OMG... Noooooooo! Don’t do this to me! I definitely have more than 20 favorite fanfics, and maybe 10 writers that I love very much and I look forward to every update of them!
God, it’s very hard to choose! I have several fanfics that I love and that I always re-read because they are excellent. But since you are forcing me to choose, let’s go:
The Spider And The Sunflower, by @spidervee
The Sugar & Vice series, by @liz-allyn
Dancing on my Own, by @blooming-violets
The Angle in the Garden of Evil series, by @backtothefanfiction
Another Love series, by @abibliophobiaa
About my favorite Tumblr writers, I have some that I love and read all the time, and they are just some of the best on this site. But if I can only name three, they are @liz-allyn , @blooming-violets and @withahappyrefrain (with their mafia!Peter that are simply the best 🫦)
Thank you for the question. And once again thank you to the Tumblr writers - including those I did not mention in this post, I love you, I love the work of all of you.
The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Twelve: The Good Nurse
Summary: Peter's having nightmares and Angel just wants to be in her own bed.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY!, Mentions of injuries, medical equipment, nightmares, the Gwen thing, angst, fluff, genre typical tropes and topics.
Word Count: 4.3k
A/N: Some might say that these two's relationship is just like a freaking yoyo. Also the women in the Daredevil universe keep sneaking into this story, hmmmm. I'm also trying to be reasonable with this recovery time so we got a lot of talking and bonding with different characters going on too.
TWELVE
Sirens blared, red and blue lights flashing as one cop car after another raced down the street. Peter stilled on the corner of the street as he watched them pass, that feeling in the back of his neck putting him on alert. He quickly turned down the closest alley, shedding his clothes and donning his suit as he began to climb up to the roof.
His feet pounded on the hard concrete rooftops as he jumped from one roof to the next before leaping diagonally off the last, free falling towards the ground. Thwip. He fired a web, the other end sticking to one of the nearby buildings and he swung himself forward. He carried on like that, chasing the sirens and flashing lights as they continued to move towards a large electrical surge at Oscorp tower.
As his feet finally hit the ground and he looked around he found he wasn’t at Oscorp. He was suddenly on the roof of a building in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen. He looked along the rooftop to find The Vulture, kitted out in some sort of flight gear and Angel.
“Oh no Pete, looks like I’ve got your girl.” The Vulture taunted.
Peter crouched into his fighting stance but the Vulture just laughed. But it wasn’t his laugh, it was much more chilling and familiar. The Goblin. Peter looked around frantically and when he turned back to Angel and the Vulture, neither of them were there. Instead he was at a clock tower. He looked above him to see The Goblin in a green suit and on a glider, in his grasp, flailing around in mid air. “GWEN!” he heard his voice shout. “GWEN!” But suddenly the image changed again. It wasn’t Gwen and it wasn’t the Goblin, it was Angel and the Vulture.
There was a scream as the Vulture let her go. “PEETTEEERRR!” she screamed.
He jumped off the building as her body passed him, his arms lying flat to his sides as he dove, his body piercing the air as it tried to catch up with her but no matter how fast he fell, she seemed to stay just out of his reach, her hands reaching for him. “I’m coming baby, I’m coming.” he said.
He reached out his arm, his fingers moving to release a web but nothing happened. He kept clicking the mechanism, but nothing happened. He could see the ground coming up fast behind her, he had to do something. ‘Come on!’ he groaned. He had one hand reaching out to her, his fingers inches away from hers, as he continued to tap his web shooter on his wrist with the other. Thwip! Smack! His body jolted to a stop just before he hit the ground but he was too late. He had just begun to process what had happened, red blood pooling out onto the side walk when-
Peter awoke with a start, his body jolting itself awake in the wooden high back armchair he had placed by the side of her bed. The steady sounds of beeping in the room quickly eased him, along with the steady sounds of her breathing beside him. He rubbed the sleep from his face as he shifted in the chair. He was still dressed in his shirt and trousers he’d worn all day for work and his skin felt pinched where some of the clothes had ridden up in his sleep. He let out a small moan and a sigh as he pulled his trouser legs back down slightly, sitting forward on the chair, his hand reaching out for hers.
She had been fast asleep when he had come back earlier. His moment with Hobie ended up being a bit longer than expected. Eddie had informed him of Angel and Felicia’s little spat while he’d been gone. He hoped Felicia would just walk it off and be back to work as normal in the morning like nothing had happened, but he wasn’t quite sure anymore. He wasn’t sure about anything. He hadn’t felt this unhinged since, well, Gwen; his dream only acting as a reminder for how everything could go so wrong.
They had been lucky, again, but it was only a matter of time before that luck ran out. It was clear that Adrian Toombes meant business, everything he had been through with Fisk mere child's play compared to the stakes the Vulture was willing to go to. The man wasn’t from the city. He had no respect for the people.
Peter had gone round and round in circles trying to talk to George Stacy and explain things.
“Come on Chief, you know this isn’t my game. Everything I’ve ever done in this city was to help it, not hurt it.”
“I don’t care Parker, you’ve brought a gang war to my streets, whatever happens now I can’t protect you. And if they can tie the bombing back to you they will and there’s nothing I can do to stop them from arresting you.”
“And what about you sir? Are you gonna arrest me? You know that without those hubs, crime goes up. You wanted me to hang up the suit and let the police do their jobs, I did that. You wanted me to find another way to help. I did that. I don’t want this fight here anymore than you do.”
“I’m sorry Peter, there’s nothing I can do.”
Peter lowered his forehead onto her hand, his eyes closing. He needed to think. He needed to work this out. He needed to keep her safe. No matter the cost he had to keep her safe. He kissed her hand before he got up and left the room.
He moved down the hall to his office that he had set up so he could be closer to her. He switched on a small table top lamp on his desk before he started rooting around in the boxes he’d had moved over. He then grabbed a roll of tape off of his desk and moved over to the far wall of the office. He wiggled the framed print that had been put up on the wall off of its hook, his fingers still wrapped tightly around the roll of tape and bits of paper. Once the wall was completely blank he started taping the bits of paper to it before rummaging around in the boxes once more for more pieces of paper. Scraps of newspaper articles, photos, hastily written notes, maps, all being added to the wall. When he ran out of things from the boxes he sat himself at his desk, opening up his laptop, searching and printing more things off until the entire wall was covered.
----
Angel woke up alone. She figured someone had to be at home but she had no idea who. She felt disgusting. She wanted to get up and just wash off all the sweat and grime from her body and give her teeth a good brush, but she couldn’t very well do that while she was plugged into these bloody machines, who’s beeping was starting to do her head in.
“PEETTE!” she called out. “PETERR!” There was a delay before Eddie came into the room. “Where’s Peter?” she asked.
“He had to go out again?”
“What time did he come back last night?” she pondered. She had tried to wait up for him but the drugs had made her so drowsy.
“He got back just before midnight I think? I mean I went home at like, quarter past so yeah, I’d say just before midnight.” Eddie rambled.
“When is he gonna be back?”
“Not sure? Why is there something you need?
“Yeah, I want to be free of all this.” she said, raising her hand and showing off the cannula and tube attached to it, motioning to all the other bits and bobs she was attached to. “And I want to have a shower.”
“Okay, okay.” Eddie said, sensing her distress. “I’ll call Pete, get him to get someone out to check you over and see what they say. In the meantime, can I get you any breakfast?”
She thought for a moment before she said, “UUUhh I could murder one of those bagels from-”
“That shop on the boulevard?” Eddie finished for her, more than familiar with the place himself.
“Yesss.” she beamed.
“Cream cheese?”
‘Yup.”
“Coming right up.” he said as he left the room.
“Morning?” Miles said as he hobbled in on his crutches.
“Heyy.” She greeted him with a smile.
Miles used his crutches to hop across the floor and grab the TV remote from where it had been left the night before. He hit the power button, letting it load, before he swung himself over to the chair at the side of her bed.
“How you doing?” she asked.
“Not bad. Docs got me on these painkillers.” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small tube of pills, tossing it on the bed in her direction. “Pretty good stuff.” he joked.
“How’s your leg?” she continued to ask as she looked over the label of the bottle before handing it back to him.
“Ehhh, I’ve had worse.” Angel raised her eyebrows at him, pressing him to continue. “Okay, maybe I haven't,” he said, doubling back on himself and making her smile. “What about you?”
“Sore.” she said, her hand moving to ghost across her ribs.
“I bet… Hey, at least you didn’t have internal bleeding.” he joked.
“What?” she frowned.
He chuckled. “The paramedic rushed you out of there because she thought you might have internal bleeding. Hit the side of that car pretty hard. Not seen a dent like that since my cousin pinched my Uncle's car and jumped a red light.”
“Well that would explain why my body feels like it’s been hit by a truck.” she joked back. They both let out a small chuckle before she coughed and winced in pain.
“Heard you wanna be off that stuff. You sure it’s a good idea?” Miles asked.
“If I have to stay chained to this bed for one more day I’m gonna end up committing murder.” She jested. “Hey, maybe they’ll put me on some of those painkillers you’ve got, I mean, it seems like they’re doing a good job.”
“Nah, I’m just built like a house, man.” Miles continued to joke.
Miles flicked through the channels until they found a movie they both wanted to watch, settling down and watching Jumanji. Eddie returned about 30 minutes into the movie, dragging his own chair into the room and they all sat there watching the movie as they ate their bagels.
When the movie was done, Eddie left the room as Miles and Angel went back and forth about what to watch next.
“The Princess Bride.” Miles threw out. “I am Inigo Montoya, you killed my Father, prepare to die.” he said as he impersonated the famous line.
“Ehhh. What about Shrek?” Angel asked as they shuffled through the movies on Netflix.
“I watched it while you were out for the count the other day.” Miles interjected. “OOOH what about Hook?”
“Nahh, I’ve already watched one Robin Williams film today, I can’t do another, it’ll just make me dwell on the fact that he’s dead and it’ll depress me again.”
“Big Robin Williams fan then.” Miles observed as he continued to flick through the movies.
“My Mom was.” Angel replied.
“What was her favourite?” Miles asked.
“Mrs Doubtfire.” Angel smiled as a memory of her and her parents sitting down to watch the movie on a Saturday night when she was little, crossed her mind.
“Oh I love that film.” Miles said before breaking into yet another bad impression. “HELP IS ON THE WAY DEAR!” he called out before chuckling to himself.
“Oh what about this.” Angel said eagerly as Miles stopped on The School of Rock. “Uhh I loved this film growing up. It’s what made me learn how to play the bass guitar.”
“You know how to play the bass.”
“Knew. I knew how to play the bass. I haven’t played since I was maybe 14 when the reality of my Dad’s job finally hit home and I realised I was never gonna be in an actual band.”
“Why’s that?”
“When your Dad’s Wilson Fisk, you don’t tend to have many friends.” Angel said a little disheartened by her childhood memories.
“That sucks.”
“Yup.” she quietly agreed.
“You know I’ve never actually watched it.” Miles said as he started to load the film.
“You what!?” Angel’s head whipped around to him in shock.
“Yeah, it was a little after my time.”
“A little after your time!” Angel’s eyebrows raised. “Are you calling me old? I thought you said you weren’t a kid.” she continued to jest and poke at him.
“Oh shut up, you know what I mean.” he grumbled.
----
Angel fell asleep around half way through the movie. One second she was watching the kids pretending to be sick with ‘stickittothemanosis’, the next she was waking up 2 hours later. She was alone again, Miles no doubt having hobbled out on his crutches to leave her to sleep as soon as the film ended. ‘Uuuuhhgg.’ she groaned stiffly, as she tried to prop herself back up against the pillows again. She really hated how all these drugs were starting to make her feel.
She was about to call out for Eddie to chase him up about the doctors when her phone buzzed.
She frowned as her head turned to the bedside table where it sat. The only person who had ever really messaged her on it was her Dad and he was dead. ‘Maybe Peter had noticed it last night and put his number in it and it was him’ she thought. When she pulled it over and opened it up, it wasn’t Peter. She didn’t know who it was. It was an unknown number. There was a message, sent 6 minutes ago.
‘And there was me thinking Felicia Day was the Black Cat, but you seem to have 9 lives all of your own.’
The message wasn’t signed off.
‘Who is this? How did you get this number?’ she typed back.
Nothing. The message said it had been seen, but nothing. There was no response. ‘What the fuck?’ she frowned as she analysed the series of numbers attached to the message, trying to work out if they were familiar or not. They weren’t.
“Hey, Baby.” Peter said as he strode into the room. “What’s wrong?” he observed, his face suddenly becoming paranoid and serious as he observed her look of confusion towards her phone.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” she said shrugging off the message and closing her phone, placing it back on the bedside table.
“Okaaayyy.” Peter said slowly. “So I hear you’re not being a very good patient.” Peter pivoted the conversation.
“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.” she said back.
“Oh really. Picking fights with Felicia, making demands left right and centre.”
“All I want is a shower Pete.” she tried to reason with a sickly sweet demeanour. “Look at me, I look disgusting. I feel disgusting. And I know you can smell me from over there Spider boy so don’t try and spin me some web about me smelling like roses because it aint happening. Get me off this shit, I want to have a shower.” she said as she gestured towards the machines and tubes around her. “Oh and by the way, I can get up and pee for myself just fine thank you without this fucking thing.” she said as she pointed out the catheter, the thing that irritated her the most.
“Okay, okay, sassy pants.” she frowned at the old nickname she hadn’t heard since she was probably 23. “Docs on his way up okay.”
“Thank you.” she sighed in relief at the news.
“Don’t know how well it’s gonna go though-”
“Pete, I swear to whichever God so happens to be listening right now, if you are about to make a comment and rub it in my face about your regenerative spider abilities-”
“-I’m not, I’m not.” he said, his hands being thrown up in front of him defensively. “I’m just saying no matter how much you don’t like it, you still have broken ribs and a-”
“-fractured wrist, I know!” she said back. “But unlike Miles, there is absolutely nothing wrong with my legs.” she began to snarl as her irritation began to rise again.
“Okay, okay!” Peter said again, his voice getting higher in pitch the more agitated she became.
They were gratefully interrupted by the Doctor who came in, a nurse in blue scrubs hot on his tail as he came into the room.
“Ahhh Miss Fisk,”
“Parker.” Both Angel and Peter corrected together.
“Sorry, Mrs Parker,” the older gentleman said, correcting himself. From his balding hair and crows feet, Angel assumed he must have been in his early 50s. “Right so I’m here to take a look at things, my name is Dr Healey,” he said, “this is Nurse Temple.”
“Just Claire’s fine.” the younger woman interjected, her hands slipping into her pockets as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, waiting to start her work after the Doctor’s assessment. Angel sent a small smile of apology her way for having to work with the good doctor.
“Okay…” Dr Healy said as he started up his regular spiel again. “I’m just gonna check over your vitals, take a look at the bandaging on those ribs, do a couple of physical tests to check your movements-”
“Just get me out of the bed Doc.” Angel snipped at him, eliciting Claire to look down at her feet to hide the smile across her face and the small snicker that escaped her lips.
“Yes, well… very well then.” Dr Healy said, suddenly on the back foot.
“Angel.” Peter chastised.
“What?!” she threw back defensively. “I just want to shower and be able to pee for myself. I’m not planning on going anywhere other than the bathroom- and maybe my own bed,” she quickly added, “I promise.” she said to him.
Peter sighed as he gave in. “Can we do that Doc?” Peter asked him.
“Yeah, of course we can.” Claire chimed in as she stepped forward, grabbing a pair of gloves out of her bag and slipping them on as she started to make her way around the side of the bed.
“Umm yes, yes.” The Doctor hesitantly agreed, still on the back foot.
As Claire began to remove the cannula from the back of Angel’s hand, the Doctor checked over Angel’s abrasions and mobility. She was still very sore and achy but with slow careful movements the Doctor finally conceded, with a nod of his head before moving away to allow Claire to remove the catheter, as he wrote out a prescription for some painkillers.
“Okay, this is gonna feel uncomfortable.” Claire said to Angel as she started to brace her fingers around the small tube attached between Angel’s legs. “Okay I need you to take a deep breath for me alright, I’m gonna count you in okay?” she attempted to reassure. “1,2,3-”
Angel let out a small wince as she was detached from the catheter. “There, you go, there you go.” Claire coached softly.
“Okay, you’re probably gonna want help taking that shower.” Claire informed as she moved back around the bed to where Angel was already trying to shift her legs over the side of the mattress. “Actually if I’m honest, I don’t really recommend a shower at all, just maybe a really shallow bath and a wipe off with a washcloth.” she continued to say as she took her gloves off before reaching her hands out to Angel’s to help steady her as she stood.
After being stuck in bed with little mobility for the last 3 days, it was no surprise Angel’s legs wobbled and gave out when she tried to stand. “It’s alright I got you.” Claire said as she took most of Angel’s weight against her own body, as Peter raced around the bed to help. “It’s okay, you’ve been lying down for a while now, this is normal, just give your legs a chance for the blood flow to get round them again, you’ll be okay.”
Angel felt slightly dizzy as her blood now raced around her body, finally reaching her toes properly for the first time in days.
“It’s okay, I’ve got it.” Peter said as he swapped places with Claire.
“Yeah no problem.” Claire said as she allowed Peter to take over. “Umm I can go start getting the bathtub ready if you want?” she offered.
“Yeah, it’s just across the hall.” Peter informed her as she began to leave. “You okay?” he asked, checking in with his wife.
“Yup.” she said fighting through the mild pain in her back and ribs and the odd sensation in her legs.
“You ready to start moving?” She didn’t give a verbal response, just nodded. “You want me to carry you?” he asked, noting her obvious attempt to downplay her pain.
“Nope, I’ve got this.” she reassured him with heavy breaths as she began to start hobbling with his assistance towards the door.
“Uh Mr Parker.” Dr Healy interjected, “She’s gonna need this prescription filled out as soon as possible.” He said lifting up the bit of paper he had just ripped off of his notepad.
“Uh Yeah, okay. Can you pass it on to one of the guys down the hall?” Peter threw back over his shoulder. “Preferably not the one with crutches.” Peter tried to joke, using it as some way of apology and ease the tension created by his stubborn wife.
“Ummm yes, of course.” The Doctor stammered as he attempted to gather back up his things.
“There we go.” Claire said as she helped Peter eaze Angel into the bathtub. The water was shallow, only just covering her legs and hips as she sat herself upright in the tub, her arms resting on the sides of the bath to prop her up and make sure she wasn’t leaning back against her ribs in the hard tub.
Peter could sense Angel’s tension at having Claire watch over his shoulder as his hand reached into the water for the red washcloth she had found and placed into the tub.
“Make sure you ring it out well, she can’t get her bandages wet.” Claire informed.
“Okay, okay. I think I’ve got it.” Peter said, turning his head to look at her. “Ummm thank you, I think I can take care of things from here.” Peter said, kindly dismissing her.
“Okay.” Claire conceded with a nod. “I’m just gonna hang around out there for a moment just in case there is anything you need.”
“Thank you, but I don’t think that will be necessary.” Peter said, driving home her dismissal a little harder this time.
“Okay. It was nice to meet you.” Claire said over Peter’s shoulder to Angel with a wave.
“Thank you.” Angel said timidly from behind the cover of Peter’s body.
When Claire left the room, Peter began brushing the damp cloth across Angel’s bruised skin. “What?” she queried when he began to frown.
“It’s just,” his voice said quietly as his fingers traced across one of the bruises on the top of her chest.
“I know, I know.” she said equally as softly as she too took in the bruising all over her body.
“It just… makes me feel so helpless.” Peter confessed.
“I know. But this isn’t your fault Pete and you know it.” she tried to reassure him.
There was a pause between them before he said, “I had a dream last night.” he confided. “She was in it.”
“Gwen?” Angel confirmed.
“Yeah.”
Gwen had still been alive when Peter had first swung into her life, saving her from that explosion at her Dad’s warehouse. They hadn’t met again until after Gwen had died. They used to run into each other at the cemetery, her visiting her Mom, him visiting Gwen. They used to just sit with each other and talk, reminisce about their loved ones.
“I’m not her Peter.”
“I know that.” he sighed. “I know that.” he said more confidently. “It’s just…” his voice trailed off and tears began to form in his eyes, “I can’t lose you too okay? Not again, not for good, okay?”
“Okay.” she repeated quietly, a silent promise just between the two of them.
“You can’t be doing shit like that again, you know?”
She looked confused, “What go help out at-”
“No, I mean, what happened downstairs. You can’t- I can’t” he corrected himself, “I don’t know how to keep you safe when you do shit like that okay.”
“But maybe you’re not meant to.” she said cautiously as he continued to wipe at her skin, “Maybe you can’t, maybe you’re not meant to. Maybe that’s…” her voice trailed off as she had a thought ‘Maybe that was what her Father was training her for all along.’
“Maybe that’s what?” he asked, growing tense at the idea of not being able to protect her, to keep his own wife safe.
“Peter, maybe that was the point of my Dad keeping me away from you. Not just to protect me, but to show me how to stand on my own two feet, how to protect myself.”
“But you shouldn’t have to-”
“And why not? Because you’re my husband and that’s your job? Bullshit. Who’s there to save you huh? When shit hits the fan, which it already has, mind you; who looks out for you?” She looked deeply into his eyes. “Who is there to save you?”
-----------------------------------------
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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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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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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.
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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!
The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Nine: An Explosion In Chinatown
Summary: It's just one thing after another for our couple and the Vulture isn't making things any easier.
Warnings: 18+ Only!, mob/mafia/gang violence typical of the genre, guns, blood, bomb, explosion, death, angst, grief, arguing
Word Count: 2.2k+
A/N: Okay so the drama is ramping up here, you thought chapter 8 had a twist well chapter 9's is even bigger. We are about to touch on a possibly more sensitive topic for the next couple of chapters but I will be very clear to note when and where the details of our plot are so you can pick and choose which bits you read if any of this is gonna trigger you but you want to carry on. It will mostly be in the next chapter which will come with its own authors note but seeing as this is a mafia/mob/gang story it's not an out of character plot twist for the narrative. Anyway, if you struggle with the end of this chapter I advise skipping chapter 9 and just picking up with our story in chapter 10, I promise things will still make sense.
NINE
Peter stormed back into the apartment thirty minutes later followed slowly by Angel, Eddie, Harry and Felicia, Miguel being left downstairs to clear up the mess that was now Jackson Brice. Whether his resolve was stronger than they realised or he really wasn’t the fountain of knowledge they’d expected, was still yet to be determined, but they had learnt one thing before his body gave out, The Vulture was planning on something big.
“What the fuck was that?” Peter suddenly blurted out as he doubled back to his wife. She simply stared at him, her eyebrows raised, egging him on to do his worst. He quickly checked himself, taking deep breaths as he stared her down, unwilling to play her games.
When he seemed to calm a little she finally spoke. “Were you or were you not gonna tell me to go back upstairs after you dragged me all the way down there to make a show of IDing your little plaything for your own game?” she calmly threw the ball back into his court.
She watched him closely as his nostrils flared, his pupils dilating as he began to feel his rage course through his body. He was acutely aware of their fight the day before, not wanting to prove her or her Father right, he could keep control of his anger, he could. She was just making it really hard for him right now.
“Well?” she pressed. He growled under his breath as he turned away from her, confirming what she already knew to be true. “Look, I was the one who was hurt, it should have been me who exacted justice.”
“So you just shot him.” He turned to face her again, his hands sitting firmly on his hips in an attempt to feign a stance of control.
“I shot him in the leg Pete, I didn’t kill the guy.”
“It was a pretty good shot.” Felicia chimed in with a smirk of admiration that got her a harsh look from Peter. “Jeez bug boy,” she chided, “She bakes and she’s a good shot. Anyone would think it wasn’t everything you looked for in a wife.” she continued to jest as she slinked across the floor to the living room and took a seat on the sofa, leaning back into the cushions ready to watch the drama unfold. It was short lived though.
“GET OUT!” Peter shouted, finally blowing his top. “You know what you need to be doing today, so go do it.” he commanded her.
“Come on now, Pete.” Eddie said, stepping forward to mediate again.
“No!” Peter said firmly to him. “All of you out. NOW!”
They all slowly filed back out the door, Harry placing a tender hand to Peter’s shoulder, urging him to try and be lenient. “I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute.” Peter muttered under his breath. Harry nodded in acknowledgment before leaving, closing the front door behind him.
The door closing acted like the fall of the curtain at the end of a performance. Peter turning his back to her and finally getting a hold on himself, able to finally let down his guard without prying eyes. Just him and his wife and their…issues.
He rested his head in his hands as he sat himself down in a boxy leather armchair. She watched as his breathing gradually slowed and began to step forward towards him, attempting to bridge the gap between them that kept getting wider, every time they tried to meet in the middle.
“Just when I think I understand you,” he huffed, still unable to look at her. “What happened to you?” He finally lifted his head to meet her eyes and she could see the pain clear on his face. His inner conflict that she was causing him.
“I had to adapt without you.” she said quietly. Peter watched as her own pain and realisation began to fall over her like a dark cloud. “I guess when you are in it, you don’t notice it as much. Until…” her voice trailed off as she tried to find a way to rationalise things.
“Do you know how dangerous that is?” Peter finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them once more. “How am I supposed to deal with the threat out there if I’m always watching over my shoulder for you because I have no idea what you’re going to do or say next. What other secrets you’re hiding from me?”
“Peter I-”
“No. I can’t do this right now.” He said, getting up from the armchair, his hand running through his hair as his thoughts raced around in the small space.
“Peter, please.” Her hand reached out for his as he passed her. There was so much pain in his eyes when he looked at her.
“I’ll get Miles to come pick you up and take you down to the hub.” he said quietly as he slipped his hand from her grasp. She couldn’t help but stare at his back as he made his way to the front door, the latch closing behind him syncing up with the first tear that rolled down her cheek.
******
Miles picked her up an hour later. After Peter had left she made her way upstairs to finish getting dressed. She had kept on the trousers and the vest, choosing to layer over the top a light blue pinstriped button up shirt that sat oversized on her frame.
“Hey, you ready to go?” Miles said as he knocked on the door of the bedroom. He had let himself in. He had expected to find her sat waiting in the living room for him or even in the kitchen, he hadn’t expected to find her upstairs on the bed staring blankly at the wall.
“Umm, yeah, let’s go.” she said as she stood and started gathering the last of her things into her handbag.
“Hey, you okay?” Miles asked as he stopped her at the door. She looked like a ghost, not at all like the woman he had met the day before who was so sure of herself both when they had first been introduced and she was a fireball of rage or later, when they went down to the shelter and she was all kindness and smiles, showing him around. Now she was just a shell. He watched closely, the flash of change in her eyes as she suddenly put on a smile and a show to him but it wasn’t going to work.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” she chirped as she breezed past him and headed for the stairs down to the main floor of the penthouse apartment.
Miles didn’t want to accept that answer. His Mom had raised him well enough to know when someone was hurting and needed help. Taught him how to talk, to be compassionate, but in the 24 hours he’d come to know Angel, he knew if he pushed her too hard she might just snap at him and it might make things worse. He hoped once he got her down to F.E.A.S.T and she started to soften how she had yesterday, she may be more willing to talk about what’s happened.
They both sat in silence in the car as they made their way to the hub. “Did you want to pick anything up on the way?” Miles asked, attempting to make conversation and see if she wanted to get anything to bring to the shelter as an offering.
“No, it’s okay.” she said quietly before turning her head to look out the window. “Wait!” she exclaimed as they turned down a particular street.
“What? What is it?” Miles responded, suddenly on alert. But when he looked over to her in the passenger seat, there was a sudden softness to her, a feeling that wasn’t there before.
“Can you stop up here? There’s a little cafe I want to pop into.”
Angel told Miles to wait in the car for her as she made her way into the Lucky Cat Cafe, the little bell above the door jingling as she entered. As her eyes scanned the walls with their many quirky and colourful pieces of cat art, a feeling of nostalgia and peace washed over her.
“Good Morning?” a little old Chinese lady greeted her from behind the counter.
“Good Morning.” Angel smiled back.
She took a seat at one of the empty tables and let out a sigh of relief as she sat back into one of the old wooden chairs.
“Can I get you anything?” the old lady asked in her heavily accented english.
“Umm, yes, can I get a green tea and one of the coconut buns please?” she asked, the familiar order returning to her and falling from her lips as easily as riding a bike.
“One green tea, one coconut bun coming up.” the old lady repeated with a smile as she went back towards the counter.
It had been so long since she had last been here. It used to be a place her and her mother came to regularly before she passed. They loved nothing more than stopping in on a saturday morning and talking for what felt like hours about school and boys and family history, the ludicrous tales and adventures of her Grandmother being recounted to her over a cup of tea and a coconut bun.
“Thank you.” Angel said with a smile as the little old lady sat an ornately decorated cup, saucer and teapot in front of her along with the coconut bun on a small octagonal pink plate.
“Enjoy.” The lady smiled before returning back towards the tiny kitchen bakery in the back.
Angel poured herself a cup of tea and as she did so a small ray of sunlight suddenly shifted, shining through the little tea shop window to illuminate the chair beside her. The warmth of the light comforted her, a familiar presence at her side.
As she sipped on her tea and nibbled on her bun, the little flakes of desiccated coconut on top dropping back down to the table and into her lap, she was reminded of a scene in a movie she loved to watch when she was younger. Her Dad had bought her the Charlie’s Angels movies on dvd as part of her Christmas present one year. She had watched them religiously, wanting to grow up to be just like the strong, courageous women in the movie. As she sat there now, the stream of light beside her, it reminded her of the scene in the second movie, when Dylan goes into a bar in Mexico and talks to a seemingly passed-on Angel of the past, Kelly Garrett, one of the angels from the original series.
She looked to the stream of light beside her, felt the comfort in it and knew her Mom was sitting with her. ‘I miss you.’ she thought.
‘I know.” a little voice in the back of her head said.
When she returned to Miles 40 minutes later she could tell he was anxious about having left her in the little Chinese cafe alone; but the moment he saw her more present and relaxed, she saw him breath out a sigh of relief.
“You feeling better?” he asked.
“Yeah.” she smiled at him with a small nod of her head.
“Ready to go help some people?” he asked as she reached for her seatbelt and buckled herself in.
“Let’s do it.”
They pulled up on the other side of the road to the hub a few minutes later, Angel letting out another sigh of contentedness as she stepped out of the car and looked at the building. “You good?” Miles checked in with her as he looked at her over the roof of the car, the driver's side door clicking closed.
“Yup.” she turned and smiled at him.
They checked for cars before they started to cross the road, but as they got closer to the other side, Angel saw a flash of light through the glass doors of the hub before-
She was knocked off her feet as a blast of energy burst from the building, a large boom echoing out onto the street in its wake. Her back collided with the side of the car behind her and everything went black.
“Angel? ANGEL?” Mile’s voice sounded muffled, almost like he was talking to her underwater and there was this ringing in her ears. She opened her eyes, trying to see him, trying to understand what was happening. Her vision slowly cleared enough for her to make out his face as he hobbled towards her, leaning over her body.
She tried to move but her body was so heavy, everything felt numb. She managed to prop herself up on one arm slightly, though her ribs protested.
“Angel?” Miles continued to say her name, trying to ground her, to focus on him but she couldn’t stop herself from looking past him at the clouds of black smoke that billowed out of the blown out windows and doors of the shelter. Small flecks of white ash came down like snow as people ran and screamed around them. There were bodies on the floor. Bystanders quickly got covered in dust as they ran in to help.
She tried to move again but it was difficult, like trying to pull her body out of quicksand. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t move.” Miles’ muffled voice said through the ringing still in her ears.
She thought she felt her chest groan as she finally gave up, her body relaxing back onto the concrete, her eyes closing, darkness dragging her under.
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