieved into the lock, turning and pushing the door open, ushering her in first with an outstretched hand as he moved to put the key back in its hiding place. 

“Peter?” a voice called out through the apartment. 

“Yeah, May.” he called out as they both stepped through the door.

Peter’s Aunt May tentatively came into view at the end of the hallway at the sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floor before they hit the hallway runner. She froze in silence as she took in the image of not just Peter, but Angel. The sudden change in May’s demeanour from warm and friendly to cold and protective made the younger woman still in the middle of the hall.

“Don’t May.” Peter warned her as he gently stepped around his frozen estranged wife, moving forward down the hall, a protective arm being placed around his Aunt’s shoulder as he turned her away and towards the living room, trying to explain everything before she made any assumptions.

Angel slowly began to follow them, coming to a stop in the doorway, her hand still raised to cover her shoulder. She stood awkwardly against the doorframe, careful not to bleed on anything as she watched Peter sit May down on the sofa, the tall brunette taking a perch on the edge of the coffee table in front of her, his hands gently resting on her knees.

“It’s a really long and complicated story-”

“But for how long, Peter?” May tried to argue in a hushed voice.

“I know, I know.” he quickly cut her off. “Look I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but we can’t go back to the house and I didn’t know where else to go.” He attempted to explain as Angel began glancing around the apartment. Her eyes fell on picture frames, throw pillows, the layout of the kitchen to her right, nothing had changed in this place at all. She slowly found herself stepping forward to a bookcase, observing the pictures that sat on the edges of some of the shelves. Okay, maybe some things had changed, she noted as she noticed the frame that used to hold her and Peter’s wedding photo had been removed, replaced with an old picture of Peter with his Uncle Ben from when he was a child. As she began to look behind it, she noticed another frame laying face down on top of the books. Her fingers reached for it. She carefully pulled it out, looking at the memory fondly. They hadn’t had a big wedding, after all she was trying to hide their union from her Dad. She gazed longingly at the picture of her and Peter outside the courthouse. They’d asked a passerby to quickly take the picture on an old digital camera May had brought with her. You could just see the corner of her shoulder in the foreground as she threw confetti at the happy couple.

Her eyes stung as tears prickled the corners of her lashes and she quickly put the photo back.

“I’m gonna go find a first aid kit.” She suddenly announced across the room to Peter, still mid conversation with May.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” He turned his head to say to her before she removed herself from the room, heading down the hallway to where she knew the bathroom was.

She closed the door behind her, looking at herself in the harsh fluorescent lighting. She wiped away at the lingering tear at the corner of her eye hastily before her gaze dropped down to her shoulder in her mirrored reflection. She winced as she examined it in the mirror, turning her body towards the light. She sighed, her hands bracing themselves upon the basin as she closed her eyes and attempted to compose herself.

She kept one hand against the cold porcelain as her other hand reached to slip off her heels, her height dipping in the mirror as she dropped one foot and then the other onto the worn bath mat. She ran her hands over her face, pushing her hair back as she took one more tired look in the mirror before bending down to root in the under sink cupboard for the first aid box she knew was kept there.

She balanced it on the side of the sink, her fingers opening the zip and flipping the lid open. She sighed, rooting around in the kit, searching for the bits she would need and placing them on the top for easy access. She winced in pain as she slowly pried off her shirt, carefully slipping it off of her injured arm, the blood already beginning to dry sticking to her skin and she cringed and sneered as the fabric tore itself from her flesh. She reached into a drawer for a fresh washcloth, turning on the tap and running it under the faucet.  She was just bringing it to her skin, wiping away at the drying blood when the door opened, Peter letting himself in.

He froze at the sight of her standing in the middle of the bathroom in her high waisted trousers and black lace bra. When she just stood staring at his reflection in the mirror he quickly checked himself, clearing his throat and trying to ignore the blood that was beginning to rush between his legs.

“Here let me do that.” He said, stepping forward and taking the damp washcloth from her. 

She sat herself on the side of the bathtub as he rinsed the blood that was already on the cloth off, ringing it out.

“I don’t think May likes me much anymore.” she spoke timidly as Peter turned towards her and began dabbing at her skin. She hissed as he shifted his hand and dabbed higher, closer to the wound and he quickly took his hand away, fingers frozen in midair.

“Sorry,” he murmured. She quickly settled again and he moved the wash cloth over her skin even gentler. “She’s just protective of me, that’s all. Still sees me as that little boy scraping his knees and elbows everytime I fell off my skateboard. Cutting the crusts off my sandwiches…” his voice trailed off softly.

“MMM” she groaned again between closed lips as his fingers began to dab at the broken skin, her head turning away from him, eyes closing to suppress the tears that threatened them.

“I know, I know.” He tried to soothe her. “Yeah, it’s definitely gonna need some stitches.” He says assessing the wound closer. 

He stood up from where he had been crouching beside her, hands dexterously retrieving the bits he would need from the kit and placing them on the side of the sink closest to them. He then washed his hands, carefully drying them on the towel beside him. They were both silent as his fingers opened the suture packet, pulling out the fresh needle and threading it. She watched his hands attentively, willing herself to stay calm despite the impending pain she knew she’d have to endure.

“You’re not gonna like this.” He said as he crouched down beside her, tearing open a packet of alcohol wipes. He swiped a wipe carefully over her shoulder. She instantly screwed up her face sneering at the sting, her head turning away from him again as she forcefully gripped the edge of the bathtub, knuckles turning white.

“Fuck. Peter.” she hissed between her teeth.

“I know, you’re doing so well baby.” The pet name falls from his lips so naturally to try and soothe the sting they both feel. His chest aches to see her in pain, he wishes he could just kiss it and make it better, but he knew he was doing the next best thing.

“Ow, OUCH!” she called out, her voice echoing off the bathroom tiles as she flinched away from him. He released her arm from his grasp, allowing her a respite before the next step. His hands rested on her thighs, palms rubbing back and forth soothingly as she began to settle again.

“Uhh, does it really need stitches.” her voice was a broken whine as her head turned to look at him again.

“I’m sorry.” he said as he gave her a look that told her it was unavoidable.

Her head tilted up to the ceiling as she shook her head, psyching herself up. She took a deep breath before looking back at him. “Okay.” she nodded as she closed her eyes again, continuing to psych herself up. “Just do it.” she huffed. 

He paused a moment, his hands still on her thighs as he allowed her another moment to make sure she was ready. He slowly took his hands away from her, reaching for the suture, sat waiting ready. He watched her closely as she kept her eyes closed, not wanting to look, knowing she’d lose her resolve. 

“I’m gonna try to be as quick as I can, I promise.”

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed and agreed as she braced herself, his hand wrapping around her arm again.

The little noises she made as he used the curved needle to pierce her skin were unavoidable. “We’re almost there. You’re doing so good.” he cooed as she tried not to squirm under his touch. “Okay, one more, just one more baby.” he said as he passed the needle through her skin one last time, the fingers on his other hand reaching for the small pair of scissors to cut the surgical thread.

He took his hands away from her but she still didn’t open her eyes for another minute, allowing her breathing to steady as he began to clear things away. She finally opened her eyes as she felt his shadow loom over her. She looked to his hands to find him ripping open a large square shaped band aid. He carefully peeled off the backing before leaning over her and covering the area of her shoulder he’d just stitched up.

“Thank you.” she said quietly as he smoothed down the edges, his fingers brushing gently across her skin, leaving behind a tingling sensation in their wake.

They were so close. If she turned her head just a little they would kiss. For a moment he hesitated and she thought they would, but then he quickly stepped back and away from her.

“I’ll see if I can find you something to change into.” he said as he quickly turned his back on her and left the room.

She threw back her head to stare at the ceiling again as a new wave of tears threatened to spill over her bottom lashes. Her hands flew up to her face, hiding her eyes as she breathed deeply, willing her emotions away. She knew the day she’d eventually be able to go back to him would be hard, but she had never expected this. Everytime she looked at his face, she couldn’t see past the hurt in his eyes. She figured she’d be grateful he hadn’t moved on and found someone new to replace her with. Hadn’t walked back into that house and seen him lying in bed with another woman, but she knew that wasn’t her Peter. Then again, the pain her leaving had caused him, was he still her Peter. A lot can change in three years. Heck she’d changed in those three years.

She slowly stood up, wiping away her tears. Her hands reached to turn on the tap, allowing the cool water to soothe her skin, she splashed her face, wiping away the sweat and the grime and the few flecks of dried blood. She stared at herself in the mirror trying to recognise the woman she saw there as the same woman who had stood here all those years ago, but she couldn’t.

She turned off the tap, dabbing at her face with the towel as she heard three taps on the door. Peter slowly opened the door, his hand reaching out in front of him towards her, a pair of grey jogging bottoms and a white t-shirt folded neatly on top of his hand. She recognised the sweats as an old pair of his he had left here since he was a teen, the same pair she used to borrow when she stayed over. The t-shirt she was surprised to see was an old one of her own. An old Rolling Stones t-shirt she thought was long lost.

“Thank you.” she said as she gently took them from him.

“Umm, I’m gonna sleep on the sofa, you can take my old bedroom,” he said. His eyes struggled to meet her. It all felt so familiar, yet also so foreign. She wanted to say something but she didn’t know what. She just stared at him and he gave a quiet nod of his head before he closed the door again.

She crept into the spare room, her hands immediately dumping her clothes onto the empty chair just inside the door, before she closed it. He’d left the bedside lamp on for her, the faint glow adding warmth to the room. She couldn’t help but creep across the floor, her eyes searching the old familiar walls full of photos, old drawings, newspaper clippings. Her fingertips dragged across one of the old wooden shelves, taking in old school trophies, physics books, a picture of Peter and May at his graduation. The room was like a time capsule. She came to a stop in front of the end of the bed, staring at the sheets, undisturbed, lonely. It didn’t feel right, sleeping in this bed without him.

Before she could stop herself her hand was already on the door handle, ready to throw it open and creep down the hall, begging him to come to bed. But she froze. All that time, that space between them, as she stood there and felt it, it began to consume her. Instead she let her fingers drop to her sides, her feet begrudgingly walking around the side of the bed. She slowly climbed in under the covers. She stared at the door, one last time, willing him to come to her instead, but he didn’t. Tentatively she reached over, her fingers turning off the light, plunging her into darkness.

————————————————

As stated at the top new chapters will drop on Wednesdays and Fridays! If you want to be added to the tag list please put that in writing for me. Oh and if you are enjoying what you’re reading tip me like you would your waiter at a restaurant and reblog and leave me comments and feedback, it honestly fuels me up to keep writing and sharing.

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(Initial tags came from interest from the teaser and prologue. 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.)

Eddie as peacemaker/referee along with Harry is an interesting dynamic. I almost picture Eddie as admiring Angel's toughness and being protective toward her (going a little off his arrogant type of chivalry) but being easy going enough that he doesn't necessarily want to upset Peter's applecart.

Angel and Felicia is interesting dynamic number two. Angel took the news from Peter waaay better than I would've (yeah, so it was three years, doesn't mean I am rational) but then again, Angel asked the question and you don't ask if you don't want to know. Loved how Felicia just gave her a look. That is a personality sitting there eating a cupcake and you write her with that in mind.

Lastly, Peter and Angel. Those three years are a chasm. Can't say for certain who I think will be first to attempt to engineer a bridge. Or jump. Guess I'll need to wait and see...

Well done!

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Five: You Don't Own Me

Summary: Things continue to grow tense for Angel and Peter as secrets come to light on both sides.

Warnings: 18+ Only, eventual smut, lots of drama, mentions of genre typical violence, angst

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: With all my recent traveling I almost forgot it was Wednesday... Anyway I am super excited to share yet another chapter of this story. Things continue to heat up for our couple, we introduce and get to know more characters and dynamics from Peter's team as well as work in and reference other things from canon Spiderman lore. Just as an extra, when I think of and write about Felicia I can't help but picture Anya Taylor Joy, let me know if you see it. Enjoy!

FIVE

“What? How do you know?” Asked Eddie as they all piled back into May’s apartment.

“Yeah, I thought this guy was supposed to be a ghost.” Harry chimed in.

Peter held his hand close to Angel’s back. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her the whole way home. He ushered her further forward into the flat, coaxing her towards the sofa, prompting her to take a seat so they could talk about this properly.

Peter sat himself on the coffee table directly in front of her, his hands reaching out to rest against her thighs, drawing her out of her thoughts in her head and back into the room with him.

“Angel, you gotta tell me baby, what’s going on? What’s happening?” Peter encouraged her soothingly, but his irritation was burning under his skin and Harry’s incessant babbling and theorising in the background wasn’t helping him. “HARRY, SHUT UP!” he snapped, turning his head towards his friend then back to his wife. He watched as she swallowed deeply, she had gone so pale, it was honestly scaring him. “Princess-”

“I met him.”

“What? When?”

“With my Dad. They had this sit down. My Dad wanted to sort things out; he was trying to minimise the casualties.” He watched uncomfortably as she winced, the memories flooding her.

But Peter felt confused. “He spoke like he hadn’t seen you in years. Like he was this old work colleague of your Dad’s. Almost like you would run around his back garden at company barbecues.”

“I told you Pete, he’s a fucking mastermind. He plans out every single detail for maximum impact.” She suddenly shrugged off her blazer and brought her uninjured arm up closer to his face, twisting her arm to show off a small burn scar on the back of her arm. Peter tenderly reached out his hand, his thumb brushing against the shiny healed skin. “I got that after they took me hostage.” she informed him. “He used me as a bargaining chip.” she continued to explain as Peter suddenly stood, his internal rage bubbling under the surface, ready to burst, making him restless. He began to pace the floor, nibbling at his thumb and lower lip as she continued. 

“That looks like the barrel of a gun.” Eddie said, inching forward to get a better look.

“One of his men fired a warning shot then placed the still smoking metal to the back of my arm.”

“When was this?” Peter asked between gritted teeth.

“Around 8 weeks ago.”

“Jesus Christ.” Peter snarled, his hands thrusting into his hair. “What were you thinking?” he snapped at her. “Why didn’t you come home!” He pressed her, his pupils blown in anger.

“I couldn’t-”

“Why didn’t he send you home!”

“Pete.” Harry tried to hold his hands out to Peter, encouraging him to give her some space and calm down.

“He was playing with her fucking life!” Peter continued to shout in his face. “All this time he was trying to keep her safe from me, KEPT MY OWN WIFE FROM ME, because he said it was safer and-!” Peter couldn’t even finish his sentence he was in such a rage.

Eddie quickly stood between the couple too, slowly stepping forward with Harry to try and back Peter away, to get him to calm down enough to see sense. 

Angel was struggling to look at him, his words slicing at her like a knife. As Harry and Eddie continued their attempt to quell Peter’s anger, she began to look around the room. She was surprised with all of his shouting that May hadn’t come out from wherever she was to see what all the commotion was about.

“Where’s May?” she asked to the room.

“We’ve got someone driving her out to the cabin to keep her safe while all this is going on.” Eddie turned to fill her in.

“Which is exactly the kind of thing HE should have done in the first place.” Peter spat, his anger starting to boil again.

“Jesus Peter!” she shouted at him as she finally found her nerve again and came to a stand to confront him. “Pull yourself together. Fuck! This is exactly why he didn’t want me near you.”

Peter froze, her words going off like a bomb, an awkward silence falling over the room. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he said as he stepped towards her. He suddenly had that controlled, scary calm demeanour to him.

“I think you know exactly what that means.” she said quietly, but determinedly to him.

“Okay. Okay, I think everyone just needs to chill out.” Eddie said as he stepped forward with his arms outstretched in an attempt to separate them before either one of them did or said anything else to cause even more damage to their marriage.

Angel sighed as she turned back towards the sofa, her hands pressing lightly against the sides of her face as she sat. Peter too turned away, pacing towards the bookcase she had been observing the night before.

There was a light knock on the door and Harry walked down the hall to answer it. 

“Hey man, what’s going on?” the youthful deep voice she recognised from the morning, greeted Harry as he opened it. Harry gave a non verbal answer making the voice respond, “ooh tough crowd.”

The two gentlemen made their way back down to the living room.

“Boss… Eddie… Maam.” a tall black youth said as he entered the room. Looking at him, Angel didn’t think he could be more than 19 or 20 years of age. A young recruit for Peter and definitely not in line with their old rules.

“Angel, this is Miles, Miles this is Angel, my wife.” Peter hissed the final word as he made introductions.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Miles said, stepping forward and reaching out a hand to her.

“And you, Miles.” she said quietly, still exacerbated by the recent spat.

“Umm, we’re going out, Miles is here to look after you while we’re gone.” Peter informed her.

“Really, Pete?” she said suddenly standing again, the tension in the room beginning to rise once more. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You got me a BabySitter!” She stressed the syllables of the word. “How old are you?” she quickly snapped to Miles.

“21.” he quietly interjected as she continued to rant.

“He’s a fucking child Peter. You are having me babysat by a literal child.”

“I’m not a child.” Miles tried to defend himself.

“Look I can’t have you come out with me, it’s not safe.” Peter began throwing back her way. “And especially not after this morning or what you’ve just fucking told me.”

“Oh My God!” She started to protest.

“And he’s not a child Angel. He is perfectly capable of watching out for you while I run out for a few hours.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“No, I’m not.” Peter said as he began to snatch up his things, eager to leave the apartment as quickly as possible before either one of them said anything that would really hurt the other. “Look, I’ll be back in a couple hours, you can scream at me then, but until then you’re gonna stay here and not cause Him any trouble.” he said pointing towards Miles, before he took one look back at her as she sat herself down on the sofa, a scowl on her face. “Fuck.” he grumbled more to himself. “Come on, let’s go.” He finished as he corralled Harry and Eddie out the door which he slammed shut.

Miles uncomfortably edged himself over to the empty armchair before taking a seat across from his new charge. “I promise I’m not that bad.” he said, hoping to diffuse the tension. She just rolled her eyes at him.

--

Miles sat patiently scrolling on his phone as Angel paced back and forth across the main living room floor, her hands constantly raking through her hair trying to destress.

“Would you just chill out or something, you’re making me nervous.” Miles threw out to the room which only resulted in her flashing him yet another glower. “Fine. Jeez.” he grumbled as his attention turned back to his phone.

She continued to pace back and forth for another few minutes before she suddenly stormed off to the kitchen. Miles listened as cupboards were opened and different items were slammed onto the kitchen counter. He reluctantly got up from his seat to investigate.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he came to a stand in the doorway, watching her as she began to spoon cups of flour into a glass bowl.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” 

“Ummm, cooking?”

“I’m making cupcakes.” She corrected. “You told me to chill out so that’s what I’m doing. When I’m stressed, I bake.” she said as she began grinding butter and sugar in a separate mixer she’d dragged out of one of the cupboards.

--

When Peter arrived back at the apartment 2 and a half hours later, Eddie, Harry and a mystery blonde in tow, she had made and frosted, one batch of vanilla cupcakes, one batch of chocolate cupcakes, one batch of traditional chocolate chip cookies and another of white chocolate and cherry. She was just taking the last tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, placing them carefully onto a cooling rack when Eddie barrelled into the kitchen.

“Uhh I knew I smelt something good.” he exclaimed as his fingers reached for one of the cookies and took a bite. He’d reached for one of the fresh out of the oven cookies however and instantly regretted it as he burnt his tongue on a still molten chocolate chip. “Ahh shit.” he breathed loudly as he sucked air into his mouth to try and cool it down.

“Serves you right.” Angel chastised.

“Damn.” the platinum blonde, who Angel noticed wore a pair of small black cat ears on her head, said as she made her way into the kitchen. “I didn’t realise we were opening up a bakery.” she jests.

“She stress bakes.” Miles proudly spoke up, filling her in.

“I see.” The blonde said as her fingers reached for a vanilla cupcake. Angel watched enviously as the woman skulked away, pausing in the doorway when Peter stepped into it. “She stress bakes.” the woman lowly repeated with what Angel felt was a sense of superiority.

“Not now Felicia.” he said as he let her pass. “Umm, can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his attention now falling on Angel.

“Umm, yeah, of course.” she quietly said as she put down the now empty baking tray and slipped her hands out of the oven mitts she had been wearing. “Don’t touch that, it’s hot.” she quickly said to Eddie in jest as she passed him.

“Ha, ha.” he deadpanned and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

As they passed through the living room, Peter leading her towards his old bedroom, her eyes couldn’t help but fall on the other woman, Felicia, who now sat in the old faded armchair in the living room, carefully picking at the cupcake she had taken. Noticing their presence Felicia couldn’t help but shoot a knowing look between them, a small smirk growing in the corner of her mouth.

“You slept with her, didn’t you?” Angel calmly asked him as he closed the door behind them.

“What?” His brow furrowed as he looked at her.

“The platinum blonde beauty in the living room currently picking at one of my cupcakes-”

“Felicia.” he interjected.

“You slept with her didn’t you?” 

“What? Really you wanna go into this now?” he asked her, his irritation rising despite her calm demeanour.

“It’s a simple yes or no Peter.” she stated as she moved across the room to sit on the end of the bed as he continued to stand by the door, flummoxed about how they’d even got into this conversation.

“Look, I don’t blame you.” she continued. “Pete I was gone for 3 years, you really think I expected you to be cellibate.” He looked to his feet as he shook his head in disbelief. “Yes or no?”

“YES.” he hastily threw out.

“Does it mean anything?” she calmly asked.

“No, of course not.” he said a lot more calmly. “Now can we not talk about it.”

“Sure, sure.”

There was a pause as he attempted to compose himself once more. “Look, I pulled you in here because I wanted to apologise.” he said but his eye’s couldn’t fully meet hers. She pursed her lips, holding her tongue whilst she waited for him to continue. “I’m sorry okay.” he said again, this time with more conviction as his gaze slowly met hers. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you like I did and… I shouldn’t have treated you like we were on lockdown and that you needed a babysitter okay. I’m just not used to…” his voice trailed off for a moment as he observed her. “This.” he finally said as his hands motioned towards her. “I mean, last night and then everything this morning and then…” he really didn’t know how to articulate. How to even summarise her changes, the distance between them. How he felt about it all. “It’s just- different okay.”

“Okay.” she agreed timidly and understandingly.

There was silence between them as they both tried to process what had been said and find the right words to say. Peter chose to focus on familiarity in the end,

“I see you still bake then.” he quietly said, his body taking a small step towards her.

“Yeah.” she acknowledged quietly.

“What’ you planning on doing with all that?” he asked.

“I’m sure given the chance Eddie would probably eat most of it.” Peter chuckled in agreement. He always had enjoyed her sense of humour. “I was actually thinking I might take it down to the shelter.”

“F.E.A.S.T?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“I think they’d like that.”

“You gonna let me take them down myself?” she asked as he quietly took a seat next to her.

“Take Miles with you.”

She nodded in agreement. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” she asked quietly, not daring to look at him now he was so close, despite the way his body was turned towards her.

“I’m gonna pop back to the house, see it for myself.” he announced softly.

“Okay.” she replied, finally allowing herself to look up at him. 

“Umm, I’ve got a couple of other errands to run after that but, umm,” he said nervously, “I’m gonna get Felicia to book us a table for dinner tonight so we can umm, talk. You know, try and figure this out.”

“Okay.” she agreed.

“Okay.” he repeated.

They sat on the bed in silence for a moment, the two of them just staring at one another. Peter couldn’t help it, when she moved her head and a few strands of hair fell forward across her face, his fingers automatically reached to push them back, tucking them behind her ear. His hand lingered at the edge of her jaw. For a moment that tension seemed to come back. Every time it felt heavier and heavier, both of them waiting to see who would break first, who would make the first move. But then the reminder of their fight took over, the unaccounted time that hung between them beginning to drive them apart.

“Umm, you should get going.” she said quietly. “And I should go and box all those baked goods up and take them down to the shelter.”

He didn’t want to speak. Didn’t want this moment to end. Didn’t want to take his hand away from her, the comfort of her skin against his fingertips.

When he continued not to move, she finally brought her fingers up to his, slowly lowering his hand away from her face, carefully placing it back down between them. She licked her lips regrettably, then got up and left.

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

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

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(Initial tags came from interest from the teaser and prologue. 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.)

Oh my. I have a fondness for meatballs, so yeah, when you make (or someone makes) the good ones, it's a revelation.

I liked this chapter and as you explained, it serves us readers well to acquaint ourselves with the characters. The descriptions of F.E.A.S.T. were nice, every community that has an a la carte (for lack of a better term) support center so that citizens can find help for whatever their needs are is a fortunate community indeed. Thank you for that.

I also see that while Angel made the first real move (I'm not counting Peter placing his hand on her back, etc, he does what many gentlemen would do) towards Peter, the chasm remains. Interesting how he views it. The physical would be his downfall. Does that mean he's already forgiven her for her absence now that he knows the reason for it?

I do like a nice car. I may be a practical person, but an eye-catching high performance vehicle is just so damn sexy. Don't suppose Peter has a McLaren in the garage as well?

Looking forward to Wednesday's update!

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Six: He's Got A Soul As Sweet As Blood Red Jam

Summary: Peter may seem like a big tough gangster to the rest of the world but he's still that soft boy from Queens underneath it all.

Warnings: 18+ Only, eventual smut (like real soon), slight fluff and jokes, this is mostly plot, character and world building

Word Count: 4.4K

A/N: This is basically just world building and further character development but still does a lot to bridge the gap between our lovers with their one to one dinner date. Expect some more name dropping and greater universe references and a lot of links back to our initial prologue and Peter's origins of friendly neighbourhood super hero to mob boss. Also title comes from the second verse of Lana Del Rey's Off To The Races, wanted to use both lines but it would have been too long. Anyway enjoy!

SIX

Peter had organised Miguel to drop the two of them off at F.E.A.S.T an hour later. The acronym stood for food, emergency, aid, shelter, training. It was a community outreach hub for the homeless or those in need. They had set multiple buildings up across the city under the banner when Peter first switched from being the friendly neighbourhood crime fighting vigilante to being a criminal in his own right. He still wasn’t like all those other guys though. Guys like her Father, Dr Octavious or even Quentin Beck. Whereas all those guys were solely out for themselves, Peter had never forgotten his roots or his mission to help his community. No, he was more like a Robin Hood figure. At least 50% of his annual profit always went back to the people.

And she had been there with him to set the whole thing up. After that first conversation they’d had all those years ago in the darkness of her college dorm room, they went back and forth for hours about what the people really need. Thus F.E.A.S.T was born.

They climbed out of the car and Miles quickly went round to open the trunk, to a mass of pink cake boxes. They quickly began to unload them from the car. Miles held out his arms and Angel stacked one box on top of the other until they were up to his eyeline. She took the final box out of the trunk before closing the boot. She shot a quick look of thanks Miguel’s way before her and Mile’s made their way to the door.

Her fingers quickly rooted around in her blazer pocket for the set of keys Peter had given her, her fingers holding a fob up to the side door of the building. There was a low buzz as the door unlocked and they shuffled their way inside with the boxes.

“Hey Karen.” Angel said, greeting a strawberry blonde woman as she made her way towards the same door her and Mile’s had just come through.

“Hey!” Karen beamed upon seeing her, an arm quickly raising to wrap around Angel’s shoulder. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“It’s complicated.” Angel briefly responded. “How’s Matt?” 

“Oh, you know how he is, always takes on too many clients and never leaves himself enough time.”

“We’ll have to catch up properly soon.” Angel beamed.

“Yes. We definitely will. Look I’ve gotta run, I’ve gotta get some paperwork over to city hall before they close, but it was great seeing you.” Karen spoke joyfully as she wrapped Angel into her arms once more.

“Yeah, and you.” Angel concluded their conversation as Karen began to make her way to the door, buzzing herself out.

“Okay… so where are we putting these?” Miles asked, motioning to the boxes he was beginning to get frustrated with holding, after all, pink was not his colour.

She rolled her eyes before saying, “This way.” as she began to walk through the familiar halls. 

Not much had changed since the last time she had been there. Maybe some of the faces, but she was still surprised to see so many familiar ones. Particular Nurses who saw patients with doctors in special designated consultation rooms, all paid for by the Benjamin Parker foundation, little kids who enjoy coming and hanging out in the rec rooms recognising her, smiling and waving as she passed them.

“Hi, Angel.”

“Hi.” she’d say back.

“Hi, Angel.”

“Hi!” It was like that all the way down to the food hall. A large canteen that served regular hot meals for anyone in need, whether you were living on the streets, struggling for money or simply had no idea how to cook. It was a bustling hub of life and community. Mothers talking over cups of coffee as their kids bonded and played together. Newly divorced men looking for someone to talk to and sharing a table with those who called the streets their home as they swapped life stories. It was her favourite place in the world and her proudest achievement in life.

They set the boxes down on a free table along the back wall, opening them up to display the fresh goods. There was a sudden thud to her side as a small girl collided with her thigh, her small arms reaching to wrap around her waist. 

“Angel!” the girl beamed, “You came back.”

Angel recognised the young girl immediately. She had grown a fair bit since she had last seen her at the shelter. “Of course I did.” Angel beamed as her arms instinctively wrapped around her. “Look how much you’ve grown.” Angel commented.

“Look, I’ve got a loose tooth.” The girl said proudly as she used her fingers to pull down her lower lip and show it off.

“Oh wow. You make sure you take good care of it and that it gets to the tooth fairy okay, yeah?”

“I will.” she beamed before she ran off back towards her mother who politely smiled and waved in her direction from her seat at one of the tables.

“Wow, you really know everyone here.” Miles interjected as she continued to watch the young girl as she joined another little girl at a smaller coloring table.

“Believe it or not Miles, this used to be my livelihood. I used to come down and spend so many of my days here helping out. Veronica was actually born here.” She said motioning to the little girl who kept looking back and smiling at her.

“You don’t say.” Miles said with a smile as he finally began to relax.

“It’s my favourite place in the world.” she said fondly. “Come on, I’ll give you the proper tour.”

They walked around the halls together as she gave him the grand tour of all three floors. As well as the already mentioned doctor’s rooms, cafeteria, common rooms and childrens playrooms, there were counselling suites and consultation rooms for legal advice. The second floor had a community hall with regular classes from toddler groups to self defence lessons. The whole top floor was dedicated to the homeless project that provided emergency beds for those rough sleeping whether on site there at the hub or being relocated to one of the apartment buildings they had bought out as temporary accommodation until they could get their feet back on the ground.

They sat and talked to people in the communities, helped out staff where they could and overall tried to inject some light into people's lives amongst the darkness.

“Hey.” a familiar voice said behind her as Veronica, who had just come and given her a picture she had drawn for her, ran back to the coloring table.

“Heeyy!” she beamed softly as she turned around to find her husband.

His hand tenderly braced itself against her lower back and she couldn’t help but melt into his warm touch. She had become so wrapped up in what she was doing, she had almost completely forgotten everything else that had come to pass. The way that everyone had opened their arms to her made her feel like the last three years had never happened, let alone the last 4 hours she had spent there.

“I went back to May’s apartment but you weren’t there.”

“No.” she smiled fondly.

The whole moment felt so domestic, reminding him of days gone by where he would pick her up on Friday afternoons, a moment for him to show his own face and see all of the hard work that was continuing to be carried out with his money. He turned his head around the room looking for Miles, only to find him sitting on a tiny chair next to a little boy on a purple bean bag, playing with the new playstation that had recently been acquired.

“I’m assuming all of the baked goods are gone?” he asked, attempting to keep civil conversation and find good ground between them.

“Actually I think there might be a cupcake or two still in there if you want one.”

They smiled fondly at one another. He had to admit, despite all of the shit he ended up being involved with on a day to day basis, whenever he came back here, seeing families and communities thrive, it made it all worth it,

“You ready to get out of here and go for that dinner?” He asked softly.

She silently nodded as she found herself suddenly drowning in his honey brown eyes. Those soft eyes. The ones he used to look at her with back when they first met. Back when he would sneak into her dorm room. His gaze would soften like molten honey, a sickly sweet sensation always pulling her in as he told her how beautiful she was, his Angel. “Yes.” she finally said slowly, finding her voice. It was barely audible above the noise of the room, but she knew he heard it.

“Yo, Miles!” Peter hollered across the room to him, causing the younger gentleman’s ears to prick up, his head turning slightly, but his eyes never left the screen. “You’re free, man, go home.”

“Yeah, okay, just a minute!” he called back, “I just gotta win this race.”

“Nu uh.” the young boy next to him replied before Miles playfully bumped the kids shoulder with his own.

Angel couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at the exchange as she grabbed her blazer off the back of a chair as they left.

-

When they got out onto the street Angel had expected to find Miguel outside waiting for them, but instead her eyes came to rest on a black Maserati she recognised from her quick glance across the garage in their rush the night before. “Where’s Miguel?” she asked as Peter began to make his way towards the car, opening the passenger door for her. 

“I’ve got him out running an errand with Harry.” he replied as she stepped past him to slide herself into the passenger seat. “Plus, I want tonight to be just about us.” He said, his head bending down to look at her through the door frame.

“Okay, duly noted.” she replied with a curt smile before he closed the door on her. “So does that mean we’re gonna get through a whole evening without interruptions?” She asked when he climbed into the driver's seat on the other side.

He shuffled slightly in his seat before reaching into the inside pocket of his blazer for his phone making a show of putting it on aeroplane mode before handing it to her for safe keeping. She pursed her lips, attempting to keep a straight face as she looked down at the phone now turning around in her fingertips, trying not to let on how big of a deal that was for the two of them.

“So where are we going?” she asked as he clicked his seatbelt into place before starting the car up with a loud rev of the engine for good measure. She had no doubt he was showboating, trying to impress.

“Oh, now that would ruin the surprise.” he said as he quickly revved the car and sped away.

*****

They arrived 10 minutes later outside a restaurant on the upper east side called the Lemon Grove. The whole front of the building was lit with fairy lights and vines filled with fake lemons. They got out of the car and Peter tossed his keys to a waiting valet before his now free hand rested comfortably at the small of her back as he guided her to the restaurant door.

“Hi, good evening, welcome to the Lemon Grove, do you have a booking with us this evening?” a gentleman, who looked to be nearing his forties asked.

“Yes, there should be a table for two under Parker.” Peter said.

The maître d' scanned his list before saying “ahh yes, here it is. If you’d like to follow me this way.” he encouraged them as he held out a hand for them to follow him.

He led them through the bustling restaurant and over to a table tucked away to the back. He moved to pull out a chair for Angel but Peter quickly cut him off, “It’s okay, I’ve got it.” he said, wanting to make a show of putting in the effort with her after their fight earlier on he was still trying to make up for.

“Okay.” the maître d' said as he took a step back.

When Peter had stepped back around to the other side of the table and began taking his seat the maître d' stepped forward again to place the menus on either side of the table in front of them.

“Thank you.” Angel smiled, as Peter tucked his chair in.

“Can I get either of you a drink? Or would you like to take a moment to look at the wine list?” The maître d' asked, motioning to the smaller menu already on the table.

Before she had had a chance to say anything Peter hastily grabbed the wine list, scanning it over, before ordering them a bottle of an Italian Cabernet from Tuscany. 

“Coming right up, sir.” The maître d' said before walking away and leaving them to their table.

“You still love Italian food right?” Peter asked her as they both reached for their menus to start gazing over the cuisine. 

“Would you hate me if I actually said I’d gone off it.” she deadpanned from behind her menu, causing him to freeze. “I mean, living in Italy for just over two years…” she continued, seeing how far she could push him and make him squirm. She watched over the top of her menu as he swallowed uneasily. “I’m kidding Pete.” she quickly said as he met her eyes, a smile creeping across her face.

“Don’t do that.” he quickly shook his head at her, but he couldn’t hide from her the small quirk in the corner of his lip at realising he’d been had. “No.” he continued, trying to brush it off. 

“What? Spider boy can’t take a joke anymore?” she teased as she fought with the grin that wanted to take over her whole face.

“Oh no, I can take a joke.” he quickly interjects, looking to cover himself.

“Yes, of course.” she mockingly nods as he continues to get a hold of himself.

“It’s just, not often that I am the victim to them.”

“Okay.” she smirked as she continued to nod, her eyes turning back to the menu in front of her as she scanned the list of foods.

It was at that point she realised she hadn’t really eaten since their breakfast meeting this morning.

“What is it?” he quickly asked, noticing the sudden furrow to her brow, an air of concern taking over his whole body.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” She hastily responded, not wanting him to stress or feel like matters were worse than they were, as if either of them still weren’t somewhat on alert after the events of the past 24 hours, an unconscious paranoia just waiting to take over. “I just realised I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Oh.” he interjected quietly as he began to settle again.

They sat in silence for a moment as they continued to scan the menu, that unspoken paranoia sitting heavily in the middle of the table between them after his reaction that neither was sure how to shift.

“So do you know what you want?” he asked, clearing his throat slightly and breaking up the silence between them.

He watched for a moment as she flicked back and forth between pages. “Yes… no… maybe?” He can’t help but be warmed by the small questioning look on her face, one eyebrow twitching higher than the other, her head tipping slightly as she muddled over the different options in her head. It was the same look she used to get when he would watch her study for a test or when she was struggling to work something out for her thesis, back when she was still at college.

A waiter came over with their drinks and it made Peter smile when she didn’t even look up from the menu, but still reached for the glass the moment it had been sat down, swiftly bringing it to her lips and taking a sip. 

“Do we know what we’d like to order this evening?” The waiter asked as he stood patiently next to the table. 

Peter was about to ask for him to give them another moment when she closed the menu and sat it down in front of her. There was a pause as if to check she really was ready, when she said. “Off you go.” tipping her head to encourage Peter to place his order, as she once again brought her wine glass coily to her lips.

“Are we doing starters?” Peter quickly questioned her, an old habit suddenly popping into his head.

“Peter, just order.” she replied, but he could see the quirk of her lip and recognised the sudden dark gaze to her eye and knew she was up to something.

“Okay…” he hesitantly said, his head turning towards the waiter. “We’ll take the calamari and a portion of arancini to share for starters.” he began, his eyes quickly glancing back to his date for confirmation she was okay with this. She merely raised her eyebrows as she sank back in her seat, wine glass still poised in her hand, the tiniest tilt to her head encouraging him on. “Then for mains, I’ll take the sea bass…” he paused, flashing her another glance and her eyebrows rose higher still, encouraging him to surprise her and order for her. He quickly scanned back over the menu before him, re-familiarising himself with it. He smiled to himself. “She’ll have the parmigiana di melanzane, a portion of bruschetta and a small caprese salad on the side.” He said with perfect pronunciation as he ordered her a selection of their starters for her to pick and choose from like an Italian version of tapas. Once she had laid down the gauntlet he had felt her tense slightly, worrying whether or not he’d order the right thing, but upon making the order, he could feel her energy begin to relax, a smile forming on her lips again.

“Is that everything, sir?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, I think it is.” Peter said with a smile dismissing the waiter who quickly took their menus from them before heading to the kitchen with their order.

There was a pause between them as Peter took a sip of his wine and they tried to work out what to talk about. 

“How’s your shoulder?” Peter asked her as she folded her hands into her lap.

“It’s okay. A little tender but, it’s fine.” Her fingers automatically reached for the shoulder in question but quickly lowered her hand back into her lap.

“How bad was the house?” she asked. Peter noticed there was a slight hesitancy to her question, as if it pained her to think about.

“It’s gonna take a bit of work but-”

“Do you think we’ll be able to go back there, or will we need to sell it?”

Her question seemed to answer her previous hesitancy. It had been their house, their home. The place they had picked out together, decorated together. Lived in together. They’d always seen it as their forever home. The place to raise kids one day. Maybe get a dog. Hold large family events in the backyard. They’d tried so hard to keep it separate from everything else and now that privacy had been violated.

He was silent for a moment as he considered his response. “I won’t lie… it might have to be a possibility.” He watched her closely as she exhaled the breath she had been holding, the usual twinkle in her eye fading as the reality of their situation took over once more. “But until-”

“I know.” she said, not needing him to finish his sentence, her own mind already completing it for her. ‘Until the Vulture had been taken care of, they wouldn’t even be able to consider the house safe enough to go home.’

“So what do we do?” she asked. “I mean we can’t very well keep staying at May’s.” she noted.

Peter was silent for a moment as he looked down at the table in front of him. He had that face on him, she noted, the one where he had something planned but didn’t want to let on that he in fact had a plan.

He was saved by the arrival of their starters, the food being placed down in the middle of the table for them both to pick at.

“Thank you.” Angel said politely to the waiter as he quickly made his retreat, leaving them alone once more.

“Oh my god.” she sighed as she took a bite out of one of the arancini balls with a groan of satisfaction. “That’s amazing.”

Peter’s face changed to one of pleasant surprise as he placed one into his mouth and confirmed his wife's reaction by having a similar one, his own humm of satisfaction vibrating his lips as he chewed.

“So is it as good as the stuff in the actual country or…?” he asked as they moved on to the calamari.

“Not bad.” she confirmed as she finished her mouthful. “I made friends with this lovely old woman who lived down the road from the house and she used to make the best meatballs I have ever tasted. She had just that right ratio of tomato and garlic and she’d slow cook them so they just melted in your mouth.” Angel gushed.

“Now I’m glad I didn’t order the meatballs.” Peter smiled. “With a description like that I don’t think they could have compared and I would have spent the whole meal feeling disappointed with my food, dreaming about these mouthwatering, slow cooked-”

She giggled, a blush forming on her cheeks as she took another sip of wine as he jokingly continued to use as many adjectives as he knew to describe a plate of meatballs he would never ultimately have.

“Oh no, I’m serious.” he continued with a smirk, “I’m gonna call Miguel right now, get him to tell them to get a jet ready so we can fly to Italy to this mysterious magical Nona who cooks the best meatballs and we will do nothing else until-”

“How are you gonna do that, when I have your phone?” she teased back.

“Fine then, you call Miguel.”

“Peter.” she giggled and chastised. He loved it when he could make her blush. Make her forget about everything else. Take them back to their youth. Quiet rainy afternoons, wrapped up in each other's arms on that small single bed.

“Okay, okay.” he conceded with a smile.

“What do you wanna do about your Father’s house?” he asked her as their main courses arrived, her three smaller plates being laid out strategically in front of her by the waiter. Peter watched as she quietly thanked him before switching the order of the plates once the waiter's back was turned. It made Peter’s stomach turn, a sickly sweet feeling that sent tingles to the joins of his jaw that made him quickly turn his head to his own plate before him, inner conflict returning as his brain remembered the question he’d just asked and all of their recent history began to drive a wedge between them once more.

“Sell it.” 

“You sure?” he questioned. It had been the home she had grown up in.

“There’s nothing left for me there.” she said as she lifted a fork full of salad into her mouth.

“Did you wanna go back and sort through anything?”

“No.” she adamantly shook her head.

“Okay.” he silently nodded and agreed. “We can put all the money back into the foundation if you want. Maybe set up another hub in the city?” he asked, trying to chip away at the wall she seemed to just put up at the mention of her Father.

She paused as she lowered her cutlery. “Peter, can I ask you something?” Peter’s own hands froze either side of his plate as he gave her his full attention. “Do you ever wonder if you made the right choice?”

“What do you-”

“I mean all this.” she gestured with her hand between them. “If you hadn’t given up the suit and the mask… do you think things would have been different?”

“I think…” he paused as he tried to comprehend her question. To think of the life they would have had if he had continued to be the Spider-Man, not whatever he was today, “I think we wouldn’t have much money. I think we’d have ended up living in a shoe box apartment somewhere in Queens, still sneaking around behind your father’s back.” She quietly sipped on her wine as she listened to his thoughts. “I think a lot of people's lives would be harder because they wouldn’t have the hubs to go to when they are in need.”

“That’s not what I mean.” she quietly said as her arms came to rest on the table, her fingers reaching out to him.

“You mean, do you think he would have let you stay?”

There was silence between them. Peter watched as she slowly removed her hand from where it had reached out across the table towards him. Reached out for him, to bridge that gap that had grown between them. But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t be reminded what it felt like to feel her soft skin against his.

The two of them remained silent, unable to finish their food. The weight of everything that had been or even could have been already enough for their brains to process, let alone the last of their food in front of them.

When the waiter asked if they’d like to look at the dessert menu, Peter waved him off. He instead quickly settled the bill with a generous tip and they both left.

They waited quietly side by side at the edge of the street for the car to be brought around.

“I’m sorry.” she finally blurted out as her arms closed tightly around her with the evening chill. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” she added more quietly as the car revved to a stop in front of them.

The driver quickly got out, handing Peter the keys before stepping towards the passenger door to open it.

“Get in the car.” Peter instructed softer than she expected. “There’s something I want to show you.”

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

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

Well damn. I'd cry too if I hadn't laid hands on my bottle of Chanel No. 5 for three years!

Just kidding.

Kinda.

It's like my favorite perfume. Lovely to see it make an appearance in a story. With the reference to Angel's mother, it was nice because scents are so evocative for us and yes, they do bring back memories of people, places, times...sometimes nostalgic...sometimes bittersweet...sometimes a little overwhelming...Loved the way Angel was like, "Noooo I'm fine, everything's fine. All good here." Trying to resist the emotions. But Peter knew. Probably because he had been fighting emotions ever since he walked into his house and found her back after three years.

So Peter bought a building and kitted it out with everything. I'd say that was his bridge and didn't he do a nice job? Angel certainly seemed to think so.

Surprise Smut Saturday. That needs no comment other than...whew...it's growing warm in here or is it just me?

Looking forward to Chapter 8!

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Seven: In The Land of Gods and Monsters, I was an Angel, Looking To Get F*cked Hard!

Summary: How else are you supposed to break in a new home...

Warnings: 18+ Only! SMUT & Tears! Complicated marriage, some fluff, P in V, Oral (female + male receiving)

Word Count: 5K

A/N: SURPRISE SMUT SATURDAY!!! I couldn't wait until Wednesday to share this with you all so here it is, the BIG ONE! We've been in slow burn territory up until now, but as we all know Peter and Angel's relationship isn't smooth sailing and this doesn't mean everything is magically fixed between them either. Anyway, as always, enjoy!!!

SEVEN

Angel watched out the window carefully as they crossed the bridge over to Queens. It had been a long time since either of them had spent time in Queens. Ever since May decided to downsize and move into an apartment in Brooklyn and Peter had hung up his Spider suit for good, neither of them had made their way back.

Peter hastily turned down one of the dark streets. As he got halfway down the street a large block of newly converted apartments came into view. Peter slowed and took another turn, the engine revving beneath them as he waited at a gateway. He reached for a clicker that had been sat absentmindedly in the car and Angel watched as the gate opened, revealing a ramp down to an underground car park.

“Peter, where are we?” she asked as they got out of the car. It was dark, the only light coming from a small gap at the top of the car park that let in the tiniest amount of the street light from outside.

“Can I have my phone back?” he asked as he made his way around the car towards her.

She quickly reached into her pocket for it, handing it over to him. His fingers swiped at the screen pushing a couple of buttons before the torch came on. “Come on, this way.” he said, holding his hand out for her to take as he guided them across the empty car park.

He reluctantly released it as they approached a door on the far side of the space, his fingers reaching for a set of keys in his pocket. He placed his phone in his mouth as he used both of his hands to put the key in the door and turn the lock at the same time.

“Come on.” he said softly as he took his phone back out of his mouth again and held out his hand to her, guiding her into the building.

“Peter, where are we? What’s going on?” She continued to ask with a curious sweetness that made him want to melt. 

“Just keep coming.” he answered with equal softness as they moved through another door and into a stairwell. “The elevators are still not up and running so we’ll have to take the stairs I’m afraid.” He said, as his fingers found their way to a light switch, finally illuminating the space around them.

“How many floors?” she asked as he stood waiting on the first step for her as she hesitated.

“7.” He said honestly.

“Okay.” she sighed and nodded before slipping off her heels. Peter held out his hand to take them from her but she waved him off, insisting she carry them herself as they began to take the stairs up to the 7th floor.

She paused for a moment when they got to the fourth floor, her hand rubbing at her side as she caught her breath.

“You okay?” he asked when he noticed her fall behind.

“Yeah, yeah.” she waved him off.

“I can carry you if you want?” he asked as he took a couple steps back down towards her,

“Don’t you dare.” she said, holding a hand up to him.

They eventually made it to the seventh floor, Peter holding the door open as he waited for her to come up the last two steps. “You doing okay there?” he smiled through his concern and she tossed her shoes forcefully into his chest in response. “Ahhh okay,” he grumbled one of his hands quickly wrapping around the shoes, clutching them to his chest as she let go of them. He let out a small hiss under his breath as she walked through the door into a small hallway, his free hand coming to rub at his chest where one of the heels had awkwardly poked at one of his ribs.

He closed the door to the stairwell, plunging them into darkness once more. The only light now coming from the city streets through a single large window at the end of the hall.

“So are you finally gonna tell me where we are?” she asked as he began to fumble around in his pocket for another set of keys.

“Would you give me a second?” he grumbled as he fought to get the key into the lock of the large double set of doors before them, whilst still holding her heels and his phone in his hands.

“Fine.” she rolled her eyes, her arms folding impatiently.

There was a small click and he pushed the doors open. He stood staring at her for a moment. When she didn’t move he motioned with his hand for her to enter first.

She slowly began to walk into the large penthouse apartment, her body moving towards the lights of the city coming from the large windows that lined the back wall of the living space. There was another small click as Peter flicked a lightswitch, illuminating the room. She couldn’t help but smile as she turned and took in all of their old furniture.

“Welcome home.”

Her feet slowly padded across the floor, her fingers gliding along the back of a forest green sofa until she came to a stop a few steps away from Peter. She leaned against the sofa, her legs crossing in front of her as she looked at him expectantly. 

“When did you do this?”

“I bought it this morning before you woke up and then organised having someone go down to the storage locker and get everything that was in there.” He explained, one hand sliding into his pocket as he spoke, the other continuing to hold her shoes at his side.

“By bought it, you mean the whole building, don’t you?” 

He blushed a little as he looked away from her, a hand reaching up to scratch the hair at the back of his head. “Yeah.” he said sheepishly. 

Although they had had money for years and he was more than comfortable with spending that money, he never really liked talking about it or drawing attention to how rich they really were or why that was. No matter what happened, there was still always an element of that ordinary boy from Queen’s living inside him.

“You can actually see May and Ben’s old house from here if you look close enough.” He quickly said as he began to cross towards the window. He still didn’t let go of her shoes.

She slowly crossed the room to stand beside him so he could point it out to her in the darkness. “It’s, uh, that one over there.” he pointed towards a small speck of a house in the distance.

“Peter?”

“Yeah.” he turned his head towards her nervously. The way she stared up at him sent a shiver all through his body that he held tight, trying to hide. No vulnerability. No weakness. He had to keep himself at a distance. He couldn’t let her back in. Not like before. But he couldn’t help it. It was her, it was always going to be her. Without him realising his body leaned toward her and she too leaned further towards him.

“Thank you.” she whispered.

He watched her closely as her eyes moved back and forth as they scanned his own, almost as if they were looking for something specific. Permission maybe. If he just leaned in that little bit closer… but he couldn’t. He suddenly pulled himself away, causing her to close her eyes and worry at her lower lip as her eyes fell to the floor.

“Let me give you a tour.” he calmly said, trying to change the subject.

She slowly followed him as he walked past their dining room table that acted as a divider from the living area to the kitchen. He finally placed her shoes down on the large island and began to walk around it, opening up the fridge and the cupboards like he was on an episode of MTV cribs.

“I made sure they stocked the fridge and don’t worry, I had all of the old plates put back in the cupboards.” He motioned towards a large stack of mixed plates. They had two sets, one fancy formal set and a mixed set of different shapes and colours that looked like they had been sourced from different antique stores over the years.

She smiled at him fondly as he showed off a snack cupboard full of crisps and chocolate like he was still on a teenagers diet.

“Okay, so it’s got three bedrooms.” he said as he left the kitchen and began to ferry her towards a set of stairs that lead to a second floor.

He showed her the two other bedrooms and their shared bathroom first before leading her towards another set of double doors which he opened dramatically to reveal the master bedroom, complete with their old super king bed, with its deep blue velvet headboard. Their old vintage red oriental bedside tables, topped with black and white, vase shaped, striped lamps. A dark red wine coloured chaise lounge, sat along the back wall besides yet another door. Peter followed her eyes and eagerly moved across the room to pull it open revealing a large walk-in closet and adjoining ensuite.

She slowly followed him, her feet creeping slowly across the floor as she took it all in. He’d even had all of the old works of art they had collected mounted to the walls. She was surprised he hadn’t also had the walls painted or wallpapered like the way they used to have them from how he’d had everything placed in as close to how they used to have things as possible, but she supposed it had only been one day, it was a big enough task to carry this out as it was.

Her eyes roamed over the items in the closet, her fingers brushing against the fabric of all the clothes she’d ended up leaving behind. Designer dresses and pantsuits. In a cubby hole was a stack of folded satin pyjamas. There was a small dressing table built into the space with what looked like most of the products from Sephora placed nicely on top in front of the mirror or placed in draws under the table, along with the old antique tasselled blush pink and red velvet dressing stool she used to sit at. 

Peter just stepped back and watched as her eyes silently scanned everything, her fingers touching all the things she hadn’t seen in three years. She suddenly froze when she came to a stack of box shelves, the middle one of which had a tray of perfumes on it. Peter felt like she was a ghost, caught up in a memory as she reached for one of the perfume bottles. It had been one of her Mother’s, a small glass decanter that held Chanel no.5, her mother’s favourite perfume.

“Is it too much?” he asked as her fingers tenderly stroked the contours of the bottle.

She couldn’t find her voice so merely shook her head, simultaneously willing the tears that threatened to spill over her cheeks any second to go away. “No.” she finally said, her voice sounded hoarse and broken. She looked at Peter, tears in her eyes. He immediately crossed the floor to her, wrapping her up in his arms.

He sat them down on the floor, the perfume bottle clutched close to her chest, while he held her close to his. She quietly wept into his shirt as he gently stroked her hair, cradling her head against him as he gently rocked them back and forth.

“I’m sorry.” he said gently against the crown of her head as he placed a tender kiss there.

“Don’t be.” she said as she began to settle, pulling herself away from him slightly so she could look at his face.

His fingertips tenderly brushed against her cheek, wiping away a stray tear before they laced themselves into her hair at the nape of her neck, his thumb continuing to reach and slowly brush small lines across her cheek as he looked at her.

They stayed there for a moment, enjoying each others closeness, finding a familiar home in the comfort of their bodies.

“I’m sorry.” she finally whispered.

“What do you have to be sorry about?” he cooed as his head leaned in closer to hers.

“I shouldn’t have left.”

“We both know he didn’t give you a choice.”

“But I should have been stronger…. I should have said no.”

“No you couldn’t have.” he said as he pushed her hair back away from her face, his eyes searching hers. “We both know the man your father was.”

“I should have said-”

Peter cut her off with a shake of his head. “No… no.”

In the silence that fell between them she reached for his hand, her thumb running a path across his wedding band. “You took it off.” she said.

“I know… I thought it would be easier if I…” he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“If you didn’t see it there all the time.” she finished.

“I still wore it though. Felicia got me a chain so I could still wear it around my neck.” he explained. Her eyes met his again then at the sound of Felicia’s name. “It’s okay.” he tried to soothe her as if he could read her mind and all of her racing thoughts. “I promise you it meant nothing. She means nothing… not like you do.” His eyes scanned her once more as his hand at the side of her face grew firmer, willing her to believe him. “It’s always you.” he promised as his face grew closer to hers. “Always you.” he sighed into her mouth before he gently pressed his lips to hers. It was short and tender, a question, permission, as he pulled his lips away hesitantly, allowing her the option to continue if she wanted to. 

She quickly searched his eyes, that pull like molten honey, before her lips were reaching to chase his again. It was like taking a drug in which they both relapsed, like a high they’d both been trying to chase but failing, but now finally had returned to the only thing that would hit the spot. Their kisses grew quickly frantic as her hands grabbed tightly to his clothes as their breaths became shallower and more laboured.

He pulled his lips away from her, dragging them instead along the line of her jaw as she reached to rid herself of her blazer. His fingers gripped hold of her hips, turning her to straddle him properly as her lips fought to attach themselves back to his. He slowly rolled his hips beneath her, grinding himself up against her sex as her arms latched around the back of his neck, holding him tightly to her.

He breathed her in deeply through his nose as his hands nestled into her hair, his tongue reaching out to open her up further. She moaned against his mouth as he licked between her teeth.

His hand slid down her back, looking for the zipper to her jumpsuit but grumbled as he began to struggle. “Uhhgg, how the heck am I supposed to get you out of this?” She chuckled into his lips before parting from him.

He watched as she stood, her fingers reaching for the hidden zipper in the back, slowly pulling it all the way down. She pulled the top part off of her shoulders little by little until she revealed the white lace bra underneath she had found in the little bag she had been given that morning. Peter licked at his lips with awe as he looked up at her as she continued to strip down in front of him. She then hooked her thumbs into the waistband to lower the jumpsuit down her legs revealing the white lace thong she had also found in the bag, a matching set.

“Fuck baby, I know I said this morning they were nothing special but…” his voice trailed off, his tongue growing too heavy and his thoughts too hazy to finish his sentence.

She stepped out of the item of clothing, picking it up and dropping it back on the floor further away from them before she began to step closer to him again.

His hand reached to trail up her legs as she slowly lowered herself back down onto her knees, her legs straddling his thighs. Her hands began to reach for the belt of his pants when he protested. “Nuh, uh.” he said with a shake of his head, “Come here.” he said as he began to lower his back onto the floor and he shuffled himself down further between her legs until her sex was in line with his chin.

“Peter.” she sighed with a blush in her cheeks as he ran his hands up the backs of her thighs, his hands finding a home on her ass as he slowly pulled her down to sit on his face. He licked a thick stripe along her lace covered sex, the pressure of his tongue teasing her clit. “Peter.” she sighed again.

“What baby?” he cooed before his teeth gently nibbled at the lace that covered his dessert. His right hand slowly moved, his index finger hooking around the underwear to move it to one side and she sighed once more as his mouth reattached itself to her.

“Uhhh.” she sighed as she leaned forward, her good arm bracing herself against the carpet just above his head.

“Uhhg, I fucking missed the taste of this sweet pussy.” he moaned as he continued to lick at her opening, his tongue sucking her clit into his mouth every couple of strokes. “So fucking sweet.” She moaned and gasped at his words of praise as her other hand began to grip tightly around his hair, her fingers carding through his messy strands, holding him closer to her sex as her head tipped back in ecstasy. “So fucking pretty for me.” He continued to coo against her sex as he held her tightly to his face. His finger reached round to tease at her entrance.

“Fuck, Peter.” she moaned as he slowly slipped it into her wet heat, her hips already moving to grind against it and she felt him grin against the inside of her thigh.

“What is it baby?” he asked. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck, Peter…” she panted as she ground back against his hand as he slipped another finger inside her, his tongue still tracing lazy circles around her clit.

“Tell me baby, use your words, I want to hear that pretty voice.” he said before he cheekily sucked her sex between his lips again rendering her speechless. When she didn’t respond he quickly removed his fingers from inside her and she groaned in protest having been growing close to her climax. His finger grabbed tightly onto her hips as he quickly flipped them, rolling her over onto her back, one hand rapidly moving higher up her back as he cradled her to the floor.

He nipped playfully at the top of her thigh and she let out a small squeal. “Ow!.” she said playfully as she lifted her head to look at the shit eating grin that spread across his face as he nestled himself between her legs.

“I told you,” he said as he leaned in and licked another stripe through her folds to soothe the sting, “I want you to use your words.” He said as he sat up, his fingers hooking into her underwear and pulling them down her legs and off of her ankles before he dropped them out of the way somewhere behind him.

In that moment she thought it was criminal that he was still fully clothed, whilst she now lay almost completely naked on the carpet of their new dressing room all ready and pliant for him, but she was still reeling from being edged. 

“Please, Peter, make me cum.” she cooed as her hands reached out for him.

He slowly slid himself back down onto the carpet, his hand interlocked with hers for a brief second before he was dragging them down the rest of her body. They moved around the backs of her thighs as he pulled her sex back closer to his mouth again.

“Anything for my Wife.” he said before his tongue dipped back inside her.

Her fingers fisted back into his hair at his ministration, his tongue drawing expertly across her sex, drawing sigh after sigh from her lips. His favourites were the little hiccuping sounds she made whenever he hit a really sensitive spot, being sure to take extra care whenever he found one.

Her back began to arch as she drew closer and his fingers reached up to enter her once more, his fingers hooking round in a come hither motion inside her. He felt her demeanour suddenly change though, her voice adjusting slightly, an almost impatience now in her tone. He quickly realised in her current position she was now leaning on her shoulder. He hesitated.

“No, don’t stop.” she said as she tried to focus on her impending climax and not the growing pain in her shoulder. “Please Peter.” she begged as her fingers pulled tightly against his hair, her pussy grinding to chase his mouth. He suddenly moved faster, wanting her to get to her high as quickly as possible. 

“Come on baby, give it to me.” he coached, hoping his words would help. She grew quiet in her focus, her moans becoming strained and caught in her mouth. “Come on.” he said as he felt her begin to tense up, her back arching, mouth silently falling open.

Her climax crashed into her like a wave. “There it is, good girl. So fucking good for me.” Peter cooed as she began to relax back down into the carpet, her hips still grinding against his face in an attempt to ride it out. Peter licked up everything she would give him until she couldn’t give no more.

She made a little whine, her fingers pushing his head away as her sensitivity peaked. “MMMmm.” she groaned and he gently kissed the inside of her thighs before he crawled on all fours to hover over her. His looming shadow made her open her eyes to look at him before he leaned over to kiss her.

“Mmm,” he hummed against her lips before he pulled away. “Taste so fucking good for me baby.” he said as he began to kiss down her neck and across her breasts. “Missed you so fucking much.” he sighed as he leaned up to lock his lips with hers again as he wrapped his arms around her and gently lifted her off the floor.

She wrapped her legs around him as he carried her back into the bedroom, laying her down softly on top of the bed covers. They separated from each other as he finally started to undress. She watched as his fingers began undoing the buttons of his shirt but she was impatient and restless, she hadn’t been with anyone else the whole time they were separated, her only comfort her handy vibrator.

She sat herself up onto her knees as she leaned forward and began hastily undoing his belt. He was halfway done with the buttons on his shirt when she started to unbutton his pants, her fingers pulling on the zipper and pulling both his trousers and his briefs down in one messy pull.

His half hard cock sprung free and her fingers reached to wrap around his warm length, giving it a few pumps and encouraging it to full mast.

“Fuck baby,” he groaned as he shrugged off his shirt and she quickly took him into her mouth. His hands fisted into her hair as her tongue circled around the tip of his cock before her cheeks hollowed and she began to swallow the length of him into her mouth. He moaned as she moved her head back a moment and pumped his length with her hand, her saliva smearing along the length of his cock as she moved her hair out of the way before leaning back in, the flat of her tongue outstretched as she ran it along the side of his length as she continued to move her hand back and forth.

“Shit, baby.” He sneered between his teeth. Her mouth felt so good but there was something else he wanted to feel more. He grabbed either side of her face as he slipped himself out of her mouth, guiding her head up toward his so he could smash his lips into hers. She hummed against his lips. “Come here.” He said as he climbed up onto the bed as he laid himself back amongst the pillows.

He helped hold her steady as she climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.

She leaned over to kiss him as his hand reached to line himself up with her entrance. She gasped into his mouth as he thrust himself up into her. She let her forehead fall to rest against his as he stilled for a moment, allowing her time to adjust. He slowly began to feel her hips grinding down against him and he tilted his head to capture her lips once more as he began to rock inside her.

“Fuck, Peter.” She sighed as he moved himself at an agonising pace, the slow drag of his cock teasing all of the sensitive spots within her.

His hand caressed soothingly across her bare back but grew irritated as they caught the lace bra she still wore. He quickly unclasped it and she leaned back slightly to slip it from her arms and throw it across the room. The slight change in position though opened her up more and Peter began to tease a whole new spot inside her, her pleasure growing with every thrust up and grind down. Before they knew it the slow and steady pace Peter had started, began to accelerate as they found their rhythm, her fingertips bracing herself on his chest, her nails grazing his skin. 

“Damn Princess.” He almost snarled, but she didn’t care, he was hitting just the right spot she liked, her head tilting back, mouth hung open in hiccuping gasps. “Fuck baby, you look so pretty like that.”

“Mmmhmmm.” She moaned in agreement as his fingers grabbed a hold of her hips.

“Right there?” He asked.

“Right there.” She panted. “Fuck!”

“You’re so fucking beautiful Princess, so fucking beautiful.” He praised. “You gonna cum for me Princess? Come on baby, cum for me.” He goaded as she leaned over him, her head burrowing into his neck and his arms wrapped around her tightly. He held her still as he adjusted his footing and began pounding up into her at a rapid speed that made her speechless, the only noise escaping her those small hiccuping sounds as her hand tucked itself around his neck, her fingers pulling at the hair there. He grunted into her ear.

She sighed as she finally began to regulate and catch her breath. “You like that baby?” She asked as her fingers tugged at his hair again, eliciting another grunt to escape him. “Come on Peter.” She began to egg him on as she felt her muscles begin to tighten, her climax building so close to dropping. 

His hand slid down to squeeze one of her ass cheeks tightly as his other hand moved up to cradle the back of her head. She lifted it, her forehead moving to rest against his again as the sensitivity building in her core felt too much. Her mouth hung open as she panted into his mouth. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!” She moaned as her climax finally washed over her. But instead of giving her a moment to recover this only spurred Peter on to chasing his own high, his hips continuing to buck up and down as he held her close, swallowing every moan and whimper he made fall from her mouth.

She was speechless, boneless, limp in his grasp, just his fuck toy, pliant and willing. 

“Peter.” She moaned as it grew too much. 

“I know.” He tried to soothe.

“Peter.” She said again, tears springing to the corners of her eyes. 

“I know baby, I know, just a little bit more.” He said.

She burrowed her head into the crook of his neck as it all grew too much, her cunt pulsing around him and flooding his cock with a new wave of arousal as she came again.

“Good, girl, so good for me.” He cooed. “My wife, always so good for me.”

He pumped himself inside her three more times before he suddenly slowed. There was a moment's delay before she felt him twitch and throb inside her as he emptied his load into her. She whimpered against his skin at the sensation.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking good. So fucking good.” He kept repeating as he held her there close to his chest.

His hand ran up and down her back soothingly, his fingers brushing aside the hair at the nape of her neck every so often as he allowed them both a moment to calm down and take it in. Their first time being together in three years.

Little by little her breathing settled and he finally shifted her head so he could place a kiss on her forehead. She immediately chased his lips for a real one.

“I love you.” He said automatically.

She hesitated for a moment as she turned her head to look at him better, to see if he truly meant it or it was just the heat of the moment. She stared into his chestnut eyes and began to melt as he looked at her, so docile. Only for her. Only ever for her. She found herself being drawn into that sickly sweet molten honey and she couldn’t help but say it, “I love you too.”

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

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Well now. That comment from the Chapter 8 reblog regarding a writer tossed plot hand grenade is looking a little prescient now that I've read Chapter 9. You've got quite a few of those in your arsenal I suspect! I really liked this chapter and I'm really sorry for the length of the following. I managed to use the KR insert (at least it worked for me on the reblog) because I have thoughts...

Peter Parker vs. Angel is an interesting dynamic you're laying out. I read your A/N with each chapter, and I like how Angel vacillates between vulnerable and steely-eyed practical because Peter does likewise. I much prefer writers who recognize that most individuals emotions are on a spectrum unique to them (with universal similarities) and Peter and Angel are great examples of that. He's barely holding it together, anger at what he wants to say simmering at the tip of his tongue but recognizing that to lose control in front of others is a perceived weakness--in his world, and in our world as well. However, Felicia made a rather handy target for blowing off a little steam. (That really mirrors the real world--often it is women and under-represented groups that receive the shrapnel when those in power are raging). Although, I am aware that Felicia's comment made her an easy target. I'll get back to Felicia in a mo, but for now, Peter. His fear(s) are a powerful motive, and Angel is showing him that she has agency. She's changed while away, and Peter isn't quite sure if he likes that. (hello real world again and what patriarchal societies view as shifting sands under their feet when those groups push back).

This is going to get really interesting (for me) as your plot and dialogue progress. Angel seems to understand that while she experienced events during her time away and also growth from those events, her underlying bond with Peter is still based on her feelings for him and those feelings are (to this reader) overwhelmingly positive. She shouldn't have to subsume her personality just because things changed, the adjustment must come from both partners, recognizing (as she does) that he changed as well. Perhaps I'm reading too much into this, but that is where I see her mentally right now. She is a strong woman, (with her father I expect there would be limited avenues for options--you either fold, break, or develop the strength to stand) and she shouldn't have to apologize for it but she sees Peter struggling with his own demons (related to her and everything else) and her own fears (his rejection of her due to those changes, etc) are also simmering right there. But to sum it up, I liked how she handled herself in the room, in front of Peter (and the rest of the group).

Back to Felicia. I love her. She may have slept with a married man, (hey takes two there Peter) but she has her own code and damn if she didn't have a great line: "She bakes and she’s a good shot. Anyone would think it wasn’t everything you looked for in a wife." The TASM fandom is where I tend to reside, and we only got a glimpse of Felicia with Felicity Jones in the second movie, but that is who I picture in your character. The kind of character you should never ever underestimate. Lot going on there. (side note: if you ever decide to write her as lead in a story, I am here for that).

And Miles, I love him too. Preternaturally mature, empathetic, smart, what is not to love? He has so much potential you half want to protect him and half want to let him go because he is meant to soar to the stars.

Finally, (again apologies for the length but this chapter had a LOT going on) back to the plot machinations. Someone is watching their movements pretty closely. I mean it makes sense to hit the hub as that is the heart of the community and Peter is involved with it, but the timing (thank heavens for a spot of tea and a bun and I could write another paragraph on that) has me guessing there is perhaps a mole? Only you know, ha! But the tragic circumstances (loss of life isn't explicitly stated other than bodies on the floor but severe injuries regardless) is going to be a powerful driver of a lot of things. Speculating that Peter is going to freak OUT a little and want to take control because he fears a lot of things are out of control. That alone (fear as a motivating factor for character's actions) could take up chapters (if that is your plan) and lord knows I love that kind of in-depth development and layering of people's thoughts, personalities, and actions. We're complicated and I adore it when writers just go for it and take up that adventure. It's a wild ride but it's not my first roller coaster ride, so hand me a ticket and open the gate cause I'm onboard.

Well done and cheers!

*This was a great reward for getting a project out of my hair, thanks for writing!

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Nine: An Explosion In Chinatown

Summary: It's just one thing after another for our couple and the Vulture isn't making things any easier.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, mob/mafia/gang violence typical of the genre, guns, blood, bomb, explosion, death, angst, grief, arguing

Word Count: 2.2k+

A/N: Okay so the drama is ramping up here, you thought chapter 8 had a twist well chapter 9's is even bigger. We are about to touch on a possibly more sensitive topic for the next couple of chapters but I will be very clear to note when and where the details of our plot are so you can pick and choose which bits you read if any of this is gonna trigger you but you want to carry on. It will mostly be in the next chapter which will come with its own authors note but seeing as this is a mafia/mob/gang story it's not an out of character plot twist for the narrative. Anyway, if you struggle with the end of this chapter I advise skipping chapter 9 and just picking up with our story in chapter 10, I promise things will still make sense.

NINE

Peter stormed back into the apartment thirty minutes later followed slowly by Angel, Eddie, Harry and Felicia, Miguel being left downstairs to clear up the mess that was now Jackson Brice. Whether his resolve was stronger than they realised or he really wasn’t the fountain of knowledge they’d expected, was still yet to be determined, but they had learnt one thing before his body gave out, The Vulture was planning on something big.

“What the fuck was that?” Peter suddenly blurted out as he doubled back to his wife. She simply stared at him, her eyebrows raised, egging him on to do his worst. He quickly checked himself, taking deep breaths as he stared her down, unwilling to play her games.

When he seemed to calm a little she finally spoke. “Were you or were you not gonna tell me to go back upstairs after you dragged me all the way down there to make a show of IDing your little plaything for your own game?” she calmly threw the ball back into his court. 

She watched him closely as his nostrils flared, his pupils dilating as he began to feel his rage course through his body. He was acutely aware of their fight the day before, not wanting to prove her or her Father right, he could keep control of his anger, he could. She was just making it really hard for him right now. 

“Well?” she pressed. He growled under his breath as he turned away from her, confirming what she already knew to be true. “Look, I was the one who was hurt, it should have been me who exacted justice.”

“So you just shot him.” He turned to face her again, his hands sitting firmly on his hips in an attempt to feign a stance of control.

“I shot him in the leg Pete, I didn’t kill the guy.”

“It was a pretty good shot.” Felicia chimed in with a smirk of admiration that got her a harsh look from Peter. “Jeez bug boy,” she chided, “She bakes and she’s a good shot. Anyone would think it wasn’t everything you looked for in a wife.” she continued to jest as she slinked across the floor to the living room and took a seat on the sofa, leaning back into the cushions ready to watch the drama unfold. It was short lived though.

“GET OUT!” Peter shouted, finally blowing his top. “You know what you need to be doing today, so go do it.” he commanded her. 

“Come on now, Pete.” Eddie said, stepping forward to mediate again.

“No!” Peter said firmly to him. “All of you out. NOW!”

They all slowly filed back out the door, Harry placing a tender hand to Peter’s shoulder, urging him to try and be lenient. “I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute.” Peter muttered under his breath. Harry nodded in acknowledgment before leaving, closing the front door behind him.

The door closing acted like the fall of the curtain at the end of a performance. Peter turning his back to her and finally getting a hold on himself, able to finally let down his guard without prying eyes. Just him and his wife and their…issues.

He rested his head in his hands as he sat himself down in a boxy leather armchair. She watched as his breathing gradually slowed and began to step forward towards him, attempting to bridge the gap between them that kept getting wider, every time they tried to meet in the middle.

“Just when I think I understand you,” he huffed, still unable to look at her. “What happened to you?” He finally lifted his head to meet her eyes and she could see the pain clear on his face. His inner conflict that she was causing him.

“I had to adapt without you.” she said quietly. Peter watched as her own pain and realisation began to fall over her like a dark cloud. “I guess when you are in it, you don’t notice it as much. Until…” her voice trailed off as she tried to find a way to rationalise things. 

“Do you know how dangerous that is?” Peter finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them once more. “How am I supposed to deal with the threat out there if I’m always watching over my shoulder for you because I have no idea what you’re going to do or say next. What other secrets you’re hiding from me?”

“Peter I-”

“No. I can’t do this right now.” He said, getting up from the armchair, his hand running through his hair as his thoughts raced around in the small space.

“Peter, please.” Her hand reached out for his as he passed her. There was so much pain in his eyes when he looked at her.

“I’ll get Miles to come pick you up and take you down to the hub.” he said quietly as he slipped his hand from her grasp. She couldn’t help but stare at his back as he made his way to the front door, the latch closing behind him syncing up with the first tear that rolled down her cheek.

******

Miles picked her up an hour later. After Peter had left she made her way upstairs to finish getting dressed. She had kept on the trousers and the vest, choosing to layer over the top a light blue pinstriped button up shirt that sat oversized on her frame.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Miles said as he knocked on the door of the bedroom. He had let himself in. He had expected to find her sat waiting in the living room for him or even in the kitchen, he hadn’t expected to find her upstairs on the bed staring blankly at the wall.

“Umm, yeah, let’s go.” she said as she stood and started gathering the last of her things into her handbag.

“Hey, you okay?” Miles asked as he stopped her at the door. She looked like a ghost, not at all like the woman he had met the day before who was so sure of herself both when they had first been introduced and she was a fireball of rage or later, when they went down to the shelter and she was all kindness and smiles, showing him around. Now she was just a shell. He watched closely, the flash of change in her eyes as she suddenly put on a smile and a show to him but it wasn’t going to work.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” she chirped as she breezed past him and headed for the stairs down to the main floor of the penthouse apartment.

Miles didn’t want to accept that answer. His Mom had raised him well enough to know when someone was hurting and needed help. Taught him how to talk, to be compassionate, but in the 24 hours he’d come to know Angel, he knew if he pushed her too hard she might just snap at him and it might make things worse. He hoped once he got her down to F.E.A.S.T and she started to soften how she had yesterday, she may be more willing to talk about what’s happened.

They both sat in silence in the car as they made their way to the hub. “Did you want to pick anything up on the way?” Miles asked, attempting to make conversation and see if she wanted to get anything to bring to the shelter as an offering.

“No, it’s okay.” she said quietly before turning her head to look out the window. “Wait!” she exclaimed as they turned down a particular street.

“What? What is it?” Miles responded, suddenly on alert. But when he looked over to her in the passenger seat, there was a sudden softness to her, a feeling that wasn’t there before.

“Can you stop up here? There’s a little cafe I want to pop into.”

Angel told Miles to wait in the car for her as she made her way into the Lucky Cat Cafe, the little bell above the door jingling as she entered. As her eyes scanned the walls with their many quirky and colourful pieces of cat art, a feeling of nostalgia and peace washed over her.

“Good Morning?” a little old Chinese lady greeted her from behind the counter.

“Good Morning.” Angel smiled back. 

She took a seat at one of the empty tables and let out a sigh of relief as she sat back into one of the old wooden chairs. 

“Can I get you anything?” the old lady asked in her heavily accented english.

“Umm, yes, can I get a green tea and one of the coconut buns please?” she asked, the familiar order returning to her and falling from her lips as easily as riding a bike.

“One green tea, one coconut bun coming up.” the old lady repeated with a smile as she went back towards the counter.

It had been so long since she had last been here. It used to be a place her and her mother came to regularly before she passed. They loved nothing more than stopping in on a saturday morning and talking for what felt like hours about school and boys and family history, the ludicrous tales and adventures of her Grandmother being recounted to her over a cup of tea and a coconut bun.

“Thank you.” Angel said with a smile as the little old lady sat an ornately decorated cup, saucer and teapot in front of her along with the coconut bun on a small octagonal pink plate.

“Enjoy.” The lady smiled before returning back towards the tiny kitchen bakery in the back.

Angel poured herself a cup of tea and as she did so a small ray of sunlight suddenly shifted, shining through the little tea shop window to illuminate the chair beside her. The warmth of the light comforted her, a familiar presence at her side. 

As she sipped on her tea and nibbled on her bun, the little flakes of desiccated coconut on top dropping back down to the table and into her lap, she was reminded of a scene in a movie she loved to watch when she was younger. Her Dad had bought her the Charlie’s Angels movies on dvd as part of her Christmas present one year. She had watched them religiously, wanting to grow up to be just like the strong, courageous women in the movie. As she sat there now, the stream of light beside her, it reminded her of the scene in the second movie, when Dylan goes into a bar in Mexico and talks to a seemingly passed-on Angel of the past, Kelly Garrett, one of the angels from the original series. 

She looked to the stream of light beside her, felt the comfort in it and knew her Mom was sitting with her. ‘I miss you.’ she thought.

‘I know.” a little voice in the back of her head said.

When she returned to Miles 40 minutes later she could tell he was anxious about having left her in the little Chinese cafe alone; but the moment he saw her more present and relaxed, she saw him breath out a sigh of relief.

“You feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah.” she smiled at him with a small nod of her head.

“Ready to go help some people?” he asked as she reached for her seatbelt and buckled herself in.

“Let’s do it.”

They pulled up on the other side of the road to the hub a few minutes later, Angel letting out another sigh of contentedness as she stepped out of the car and looked at the building. “You good?” Miles checked in with her as he looked at her over the roof of the car, the driver's side door clicking closed.

“Yup.” she turned and smiled at him.

They checked for cars before they started to cross the road, but as they got closer to the other side, Angel saw a flash of light through the glass doors of the hub before-

She was knocked off her feet as a blast of energy burst from the building, a large boom echoing out onto the street in its wake. Her back collided with the side of the car behind her and everything went black.

“Angel? ANGEL?” Mile’s voice sounded muffled, almost like he was talking to her underwater and there was this ringing in her ears. She opened her eyes, trying to see him, trying to understand what was happening. Her vision slowly cleared enough for her to make out his face as he hobbled towards her, leaning over her body.

She tried to move but her body was so heavy, everything felt numb. She managed to prop herself up on one arm slightly, though her ribs protested. 

“Angel?” Miles continued to say her name, trying to ground her, to focus on him but she couldn’t stop herself from looking past him at the clouds of black smoke that billowed out of the blown out windows and doors of the shelter. Small flecks of white ash came down like snow as people ran and screamed around them. There were bodies on the floor. Bystanders quickly got covered in dust as they ran in to help.

She tried to move again but it was difficult, like trying to pull her body out of quicksand. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t move.” Miles’ muffled voice said through the ringing still in her ears.

She thought she felt her chest groan as she finally gave up, her body relaxing back onto the concrete, her eyes closing, darkness dragging her under.

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

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!

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A little late on the reblogs due to other commitments, but finally had a moment or two to spare. The tension in this chapter is high! Peter's going to need his head on a swivel to keep an eye on Angel and the biz and the villain and his team. Media is going to be all over him I bet. Good thing the reinforcements are crossing over the pond, but right now Peter's one step (at minimum) behind the Vulture. Better ratchet up that spidey-sense to eleven there Peter!

Off to read Chapter 11....

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter 10: Million Dollar Man

Summary: When that explosion at F.E.A.S.T hits, Peter is quick to jump into action.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! Bombing, terror attack, blood, gore, IF THESE ARE GONNA MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE DON'T READ THIS CHAPTER!!! Genre typical violence and drama, angst

Word Count: 2K

A/N: As stated in the authors note of the last chapter, I am very aware of how this part of the story could be triggering for people or hard to read. I will put red stars ** to mark where the more graphic first response scenes end so you can read the plot info towards the end of the chapter, but if you want to skip this specific chapter altogether you can, the story will still make sense! This is a chapter from Peter's POV. The title comes from yet another Lana Del Rey song but I couldn't pick just one line as the whole of that song just encapsulates the feelings between Peter and Angel in this chapter. Also just to note, first responders are f*cking heroes and deserve to be treated as such every single freaking day! Anyway, enjoy!

TEN

BOOOMMM!

Peter was five blocks away from the hub when the blast went off. It was large enough to shake the surrounding buildings, car alarms going off.

“What the fuck was that?!” he hissed to Miguel in the driver's seat as traffic came to a screeching halt.

“I don’t know.” Harry frowned as they began to climb out of the car. That’s when they saw the smoke.

“That looks like-” Harry said.

“You don’t think-” Eddie chimed in, but Peter knew immediately, his ears tuning into the radio of a parked police car a little way up the street.

“We need all units to head towards Chinatown. There's been an explosion on Mulberry st.”

Peter didn’t think, just started running in the direction of the hub. As he ran down old back alleys and streets he hadn’t thought about in years, he couldn’t help but think this would be a lot quicker if he could swing there. He needed to get there. Although he ran as fast as he could, he felt like he was running out of time. Every second in a crisis like this was crucial. It was the literal decision maker between life and death.

‘Come on, still be alive.’ He thought to himself. ‘Still be alive.’

His heels skidded onto the street. It was carnage. Police and paramedics had already started to arrive, lifting bodies into the back of ambulances or covering them in sheets. There was smoke and dust everywhere. “Hey, you okay? What happened?” he asked an elderly couple who were trying to find a spot on the sidewalk away from the smoke to assess their injuries. The older gentleman had blood running down the side of his face, which dust and ash began to stick to. The older woman hobbled under his arm, a large graze on her arm and leg, her lungs heaving, trying to clear the smoke and dust.

“Bomb.” The old man’s gravely voice said.

A younger woman in her 30’s ushered them into her shop and out of the direct smoke and ash as Peter turned to survey the street again, working out how best to try and find her, his feet slowly carrying him towards the now former F.E.A.S.T building. If she was still inside he had no clue how he was gonna get her out.

“PETER!” A voice called to him. “YO BOSS! OVER HERE!”

Peter scanned the street until he located the owner of the voice, Miles, his shirt held up to his mouth as he tried not to inhale the smoke.

“Where is she!” Peter commanded.

“Right here.” Miles said as Peter reached him, Miles’ body now crouching protectively over Angel again.

She had a deep cut in her eyebrow that was gushing blood down the side of her face. Her hair was full of flecks of ash. Her eyes were closed and she wasn’t moving and Peter suddenly feared the worst as his hands reached out to her.

“Is she…?” 

“No. Just unconscious.” Miles coughed.

“We need to get her out of here!” Peter shouted over the sound of sirens and people’s shouting voices. There was a baby screaming and the fire that had taken hold in the wake of the explosion roared behind them. “What happened!?”

“I don’t know, we were crossing the street when we were knocked on our asses. If she hadn't stopped at that cafe, we would have been in there!”

“What cafe?”

“The Lucky Cat, or something like that? Why?”

Peter just shook his head in acknowledgment, letting out a small thank you under his breath, but he didn’t know to whom.

“Hey, over here!” a fireman who had come up beside them, shouted to a paramedic, waving them over. That was when Peter looked down to see Miles’ leg, his pant leg torn and caked in blood.

A young female paramedic not much older than Miles himself, dropped to the floor beside them as she began to introduce herself and assess injuries. “Hi, I’m Dani, what’s your name sir?” she asked of Miles, as she grabbed out a tourniquet kit from her bag and began to apply it to Miles’ leg.

“Miles.” he informed her.

“And is this your friend Miles?” She asked, motioning to Angel’s body lying on the floor.

“That’s my wife.” Peter said.

“And you are sir-” Dani started to ask as she looked him over only to see he didn’t have any injuries, the only thing currently tying him to the blast, the ash and dust that had settled in his hair and on his black blazer and trousers. Then she caught a better look of his face and her question froze in her mouth at her recognition. She quickly decided to wave off the question as she looked from Peter to Angel and back again, before fixing her eyes to finish off wrapping Miles’ leg. When she was done her fingers reached out to check for Angel’s pulse.

“She was conscious just after the blast but then she became unresponsive again.” Miles filled her in.

“Again?” Dani asked, her eyebrows raising in the younger man’s direction.

“When the blast first went off and we were knocked on our asses-”

“-where were you?”

“-crossing the road. She was out of it for a second with the blast but she woke up when I called her name, she tried to sit up but then just collapsed again.”

“Okay. Okay.” Dani said before turning her head and calling to a colleague. “I’m gonna need a board so we can get her into the back of an ambulance, I’ve got a blow to the head- did she hit the car?” Dani quickly turned to check with Miles as she took in the dent in the side of the car door that was giving them shelter.

“Yes.” Miles hastily responded.

“Yeah! I’m worried about potential internal bleeding!” Dani turned back to shout at her colleague who gave a nod before leaving his own more stable patient and running down the street to a parked waiting ambulance. “Mr Parker,” she said as she turned back towards Peter, her fingers subconsciously retrieving gauze and a bandage from her kit to wrap around Angel’s head, “I suggest you make yourself scarce right now unless you want to cause even more of a scene and problems, especially if you want us to take care of your wife.” she advised. “I will make sure Miles here will get placed in the same ambulance as her and they end up at the same hospital so he can let you know where they end up so you can meet them there, but right now, it’s in everyone’s best interest if you leave. Unless you want to risk being arrested.”

Peter looked to his wife conflicted, but he knew the young lady before him was right.

“Pete!” Harry’s voice called as he made his way past bodies to reach them.

“I advise you, get your friend out of here now!” Dani cautioned again to Harry.

“Come on, Pete, we need to go.” Harry encouraged him as Peter slowly stood. “PETE!” Harry shouted at him to snap him out of the trance he seemed to be in. “This is exactly what Toombes wants. Don’t get yourself caught man!” Harry continued to reason, pulling at him.

“I’ll make sure she’s okay.” Miles promised.

****

Peter reluctantly turned his back on Miles and his wife and allowed Harry to ferry him away from the scene and back to where Miguel was now parked with the car.

“Boss, what do you want us to do?” Eddie asked as Peter climbed back into the car.

“I need you to call around to all the other hubs, make sure they get evacuated immediately.” Peter said. His message conveyed its urgency but his tone showed his mind was still split.

“Boss, Hobie’s calling?” Miguel said, handing a phone into the back of the car to him.

“Fuck.” Peter huffed, running a dusty hand through his equally dusty hair, getting frustrated as it flaked all over the seats of the car. He let out another groan before he answered the buzzing phone.

“Hey, man, what’s going on over there?” A loud, yet concerned, deep British voice bellowed down the phone. “It’s all over the news.”

“Fuck.” Peter sighed as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest.

“We’ve just had it confirmed that one of the injured here on the scene is Y/N Parker, otherwise known as Angel, the daughter of recently deceased gangster Wilson Fisk. The F.E.A.S.T establishment here was set up by the Benjamin Parker foundation, 6 years ago, a charity that was created in Ben Parker's memory after his brutal murder almost 11 years ago now.” Peter heard the broadcast say in the background as Hobie spoke.

“Shit man, this is gonna bring so much attention. What the fuck happened? Some sources are citing it as a gas explosion but others are speculating because of your family ties to it being gang activity. It’s not looking good.” There’s a pause on the line as Peter thought and tried to compose himself. “Yo, Parker man, we gotta get on top of this shit now.” Hobie pressed him down the phone, but Peter had nothing, his mind panicking, trying to chase too many thoughts at once and coming up empty. “Look, I’m gonna call up Reilly, we’re gonna get on a jet and be with you asap. We can work this shit out when we get there.”

“Hobie?” Peter finally said, finding his voice. “What do you know about the Vulture?”

“Oh shit, no man! You are not in it deep with the Vulture?” Hobie responded. “Dude, that guy is ruthless, you saw what he did to KingPin.”

“But you know him?” Peter confirmed.

“Yeah, nasty piece of work. You know we had that warehouse in Manchester raided a few months back?”

“Yeah.”

“Well he took no time in swooping down and trying to take it.”

“You never told me that.” Peter looked confused.

“Didn’t need to, sent Reilly up there with some of his boys and they stamped that shit out quick. Guess that's when he decided to high tail it to New York and start messing with Fisk, not before he took a little stop in Italy, that is.”

Peter’s ears pricked up. “Italy?”

“Yeah. I had a tip off from Francetti when he saw the Romano’s sitting down with a guy he didn’t recognise and it was starting to brew trouble. When we asked him to give us a description of the guy we knew it was our man.”

Peter’s face changed. “What does that mean?” Harry asked, who had been listening in on the conversation. “Pete?”

“Any of Romano’s men get in touch with the Bianchi’s over here?” Peter asked down the phone.

“Yeah, why?”

“Shit!” Harry said as he too started to put the pieces together.

“Eddie?” Peter called out to the front passenger seat to get Eddie’s attention.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s gruff voice said back.

“When exactly did Angel get back into town?”

“It was maybe two days after Fisk had that break in at the Phoenix club.” Eddie replied.

Peter began to think. That was when Fisk first started having issues with the Italians. He thought back to his conversation with his wife at the house before they were shot at. She had said they had just thought it was the Italians getting too big for their boots at first.

“I’ve just got a text from Miles, they’re just pulling into Kings.” Eddie then said.

“Brooklyn?” Miguel confirmed as he started up the engine to the car. Eddie nodded as Miguel pulled out into traffic.

“Parker, we’re gonna get on a plane and be with you in a few hours.” Hobie said down the phone. “We’ll get this guy, I promise. Nobody lays a finger on our Angel without burning in hell for it.”

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

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

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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I do appreciate the 'talking and bonding' chapters, so I'm glad to see it. They make for a smoother transition and also the character development grows ever stronger which supports the plot. If I'm being honest, I think that is where many films (and novels but those have different editing/space limitations) fall short. If the characters are not fleshed out enough, if viewers/readers cannot discern what makes them unique or relatable or conflicted or anguished, etc then the action is just a bunch of noise. I don't typically watch boxing as a sport but there are some films such as Cinderella Man (2005; Russell Crowe, Renee Zellweger, Paul Giamatti) or The Champ (take your pick: the black and white 1931 original with Wallace Beery and Jackie Cooper or the 1979 remake with Jon Voight and Ricky Schroeder) that reveal all of the motivation and back story one would ever need before the penultimate fight at the conclusion. Which is my point: while the fight IS the action, without the story, it's just two men hitting each other--and in my opinion, there aren't any real winners in that.

So, back to your story....under the clip below...

Very vivid dream sequence for Mr. Parker and the sudden shifts--very realistic. I hate when that happens in dreams but it does and you captured it. That helpless feeling that your legs are leaden and your arms useless and fear is in your throat and there is nothing, nothing, nothing you can do and the thing you fear the most is happening and then...you wake up. Yep. Yep. Yep. Poor Peter, we were right there with him, trying to catch Gwen. Every single damn time.

I see he is back to his giant wall of thoughts again. Well, I guess he can afford to repaint when it's over...

It's pretty easy to be sympathetic to Angel stuck in bed. Been there and ugh, yeah, not fun. The Movies With Miles time was gold. Cracked up with the School of Rock comment. Great movie btw and yeah, I feel old. The rest of the references too: I love Robin Williams, although my two faves are probably Dead Poets Society and Good Will Hunting. He was just unbelievable haunting in both of those. Not taking away from his comedy and Mrs. Doubtfire is right behind those two for me, but the scene on the bench with Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting where Williams' character says, "You don't know about real loss 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself" just makes my heart ache. So absolutely true and wrenching. It was a pleasure to bond along with Angel and Miles over movies.

Oh, and The Princess Bride! Just about fell out of my chair! Inconceivable that you would use that in this chapter, hehe!

That pesky phone reappears and yeah, Angel is far too nonchalant with it. I think her Dad missed something during her training cause she should be talking to Peter about it even if the two of them aren't always getting along. Although I see they do have some of the old sparky banter back that seems reminiscent of their youth. She has to either trust Peter or not, and based on her behavior, I think she knows he's not going to hurt her in that way, so ugh, Angel: show him the phone. Sure she can take care of herself, but Toombes doesn't fight fair and there's power in numbers. I'm guessing we'll see how well she and Peter are able to loosen up a little in that regard?

Finally, the medical team was interesting. No comment there as I'm going to reserve my thoughts on that for now.

Well done on Chapter 12! And look, another essay. But it was a good chapter and worth it.

*I didn't mention it above, but the chapter title is interesting because I have no idea if you are messing with us readers and I need to make a wall of thoughts like Peter or if the title is simply the title. To wit: The Good Nurse (2022) is the recent Eddie Redmayne/Jessica Chastain piece (on Netflix) covering the story of convicted serial killer, Charles Cullen, and the nurse who suspects him. Given my earlier comment about the medical team, you can see why I'm a little thoughtful. Also: the two stars are excellent in that film but the subject matter is a little tough to watch.

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Twelve: The Good Nurse

Summary: Peter's having nightmares and Angel just wants to be in her own bed.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!, Mentions of injuries, medical equipment, nightmares, the Gwen thing, angst, fluff, genre typical tropes and topics.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Some might say that these two's relationship is just like a freaking yoyo. Also the women in the Daredevil universe keep sneaking into this story, hmmmm. I'm also trying to be reasonable with this recovery time so we got a lot of talking and bonding with different characters going on too.

TWELVE

Sirens blared, red and blue lights flashing as one cop car after another raced down the street. Peter stilled on the corner of the street as he watched them pass, that feeling in the back of his neck putting him on alert. He quickly turned down the closest alley, shedding his clothes and donning his suit as he began to climb up to the roof.

His feet pounded on the hard concrete rooftops as he jumped from one roof to the next before leaping diagonally off the last, free falling towards the ground. Thwip. He fired a web, the other end sticking to one of the nearby buildings and he swung himself forward. He carried on like that, chasing the sirens and flashing lights as they continued to move towards a large electrical surge at Oscorp tower.

As his feet finally hit the ground and he looked around he found he wasn’t at Oscorp. He was suddenly on the roof of a building in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen. He looked along the rooftop to find The Vulture, kitted out in some sort of flight gear and Angel. 

“Oh no Pete, looks like I’ve got your girl.” The Vulture taunted. 

Peter crouched into his fighting stance but the Vulture just laughed. But it wasn’t his laugh, it was much more chilling and familiar. The Goblin. Peter looked around frantically and when he turned back to Angel and the Vulture, neither of them were there. Instead he was at a clock tower. He looked above him to see The Goblin in a green suit and on a glider, in his grasp, flailing around in mid air. “GWEN!” he heard his voice shout. “GWEN!” But suddenly the image changed again. It wasn’t Gwen and it wasn’t the Goblin, it was Angel and the Vulture.

There was a scream as the Vulture let her go. “PEETTEEERRR!” she screamed.

He jumped off the building as her body passed him, his arms lying flat to his sides as he dove, his body piercing the air as it tried to catch up with her but no matter how fast he fell, she seemed to stay just out of his reach, her hands reaching for him. “I’m coming baby, I’m coming.” he said.

He reached out his arm, his fingers moving to release a web but nothing happened. He kept clicking the mechanism, but nothing happened. He could see the ground coming up fast behind her, he had to do something. ‘Come on!’ he groaned. He had one hand reaching out to her, his fingers inches away from hers, as he continued to tap his web shooter on his wrist with the other. Thwip! Smack! His body jolted to a stop just before he hit the ground but he was too late. He had just begun to process what had happened, red blood pooling out onto the side walk when-

Peter awoke with a start, his body jolting itself awake in the wooden high back armchair he had placed by the side of her bed. The steady sounds of beeping in the room quickly eased him, along with the steady sounds of her breathing beside him. He rubbed the sleep from his face as he shifted in the chair. He was still dressed in his shirt and trousers he’d worn all day for work and his skin felt pinched where some of the clothes had ridden up in his sleep. He let out a small moan and a sigh as he pulled his trouser legs back down slightly, sitting forward on the chair, his hand reaching out for hers.

She had been fast asleep when he had come back earlier. His moment with Hobie ended up being a bit longer than expected. Eddie had informed him of Angel and Felicia’s little spat while he’d been gone. He hoped Felicia would just walk it off and be back to work as normal in the morning like nothing had happened, but he wasn’t quite sure anymore. He wasn’t sure about anything. He hadn’t felt this unhinged since, well, Gwen; his dream only acting as a reminder for how everything could go so wrong. 

They had been lucky, again, but it was only a matter of time before that luck ran out. It was clear that Adrian Toombes meant business, everything he had been through with Fisk mere child's play compared to the stakes the Vulture was willing to go to. The man wasn’t from the city. He had no respect for the people.

Peter had gone round and round in circles trying to talk to George Stacy and explain things. 

“Come on Chief, you know this isn’t my game. Everything I’ve ever done in this city was to help it, not hurt it.”

“I don’t care Parker, you’ve brought a gang war to my streets, whatever happens now I can’t protect you. And if they can tie the bombing back to you they will and there’s nothing I can do to stop them from arresting you.”

“And what about you sir? Are you gonna arrest me? You know that without those hubs, crime goes up. You wanted me to hang up the suit and let the police do their jobs, I did that. You wanted me to find another way to help. I did that. I don’t want this fight here anymore than you do.”

“I’m sorry Peter, there’s nothing I can do.”

Peter lowered his forehead onto her hand, his eyes closing. He needed to think. He needed to work this out. He needed to keep her safe. No matter the cost he had to keep her safe. He kissed her hand before he got up and left the room.

He moved down the hall to his office that he had set up so he could be closer to her. He switched on a small table top lamp on his desk before he started rooting around in the boxes he’d had moved over. He then grabbed a roll of tape off of his desk and moved over to the far wall of the office. He wiggled the framed print that had been put up on the wall off of its hook, his fingers still wrapped tightly around the roll of tape and bits of paper. Once the wall was completely blank he started taping the bits of paper to it before rummaging around in the boxes once more for more pieces of paper. Scraps of newspaper articles, photos, hastily written notes, maps, all being added to the wall. When he ran out of things from the boxes he sat himself at his desk, opening up his laptop, searching and printing more things off until the entire wall was covered.

----

Angel woke up alone. She figured someone had to be at home but she had no idea who. She felt disgusting. She wanted to get up and just wash off all the sweat and grime from her body and give her teeth a good brush, but she couldn’t very well do that while she was plugged into these bloody machines, who’s beeping was starting to do her head in.

“PEETTE!”  she called out. “PETERR!” There was a delay before Eddie came into the room. “Where’s Peter?” she asked.

“He had to go out again?” 

“What time did he come back last night?” she pondered. She had tried to wait up for him but the drugs had made her so drowsy. 

“He got back just before midnight I think? I mean I went home at like, quarter past so yeah, I’d say just before midnight.” Eddie rambled.

“When is he gonna be back?”

“Not sure? Why is there something you need?

“Yeah, I want to be free of all this.” she said, raising her hand and showing off the cannula and tube attached to it, motioning to all the other bits and bobs she was attached to. “And I want to have a shower.”

“Okay, okay.” Eddie said, sensing her distress. “I’ll call Pete, get him to get someone out to check you over and see what they say. In the meantime, can I get you any breakfast?”

She thought for a moment before she said, “UUUhh I could murder one of those bagels from-”

“That shop on the boulevard?” Eddie finished for her, more than familiar with the place himself.

“Yesss.” she beamed.

“Cream cheese?” 

‘Yup.”

“Coming right up.” he said as he left the room.

“Morning?” Miles said as he hobbled in on his crutches.

“Heyy.” She greeted him with a smile.

Miles used his crutches to hop across the floor and grab the TV remote from where it had been left the night before. He hit the power button, letting it load, before he swung himself over to the chair at the side of her bed.

“How you doing?” she asked.

“Not bad. Docs got me on these painkillers.” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small tube of pills, tossing it on the bed in her direction. “Pretty good stuff.” he joked.

“How’s your leg?” she continued to ask as she looked over the label of the bottle before handing it back to him.

“Ehhh, I’ve had worse.” Angel raised her eyebrows at him, pressing him to continue. “Okay, maybe I haven't,” he said, doubling back on himself and making her smile. “What about you?”

“Sore.” she said, her hand moving to ghost across her ribs. 

“I bet… Hey, at least you didn’t have internal bleeding.” he joked.

“What?” she frowned.

He chuckled. “The paramedic rushed you out of there because she thought you might have internal bleeding. Hit the side of that car pretty hard. Not seen a dent like that since my cousin pinched my Uncle's car and jumped a red light.”

“Well that would explain why my body feels like it’s been hit by a truck.” she joked back. They both let out a small chuckle before she coughed and winced in pain.

“Heard you wanna be off that stuff. You sure it’s a good idea?” Miles asked.

“If I have to stay chained to this bed for one more day I’m gonna end up committing murder.” She jested. “Hey, maybe they’ll put me on some of those painkillers you’ve got, I mean, it seems like they’re doing a good job.”

“Nah, I’m just built like a house, man.” Miles continued to joke.

Miles flicked through the channels until they found a movie they both wanted to watch, settling down and watching Jumanji. Eddie returned about 30 minutes into the movie, dragging his own chair into the room and they all sat there watching the movie as they ate their bagels.

When the movie was done, Eddie left the room as Miles and Angel went back and forth about what to watch next.

“The Princess Bride.” Miles threw out. “I am Inigo Montoya, you killed my Father, prepare to die.” he said as he impersonated the famous line.

“Ehhh. What about Shrek?” Angel asked as they shuffled through the movies on Netflix.

“I watched it while you were out for the count the other day.” Miles interjected. “OOOH what about Hook?” 

“Nahh, I’ve already watched one Robin Williams film today, I can’t do another, it’ll just make me dwell on the fact that he’s dead and it’ll depress me again.”

“Big Robin Williams fan then.” Miles observed as he continued to flick through the movies.

“My Mom was.” Angel replied. 

“What was her favourite?” Miles asked.

“Mrs Doubtfire.” Angel smiled as a memory of her and her parents sitting down to watch the movie on a Saturday night when she was little, crossed her mind.

“Oh I love that film.” Miles said before breaking into yet another bad impression. “HELP IS ON THE WAY DEAR!” he called out before chuckling to himself.

“Oh what about this.” Angel said eagerly as Miles stopped on The School of Rock. “Uhh I loved this film growing up. It’s what made me learn how to play the bass guitar.”

“You know how to play the bass.”

“Knew. I knew how to play the bass. I haven’t played since I was maybe 14 when the reality of my Dad’s job finally hit home and I realised I was never gonna be in an actual band.”

“Why’s that?”

“When your Dad’s Wilson Fisk, you don’t tend to have many friends.” Angel said a little disheartened by her childhood memories.

“That sucks.”

“Yup.” she quietly agreed.

“You know I’ve never actually watched it.” Miles said as he started to load the film.

“You what!?” Angel’s head whipped around to him in shock.

“Yeah, it was a little after my time.”

“A little after your time!” Angel’s eyebrows raised. “Are you calling me old? I thought you said you weren’t a kid.” she continued to jest and poke at him.

“Oh shut up, you know what I mean.” he grumbled.

----

Angel fell asleep around half way through the movie. One second she was watching the kids pretending to be sick with ‘stickittothemanosis’, the next she was waking up 2 hours later. She was alone again, Miles no doubt having hobbled out on his crutches to leave her to sleep as soon as the film ended. ‘Uuuuhhgg.’ she groaned stiffly, as she tried to prop herself back up against the pillows again. She really hated how all these drugs were starting to make her feel.

She was about to call out for Eddie to chase him up about the doctors when her phone buzzed.

She frowned as her head turned to the bedside table where it sat. The only person who had ever really messaged her on it was her Dad and he was dead. ‘Maybe Peter had noticed it last night and put his number in it and it was him’ she thought. When she pulled it over and opened it up, it wasn’t Peter. She didn’t know who it was. It was an unknown number. There was a message, sent 6 minutes ago.

‘And there was me thinking Felicia Day was the Black Cat, but you seem to have 9 lives all of your own.’

The message wasn’t signed off.

‘Who is this? How did you get this number?’ she typed back.

Nothing. The message said it had been seen, but nothing. There was no response. ‘What the fuck?’ she frowned as she analysed the series of numbers attached to the message, trying to work out if they were familiar or not. They weren’t.

“Hey, Baby.” Peter said as he strode into the room. “What’s wrong?” he observed, his face suddenly becoming paranoid and serious as he observed her look of confusion towards her phone.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” she said shrugging off the message and closing her phone, placing it back on the bedside table.

“Okaaayyy.” Peter said slowly. “So I hear you’re not being a very good patient.” Peter pivoted the conversation. 

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.” she said back.

“Oh really. Picking fights with Felicia, making demands left right and centre.”

“All I want is a shower Pete.” she tried to reason with a sickly sweet demeanour. “Look at me, I look disgusting. I feel disgusting. And I know you can smell me from over there Spider boy so don’t try and spin me some web about me smelling like roses because it aint happening. Get me off this shit, I want to have a shower.” she said as she gestured towards the machines and tubes around her. “Oh and by the way, I can get up and pee for myself just fine thank you without this fucking thing.” she said as she pointed out the catheter, the thing that irritated her the most.

“Okay, okay, sassy pants.” she frowned at the old nickname she hadn’t heard since she was probably 23. “Docs on his way up okay.”

“Thank you.” she sighed in relief at the news.

“Don’t know how well it’s gonna go though-”

“Pete, I swear to whichever God so happens to be listening right now, if you are about to make a comment and rub it in my face about your regenerative spider abilities-”

“-I’m not, I’m not.” he said, his hands being thrown up in front of him defensively. “I’m just saying no matter how much you don’t like it, you still have broken ribs and a-”

“-fractured wrist, I know!” she said back. “But unlike Miles, there is absolutely nothing wrong with my legs.” she began to snarl as her irritation began to rise again.

“Okay, okay!” Peter said again, his voice getting higher in pitch the more agitated she became.

They were gratefully interrupted by the Doctor who came in, a nurse in blue scrubs hot on his tail as he came into the room.

“Ahhh Miss Fisk,”

“Parker.” Both Angel and Peter corrected together.

“Sorry, Mrs Parker,” the older gentleman said, correcting himself. From his balding hair and crows feet, Angel assumed he must have been in his early 50s. “Right so I’m here to take a look at things, my name is Dr Healey,” he said, “this is Nurse Temple.”

“Just Claire’s fine.” the younger woman interjected, her hands slipping into her pockets as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, waiting to start her work after the Doctor’s assessment. Angel sent a small smile of apology her way for having to work with the good doctor.

“Okay…” Dr Healy said as he started up his regular spiel again. “I’m just gonna check over your vitals, take a look at the bandaging on those ribs, do a couple of physical tests to check your movements-”

“Just get me out of the bed Doc.” Angel snipped at him, eliciting Claire to look down at her feet to hide the smile across her face and the small snicker that escaped her lips.

“Yes, well… very well then.” Dr Healy said, suddenly on the back foot.

“Angel.” Peter chastised.

“What?!” she threw back defensively. “I just want to shower and be able to pee for myself. I’m not planning on going anywhere other than the bathroom- and maybe my own bed,” she quickly added, “I promise.” she said to him.

Peter sighed as he gave in. “Can we do that Doc?” Peter asked him.

“Yeah, of course we can.” Claire chimed in as she stepped forward, grabbing a pair of gloves out of her bag and slipping them on as she started to make her way around the side of the bed.

“Umm yes, yes.” The Doctor hesitantly agreed, still on the back foot. 

As Claire began to remove the cannula from the back of Angel’s hand, the Doctor checked over Angel’s abrasions and mobility. She was still very sore and achy but with slow careful movements the Doctor finally conceded, with a nod of his head before moving away to allow Claire to remove the catheter, as he wrote out a prescription for some painkillers.

“Okay, this is gonna feel uncomfortable.” Claire said to Angel as she started to brace her fingers around the small tube attached between Angel’s legs. “Okay I need you to take a deep breath for me alright, I’m gonna count you in okay?” she attempted to reassure. “1,2,3-” 

Angel let out a small wince as she was detached from the catheter. “There, you go, there you go.” Claire coached softly.

“Okay, you’re probably gonna want help taking that shower.” Claire informed as she moved back around the bed to where Angel was already trying to shift her legs over the side of the mattress. “Actually if I’m honest, I don’t really recommend a shower at all, just maybe a really shallow bath and a wipe off with a washcloth.” she continued to say as she took her gloves off before reaching her hands out to Angel’s to help steady her as she stood.

After being stuck in bed with little mobility for the last 3 days, it was no surprise Angel’s legs wobbled and gave out when she tried to stand. “It’s alright I got you.” Claire said as she took most of Angel’s weight against her own body, as Peter raced around the bed to help. “It’s okay, you’ve been lying down for a while now, this is normal, just give your legs a chance for the blood flow to get round them again, you’ll be okay.”

Angel felt slightly dizzy as her blood now raced around her body, finally reaching her toes properly for the first time in days. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got it.” Peter said as he swapped places with Claire.

“Yeah no problem.” Claire said as she allowed Peter to take over. “Umm I can go start getting the bathtub ready if you want?” she offered.

“Yeah, it’s just across the hall.” Peter informed her as she began to leave. “You okay?” he asked, checking in with his wife.

“Yup.” she said fighting through the mild pain in her back and ribs and the odd sensation in her legs.

“You ready to start moving?” She didn’t give a verbal response, just nodded. “You want me to carry you?” he asked, noting her obvious attempt to downplay her pain.

“Nope, I’ve got this.” she reassured him with heavy breaths as she began to start hobbling with his assistance towards the door.

“Uh Mr Parker.” Dr Healy interjected, “She’s gonna need this prescription filled out as soon as possible.” He said lifting up the bit of paper he had just ripped off of his notepad.

“Uh Yeah, okay. Can you pass it on to one of the guys down the hall?” Peter threw back over his shoulder. “Preferably not the one with crutches.” Peter tried to joke, using it as some way of apology and ease the tension created by his stubborn wife.

“Ummm yes, of course.” The Doctor stammered as he attempted to gather back up his things.

“There we go.” Claire said as she helped Peter eaze Angel into the bathtub. The water was shallow, only just covering her legs and hips as she sat herself upright in the tub, her arms resting on the sides of the bath to prop her up and make sure she wasn’t leaning back against her ribs in the hard tub.

Peter could sense Angel’s tension at having Claire watch over his shoulder as his hand reached into the water for the red washcloth she had found and placed into the tub.

“Make sure you ring it out well, she can’t get her bandages wet.” Claire informed.

“Okay, okay. I think I’ve got it.” Peter said, turning his head to look at her. “Ummm thank you, I think I can take care of things from here.” Peter said, kindly dismissing her.

“Okay.” Claire conceded with a nod. “I’m just gonna hang around out there for a moment just in case there is anything you need.”

“Thank you, but I don’t think that will be necessary.” Peter said, driving home her dismissal a little harder this time.

“Okay. It was nice to meet you.” Claire said over Peter’s shoulder to Angel with a wave.

“Thank you.” Angel said timidly from behind the cover of Peter’s body.

When Claire left the room, Peter began brushing the damp cloth across Angel’s bruised skin. “What?” she queried when he began to frown.

“It’s just,” his voice said quietly as his fingers traced across one of the bruises on the top of her chest. 

“I know, I know.” she said equally as softly as she too took in the bruising all over her body.

“It just… makes me feel so helpless.” Peter confessed.

“I know. But this isn’t your fault Pete and you know it.” she tried to reassure him.

There was a pause between them before he said, “I had a dream last night.” he confided. “She was in it.”

“Gwen?” Angel confirmed.

“Yeah.” 

Gwen had still been alive when Peter had first swung into her life, saving her from that explosion at her Dad’s warehouse. They hadn’t met again until after Gwen had died. They used to run into each other at the cemetery, her visiting her Mom, him visiting Gwen. They used to just sit with each other and talk, reminisce about their loved ones. 

“I’m not her Peter.”

“I know that.” he sighed. “I know that.” he said more confidently. “It’s just…” his voice trailed off and tears began to form in his eyes, “I can’t lose you too okay? Not again, not for good, okay?”

“Okay.” she repeated quietly, a silent promise just between the two of them.

“You can’t be doing shit like that again, you know?”

She looked confused, “What go help out at-”

“No, I mean, what happened downstairs. You can’t- I can’t” he corrected himself, “I don’t know how to keep you safe when you do shit like that okay.”

“But maybe you’re not meant to.” she said cautiously as he continued to wipe at her skin, “Maybe you can’t, maybe you’re not meant to. Maybe that’s…” her voice trailed off as she had a thought ‘Maybe that was what her Father was training her for all along.’ 

“Maybe that’s what?” he asked, growing tense at the idea of not being able to protect her, to keep his own wife safe.

“Peter, maybe that was the point of my Dad keeping me away from you. Not just to protect me, but to show me how to stand on my own two feet, how to protect myself.”

“But you shouldn’t have to-”

“And why not? Because you’re my husband and that’s your job? Bullshit. Who’s there to save you huh? When shit hits the fan, which it already has, mind you; who looks out for you?” She looked deeply into his eyes. “Who is there to save you?”

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

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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!

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.

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. 

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

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

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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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

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.

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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!

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Positivity Night Shout Out

This is for @withahappyrefrain 's Positivity Night. What a great idea! I hope I did this correctly Abby.

I follow a number of creators and some of them even follow me back! It's been a great experience and so here is some appreciation and good vibes...thanks Abby for doing this!

In no particular order and some with a lil blurb lagniappe as I've gotten to know them. This is long but ya know, I'm not at the Oscars on a time limit so read it or keep scrolling past. Your choice.

@blooming-violets aka @eatbrainsfordinner gave me some great advice when I first joined on how not to get blocked due to blog appearance and has an amazing library of fics that sent me down a rabbit hole. Plus in possession of a side-holding you will fall out of your chair sense of humor. Laughter can give us hope and I know that some of her comment/replies just put me in a better frame of mind.

@liz-allyn whose mob!peter fic Sugar and Vice (all of her work really) just blows me away. If you haven't got Honey, life just isn't sweet at all at all. All her content just radiates emotion. Depth. It's all there.

@webslingingslasher such a talent and so very very kind to everyone. Am enthralled with nerd!peter/frat!peter. I have no clue where the late night sleepover energy comes from though. I am in awe.

@sincericida no one tops her blog for Andrew Garfield content. No one. I check it more frequently than I do the daily news. Could get lost for days with the top tier content. A real sweetheart, too. Always answers asks.

@luvablehand a winsome writer with great imagination. Absolutely love that there is an updated list of WIPs on the blog so I know what is coming.

@periprose Nice blogger and her Peter Parker is adorable. Completed chapter fic Florence is great.

@theradioactivespidergwen aka @she-likesorchids great writer across multiple fandoms and great wit. We share a love of various sandwiches, know that dressing is superior to stuffing, and think sweater weather is amazing. It's glorious.

@reidslovely haunting haunting writing that stays with me. Love our interactions when I have questions about a story/plot/character. Has been writing more mob!peter and I am a member of the mob!peter fan club for life.

@loveroftoomanyfandoms I came for the Peter Parker fics and somehow acquired a Matt Murdock on the hot guy keyfob. Personality shines through on her blog and is such a joy. ((HUGS)) Always love interacting and living vicariously through the 'where is Charlie this week' adventures. (Couple more months and he's going to be eating some mighty fine food in NOLA) Our food chats have been awesome and when food found it's way as the theme in a story, well I cannot say enough about how enjoyable that's been.

@p3mybeloved another great Spider-man fandom creator. Read on here and AO3.

@ficthots writes for the fandom that is number one in my heart (TASM) and LIghtning Bugs makes me cry but it's that good kind of tears.

@delicate-dorothea sweet sweet writing that is addictive to read. Really looking forward to continuing to read and follow.

@backtothefanfiction someone I just started following but wow, am currently enthralled with a multi chapter mob!peter fic (The Angel In The Garden Of Evil) that has blown me away. Been a lot of fun to follow the character arcs and the twists and turns. Love writing essays for this creator when I reblog because the back and forth has been wonderful and enriching. I know the longer series can be so hard to write and maintain but they are a feast when you can find them. I've had a front row seat and am looking forward to more works in the future.

@helloheyhihowdyheya Love her works. Reading Rose Thorn Blues right now, and if asked to pick a fave out of the masterlist of Spider-man fics I'm not sure I could because they're all my babies.

@thursdaygxrls so much imagination in her writing, love it and love all the fics. Am currently following two: Thin Ice and Infrunami.

@withahappyrefrain Abby, whose Peter Parker won me over from the get go and then wrote TGM fics that added more hot male characters to the keyfob. Perfect sense of humor, never afraid to call out haters, and you just glow with sunshine and flowers right when I need it most. Big hugs and a shout out.

Other bloggers reblogging content is how I ran across many of you listed above so readers and content creators: reblog whatever you enjoy because it's really what keeps Tumblr active and engaging. When I'm not writing, I'm enjoying what others create and the inspiration and encouragement and words you share is wonderful and thank you for the effort you put into what you do!

So happy to hear that!!!!!!!!!

As you can tell, I've enjoyed the extra attention you've written into the characters--what they're thinking, feeling, and that they have flaws and make mistakes and yet it flows well with the plot. You've kept the essence of Peter Parker and made it unique to your style. I look forward to reading whatever you've got planned. Plus, for the above story, I am intrigued--it's a fascinating era.

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!