The Angel In The Garden Of Evil - Tumblr Posts

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

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 4.4K

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

EIGHT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You what?” Peter asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Summary: Angel's continued survival comes with consequences.

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

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: @tarzinnia I am sorry.

THIRTEEN

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

“Nope.” she said.

“What do you mean nope?”

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

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

“Oh, I'll make it.” she huffed.

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

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

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

“Oh shit.” she said when she spat.

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

“I left my phone downstairs.” she said.

“Your phone?” he queried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe a glass of water.” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” Angel frowned. 

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

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

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

“Maybe she went to visit family or something?”

“Both of her parents are in prison.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” she quietly nodded.

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Felicia's funeral:

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

The final words and leaving the wedding ring behind:

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

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

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

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

Word Count 2.5k

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

FOURTEEN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My Dad.” she said.

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

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

“You gonna be okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About you and her.”

“I told you, she meant nothing-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you KIDDING ME!” She said standing.

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

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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OH.

I'm blown away once again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 2k

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

FIFTEEN

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

“Everything okay, boss?” Miguel asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She wasn’t a problem?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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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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Got here as soon as I could….yes, please on the new character…

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

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

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

I’m going to clear off my desk and ponder this one. Coffee hasn’t dropped into the little gray cells yet. Ha!

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

My first guess is Daredevil/Matt Murdock but I haven’t gone back to reread to see if he was mentioned. At completion though, I am going to reread the entire fic; it’s so good!

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

I guess we were accidentally on the same wavelength when I used that speeding car gif earlier, haha!

Realistically and from personal experience I agree that Angel's self-admonishment regarding driving when emotional is bad news. But I'm giving her a pass because at this point, who is she going to trust? Better to take the wheel and get the heck outta Dodge than have a driver take you hostage.

Fortunately, the Hell's Kitchen hero is reliable (author teaser) and Angel is lucky he had the scoop on the Vulture and then the BIG REVEAL on Harry. That little stinker. It's a cool twist to the plot though due to TASM 2 and Gwen being taken and now Peter is the one who was nabbed. Plus how you explained Matt's presence was nicely done.

The security code. Ooooooof. Love the arsenal though. One of my favorite parts of the John Wick series. Smart of Angel to grab the web shooters but then she's pretty savvy when she's focused.

But holy cow does that whole scenario throw Angel and Peter into an unholy mess of personal feelings and motivations and baggage. I mean that is some major conflict resolution they are going to have to work through. Revenge, betrayal, death, more betrayal, more death, more betrayal; they've got serious issues here. Most couples just disagree over who forgot to empty the dishwasher...

Great chapter! I cannot wait til next week to learn more!

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Seventeen: A Friend In The Shadows

Summary: Angel is ready to run but gets turned around by a friend with some interesting information.

Warnings: 18+ Only, genre typical content, weapons, reckless driving's mentions of murder and poisoning

Word Count 1.8k+

A/N: Another slightly shorter chapter but don't worry our last couple chapters to come are much longer to make up for it. Just like our last chapter though, although it is a little short, it does still pack a punch and flesh things out. Who's ready to find out more about Harry's betrayal?

SEVENTEEN

She shouldn’t have driven. Should have ordered a car, but she didn’t want to risk someone stopping her. Her heart was in her mouth the whole journey, a lump in her throat she couldn’t quite swallow as she took shallow breaths, hands raking nervously through her hair the whole way to the airstrip. 

Her phone rang out from the centre console, yet again. Her fingers raced to decline the call. Tears welled in her eyes. She really shouldn’t be driving.

She slammed on the breaks as she pulled up to the hanger, the tires screeching against the tarmac. Her fingers clawed at her chest and the bandages still wrapped around it. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She closed her eyes as she slammed her head back against the headrest, her chest heaving as she tried to take slower deeper breaths. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t watch this happen. Not again.

A sudden knock at the car window made her jump. “Mrs Parker?” a concerned voice called out. “Mrs Parker, are you okay?” The voice asked again.

She reluctantly began to climb out of the car, smoothing down her clothes, a false air of composure washing over her. “Yes, Henry.” she said, flashing him a smile. “Is our Captain here yet?”

“He’s still filing a couple pieces of paperwork before we can leave, but there is someone else here to see you.”

“Who?” she quickly said, panic flying into her voice.

“Umm he didn’t really give his-”

“Angel.” A gruff voice said from the shadows of the hanger.

Angel frowned as a figure dressed in a deep red suit, with a cowl that had short horns like a devil sticking out from the top, stepped out from the shadows. “Ma-” She went to say his name but caught herself. She curtly turned her head to dismiss Henry to chase up the Captain of the jet and start unloading her cases from the car. She slowly stepped closer to the shadows of the hanger and the figure waiting.

“Matt?” she said again, questioning his presence. Matt Murdock did a quick check before deeming the coast was clear and removing his mask to her. 

After Peter had hung up his suit, there was a vacuum for vigilante work. Matt, a pro bono lawyer by day, who eventually came to be a regular at F.E.A.S.T, had taken his own umbridge with her Father’s work. He had decided to don his own vigilante suit and cause problems for her Father in Peter’s wake. Things had come to a head a between them a few years back when Matt realised Peter had been Spider-Man. Peter and Angel had promised to keep his secret safe in exchange for Matt leaving their business alone. It had also helped that they were setting up the first hub at the time and offered Matt a salary to work with clients through the community space.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I tried to call your number but you weren’t picking up. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Wait, Matt, how did you know I was even gonna be here.”

“The Vulture.” Matt said hastily.

“Wait, what?” Angel said before Matt could get another word out.

“I found where he’s been hanging out. After your Dad died I started doing my own digging because something didn’t feel right. He’s been watching you guys.” Matt informed.

“Well, yeah-” she started to say but Matt cut her off, realising she wasn’t understanding what he meant.

“He has all these cameras set up. At your house, the apartment you guys are staying in. May’s place, the hubs, all of it.”

“What?” she frowned. “But how? I mean, the only people who have access to those places are- what is it?” she asked, noticing how Matt’s face changed to one of sorrow.

“That’s the real reason I needed to talk to you. I tried to call Peter too but he wasn’t picking up.”

“Matt, what is it?” Angel asked hastily, a look of panic and worry now on her face.

“He’s been playing you guys this whole time.”

“What- who has?”

“Harry.”

Angel froze at his words. Harry. Harry Osborn. Pete’s best friend. The thorn in her side from day one who she put up with because it was his money, from his Dad’s death, that had funded everything in the beginning. “I don’t understand.” she said as she tried to process what Matt was saying, her brain taking longer to fully acknowledge all the things suddenly flying through it.

“He’s been working with The Vulture this whole time.” Matt began to explain. “Toomes is just a cover, a boogie man for hire. Osborn’s been the one planning and instigating all of this.”

“But, why?” Angel asked with a now paranoid look over her shoulder at the sound of Henry and the Captain coming back towards the hangar.

“He found out what Peter did to his Father.”

Angel looked confused. “What do you mean, what Pete did to his Father? Norman was ill.”

“How do you think he got ill?” Matt asked.

“He said it was a genetic thing.”

“Funny that Harry has never had any symptoms.” Matt tried to help her understand.

“Wait, are you trying to tell me Peter poisoned Harry’s Dad?”

“I mean Norman did kill the love of his life.” Angel’s face fell and he knew he’d used the wrong words, but he couldn’t take them back. 

She tried to shake it off, her brain slowly connecting dots in her brain she hadn’t known were there. “You’re talking about Gwen.”

“Chief Stacy’s daughter. Yes.”

Angel took a step back shaking her head. Her hands began raking through her hair again, her breathing becoming more laboured. “How long? Do you know how long he’s known?” She asked, doubling back towards Matt.

Matt shook his head. “But I do know he’s planning on killing him. You can’t leave.” Matt said, stepping forward and taking her hands in his. “If you leave he doesn’t stand a chance.”

She stood frozen, her brain rapidly trying to weigh up the pros and cons whilst simultaneously trying to come up with a plan. Matt’s phone began to ring and they broke apart so he could answer it, Angel beginning to pace back and forth while she ruminated on her options.

“Uh huh. Uh huh.” she heard Matt say down the phone. “Okay.” he said before hanging up, the motion pulling her from her thoughts.

“What is it?”

“I was able to clone the feed from their surveillance cameras.” he paused as he tried to find the right way to tell her. “They’ve taken Peter.”

It was like someone had just dunked her in an ice bath, the sudden shock snapping her from the fog in her brain. “Where?” she commanded, her gaze growing dark.

“A warehouse on the other side of the river.”

“I need you to message me the address.” she half shouted at him as she began to back away from him, racing back towards the car.

“Mrs Parker?” Henry called as he noticed her reaching for the door handle.

“Trips off, Henry.” she shouted as she pulled open the drivers door and climbed into the car. 

She started the car, revving it for good measure before she did a U turn on the tarmac and began speeding back the way she had initially come.

Her brain was on autopilot as she began to drive not towards the city, but the house. She hadn’t been back since the night of the shoot out but it was the only place she could think of to get supplies.

She sped onto the driveway, gravel flying everywhere as she powered towards the garage at the back of the house. As she pulled up her phone chirped, a message from Karen with the address of the warehouse. She ignored it for the moment as she raced to get out of the car. 

She was relieved when she checked the garage door and it flew open with eaze. Without any cars in the garage now to conceal it, she raced over to the hatch in the floor in the back corner, heaving the metal grate that covered it out of the way.

She climbed down the metal ladder, her feet slipping on a couple of the rungs in her haste. The automatic lights began to turn themselves on with her presence as she began to assess the space. Most of the shelves had been emptied already. ‘FUCK!’ She thought. But then she noticed the marks on the floor next to a stack of shelves.

Angel moved closer, kneeling down to run her fingers against the drag marks. She quickly stood, her hands taking purchase at one end of the shelves to begin shifting them in the same directions as the marks. She was relieved to find a large reinforced door hidden behind the shelves, a keypad in the wall beside it.

She breathed deeply, wincing at the pinch in her ribs with the exertion of moving the shelves but she couldn’t dwell on it, her husband needed her. “Come on, Pete.” she muttered to herself as she began to rack her brain for potential codes.

She started with her birthday. After all, it had been the code he had used for the house. No.

Next she tried their anniversary. Nope. “Okay.” she sighed. She began punching the numbers in for Aunt May’s birthday. Still no. “Oh come on Pete.” Then it hit her. She racked her brain for the numbers before punching them in. 03-13-14. Beep. Click. 

The moment and realisation that the code had been Gwen's death date was bittersweet, as the door slid sideways as it opened. Her fondness for her husband, mixed with his continued self punishment for what had happened to Gwen all those years ago, made for a melancholy feeling. It was soon pushed to the side by a whole different feeling of shock and surprise. As fluorescent lighting illuminated the room, she found herself tentatively stepping forward. It was like stepping back in time. His old suits stood on mannequins in glass boxes. Old newspaper headlines had been framed and hung on the walls. Old blueprints for web shooters lay scattered across a desk. She pressed a button on the desk and another hidden door opened. 

When she stepped forward there was a mixture of old Spider-man gear as well as a wall covered in weapons more aligned to his current work; guns, knives, small flash bombs. 

She turned and grabbed a bag and began filling it with different weapons. She grabbed an ankle holster, strapping it and a small gun to her right leg before she grabbed another gun and slotted it into her waistband. She was about to leave when she froze, her body slowly turning towards his old spider-man gear. She found herself moving towards it, a nostalgia washing over her body. She picked up one of his web shooters, turning it over in her hands. She tossed it up in the air once, then twice as she thought, before placing it too in the bag and leaving.

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

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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You're welcome...and it's...it's going to end next week? Pass me the tissues because it's going to be bittersweet to see it end. I hope you continue to write. Your style and pace were captivating in this story.

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!

Not ready for it to end but wanting to KNOW if that makes sense.

For the Q & A session next week:

Me right before the Epilogue drops:

Who’s ready for one last week of The Angel In The Garden of Evil?!!

After an incredible journey with these characters, it’s time to give them their ending. I will be posting not two but THREE final instalments to this series this week. We will have our usual chapters on Wednesday and Friday followed by a special Epilogue chapter on Sunday to say goodbye to Angel and Peter.

I can’t believe we are at the end already. Writing these guys’ journey has been quite the ride and has proven so much to myself about my writing abilities, including I can in fact write a novel (as this is exactly what this story has turned into).

Thank you everyone who has been on this journey so far. I’d love to do a proper send off for it next week with a Q & A or chance just to reminisce with people about their favourite bits; so be sure to fill my inbox with all your questions and best bits so we can keep the love going and talk about them.

I do have other works sitting in the drafts waiting on some love so this won’t be the end of my writing journey, there’s still plenty of stories to come. As teased I do have a 1920s theme Spider-Man story in the works. as well as the Kink ‘til Christmas prompts after Kinktober went out the window. And shhh don’t tell anyone but after starting to rewatch Under The Banner of Heaven again, I may be throwing around some ideas in my head for a Jeb Pyre multi chapter fic seeing as we seem to be lacking over here on that content.

Anyway, thank you all again for your love and support on this series. I hope you will all stay with me on this journey as we continue to make magic and weave narratives together.

Soooo, champagne or handkerchief or both?

I've just written the last sentence of Angel...

Keeping the thoughts on this chapter shorter since the finale is coming, but I really liked the action here. The image of the three men perched on the barrels was very dramatic and I could easily picture that being a Harry move for style. Harry is a showman at heart.

Also the whisky being laced by Peter. Clever. Side question: and what distillery did Norman favor? Whisky (sans e) would be from Scotland so I hope it was the good stuff.

Angel comes to the rescue and she gets to take out Toomes; I really liked where she then turned to Peter to break his trance as he was obliterating Harry. It was an interesting flip with her now being merciful and essentially reminding Peter that was how he used to be. I don't know if that was intentional but that was where their duality/complementing each other even in a horrific scene was a nice touch.

One final thought--at first when Peter and Angel were making up after his release I was somewhat incredulous. Like, "guys, wtf are you doing, save it for later," when it suddenly hit me. In a situation like that you don't know if there will be a later. If that was my S.O. and I thought one or both of us would or could die then that last kiss would mean the world to me. So, yeah, that resonated.

Well done, have really enjoyed the ride. Looking forward to the final pieces.

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Eighteen: One Last Game

Summary: It's time for Angel and Peter to put an end to this thing, but not before Harry plays one last game.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!!! (Seriously, this is a very violent and mature chapter), genre typical content, guns, knives, fighting, torture, violence, hanging, blood, so much blood, smoking, death (duh, was this gonna end any other way)

Word Count: 4.2k+

A/N: It's final battle time kids! Some of this gets real traffic, you have been warned but when you're dealing with this genre, what do you expect. Just a reminder this is the final week of Angel and we will be having a Q&A a chat about all things Angel next week so be sure to leave me messages about your favourite bits and fill up my inbox with your Q's. Anyway, who's ready to see Harry and The Vulture go down?!

EIGHTEEN

SLAP!

Peter’s head throbbed as he came to. His cheek stung from the smack he’d just taken to the face that woke him. “There he is.” Harry’s voice taunted as Peter blinked hard and tried to focus his vision.

‘Wait, Harry?” Peter was confused as his haziness quickly left him. His limbs struggled as he tried to move, rope rubbed at his wrists and a piercing feeling prickled the tops of his arms and across the top of his chest. He looked down to see barbed wire wrapped tightly around his upper body. His arms were fastened behind his back and his legs tied tightly to the front legs of the chair he found himself sitting in.

“Ahhh Pete, you must have known this day was coming?” Harry taunted as he paced a few feet away from Peter.

Peter bristled again, sneering as the barbed wire pierced through his shirt and scratched at his skin. “Harry? What the fuck is going on!” Peter said through gritted teeth.

“Really, Pete? Come on buddy, don’t feign innocence with me.” Harry said as he came and crouched before Peter, his hands slapping against Peter’s thighs. “You know exactly what you did to me. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out?” Harry sneered as he stood up. He lifted his hand, gun held tightly in his grasp, as he backhanded Peter across the face. The metal of the gun caught him around the mouth, a metallic taste bursting from his lip. Peter paused as he waited for his head to stop spinning, before he spat blood on the floor at Harry’s feet.

“You killed my Dad.” Harry said, his voice a low growl as he stepped forward again, looking down over Peter. Harry began to laugh maniacally as realisation dawned on Peter’s face. “Wooo.” he cried out as he stepped back, scratching at his head with the barrel of his gun. “Didn’t think I’d find out did ya? Tell me Pete, was it revenge for Gwen or did you just need the money to start your little business, huh?” Peter remained silent but spat another small amount of blood, that was pooling in his mouth from his now split lip, onto the floor. “I have to say though, poisoning him slowly and making it look like a medical condition was a clever move. How’d ya manage it, huh? Use your old Spidey powers to sneak in and just slip it in his water at night, huh?” Peter remained silent, holding his resolve as he glowered up at Harry. But Harry wasn’t satisfied with that. Peter watched as Harry’s eyes grew dark before he hit him again, this time hitting him right on the high point of his cheek bone. “ANSWER ME!!” Harry screamed at him.

Peter spat blood at Harry’s feet, clearing his mouth, before he said horsley, “Whisky. I put it in the whisky.”

“FUCK!” Harry shouted as his hands flew into his hair, pulling at it. He then began that low maniacal chuckle again. “You know Pete,” he said as he began to walk closer to Peter once more, his finger hooking into the barbed wire and pulling on it so it pierced Peter’s skin, small drops of blood staining his once crisp white shirt, “I’m gonna make what we did to Felicia look like childsplay. When Angel finds the pieces of you we’re gonna leave for her, she’s not even gonna be able to identify your body.” he threatened as he began to step further back into the shadows of the room. “LIGHTS!” he called out, waving the gun in his hand with a flourish.

There was the sound of two large switches being turned on before the wall in front of Peter was illuminated. Peter’s stomach turned as he saw Hobie, Eddie, Miguel and Ben, a rope tied around each of their necks attached to the rafters above, their feet just about balancing on large oil drums beneath them. “Time to wake up boys.” Adrian said, stepping forward, a large bucket of water in hand as he threw it at them. Each one immediately woke up. It happened so quickly, yet Peter felt like he was watching the moment happen in slow motion.

“NO!” Peter shouted as each one startled awake, their feet faltering on the barrels. Hobie, Miguel and Eddie were quick to realise and right theirs again, but Reilly’s legs kicked out too much and knocked his barrel over completely.

They all watched helplessly as he began to flail around, slowly choking as the air was cut off from his lungs. His face turned red as he grunted from behind the duct tape wrapped around his mouth. It was a slow process as he gradually turned from red to purple. “HARRY! HARRY STOP THIS!” Peter cried out. 

“Uh uh uh. You have no power here Pete.” Harry retorted as Ben Reilly made a few more sputtering noises before stilling, his body going limp. There was a moment of silence as they all took in the gravity of their situation, before Harry started chuckling to himself again. “Ooops.” His intentionally childish voice taunted as his feet danced across the floor towards Peter again. “Now, we’re going to play a little game.” Harry said excitedly as he circled around behind Peter. “Remember when we were kids Pete; and we would sneak into my Dad’s old office and take one of his guns and pretend we were doing target practice.” Harry reminisced enthusiastically. “WELL!” He shouted as he came back around into Peter’s field of vision. “I do believe I see before me, three lovely target dummies.”

“Harry, HARRY! Come on, don’t do this, let’s talk this out.” Peter tried to reason but Harry didn’t like that. There was a loud bang and Peter jumped, the barbed wire rubbing at his skin again, as Harry aimlessly fired a shot in the direction of the three awaiting men. It landed in the wall between Hobie and Eddie, Eddie wobbling slightly on his barrel before steadying himself again.

“Oooh, looks like I may be a bad shot. Guess I really do need that practice don’t I.” Harry teased before firing another shot. This time the bullet grazed Eddie’s thigh and he sneered behind his duct tape gag. “I’m getting closer.” Harry grinned as he turned back to look at Peter.

“HARRY! COME ON! ENOUGH OF THIS!” Peter desperately pleaded. “YOU WANNA HURT ME, HURT ME, BUT LEAVE THEM OUT OF THIS!”

Harry ignored Peter as he fired another shot. There was a loud metallic ping as it hit the rim of the barrel at Hobie’s feet. Harry grimaced with irritation, as Hobie didn’t even flinch. “Harry!” Peter warned as he watched his best friend's face closely, but once again it was no good. Harry took two steps closer to Hobie, the two of them staring each other in the eye as Harry fired a shot that hit Hobie in the shoulder. Although his body held still, Hobie grunted, breathing deeply through the pain. Satisfied, Harry lowered his weapon and began to step back towards Peter.

Peter kept his eyes on Hobie, unable to look at what his best friend had become, as Harry continued to walk past Peter. Peter listened closely to Harry’s footsteps, trying to gauge how far away from him he’d actually walked when his ears tuned into something else. There was the faint sound of a door closing as another heartbeat joined the thrum of sound that surrounded him. He froze. He’d know that heartbeat anywhere. Her heartbeat. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved she hadn’t left, or terrified that she’d just willingly walked into this situation.

“BANG!” Harry shouted in Peter’s ear as he leaned back over his shoulder. Peter jumped as his focus was broken, Harry bursting into devious laughter. “Oh, come on, that was funny.” he teased as Peter stared daggers at him. “Right, right, right.” Harry said leaning over. “Decision time… who gets to die next? I’m thinking eenie meenie miney mo.” He waved the gun in his hand back and forth between Hobie, Eddie and Miguel. “Come on, Pete, say it with me. Eenie… meenie… miney-”

Harry doesn’t notice it, but Peter does as a flash bomb gets rolled across the room in their direction. Peter turned his head, bracing himself as it exploded just as Harry was about to say ‘mo’. 

“Ahh FUCK!” Harry exclaimed as there was a large flash followed by some smoke. Harry was further disorientated by the sound of three gunshots and then a second flash bomb. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!?!” Harry shouted as he attempted to protect his eyes as he turned back and forth searching through the smoke for any signs of movement. “TOOMES?”

Peter kept still as he waited to see what his wife would do next. She was silent as she crept quickly through the smoke, passing behind his chair. He felt the rope around his ankles slacken as they were slashed, before she carefully placed a knife into the palm of his hand so he could start working at cutting his wrists free. 

As the smoke began to clear he saw Hobie, Eddie and Miguel no longer stood hanging atop their barrels. Harry looked furious. Peter couldn’t help but let out his own amused chuckle. It got him another punch to the face. “I don’t know what you’re laughing about Parker, this changes nothing.” he spat.

There was the sound of the large doors at the back of the warehouse opening and heavy footfall as Harry’s cavalry arrived. Peter rolled his eyes as he turned his head to lock eyes with Giovanni Bianchi. He let out a large sigh as he turned back to face Harry. “Really, Harry? This is who you choose to align yourself with. That’s got to be an all new low.” Peter tried to goad and distract him as he discreetly tried to cut at the rope tying his wrists together behind him.

“You’d know all about lows now, wouldn’t you Parker.” Harry replied before turning his attention to Giovanni and his men. “Find the others.” Gio gave a nod of his head before he started giving orders to his men, the group dispersing in and around the warehouse looking for Hobie, Miguel and Eddie.

Harry paused to observe Peter for a moment before he let out his next low chuckle. “Oh Angel dearest.” Harry called out into the warehouse. Peter chewed on the inside of his lip as his temper began to boil under his skin knowing Harry had figured out who it was poking holes in his plans.

“Here.” Toomes said as he stepped forward holding Angel by the back of her jacket as he walked her forward out of the shadows. “Should have run when you had the chance, shouldn’t ya sweetheart.”

Harry let out a loud goblin style cackle as Peter watched his wife be paraded forward, her hands up in surrender. “And give you the satisfaction?” she hissed as she was pushed to the floor at Peter’s feet, “I wouldn’t dream of it. Harry.” She greeted him, turning her head to the man stood to her left before her husband. The way she said his name was like spitting poison from her lips.

“If it isn’t her royal highness herself. Should have known you’d be more trouble than you were worth.” 

“Ahhgg!” she sneered as he grabbed her by her hair and pulled her up from the floor to sit up on her knees to face her husband properly. 

“Now, which one of you should I kill first?” Harry hissed as he leaned down close to her face, his lips dragging across her cheek to taunt Peter. 

“You get your hands off her, Osborn!” Peter threatened.

“Or what? What’s the big bad Spider gonna do?” He hacked a glob of spit at Peter’s lap. Peter pursed his lips in disgust. “Now, there’s two of us…” Harry said, thinking on the spot, “and two of you. Now I think traditionally, our pretty little princess here would be the first to go, you know, cause you the most pain and suffering. But my friend here, he’s already told her that she’d hear you scream, so here’s what I’m thinking- what if we torture both of you at the same time and you can both hear each other scream. Now that really sounds like fun. What about you Angel? How does that sound to you? I think it sounds like a great idea, Harry.” He grabbed her chin, forcing her mouth open and closed as he mimicked her voice. “PERFECT!” Harry replied to himself as he stood, spreading his arms out like a showman. 

There was a gunshot. “AHHHH FUCK!” Harry screamed as a bullet hit him in the shoulder.

It was just the signal Peter needed. He pulled his arms apart, the final threads of rope around his wrists splitting open. He let out a deep roar as he pushed through the pain of lifting his arms, the barbed wire ripping his skin to shreds as he swiftly burst free of it.

Angel stuck out her right leg as she turned herself around, taking the Vulture off guard and whipping his legs out from underneath him as she moved. She pulled her small pistol out of the holder at her ankle before she stood, her other hand reaching back into her waistband to hand over the gun she had stashed there to Peter.

There was a flurry of gunfire as Giovanni’s men began firing at them from the catwalk above. “Shit.” Angel exclaimed as Peter fired two shots back, one of the men tipping over the rail and falling to the ground with a resounding thud, before he pulled her into the shadows. The two of them took cover behind a couple of large crates as shots continued to fire throughout the warehouse.

Before she could get a word out his lips were on hers, kissing her desperately. “I thought you’d gone.” he frantically said as he pulled his lips away from her, his hands pawing at her face to make sure she was really there.

“And miss out on all the fun?” Despite the life or death situation they found themselves in, she couldn’t help but smile. He kissed her again. They were quickly interrupted by two shots that landed in the front side of the crates.

“WHERE ARE YOU PARKER! COME OUT AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN!!” Harry shouted.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” Peter asked. She raised her eyebrows at him in shock. “I mean you seem to be doing well so far, baby.” He beamed proudly.

“Okay, well…” she hesitated as she began to reach into her pocket, unsure of how he’d feel about her plan. “I thought you might like these.” She said, holding out his web shooters to him.

He tentatively took them from her. “Really? You sure?”

“Come on Pete, we both know this isn’t you.” she said, indicating to his clothes and the gun in his hand. “This is you.” she said as she reached to fold his fingers around the shooters. “The moment you stop working with one hand behind your back, is the moment you’ll become unstoppable.”

He looked at her then and really looked at her. Her clothes, the way she carried herself so confidently with a gun in her hand. He thought back to not six minutes prior when she had fired three precise shots, freeing Hobie, Eddie and Miguel. He thought back on every single moment since that night they had stayed up talking, planning all of this. She had been the real mastermind all along, not him. This was her business, not his. He was just the figure head and Miguel was right, he was nothing without her.

“COME ONNN!!!!” Harry continued to scream.

“I’ll take Harry, you take Toomes.” He said and she gave him a small nod. She turned her body, ready to make her move, but Peter’s arm flew out to stop her. ‘What?’ her eyes silently asked. “Make him pay for what he did to your Dad.” he said, holding out the gun she had originally given him back to her. She smiled.

“You’ve got it Mr Parker.” she said, taking the gun from him.

“God I love you Mrs Parker.” he beamed back as he pulled her back towards him for one last rushed kiss before they parted.

Wood splintered above her head as she quickly shuffled down the line of crates. She sensed a shadow of a body at the corner of her vision and turned, firing a shot straight into one of the Italians' heads. She picked his much larger gun off of his body, sliding the strap over her shoulder as she continued to move, her hand with her smaller pistol in it quickly placed the gun back into her ankle holster.

With both hands to hold her gun steady, she fired another shot across the room and then another as she continued to skirt her way around the edge. When she had just one shot left, she put the safety back on the gun before placing the gun back into a holder at the back of her waistband and switching to the larger gun.

“Hey, Harry!” she heard Peter shout. There was a faint thwipping sound of his web shooter as a strand of webbing attached itself to the ceiling before Peter swung out of the shadows, legs outstretched as he used the momentum from the web to kick Harry straight in the chest, knocking him backwards across the room.

Angel fired one shot after another as she continued to search for the Vulture. She spotted him up on the catwalk in a fist fight with Miguel. Miguel was getting in a good series of punches but Toomes seemed to have some abnormal power behind him as he landed a particular blow to Miguel’s chest that sent him flying backwards. She needed to get up there quickly.

She turned to assess her husband who was currently hunched over Harry’s body laying punch after punch to his face. “PETE!” she cried as she raced across the floor to him. She let out another blast of bullets into the body of another Italian as she ran before discarding the gun as her husband's eyes met hers. She tilted her head upwards towards Toomes who was now striding across the catwalk to where Miguel lay winded, indicating her need. He ran to her.

“Hold tight.” he said as he wrapped an arm around her, firing a web and launching them upwards. He dropped her with a small swing onto the catwalk directly between Adrian and Miguel. She wobbled slightly as she found her balance, giving a nod of thanks to her husband before he went back down to continue dealing with Harry.

Toomes looked her up and down and she shot a glance back to Miguel to check on him. He gave her a small nod and a look that said ‘give him hell’. She reached under her suit jacket for the knife she had previously stashed there, a devilish look spreading across her face as she turned to stare her Father’s killer down. He just sniggered at her.

“Come on, sweetheart, give it your best shot.” he jeered.

She caught him off guard when she threw the knife at him, it lodging just under his collarbone. He sneered, his hand flying to the handle to try and jimmy it free. Angel ran at him, sliding between his open legs before she turned and kicked at his back. His hands flew out to steady himself on the railing of the catwalk before he went flying over the top of it.

He turned back around just in time as she threw a punch at his face, which he narrowly dodged. His movement was just the cover she needed to rip the knife back out of his chest. “Ahhhhggg!!” he screamed as the blade scraped against the bone as it was removed. “You little bitch.” He spat at her as a surge of adrenaline took over him, his hands outstretched as he lunged at her.

She ducked, crouching down at his feet as he passed her. She slashed at the back of one of his calves as his hands grasped for purchase on the railing once more. She stood, taking a moment to let them both catch their breath before his next attempt to lunge at her.

“With all your games, I think you might have forgotten who I am.” she bristled as she widened her stance, egging him on to try to advance on her again. When he ran at her again she was ready. She grabbed his right hand with one hand, plunging the knife in her other hand into the inside of his arm. She used his momentum against him as she ducked under the arm, twisting him as she moved, her knife slicing all the way down his arm, blood splaying across the metal flooring of the catwalk. “I am the daughter of Wilson Fisk.” she said as she pulled the knife free before kicking him backwards. “And the wife of Peter Parker.” She said, stalking over to where he now lay. “And this is my city.” she said as she placed a foot to his chest, keeping him pinned down. She made a show of dropping her knife, it clattering to the catwalk beside her as she reached behind her to pull out her gun with her final shot in it, holding it over his head before she fired, his head ricocheting off the catwalk floor with the force.

She watched as the blood pulled out beneath his body, a weight lifting from her chest, a proud invisible hand on her shoulder. There was another shot in front of her and she looked up to watch as Miguel disposed of his latest kill over the side of the catwalk railing. He took one look between Toomes’ body and hers before he held out a hand to her. She gratefully took it, his other hand coming out to help steady her too, as he helped her step over the Vulture's body.

There were a couple of final echoing shots that bounced off the walls of the warehouse as they made their way back down to the lower level where Peter was still throwing Harry around like a ragdoll. With her adrenaline slowly wearing off, her ribs began to gripe and she leaned against Miguel as Eddie and Hobie joined them, Eddie limping, Hobie holding his shoulder tightly, blood dripping between his fingers.

The four of them watched as Peter placed punch after punch to Harry’s face. When she realised that Harry was out for the count and Peter still wasn’t letting up she finally called out, “Peter! PETE!” It wasn’t her voice but the wince of pain she breathed with that had his fist freezing in mid air. His head slowly turned to her, worried she’d been hurt. When he saw her stood, arm braced tenderly around her ribs he settled.

Angel watched as his eyes went from black, back to their regular molten amber hue as he looked at her. Calming, he slowly turned back to Harry. He was still alive, barely, but his face was unrecognisable. Peter looked from Harry then back to his wife, searching for answers about The Vulture. She turned her head, indicating to the spot on the catwalk where Toomes’ body lay, blood dripping through the grate onto the ground below. She watched as he breathed another sigh of relief before he turned back to look at Harry once more as he reluctantly took a couple of stumbling steps back. It became clear Harry had given almost as good as he had gotten, Peter rubbing at his own ribs, as he began to walk towards Hobie.

“What do you wanna do with him?” Hobie asked as the two men huddled together looking between each other and the body.

Peter took a short moment to think before he turned and shot a web that covered Harry’s entire body. “Stick him on ice.” Peter grunted before he started to walk towards the large doors at the back.

Angel turned to thank Miguel, a gentle hand placed on his bicep as she began to slowly walk after her husband.

She caught up to him outside. He was raiding one of the bodies of the Italians. She wasn’t sure what for until she saw him pull a packet of cigarettes and a matchbook from the guy's pocket. She smiled fondly as she watched him place it to his lips, his body turning to look out at the New York City skyline as he lit it. She breathed with him as he took in a large drag, allowing the nicotine to calm him as it filled his lungs and shot to his brain. He closed his eyes, drinking in the moment as he dropped the match to the floor, his heel absentmindedly stamping it out.

She steadily slipped her hand into his free one, her fingers lacing with his. “You ready to go home?” she asked when he turned his head to look down at her. He smiled, a small chuckle bursting from his lips. 

“Yeah.” He beamed as he dropped her hand, his arm wrapping around her shoulders instead. Holding her closer to him, he placed a content kiss to the top of her head, before they slowly began to walk towards the car.

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

Just a reminder that this is the last week of Angel. There are two more chapters to come out. Our final piece of smut for the series will be out Friday and our Epilogue to round all this out will be posted on Sunday. If you have enjoyed this story don’t forget to tip me like you would your waiter by reblogging and leaving feedback and letting me know what you think as well as keeping it alive by sharing it with others!

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

Whew, that was steamy in more ways than one!

I really liked the way you took the time to describe the scene where Peter washes Angel's hair in the shower. The washing away of more than just the dirt and blood from the warehouse but the symbolic representation. Well done.

The Epilogue is going to be killer.

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Nineteen: Wash It Away*

Summary: It's time to wash off the past, as well as all that blood from that final battle.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Smut, genre typical content, mentions of blood and previous injuries, kissing, P in V, shower sex,

Word Count: 2.4k+

A/N: We couldn't leave our favourite couple before they kiss and make up and get it on again. I also realise there is a small theme of Angel always having an emotional breakdown before sex, I promise they aren't always like that haha. This series has been such an experience to write. Honestly at times it's like they wrote themselves, but we'll get into that more on our Epilogue Authour's Note. Anyway, here's some steamy shower sex.

NINETEEN

Peter didn’t say anything the whole car ride home, he didn’t even turn his head in her direction. His only acknowledgement of her presence in the car was the steady hand he held to her thigh, his thumb stroking small soothing and gentle motions back and forth. Her gaze kept tracking from his blood stained cheek to the ever changing landscape outside, trees coming into view and growing denser the further they got away from the city. He was taking them back to the house. He was taking them home.

He was slightly tense as he turned onto the drive. He didn’t follow it all the way down to the garage, instead parking right outside the front door. She waited in the car as he got out and walked the length of the car round to her side. He opened the door, holding his blood stained hand out for her to take. She wrapped her own bloody fingers around his before stepping out of the car. 

He paused, looking at her for a moment, drinking her in. He slowly dropped her hand, his hands raising to either side of her face, his fingertips finding a home in her hair as he held her head in place, his eyes searching, rediscovering. She lifted a hand up to brush across his blood covered shirt, her fingers wrapping tightly over his bicep, encouraging him to close the gap between them. His hips pushed her back against the side of the car as his fingers gripped tighter into her hair, pulling her towards him. His kiss was soft but firm. Silent, but deadly. It somehow said everything he needed to say, wanted to say but couldn’t. ‘I’m sorry. I love you.’

Her other arm wrapped around him, holding him close as the arm that was clinging to his bicep slowly climbed upwards towards his neck, fingers tangling into the hair as she deepened the kiss with her own apology.

His hands moved down the sides of her body, wrapping around her ass before he lifted her up into his arms, her arms folding over the backs of his shoulders. Holding her tight in his arms as he continued to place kiss after kiss onto her lips, he carried her towards the door to their house. Her breathing hitched, their lips parting momentarily as he pushed her forcefully against the door, holding her in place with just his hips and one arm as he rooted in his pocket for the key. He continued to attack her mouth, the metallic taste of dried blood entering his mouth from the flecks smeared across their faces as their kisses grew wider and more frantic. She felt the door give way behind her back as it opened, making her grip around his neck grow a little tighter, but she knew he wouldn’t drop her.

They continued to kiss, their hands pawing at each other as he moved them through the house, carrying her up the stairs to the bathroom. He subconsciously pushed the door closed with one hand before turning them so he could turn on the shower, before he finally placed her feet back onto the floor. His hands pushed her hair back as he held her face in both hands again, reassuring himself that she was real and here and his once more. Her fingers moved frantically to unbutton his shirt. The moment the last button was undone, she was ripping the shirt open and off of his arms. It got stuck at his elbows and he reluctantly let go of her so that he could pull his arms out the rest of the way, before throwing the shirt to the ground.

Steam filled the room as they took a step back from each other to get rid of the rest of their clothes, deciding the process would be much quicker. Once stripped they paused to take in each other’s naked forms, her eyes raking down her husband's toned stomach, his eyes fixated on her still bandaged ribs. He was gentle as his fingers reached out to her. She closed her eyes, letting out a long exhale of relief as he began to unwrap her chest, her lungs being able to work fully now they weren’t being held back. She let the steam cleanse them as Peter tipped his head down to lay kisses across the tops of her shoulders.

“Tell me if I am being too rough.” he whispered into her skin as he dropped the bandages, his free hand moving to wrap around the side of her neck and tilt her head up towards him so he could kiss her once more. It was slow and deep, his tongue teasing at her own as he lifted her into the shower. She breathed out another sigh of relief into his mouth as the warm water began to trickle down her back. He slowly let her feet fall to the shower floor as he continued to back her further under the stream of the shower and into the corner so that he could fit too. It didn’t take long for the water to turn red as it began to wash away the horrors of not just the evening but the last three years.

“Peter-” she whispered against his lips, seemingly pained. Seeing that his hands were in her hair and not on her body, he knew it wasn’t a physical pain but an emotional one; and as he opened his eyes and saw the fear and the sorrow that tainted her own, his own chest cleaved in two.

“It’s okay.” his soft voice tried to reassure her. “It’s okay.” he repeated as he folded her against his body, arms wrapping protectively around her skin.

They stood like that for a moment in silence. The only sound, the water and her deep breaths between silent tears, her fingers grasping onto him tightly.

He slowly separated them when he felt her still, a calm washing over her as her tears subsided. He turned and reached for the shampoo bottle that had been sat patiently waiting to be used again for the first time in weeks, squeezing the liquid into his palm before he started to lather it into her hair. His fingers scratched relaxingly against her scalp before he encouraged her head back into the stream of water, rinsing it of any left over blood. He had her turn, her chest being kept warm by the water as he did the same again, this time with conditioner, his fingers raking through her tresses, cleansing it and her of all trouble and worry. He stepped forward to kiss at her bare shoulders as he reached past her for a loofah. She kept her eyes closed, listening to the sounds as he opened the bottle of shower gel, squirting it onto the sponge and lathering it up in his hands. She sighed, leaning into his touch, as he gently began to wipe away at any left over blood and grime, her toes wiggling between the bubbles pooling at her feet. She always felt so beautiful under his touch.

Noticing the smile on her face, he reached a hand to the back of her head, turning her head back towards him so he could place a kiss against her lips. 

As their kiss deepened once more, she turned her whole body towards him, the suds sliding from her body as she turned. One of her hands started to slide up his bicep as the other moved down to take the sponge from him. She slowly encouraged him closer to the water as she stepped out of the stream of water and steam. He fully stepped under it, his hands moving up to run across his face and back through his hair, allowing it to rinse away all the blood and dirt from his own skin. When he tilted his head back down and opened his eyes to look at her again, her clean form all sweet for him, his devoted and loving wife, his gaze grew dark.

He reached back out for her, pulling her back under the water with him before turning and pushing her back against the wall. His lips attacked her’s hungrily and she giggled against his mouth for the briefest of moments before her own needs took over. She could feel him growing hard against her stomach as he leant his body against hers. Her breathing grew frantic as she reached to run her fingers up into his hair, pulling hard against his wet tresses. He growled deeply against her neck as his lips began to trail across her jaw and down her neck, his head burying in her chest as his arms reached down to lift her again.

His hips pushed her further into the tiles as he notched himself at her entrance as she panted his name. She gasped as he slipped himself inside, his head shifting so he could stare into her lovestruck eyes, mouth hung open as he teased at that special spot inside her as he filled her out.

“So pretty for me, baby.” he breathed before attaching his mouth back to hers again. He shifted her slightly in order to thrust inside her easier, a small sound of pain escaping from her lips from the way her ribs dragged against the hard tiles. “I’m sorry.” he whispered into her skin but she shook her head.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Her breathing hitched as he began to slowly drag his length out, then back in again. She gripped a hold of him tightly, slippery fingers desperately clawing at his wet skin. His pace was sinful, so slow, so long, so deep. This wasn’t a normal shower quickie, he was making love to her right against the tiles. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” he praised as she tilted her head back, her moans echoing around the bathroom, mingling with the steam.

“Peter.” she breathed his name like it gave her life. “Peter… Peter.” It was his favourite way to hear his name.

“God, I love you.” he spoke into her skin. “My perfect Angel, my slice of heaven. Always so good for me.” His thrust grew harder as he lost himself, Angel biting at her lip as she braced herself, one hand around Peter, the other steadying herself against the wall. 

Her legs shook slightly as he dropped her back down onto the shower floor, slipping out of her as he turned her around. He reached down, lifting her leg and bending her forward slightly, his other arm holding her up as he slipped back into her from behind.

His pants and grunts into her ear were sinful as he began to thrust into her faster with the new angle. She let her head fall back against his chest as her mouth hung open in pleasure. With each thrust he hit that devastating spot inside her. “My perfect wife.” he continued to coo. “Cum for me baby. Need to feel that perfect pussy squeeze me.”

His words elicited a guttural sigh to escape her chest, the arm he was using to hold her up around her chest moving to wrap around her throat. She chased his lips as he leaned over her, his tongue smashing into her mouth to taste every breath, every moan. 

She could feel her muscles pulling tight low in her belly as she ground back into him, attempting to meet his every thrust. Their lips parted and her forehead pressed into his as she panted “I love you.” her eyes boring into his before her breaths stuttered.

She practically screamed into his mouth when her climax dropped. “That’s my girl.” he coached her as he slowed his thrusts and fucked her through it.

“Now, you.” she panted as her heaving chest began to settle but he just lowered her  leg and slipped out of her.

“Not, yet.” He said before he placed another deep kiss to her lips.

He picked up the loofah, lathering it up again from where it had been lying on the shower floor before wiping her off one more time. He encouraged her back under the flowing water to wash off the bubbles and rinse the conditioner from her hair, before he was ushering her out the shower so he could wash himself properly.

“Go dry, yourself off.” he said as she wrapped herself up in a towel. “I’ll be in in a minute.” he encouraged, instructing her to wait in their bedroom as he stepped back under the running water.

She slipped quietly out of the bathroom, padding across the hall to the master bedroom. She wished she could call it their master bedroom, but until they moved their stuff back over from the penthouse, she could only think of this as his bachelor bedroom.

She took a moment to take it all in; all hardwood furniture and navy bed covers. The art was all photos of the city. She suspected all of them were photos he’d taken back in the day when he wouldn’t go anywhere without his camera. She hoped he’d take up the hobby again after all this.

She couldn’t help but think back to his old bedroom at May’s. This couldn’t have been more different. No homely touches, everything chosen to fit an aesthetic; the dark brooding gangster whose wife had left him. She froze as she felt his presence in the doorway, turning to see him standing with a towel wrapped around his hips, his hand still rubbing at his wet hair with a smaller towel. 

He took one look at her face. “You hate it, don’t you?” he said as he stepped closer to her.

She tried to school her features as she slowly began to nod but she couldn’t hide her smile from him. “Yeah.” she agreed as he began to smile with her. “I will say,” she said, wrapping her arms around him, now he was close enough to do so, “I do like the photos.”

“Yeah?” he asked as he beamed down at her, his own arms wrapping protectively around her, his head following her bobbing one as she nodded again. “So they can stay?” he asked with a breathy snigger.

“I think we can find a place for them somewhere.” her voice teased.

“Oh, really!” he teased back with a smile as he swung her round sideways, tipping her off balance with a giggling shriek, before righting her again. “And what about you?” he continues to jest.

“Ahhh, Peter!”

“Can we find a place for you.” he continues, beginning to lift her.

“PETER!” she laughed.

“I think I’ve got the perfect place.” he said, walking her back towards the bed.

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The final curtain drops on our favourite couple this Sunday. Don't forget to come back for the Epilogue. Also if you have enjoyed 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, it also helps keep the story alive by sharing it with new people!

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

Sweet ending for a great story that I've enjoyed from start to finish! Will have to contemplate a little before spamming the inbox with a long list of questions, but it's been quite a journey for Peter and Angel. Thank you for sharing their world with us readers.

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Epilogue: Not Another Envelope

Summary: We say goodbye to our favourite couple in a similar manner we said hello to them, with an envelope on the dining room table, a secret hidden inside.

Warnings: 18+ Only, genre typical content, references to the demise of characters in previous chapter, fluff, a surprise, implied smut, daddy/mommy kink (if that doesn't give away the surprise I don't know what will)

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: The final authors note *begins weeping*. This is it, the end. I have had the most wonderful time writing this series and sharing it with you all. A big thanks to @sincericida and @tarzinnia for your continued support and reblogging and leaving your thoughts all over this series, they honestly kept me going and helped so much. Another big thanks to @liz-allyn if it wasn't for your Sugar + Vice series inspiring me, Angel would never have happened. I hope this Epilogue ties up this series in a nice bow for everyone and we can all go away with a fuzzy feeling in our tummies with hope for the future. I will be having a Q & A session to wrap up any final questions and talk further about all our favourite bits in the series, so be sure to fill up my inbox with your Q's and best bits. And before anyone asks as we haven't come back to him in a bit, Miles is doing good. His leg healed and Angel moved him to work more on F.E.A.S.T operations full time. He is very happy and healthy. Anyway, let's say goodbye shall we.

EPILOGUE

She hadn’t felt this nervous since she had first walked back into this house 10 months ago. Her stomach turned as she tried to breathe deeply and keep calm. ‘I can do this,’ she thought to herself, as she crouched down to check the food in the oven for the 5th time in the last 10 minutes.

“Come on Pete, where are you?” she muttered as she tapped her foot absentmindedly on the harlequin tiled kitchen floor.

After everything had happened there had been quite a few changes. They had left Hobie in charge of cleaning up as they went on a well needed second honeymoon. Peter had hired a yacht for them to sail around the coast of Italy for two weeks; of course stopping off in the little town she had lived in for the near three years they were separated, so that Angel could introduce her husband to Maria and her magic meatballs.

When they came back Peter signed the entire business over to Angel. There was a small amount of teething room, Peter playing mediator between allies as he announced the change in management; but given her family history, most of them were satisfied with the change.

With Angel now in charge of the business, Peter started going back out in the suit. He’d occasionally help out with paperwork or running certain errands, especially when it came to the Huntsman and F.E.A.S.T, but mostly spent his days patrolling the city and helping keep it crime free (well apart from his wife’s business that was).

They had sold her Father’s old house and everything inside it for a hefty amount, which they donated to the city to help with the clean up after the explosion down in Chinatown. They also gave payouts to the local businesses that had been affected as both a thank you for helping during the blast; but also apologise for the inconvenience of it all. The new centre had been reopened two months ago, with a special ribbon cutting from the city’s one and only Spider-Man, and had been thriving again ever since.

Peter had been worried about donning the suit again. Worried what everyone would think after all this time. But if the gang fighting had provided one thing, it was the city’s need for a hero. A need to hope once more. And nothing said hope apparently like a guy in red and blue spandex swinging through the city- much to George Stacy’s dismay.

They had started going to couples counselling once a week so they could talk through all their lingering issues. The Felicia thing. Their issues with her Dad. The forced three year separation. There was still a long way to go, but talking about it with a mediator helped.

Harry’s body was found in a freezer inside a storage container that was offloaded in Belfast Ireland three months after the night at the warehouse. Toomes’ body, which had been dumped in the river, was never found.

She checked the oven again as she chewed on her lip. She wasn’t even sure she was gonna be able to stomach this, despite having spent the last hour and a half cooking it. There came a thud from upstairs. He was home. She closed her eyes, taking one last deep breath in, before she began to take the chicken out of the oven.

“Mmmm, smells good Mrs Parker.” his voice rang out as he ran downstairs. 

“You better not have just left your suit dumped on the floor up there.” she chastised as she began plating up the food.

“Of course not.” he said with a sheepish grin as he came and wrapped his arms around her from behind, placing a kiss on her cheek. She knew him too well.

“Can you put the cutlery on the table?” she asked as she turned her head to give him a kiss on the lips, her stomach doing butterflies, she thought she might vomit.

“Yeah of course, no problem.” he said, patting her hip before he moved to slide open the cutlery drawer, humming to himself as he went.

She braced herself against the edge of the counter as she heard him make his way over to the table. There was the sound of metal hitting the wooden table as he began to place the cutlery down, still humming away, until he wasn’t. There was a pause before he spoke.

“Baby, what’s this?” he said, lifting an envelope off of the table. Peter grew nervous, the moment feeling all too familiar.

“Sit down.” she said, as she finally turned to face him, the food now sitting forgotten on the counter.

Peter didn’t move. “Baby, what is this?” he pressed her. He saw the frozen look of terror on her face and his stomach lurched as he raced to open it, fearing the worst. He pulled out the paperwork inside, scanning over it confused. “Angel, what is-”

“I’m pregnant.”

Peter stared at her. The longer the statement hung in the air, the more confident she grew as she slowly stepped across the room towards him. “You’re?” Peter couldn’t even say the word. He tried but it didn’t feel real on his tongue. She just nodded as she reached a hand out to his hip, the other pointing at a particular box on the page that said ‘positive’.

“I’ve known for a few weeks now.” she tried to explain. “I didn’t want to say anything until I’d had it confirmed by the doctor. I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

“That really bad food poisoning you had. I thought it was from the Thai food we had, but I ate the same thing and I was fine and-” he rambled as he tried to put all the signs together he knew he should have gotten.

“Pete?” She said his name tentatively.

“And then last Sunday when you fell asleep on May’s sofa in the middle of the afternoon. I thought you were just tired from work-”

“Peter.”

“Oh and when we went out for breakfast the other week, you had mushrooms on your breakfast. You hate mushrooms-”

“Peter!”

“What?”

“Does this mean you’re okay with it?” she asked sceptically.

“Okay with it? Okay with it. Why wouldn’t I be okay with it!” He beamed as he suddenly wrapped her in his arms. “We’re having a baby!” He said excitedly. “I’m gonna be a Daddy- oh!” he said as a realisation hit him. “This means I get to start calling you Mommy.”

“No. Nope!” she squealed and giggled as he held her tightly, turning his head to gently gnaw at her skin like he was trying to eat her.

“Fine, fine.” he said as she finally broke free of his arms. “But I know you’ve been itching to call me Daddy for years.”

“Noooo.” she giggled, but she knew he had her pegged.

“Yeeesss.” he dragged out the word with an exaggerated smile.

“I’m not gonna say it.” she giggled as he began to chase her round the lower section of the house.

“Oh yes, you are.” he joked, stalking her as she moved around the kitchen island.

“Pete, the dinner.” she tried to reason.

“I don’t care. Not until you say it.”

“Noo!” she squealed as she made a run for it, narrowly slipping past him and running into the living room.

“Oh you’re gonna say it.”

“No.”

“Say it!” he called out as he lunged for her, wrapping his arms around her and wrestling her gently to the floor, pinning her with his body. She laughed. “Say it.” he said again as he looked down at her.

“Fine.” she huffed in defeat. “Can we go eat dinner now Daddy?” she cooed in her most sultry voice.

He moved his head from side to side as if he were thinking about it, before saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Mommy, my dinner’s right here.” He gave her a devilish smile before shimmying his body down so his face was the same height as her crotch.

“Noo! Peter!” she squealed in delight, pretending to push him away as his fingers reached for the waistband of her trousers, her giggles ringing out throughout the house.

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Thank you so much for reading The Angel In The Garden of Evil. If you have enjoyed 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! By reblogging you also help to keep this story alive for just a little bit longer allowing new people to keep finding it for days, months, weeks and years to come. Whenever this story find you, I hope it brings you joy.

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