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.
-----------------------------------------
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.
The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter 3: There's No Place Like Home
Summary: Unsure where else to go, Peter takes Angel back to the only other home he's ever known.
Warnings: 18+ Only, mature content, eventual smut, plenty of feels and patching up wounds
Word Count: 2.9k
A/N: SURPRISE! Okay so I have been writing up a storm and realised if I only release these once a week it’ll be months between me finishing the story and you guys getting to read it, so I am gonna do drops on Wednesdays as well as the originally planned Fridays. (Also I’m an Aries who likes to be praised and whenever you guys give me good feedback it’s like a drug and I want more). For those asking at the end of part 2 where was Miguel, Miguel had already gone home, theres about half hour to 40 min time difference to Peter telling him to go home and shoot up happening. Anyway that being said, there’s nothing like going home to lick your wounds. Enjoy…
THREE
When they pulled up outside a high rise in the city 30 minutes later, the adrenaline that had been coursing through her body was finally wearing off. The dull pain in her shoulder was coming back full force; and as she sat waiting in the passenger seat, her hand bracing the injured shoulder protectively, she closed her eyes and counted her breaths and tried to work out where it had all gone wrong.
Her husband, still sitting in the driver's seat also taking his time to process the events that had just happened, lowered his head to the steering wheel. She could feel his anger brewing, that scary calm energy he was known for rolling off of him in waves. He suddenly sat back, his head slamming back against the headrest as his hand gripped the steering wheel forcefully, forcing her to open her eyes and look at him. His hands quickly flew into his hair, he was coming apart at the seams. She wondered if for a moment he had forgotten she was there.
She was about to say something when he was suddenly getting out of the car, slamming the door closed behind him. She watched out the front window as his hand tugged at his hair again before he ran it down the length of his face in an attempt to compose himself as he began to make his way to the passenger door.
The door opened with a low click as he held it open for her. She quickly unbuckled herself before sliding out of the car. She watched carefully as he stood like a sentry beside her, the only thing indicating to him being a living human, the heavy rise and fall of his breaths, the air chuffing powerfully from his nose as he attempted to calm himself down. She raised her hand again to her shoulder as she stepped forward onto the sidewalk as he closed the door behind them.
She watched over her shoulder silently as he ushered her forward with his hand splayed protectively across her back, keys clutched in his fingers as he guided her to the front door.
Neither of them said anything until they got to the elevator, the large metal doors sliding closed, encasing only the two of them safely inside.
“Does it hurt?” he finally said, his body turning towards her as his hands reached out to manoeuvre her gently, turning her to face him.
She wanted to respond with something sarcastic, but looking up into his eyes, she couldn’t seem to find her voice. His thumb suddenly added a little bit of pressure below the wound as he checked it over and she sneered, recoiling from him protectively.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” he quickly said, holding his hands up in surrender. He watched her closely, waiting for her breathing to steady again, her body leaning back towards him, trusting him. “It might need a couple stitches.” he said as he moved the damaged fabric of her top to look at it better. She grunted again as the pressure of his fingers made the wound smart once more, but she didn’t pull away.
They felt the elevator begin to slow beneath their feet, coming to a stop and pausing before the bell went off, signalling its arrival.
He gently ushered her down the hall but she already knew where they were and which door to go to. She paused outside the door as she watched him reach behind the frame of one of the pictures on the wall. She shuffled herself to the side as she let him squeeze past her to put the key he had retrieved into the lock, turning and pushing the door open, ushering her in first with an outstretched hand as he moved to put the key back in its hiding place.
“Peter?” a voice called out through the apartment.
“Yeah, May.” he called out as they both stepped through the door.
Peter’s Aunt May tentatively came into view at the end of the hallway at the sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floor before they hit the hallway runner. She froze in silence as she took in the image of not just Peter, but Angel. The sudden change in May’s demeanour from warm and friendly to cold and protective made the younger woman still in the middle of the hall.
“Don’t May.” Peter warned her as he gently stepped around his frozen estranged wife, moving forward down the hall, a protective arm being placed around his Aunt’s shoulder as he turned her away and towards the living room, trying to explain everything before she made any assumptions.
Angel slowly began to follow them, coming to a stop in the doorway, her hand still raised to cover her shoulder. She stood awkwardly against the doorframe, careful not to bleed on anything as she watched Peter sit May down on the sofa, the tall brunette taking a perch on the edge of the coffee table in front of her, his hands gently resting on her knees.
“It’s a really long and complicated story-”
“But for how long, Peter?” May tried to argue in a hushed voice.
“I know, I know.” he quickly cut her off. “Look I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but we can’t go back to the house and I didn’t know where else to go.” He attempted to explain as Angel began glancing around the apartment. Her eyes fell on picture frames, throw pillows, the layout of the kitchen to her right, nothing had changed in this place at all. She slowly found herself stepping forward to a bookcase, observing the pictures that sat on the edges of some of the shelves. Okay, maybe some things had changed, she noted as she noticed the frame that used to hold her and Peter’s wedding photo had been removed, replaced with an old picture of Peter with his Uncle Ben from when he was a child. As she began to look behind it, she noticed another frame laying face down on top of the books. Her fingers reached for it. She carefully pulled it out, looking at the memory fondly. They hadn’t had a big wedding, after all she was trying to hide their union from her Dad. She gazed longingly at the picture of her and Peter outside the courthouse. They’d asked a passerby to quickly take the picture on an old digital camera May had brought with her. You could just see the corner of her shoulder in the foreground as she threw confetti at the happy couple.
Her eyes stung as tears prickled the corners of her lashes and she quickly put the photo back.
“I’m gonna go find a first aid kit.” She suddenly announced across the room to Peter, still mid conversation with May.
“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” He turned his head to say to her before she removed herself from the room, heading down the hallway to where she knew the bathroom was.
She closed the door behind her, looking at herself in the harsh fluorescent lighting. She wiped away at the lingering tear at the corner of her eye hastily before her gaze dropped down to her shoulder in her mirrored reflection. She winced as she examined it in the mirror, turning her body towards the light. She sighed, her hands bracing themselves upon the basin as she closed her eyes and attempted to compose herself.
She kept one hand against the cold porcelain as her other hand reached to slip off her heels, her height dipping in the mirror as she dropped one foot and then the other onto the worn bath mat. She ran her hands over her face, pushing her hair back as she took one more tired look in the mirror before bending down to root in the under sink cupboard for the first aid box she knew was kept there.
She balanced it on the side of the sink, her fingers opening the zip and flipping the lid open. She sighed, rooting around in the kit, searching for the bits she would need and placing them on the top for easy access. She winced in pain as she slowly pried off her shirt, carefully slipping it off of her injured arm, the blood already beginning to dry sticking to her skin and she cringed and sneered as the fabric tore itself from her flesh. She reached into a drawer for a fresh washcloth, turning on the tap and running it under the faucet. She was just bringing it to her skin, wiping away at the drying blood when the door opened, Peter letting himself in.
He froze at the sight of her standing in the middle of the bathroom in her high waisted trousers and black lace bra. When she just stood staring at his reflection in the mirror he quickly checked himself, clearing his throat and trying to ignore the blood that was beginning to rush between his legs.
“Here let me do that.” He said, stepping forward and taking the damp washcloth from her.
She sat herself on the side of the bathtub as he rinsed the blood that was already on the cloth off, ringing it out.
“I don’t think May likes me much anymore.” she spoke timidly as Peter turned towards her and began dabbing at her skin. She hissed as he shifted his hand and dabbed higher, closer to the wound and he quickly took his hand away, fingers frozen in midair.
“Sorry,” he murmured. She quickly settled again and he moved the wash cloth over her skin even gentler. “She’s just protective of me, that’s all. Still sees me as that little boy scraping his knees and elbows everytime I fell off my skateboard. Cutting the crusts off my sandwiches…” his voice trailed off softly.
“MMM” she groaned again between closed lips as his fingers began to dab at the broken skin, her head turning away from him, eyes closing to suppress the tears that threatened them.
“I know, I know.” He tried to soothe her. “Yeah, it’s definitely gonna need some stitches.” He says assessing the wound closer.
He stood up from where he had been crouching beside her, hands dexterously retrieving the bits he would need from the kit and placing them on the side of the sink closest to them. He then washed his hands, carefully drying them on the towel beside him. They were both silent as his fingers opened the suture packet, pulling out the fresh needle and threading it. She watched his hands attentively, willing herself to stay calm despite the impending pain she knew she’d have to endure.
“You’re not gonna like this.” He said as he crouched down beside her, tearing open a packet of alcohol wipes. He swiped a wipe carefully over her shoulder. She instantly screwed up her face sneering at the sting, her head turning away from him again as she forcefully gripped the edge of the bathtub, knuckles turning white.
“Fuck. Peter.” she hissed between her teeth.
“I know, you’re doing so well baby.” The pet name falls from his lips so naturally to try and soothe the sting they both feel. His chest aches to see her in pain, he wishes he could just kiss it and make it better, but he knew he was doing the next best thing.
“Ow, OUCH!” she called out, her voice echoing off the bathroom tiles as she flinched away from him. He released her arm from his grasp, allowing her a respite before the next step. His hands rested on her thighs, palms rubbing back and forth soothingly as she began to settle again.
“Uhh, does it really need stitches.” her voice was a broken whine as her head turned to look at him again.
“I’m sorry.” he said as he gave her a look that told her it was unavoidable.
Her head tilted up to the ceiling as she shook her head, psyching herself up. She took a deep breath before looking back at him. “Okay.” she nodded as she closed her eyes again, continuing to psych herself up. “Just do it.” she huffed.
He paused a moment, his hands still on her thighs as he allowed her another moment to make sure she was ready. He slowly took his hands away from her, reaching for the suture, sat waiting ready. He watched her closely as she kept her eyes closed, not wanting to look, knowing she’d lose her resolve.
“I’m gonna try to be as quick as I can, I promise.”
“Mmmhmm,” she hummed and agreed as she braced herself, his hand wrapping around her arm again.
The little noises she made as he used the curved needle to pierce her skin were unavoidable. “We’re almost there. You’re doing so good.” he cooed as she tried not to squirm under his touch. “Okay, one more, just one more baby.” he said as he passed the needle through her skin one last time, the fingers on his other hand reaching for the small pair of scissors to cut the surgical thread.
He took his hands away from her but she still didn’t open her eyes for another minute, allowing her breathing to steady as he began to clear things away. She finally opened her eyes as she felt his shadow loom over her. She looked to his hands to find him ripping open a large square shaped band aid. He carefully peeled off the backing before leaning over her and covering the area of her shoulder he’d just stitched up.
“Thank you.” she said quietly as he smoothed down the edges, his fingers brushing gently across her skin, leaving behind a tingling sensation in their wake.
They were so close. If she turned her head just a little they would kiss. For a moment he hesitated and she thought they would, but then he quickly stepped back and away from her.
“I’ll see if I can find you something to change into.” he said as he quickly turned his back on her and left the room.
She threw back her head to stare at the ceiling again as a new wave of tears threatened to spill over her bottom lashes. Her hands flew up to her face, hiding her eyes as she breathed deeply, willing her emotions away. She knew the day she’d eventually be able to go back to him would be hard, but she had never expected this. Everytime she looked at his face, she couldn’t see past the hurt in his eyes. She figured she’d be grateful he hadn’t moved on and found someone new to replace her with. Hadn’t walked back into that house and seen him lying in bed with another woman, but she knew that wasn’t her Peter. Then again, the pain her leaving had caused him, was he still her Peter. A lot can change in three years. Heck she’d changed in those three years.
She slowly stood up, wiping away her tears. Her hands reached to turn on the tap, allowing the cool water to soothe her skin, she splashed her face, wiping away the sweat and the grime and the few flecks of dried blood. She stared at herself in the mirror trying to recognise the woman she saw there as the same woman who had stood here all those years ago, but she couldn’t.
She turned off the tap, dabbing at her face with the towel as she heard three taps on the door. Peter slowly opened the door, his hand reaching out in front of him towards her, a pair of grey jogging bottoms and a white t-shirt folded neatly on top of his hand. She recognised the sweats as an old pair of his he had left here since he was a teen, the same pair she used to borrow when she stayed over. The t-shirt she was surprised to see was an old one of her own. An old Rolling Stones t-shirt she thought was long lost.
“Thank you.” she said as she gently took them from him.
“Umm, I’m gonna sleep on the sofa, you can take my old bedroom,” he said. His eyes struggled to meet her. It all felt so familiar, yet also so foreign. She wanted to say something but she didn’t know what. She just stared at him and he gave a quiet nod of his head before he closed the door again.
She crept into the spare room, her hands immediately dumping her clothes onto the empty chair just inside the door, before she closed it. He’d left the bedside lamp on for her, the faint glow adding warmth to the room. She couldn’t help but creep across the floor, her eyes searching the old familiar walls full of photos, old drawings, newspaper clippings. Her fingertips dragged across one of the old wooden shelves, taking in old school trophies, physics books, a picture of Peter and May at his graduation. The room was like a time capsule. She came to a stop in front of the end of the bed, staring at the sheets, undisturbed, lonely. It didn’t feel right, sleeping in this bed without him.
Before she could stop herself her hand was already on the door handle, ready to throw it open and creep down the hall, begging him to come to bed. But she froze. All that time, that space between them, as she stood there and felt it, it began to consume her. Instead she let her fingers drop to her sides, her feet begrudgingly walking around the side of the bed. She slowly climbed in under the covers. She stared at the door, one last time, willing him to come to her instead, but he didn’t. Tentatively she reached over, her fingers turning off the light, plunging her into darkness.
————————————————
As stated at the top new chapters will drop on Wednesdays and Fridays! If you want to be added to the tag list please put that in writing for me. Oh and if you are enjoying what you’re reading tip me like you would your waiter at a restaurant and reblog and leave me comments and feedback, it honestly fuels me up to keep writing and sharing.
(Initial tags came from interest from the teaser and prologue. If you liked the prologue or teaser post but haven't been tagged, it's because for some reason I could't, maybe check your settings and be sure to hit the follow button so you don't miss out.)
The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Six: He's Got A Soul As Sweet As Blood Red Jam
Summary: Peter may seem like a big tough gangster to the rest of the world but he's still that soft boy from Queens underneath it all.
Warnings: 18+ Only, eventual smut (like real soon), slight fluff and jokes, this is mostly plot, character and world building
Word Count: 4.4K
A/N: This is basically just world building and further character development but still does a lot to bridge the gap between our lovers with their one to one dinner date. Expect some more name dropping and greater universe references and a lot of links back to our initial prologue and Peter's origins of friendly neighbourhood super hero to mob boss. Also title comes from the second verse of Lana Del Rey's Off To The Races, wanted to use both lines but it would have been too long. Anyway enjoy!
SIX
Peter had organised Miguel to drop the two of them off at F.E.A.S.T an hour later. The acronym stood for food, emergency, aid, shelter, training. It was a community outreach hub for the homeless or those in need. They had set multiple buildings up across the city under the banner when Peter first switched from being the friendly neighbourhood crime fighting vigilante to being a criminal in his own right. He still wasn’t like all those other guys though. Guys like her Father, Dr Octavious or even Quentin Beck. Whereas all those guys were solely out for themselves, Peter had never forgotten his roots or his mission to help his community. No, he was more like a Robin Hood figure. At least 50% of his annual profit always went back to the people.
And she had been there with him to set the whole thing up. After that first conversation they’d had all those years ago in the darkness of her college dorm room, they went back and forth for hours about what the people really need. Thus F.E.A.S.T was born.
They climbed out of the car and Miles quickly went round to open the trunk, to a mass of pink cake boxes. They quickly began to unload them from the car. Miles held out his arms and Angel stacked one box on top of the other until they were up to his eyeline. She took the final box out of the trunk before closing the boot. She shot a quick look of thanks Miguel’s way before her and Mile’s made their way to the door.
Her fingers quickly rooted around in her blazer pocket for the set of keys Peter had given her, her fingers holding a fob up to the side door of the building. There was a low buzz as the door unlocked and they shuffled their way inside with the boxes.
“Hey Karen.” Angel said, greeting a strawberry blonde woman as she made her way towards the same door her and Mile’s had just come through.
“Hey!” Karen beamed upon seeing her, an arm quickly raising to wrap around Angel’s shoulder. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Oh, you know how he is, always takes on too many clients and never leaves himself enough time.”
“We’ll have to catch up properly soon.” Angel beamed.
“Yes. We definitely will. Look I’ve gotta run, I’ve gotta get some paperwork over to city hall before they close, but it was great seeing you.” Karen spoke joyfully as she wrapped Angel into her arms once more.
“Yeah, and you.” Angel concluded their conversation as Karen began to make her way to the door, buzzing herself out.
“Okay… so where are we putting these?” Miles asked, motioning to the boxes he was beginning to get frustrated with holding, after all, pink was not his colour.
She rolled her eyes before saying, “This way.” as she began to walk through the familiar halls.
Not much had changed since the last time she had been there. Maybe some of the faces, but she was still surprised to see so many familiar ones. Particular Nurses who saw patients with doctors in special designated consultation rooms, all paid for by the Benjamin Parker foundation, little kids who enjoy coming and hanging out in the rec rooms recognising her, smiling and waving as she passed them.
“Hi, Angel.”
“Hi.” she’d say back.
“Hi, Angel.”
“Hi!” It was like that all the way down to the food hall. A large canteen that served regular hot meals for anyone in need, whether you were living on the streets, struggling for money or simply had no idea how to cook. It was a bustling hub of life and community. Mothers talking over cups of coffee as their kids bonded and played together. Newly divorced men looking for someone to talk to and sharing a table with those who called the streets their home as they swapped life stories. It was her favourite place in the world and her proudest achievement in life.
They set the boxes down on a free table along the back wall, opening them up to display the fresh goods. There was a sudden thud to her side as a small girl collided with her thigh, her small arms reaching to wrap around her waist.
“Angel!” the girl beamed, “You came back.”
Angel recognised the young girl immediately. She had grown a fair bit since she had last seen her at the shelter. “Of course I did.” Angel beamed as her arms instinctively wrapped around her. “Look how much you’ve grown.” Angel commented.
“Look, I’ve got a loose tooth.” The girl said proudly as she used her fingers to pull down her lower lip and show it off.
“Oh wow. You make sure you take good care of it and that it gets to the tooth fairy okay, yeah?”
“I will.” she beamed before she ran off back towards her mother who politely smiled and waved in her direction from her seat at one of the tables.
“Wow, you really know everyone here.” Miles interjected as she continued to watch the young girl as she joined another little girl at a smaller coloring table.
“Believe it or not Miles, this used to be my livelihood. I used to come down and spend so many of my days here helping out. Veronica was actually born here.” She said motioning to the little girl who kept looking back and smiling at her.
“You don’t say.” Miles said with a smile as he finally began to relax.
“It’s my favourite place in the world.” she said fondly. “Come on, I’ll give you the proper tour.”
They walked around the halls together as she gave him the grand tour of all three floors. As well as the already mentioned doctor’s rooms, cafeteria, common rooms and childrens playrooms, there were counselling suites and consultation rooms for legal advice. The second floor had a community hall with regular classes from toddler groups to self defence lessons. The whole top floor was dedicated to the homeless project that provided emergency beds for those rough sleeping whether on site there at the hub or being relocated to one of the apartment buildings they had bought out as temporary accommodation until they could get their feet back on the ground.
They sat and talked to people in the communities, helped out staff where they could and overall tried to inject some light into people's lives amongst the darkness.
“Hey.” a familiar voice said behind her as Veronica, who had just come and given her a picture she had drawn for her, ran back to the coloring table.
“Heeyy!” she beamed softly as she turned around to find her husband.
His hand tenderly braced itself against her lower back and she couldn’t help but melt into his warm touch. She had become so wrapped up in what she was doing, she had almost completely forgotten everything else that had come to pass. The way that everyone had opened their arms to her made her feel like the last three years had never happened, let alone the last 4 hours she had spent there.
“I went back to May’s apartment but you weren’t there.”
“No.” she smiled fondly.
The whole moment felt so domestic, reminding him of days gone by where he would pick her up on Friday afternoons, a moment for him to show his own face and see all of the hard work that was continuing to be carried out with his money. He turned his head around the room looking for Miles, only to find him sitting on a tiny chair next to a little boy on a purple bean bag, playing with the new playstation that had recently been acquired.
“I’m assuming all of the baked goods are gone?” he asked, attempting to keep civil conversation and find good ground between them.
“Actually I think there might be a cupcake or two still in there if you want one.”
They smiled fondly at one another. He had to admit, despite all of the shit he ended up being involved with on a day to day basis, whenever he came back here, seeing families and communities thrive, it made it all worth it,
“You ready to get out of here and go for that dinner?” He asked softly.
She silently nodded as she found herself suddenly drowning in his honey brown eyes. Those soft eyes. The ones he used to look at her with back when they first met. Back when he would sneak into her dorm room. His gaze would soften like molten honey, a sickly sweet sensation always pulling her in as he told her how beautiful she was, his Angel. “Yes.” she finally said slowly, finding her voice. It was barely audible above the noise of the room, but she knew he heard it.
“Yo, Miles!” Peter hollered across the room to him, causing the younger gentleman’s ears to prick up, his head turning slightly, but his eyes never left the screen. “You’re free, man, go home.”
“Yeah, okay, just a minute!” he called back, “I just gotta win this race.”
“Nu uh.” the young boy next to him replied before Miles playfully bumped the kids shoulder with his own.
Angel couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at the exchange as she grabbed her blazer off the back of a chair as they left.
-
When they got out onto the street Angel had expected to find Miguel outside waiting for them, but instead her eyes came to rest on a black Maserati she recognised from her quick glance across the garage in their rush the night before. “Where’s Miguel?” she asked as Peter began to make his way towards the car, opening the passenger door for her.
“I’ve got him out running an errand with Harry.” he replied as she stepped past him to slide herself into the passenger seat. “Plus, I want tonight to be just about us.” He said, his head bending down to look at her through the door frame.
“Okay, duly noted.” she replied with a curt smile before he closed the door on her. “So does that mean we’re gonna get through a whole evening without interruptions?” She asked when he climbed into the driver's seat on the other side.
He shuffled slightly in his seat before reaching into the inside pocket of his blazer for his phone making a show of putting it on aeroplane mode before handing it to her for safe keeping. She pursed her lips, attempting to keep a straight face as she looked down at the phone now turning around in her fingertips, trying not to let on how big of a deal that was for the two of them.
“So where are we going?” she asked as he clicked his seatbelt into place before starting the car up with a loud rev of the engine for good measure. She had no doubt he was showboating, trying to impress.
“Oh, now that would ruin the surprise.” he said as he quickly revved the car and sped away.
*****
They arrived 10 minutes later outside a restaurant on the upper east side called the Lemon Grove. The whole front of the building was lit with fairy lights and vines filled with fake lemons. They got out of the car and Peter tossed his keys to a waiting valet before his now free hand rested comfortably at the small of her back as he guided her to the restaurant door.
“Hi, good evening, welcome to the Lemon Grove, do you have a booking with us this evening?” a gentleman, who looked to be nearing his forties asked.
“Yes, there should be a table for two under Parker.” Peter said.
The maître d' scanned his list before saying “ahh yes, here it is. If you’d like to follow me this way.” he encouraged them as he held out a hand for them to follow him.
He led them through the bustling restaurant and over to a table tucked away to the back. He moved to pull out a chair for Angel but Peter quickly cut him off, “It’s okay, I’ve got it.” he said, wanting to make a show of putting in the effort with her after their fight earlier on he was still trying to make up for.
“Okay.” the maître d' said as he took a step back.
When Peter had stepped back around to the other side of the table and began taking his seat the maître d' stepped forward again to place the menus on either side of the table in front of them.
“Thank you.” Angel smiled, as Peter tucked his chair in.
“Can I get either of you a drink? Or would you like to take a moment to look at the wine list?” The maître d' asked, motioning to the smaller menu already on the table.
Before she had had a chance to say anything Peter hastily grabbed the wine list, scanning it over, before ordering them a bottle of an Italian Cabernet from Tuscany.
“Coming right up, sir.” The maître d' said before walking away and leaving them to their table.
“You still love Italian food right?” Peter asked her as they both reached for their menus to start gazing over the cuisine.
“Would you hate me if I actually said I’d gone off it.” she deadpanned from behind her menu, causing him to freeze. “I mean, living in Italy for just over two years…” she continued, seeing how far she could push him and make him squirm. She watched over the top of her menu as he swallowed uneasily. “I’m kidding Pete.” she quickly said as he met her eyes, a smile creeping across her face.
“Don’t do that.” he quickly shook his head at her, but he couldn’t hide from her the small quirk in the corner of his lip at realising he’d been had. “No.” he continued, trying to brush it off.
“What? Spider boy can’t take a joke anymore?” she teased as she fought with the grin that wanted to take over her whole face.
“Oh no, I can take a joke.” he quickly interjects, looking to cover himself.
“Yes, of course.” she mockingly nods as he continues to get a hold of himself.
“It’s just, not often that I am the victim to them.”
“Okay.” she smirked as she continued to nod, her eyes turning back to the menu in front of her as she scanned the list of foods.
It was at that point she realised she hadn’t really eaten since their breakfast meeting this morning.
“What is it?” he quickly asked, noticing the sudden furrow to her brow, an air of concern taking over his whole body.
“Nothing, it’s nothing.” She hastily responded, not wanting him to stress or feel like matters were worse than they were, as if either of them still weren’t somewhat on alert after the events of the past 24 hours, an unconscious paranoia just waiting to take over. “I just realised I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Oh.” he interjected quietly as he began to settle again.
They sat in silence for a moment as they continued to scan the menu, that unspoken paranoia sitting heavily in the middle of the table between them after his reaction that neither was sure how to shift.
“So do you know what you want?” he asked, clearing his throat slightly and breaking up the silence between them.
He watched for a moment as she flicked back and forth between pages. “Yes… no… maybe?” He can’t help but be warmed by the small questioning look on her face, one eyebrow twitching higher than the other, her head tipping slightly as she muddled over the different options in her head. It was the same look she used to get when he would watch her study for a test or when she was struggling to work something out for her thesis, back when she was still at college.
A waiter came over with their drinks and it made Peter smile when she didn’t even look up from the menu, but still reached for the glass the moment it had been sat down, swiftly bringing it to her lips and taking a sip.
“Do we know what we’d like to order this evening?” The waiter asked as he stood patiently next to the table.
Peter was about to ask for him to give them another moment when she closed the menu and sat it down in front of her. There was a pause as if to check she really was ready, when she said. “Off you go.” tipping her head to encourage Peter to place his order, as she once again brought her wine glass coily to her lips.
“Are we doing starters?” Peter quickly questioned her, an old habit suddenly popping into his head.
“Peter, just order.” she replied, but he could see the quirk of her lip and recognised the sudden dark gaze to her eye and knew she was up to something.
“Okay…” he hesitantly said, his head turning towards the waiter. “We’ll take the calamari and a portion of arancini to share for starters.” he began, his eyes quickly glancing back to his date for confirmation she was okay with this. She merely raised her eyebrows as she sank back in her seat, wine glass still poised in her hand, the tiniest tilt to her head encouraging him on. “Then for mains, I’ll take the sea bass…” he paused, flashing her another glance and her eyebrows rose higher still, encouraging him to surprise her and order for her. He quickly scanned back over the menu before him, re-familiarising himself with it. He smiled to himself. “She’ll have the parmigiana di melanzane, a portion of bruschetta and a small caprese salad on the side.” He said with perfect pronunciation as he ordered her a selection of their starters for her to pick and choose from like an Italian version of tapas. Once she had laid down the gauntlet he had felt her tense slightly, worrying whether or not he’d order the right thing, but upon making the order, he could feel her energy begin to relax, a smile forming on her lips again.
“Is that everything, sir?” the waiter asked.
“Yes, I think it is.” Peter said with a smile dismissing the waiter who quickly took their menus from them before heading to the kitchen with their order.
There was a pause between them as Peter took a sip of his wine and they tried to work out what to talk about.
“How’s your shoulder?” Peter asked her as she folded her hands into her lap.
“It’s okay. A little tender but, it’s fine.” Her fingers automatically reached for the shoulder in question but quickly lowered her hand back into her lap.
“How bad was the house?” she asked. Peter noticed there was a slight hesitancy to her question, as if it pained her to think about.
“It’s gonna take a bit of work but-”
“Do you think we’ll be able to go back there, or will we need to sell it?”
Her question seemed to answer her previous hesitancy. It had been their house, their home. The place they had picked out together, decorated together. Lived in together. They’d always seen it as their forever home. The place to raise kids one day. Maybe get a dog. Hold large family events in the backyard. They’d tried so hard to keep it separate from everything else and now that privacy had been violated.
He was silent for a moment as he considered his response. “I won’t lie… it might have to be a possibility.” He watched her closely as she exhaled the breath she had been holding, the usual twinkle in her eye fading as the reality of their situation took over once more. “But until-”
“I know.” she said, not needing him to finish his sentence, her own mind already completing it for her. ‘Until the Vulture had been taken care of, they wouldn’t even be able to consider the house safe enough to go home.’
“So what do we do?” she asked. “I mean we can’t very well keep staying at May’s.” she noted.
Peter was silent for a moment as he looked down at the table in front of him. He had that face on him, she noted, the one where he had something planned but didn’t want to let on that he in fact had a plan.
He was saved by the arrival of their starters, the food being placed down in the middle of the table for them both to pick at.
“Thank you.” Angel said politely to the waiter as he quickly made his retreat, leaving them alone once more.
“Oh my god.” she sighed as she took a bite out of one of the arancini balls with a groan of satisfaction. “That’s amazing.”
Peter’s face changed to one of pleasant surprise as he placed one into his mouth and confirmed his wife's reaction by having a similar one, his own humm of satisfaction vibrating his lips as he chewed.
“So is it as good as the stuff in the actual country or…?” he asked as they moved on to the calamari.
“Not bad.” she confirmed as she finished her mouthful. “I made friends with this lovely old woman who lived down the road from the house and she used to make the best meatballs I have ever tasted. She had just that right ratio of tomato and garlic and she’d slow cook them so they just melted in your mouth.” Angel gushed.
“Now I’m glad I didn’t order the meatballs.” Peter smiled. “With a description like that I don’t think they could have compared and I would have spent the whole meal feeling disappointed with my food, dreaming about these mouthwatering, slow cooked-”
She giggled, a blush forming on her cheeks as she took another sip of wine as he jokingly continued to use as many adjectives as he knew to describe a plate of meatballs he would never ultimately have.
“Oh no, I’m serious.” he continued with a smirk, “I’m gonna call Miguel right now, get him to tell them to get a jet ready so we can fly to Italy to this mysterious magical Nona who cooks the best meatballs and we will do nothing else until-”
“How are you gonna do that, when I have your phone?” she teased back.
“Fine then, you call Miguel.”
“Peter.” she giggled and chastised. He loved it when he could make her blush. Make her forget about everything else. Take them back to their youth. Quiet rainy afternoons, wrapped up in each other's arms on that small single bed.
“Okay, okay.” he conceded with a smile.
“What do you wanna do about your Father’s house?” he asked her as their main courses arrived, her three smaller plates being laid out strategically in front of her by the waiter. Peter watched as she quietly thanked him before switching the order of the plates once the waiter's back was turned. It made Peter’s stomach turn, a sickly sweet feeling that sent tingles to the joins of his jaw that made him quickly turn his head to his own plate before him, inner conflict returning as his brain remembered the question he’d just asked and all of their recent history began to drive a wedge between them once more.
“Sell it.”
“You sure?” he questioned. It had been the home she had grown up in.
“There’s nothing left for me there.” she said as she lifted a fork full of salad into her mouth.
“Did you wanna go back and sort through anything?”
“No.” she adamantly shook her head.
“Okay.” he silently nodded and agreed. “We can put all the money back into the foundation if you want. Maybe set up another hub in the city?” he asked, trying to chip away at the wall she seemed to just put up at the mention of her Father.
She paused as she lowered her cutlery. “Peter, can I ask you something?” Peter’s own hands froze either side of his plate as he gave her his full attention. “Do you ever wonder if you made the right choice?”
“What do you-”
“I mean all this.” she gestured with her hand between them. “If you hadn’t given up the suit and the mask… do you think things would have been different?”
“I think…” he paused as he tried to comprehend her question. To think of the life they would have had if he had continued to be the Spider-Man, not whatever he was today, “I think we wouldn’t have much money. I think we’d have ended up living in a shoe box apartment somewhere in Queens, still sneaking around behind your father’s back.” She quietly sipped on her wine as she listened to his thoughts. “I think a lot of people's lives would be harder because they wouldn’t have the hubs to go to when they are in need.”
“That’s not what I mean.” she quietly said as her arms came to rest on the table, her fingers reaching out to him.
“You mean, do you think he would have let you stay?”
There was silence between them. Peter watched as she slowly removed her hand from where it had reached out across the table towards him. Reached out for him, to bridge that gap that had grown between them. But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t be reminded what it felt like to feel her soft skin against his.
The two of them remained silent, unable to finish their food. The weight of everything that had been or even could have been already enough for their brains to process, let alone the last of their food in front of them.
When the waiter asked if they’d like to look at the dessert menu, Peter waved him off. He instead quickly settled the bill with a generous tip and they both left.
They waited quietly side by side at the edge of the street for the car to be brought around.
“I’m sorry.” she finally blurted out as her arms closed tightly around her with the evening chill. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” she added more quietly as the car revved to a stop in front of them.
The driver quickly got out, handing Peter the keys before stepping towards the passenger door to open it.
“Get in the car.” Peter instructed softer than she expected. “There’s something I want to show you.”
------------------------------
New chapters go live on Wednesdays and Fridays! If you want to be added to the tag list make sure you put it in writing for me. Also if you are enjoying the story don’t forget to tip me like you would your waiter by reblogging and leaving feedback and letting me know what you think!
The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Five: You Don't Own Me
Summary: Things continue to grow tense for Angel and Peter as secrets come to light on both sides.
Warnings: 18+ Only, eventual smut, lots of drama, mentions of genre typical violence, angst
Word Count: 2.6k
A/N: With all my recent traveling I almost forgot it was Wednesday... Anyway I am super excited to share yet another chapter of this story. Things continue to heat up for our couple, we introduce and get to know more characters and dynamics from Peter's team as well as work in and reference other things from canon Spiderman lore. Just as an extra, when I think of and write about Felicia I can't help but picture Anya Taylor Joy, let me know if you see it. Enjoy!
FIVE
“What? How do you know?” Asked Eddie as they all piled back into May’s apartment.
“Yeah, I thought this guy was supposed to be a ghost.” Harry chimed in.
Peter held his hand close to Angel’s back. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her the whole way home. He ushered her further forward into the flat, coaxing her towards the sofa, prompting her to take a seat so they could talk about this properly.
Peter sat himself on the coffee table directly in front of her, his hands reaching out to rest against her thighs, drawing her out of her thoughts in her head and back into the room with him.
“Angel, you gotta tell me baby, what’s going on? What’s happening?” Peter encouraged her soothingly, but his irritation was burning under his skin and Harry’s incessant babbling and theorising in the background wasn’t helping him. “HARRY, SHUT UP!” he snapped, turning his head towards his friend then back to his wife. He watched as she swallowed deeply, she had gone so pale, it was honestly scaring him. “Princess-”
“I met him.”
“What? When?”
“With my Dad. They had this sit down. My Dad wanted to sort things out; he was trying to minimise the casualties.” He watched uncomfortably as she winced, the memories flooding her.
But Peter felt confused. “He spoke like he hadn’t seen you in years. Like he was this old work colleague of your Dad’s. Almost like you would run around his back garden at company barbecues.”
“I told you Pete, he’s a fucking mastermind. He plans out every single detail for maximum impact.” She suddenly shrugged off her blazer and brought her uninjured arm up closer to his face, twisting her arm to show off a small burn scar on the back of her arm. Peter tenderly reached out his hand, his thumb brushing against the shiny healed skin. “I got that after they took me hostage.” she informed him. “He used me as a bargaining chip.” she continued to explain as Peter suddenly stood, his internal rage bubbling under the surface, ready to burst, making him restless. He began to pace the floor, nibbling at his thumb and lower lip as she continued.
“That looks like the barrel of a gun.” Eddie said, inching forward to get a better look.
“One of his men fired a warning shot then placed the still smoking metal to the back of my arm.”
“When was this?” Peter asked between gritted teeth.
“Around 8 weeks ago.”
“Jesus Christ.” Peter snarled, his hands thrusting into his hair. “What were you thinking?” he snapped at her. “Why didn’t you come home!” He pressed her, his pupils blown in anger.
“I couldn’t-”
“Why didn’t he send you home!”
“Pete.” Harry tried to hold his hands out to Peter, encouraging him to give her some space and calm down.
“He was playing with her fucking life!” Peter continued to shout in his face. “All this time he was trying to keep her safe from me, KEPT MY OWN WIFE FROM ME, because he said it was safer and-!” Peter couldn’t even finish his sentence he was in such a rage.
Eddie quickly stood between the couple too, slowly stepping forward with Harry to try and back Peter away, to get him to calm down enough to see sense.
Angel was struggling to look at him, his words slicing at her like a knife. As Harry and Eddie continued their attempt to quell Peter’s anger, she began to look around the room. She was surprised with all of his shouting that May hadn’t come out from wherever she was to see what all the commotion was about.
“Where’s May?” she asked to the room.
“We’ve got someone driving her out to the cabin to keep her safe while all this is going on.” Eddie turned to fill her in.
“Which is exactly the kind of thing HE should have done in the first place.” Peter spat, his anger starting to boil again.
“Jesus Peter!” she shouted at him as she finally found her nerve again and came to a stand to confront him. “Pull yourself together. Fuck! This is exactly why he didn’t want me near you.”
Peter froze, her words going off like a bomb, an awkward silence falling over the room. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he said as he stepped towards her. He suddenly had that controlled, scary calm demeanour to him.
“I think you know exactly what that means.” she said quietly, but determinedly to him.
“Okay. Okay, I think everyone just needs to chill out.” Eddie said as he stepped forward with his arms outstretched in an attempt to separate them before either one of them did or said anything else to cause even more damage to their marriage.
Angel sighed as she turned back towards the sofa, her hands pressing lightly against the sides of her face as she sat. Peter too turned away, pacing towards the bookcase she had been observing the night before.
There was a light knock on the door and Harry walked down the hall to answer it.
“Hey man, what’s going on?” the youthful deep voice she recognised from the morning, greeted Harry as he opened it. Harry gave a non verbal answer making the voice respond, “ooh tough crowd.”
The two gentlemen made their way back down to the living room.
“Boss… Eddie… Maam.” a tall black youth said as he entered the room. Looking at him, Angel didn’t think he could be more than 19 or 20 years of age. A young recruit for Peter and definitely not in line with their old rules.
“Angel, this is Miles, Miles this is Angel, my wife.” Peter hissed the final word as he made introductions.
“Pleasure to meet you.” Miles said, stepping forward and reaching out a hand to her.
“And you, Miles.” she said quietly, still exacerbated by the recent spat.
“Umm, we’re going out, Miles is here to look after you while we’re gone.” Peter informed her.
“Really, Pete?” she said suddenly standing again, the tension in the room beginning to rise once more. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You got me a BabySitter!” She stressed the syllables of the word. “How old are you?” she quickly snapped to Miles.
“21.” he quietly interjected as she continued to rant.
“He’s a fucking child Peter. You are having me babysat by a literal child.”
“I’m not a child.” Miles tried to defend himself.
“Look I can’t have you come out with me, it’s not safe.” Peter began throwing back her way. “And especially not after this morning or what you’ve just fucking told me.”
“Oh My God!” She started to protest.
“And he’s not a child Angel. He is perfectly capable of watching out for you while I run out for a few hours.”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
“No, I’m not.” Peter said as he began to snatch up his things, eager to leave the apartment as quickly as possible before either one of them said anything that would really hurt the other. “Look, I’ll be back in a couple hours, you can scream at me then, but until then you’re gonna stay here and not cause Him any trouble.” he said pointing towards Miles, before he took one look back at her as she sat herself down on the sofa, a scowl on her face. “Fuck.” he grumbled more to himself. “Come on, let’s go.” He finished as he corralled Harry and Eddie out the door which he slammed shut.
Miles uncomfortably edged himself over to the empty armchair before taking a seat across from his new charge. “I promise I’m not that bad.” he said, hoping to diffuse the tension. She just rolled her eyes at him.
--
Miles sat patiently scrolling on his phone as Angel paced back and forth across the main living room floor, her hands constantly raking through her hair trying to destress.
“Would you just chill out or something, you’re making me nervous.” Miles threw out to the room which only resulted in her flashing him yet another glower. “Fine. Jeez.” he grumbled as his attention turned back to his phone.
She continued to pace back and forth for another few minutes before she suddenly stormed off to the kitchen. Miles listened as cupboards were opened and different items were slammed onto the kitchen counter. He reluctantly got up from his seat to investigate.
“What are you doing?” he asked as he came to a stand in the doorway, watching her as she began to spoon cups of flour into a glass bowl.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Ummm, cooking?”
“I’m making cupcakes.” She corrected. “You told me to chill out so that’s what I’m doing. When I’m stressed, I bake.” she said as she began grinding butter and sugar in a separate mixer she’d dragged out of one of the cupboards.
--
When Peter arrived back at the apartment 2 and a half hours later, Eddie, Harry and a mystery blonde in tow, she had made and frosted, one batch of vanilla cupcakes, one batch of chocolate cupcakes, one batch of traditional chocolate chip cookies and another of white chocolate and cherry. She was just taking the last tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, placing them carefully onto a cooling rack when Eddie barrelled into the kitchen.
“Uhh I knew I smelt something good.” he exclaimed as his fingers reached for one of the cookies and took a bite. He’d reached for one of the fresh out of the oven cookies however and instantly regretted it as he burnt his tongue on a still molten chocolate chip. “Ahh shit.” he breathed loudly as he sucked air into his mouth to try and cool it down.
“Serves you right.” Angel chastised.
“Damn.” the platinum blonde, who Angel noticed wore a pair of small black cat ears on her head, said as she made her way into the kitchen. “I didn’t realise we were opening up a bakery.” she jests.
“She stress bakes.” Miles proudly spoke up, filling her in.
“I see.” The blonde said as her fingers reached for a vanilla cupcake. Angel watched enviously as the woman skulked away, pausing in the doorway when Peter stepped into it. “She stress bakes.” the woman lowly repeated with what Angel felt was a sense of superiority.
“Not now Felicia.” he said as he let her pass. “Umm, can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his attention now falling on Angel.
“Umm, yeah, of course.” she quietly said as she put down the now empty baking tray and slipped her hands out of the oven mitts she had been wearing. “Don’t touch that, it’s hot.” she quickly said to Eddie in jest as she passed him.
“Ha, ha.” he deadpanned and she couldn’t help but chuckle.
As they passed through the living room, Peter leading her towards his old bedroom, her eyes couldn’t help but fall on the other woman, Felicia, who now sat in the old faded armchair in the living room, carefully picking at the cupcake she had taken. Noticing their presence Felicia couldn’t help but shoot a knowing look between them, a small smirk growing in the corner of her mouth.
“You slept with her, didn’t you?” Angel calmly asked him as he closed the door behind them.
“What?” His brow furrowed as he looked at her.
“The platinum blonde beauty in the living room currently picking at one of my cupcakes-”
“Felicia.” he interjected.
“You slept with her didn’t you?”
“What? Really you wanna go into this now?” he asked her, his irritation rising despite her calm demeanour.
“It’s a simple yes or no Peter.” she stated as she moved across the room to sit on the end of the bed as he continued to stand by the door, flummoxed about how they’d even got into this conversation.
“Look, I don’t blame you.” she continued. “Pete I was gone for 3 years, you really think I expected you to be cellibate.” He looked to his feet as he shook his head in disbelief. “Yes or no?”
“YES.” he hastily threw out.
“Does it mean anything?” she calmly asked.
“No, of course not.” he said a lot more calmly. “Now can we not talk about it.”
“Sure, sure.”
There was a pause as he attempted to compose himself once more. “Look, I pulled you in here because I wanted to apologise.” he said but his eye’s couldn’t fully meet hers. She pursed her lips, holding her tongue whilst she waited for him to continue. “I’m sorry okay.” he said again, this time with more conviction as his gaze slowly met hers. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you like I did and… I shouldn’t have treated you like we were on lockdown and that you needed a babysitter okay. I’m just not used to…” his voice trailed off for a moment as he observed her. “This.” he finally said as his hands motioned towards her. “I mean, last night and then everything this morning and then…” he really didn’t know how to articulate. How to even summarise her changes, the distance between them. How he felt about it all. “It’s just- different okay.”
“Okay.” she agreed timidly and understandingly.
There was silence between them as they both tried to process what had been said and find the right words to say. Peter chose to focus on familiarity in the end,
“I see you still bake then.” he quietly said, his body taking a small step towards her.
“Yeah.” she acknowledged quietly.
“What’ you planning on doing with all that?” he asked.
“I’m sure given the chance Eddie would probably eat most of it.” Peter chuckled in agreement. He always had enjoyed her sense of humour. “I was actually thinking I might take it down to the shelter.”
“F.E.A.S.T?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“I think they’d like that.”
“You gonna let me take them down myself?” she asked as he quietly took a seat next to her.
“Take Miles with you.”
She nodded in agreement. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” she asked quietly, not daring to look at him now he was so close, despite the way his body was turned towards her.
“I’m gonna pop back to the house, see it for myself.” he announced softly.
“Okay.” she replied, finally allowing herself to look up at him.
“Umm, I’ve got a couple of other errands to run after that but, umm,” he said nervously, “I’m gonna get Felicia to book us a table for dinner tonight so we can umm, talk. You know, try and figure this out.”
“Okay.” she agreed.
“Okay.” he repeated.
They sat on the bed in silence for a moment, the two of them just staring at one another. Peter couldn’t help it, when she moved her head and a few strands of hair fell forward across her face, his fingers automatically reached to push them back, tucking them behind her ear. His hand lingered at the edge of her jaw. For a moment that tension seemed to come back. Every time it felt heavier and heavier, both of them waiting to see who would break first, who would make the first move. But then the reminder of their fight took over, the unaccounted time that hung between them beginning to drive them apart.
“Umm, you should get going.” she said quietly. “And I should go and box all those baked goods up and take them down to the shelter.”
He didn’t want to speak. Didn’t want this moment to end. Didn’t want to take his hand away from her, the comfort of her skin against his fingertips.
When he continued not to move, she finally brought her fingers up to his, slowly lowering his hand away from her face, carefully placing it back down between them. She licked her lips regrettably, then got up and left.
------------------------------------
New chapters go live on Wednesdays and Fridays! If you want to be added to the tag list make sure you put it in writing for me. Also if you are enjoying the story don’t forget to tip me like you would your waiter by reblogging and leaving feedback and letting me know what you think!
(Initial tags came from interest from the teaser and prologue. If you liked the prologue or teaser post but haven't been tagged, it's because for some reason I could't, maybe check your settings and be sure to hit the follow button so you don't miss out.)
The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Seven: In The Land of Gods and Monsters, I was an Angel, Looking To Get F*cked Hard!
Summary: How else are you supposed to break in a new home...
Warnings: 18+ Only! SMUT & Tears! Complicated marriage, some fluff, P in V, Oral (female + male receiving)
Word Count: 5K
A/N: SURPRISE SMUT SATURDAY!!! I couldn't wait until Wednesday to share this with you all so here it is, the BIG ONE! We've been in slow burn territory up until now, but as we all know Peter and Angel's relationship isn't smooth sailing and this doesn't mean everything is magically fixed between them either. Anyway, as always, enjoy!!!
SEVEN
Angel watched out the window carefully as they crossed the bridge over to Queens. It had been a long time since either of them had spent time in Queens. Ever since May decided to downsize and move into an apartment in Brooklyn and Peter had hung up his Spider suit for good, neither of them had made their way back.
Peter hastily turned down one of the dark streets. As he got halfway down the street a large block of newly converted apartments came into view. Peter slowed and took another turn, the engine revving beneath them as he waited at a gateway. He reached for a clicker that had been sat absentmindedly in the car and Angel watched as the gate opened, revealing a ramp down to an underground car park.
“Peter, where are we?” she asked as they got out of the car. It was dark, the only light coming from a small gap at the top of the car park that let in the tiniest amount of the street light from outside.
“Can I have my phone back?” he asked as he made his way around the car towards her.
She quickly reached into her pocket for it, handing it over to him. His fingers swiped at the screen pushing a couple of buttons before the torch came on. “Come on, this way.” he said, holding his hand out for her to take as he guided them across the empty car park.
He reluctantly released it as they approached a door on the far side of the space, his fingers reaching for a set of keys in his pocket. He placed his phone in his mouth as he used both of his hands to put the key in the door and turn the lock at the same time.
“Come on.” he said softly as he took his phone back out of his mouth again and held out his hand to her, guiding her into the building.
“Peter, where are we? What’s going on?” She continued to ask with a curious sweetness that made him want to melt.
“Just keep coming.” he answered with equal softness as they moved through another door and into a stairwell. “The elevators are still not up and running so we’ll have to take the stairs I’m afraid.” He said, as his fingers found their way to a light switch, finally illuminating the space around them.
“How many floors?” she asked as he stood waiting on the first step for her as she hesitated.
“7.” He said honestly.
“Okay.” she sighed and nodded before slipping off her heels. Peter held out his hand to take them from her but she waved him off, insisting she carry them herself as they began to take the stairs up to the 7th floor.
She paused for a moment when they got to the fourth floor, her hand rubbing at her side as she caught her breath.
“You okay?” he asked when he noticed her fall behind.
“Yeah, yeah.” she waved him off.
“I can carry you if you want?” he asked as he took a couple steps back down towards her,
“Don’t you dare.” she said, holding a hand up to him.
They eventually made it to the seventh floor, Peter holding the door open as he waited for her to come up the last two steps. “You doing okay there?” he smiled through his concern and she tossed her shoes forcefully into his chest in response. “Ahhh okay,” he grumbled one of his hands quickly wrapping around the shoes, clutching them to his chest as she let go of them. He let out a small hiss under his breath as she walked through the door into a small hallway, his free hand coming to rub at his chest where one of the heels had awkwardly poked at one of his ribs.
He closed the door to the stairwell, plunging them into darkness once more. The only light now coming from the city streets through a single large window at the end of the hall.
“So are you finally gonna tell me where we are?” she asked as he began to fumble around in his pocket for another set of keys.
“Would you give me a second?” he grumbled as he fought to get the key into the lock of the large double set of doors before them, whilst still holding her heels and his phone in his hands.
“Fine.” she rolled her eyes, her arms folding impatiently.
There was a small click and he pushed the doors open. He stood staring at her for a moment. When she didn’t move he motioned with his hand for her to enter first.
She slowly began to walk into the large penthouse apartment, her body moving towards the lights of the city coming from the large windows that lined the back wall of the living space. There was another small click as Peter flicked a lightswitch, illuminating the room. She couldn’t help but smile as she turned and took in all of their old furniture.
“Welcome home.”
Her feet slowly padded across the floor, her fingers gliding along the back of a forest green sofa until she came to a stop a few steps away from Peter. She leaned against the sofa, her legs crossing in front of her as she looked at him expectantly.
“When did you do this?”
“I bought it this morning before you woke up and then organised having someone go down to the storage locker and get everything that was in there.” He explained, one hand sliding into his pocket as he spoke, the other continuing to hold her shoes at his side.
“By bought it, you mean the whole building, don’t you?”
He blushed a little as he looked away from her, a hand reaching up to scratch the hair at the back of his head. “Yeah.” he said sheepishly.
Although they had had money for years and he was more than comfortable with spending that money, he never really liked talking about it or drawing attention to how rich they really were or why that was. No matter what happened, there was still always an element of that ordinary boy from Queen’s living inside him.
“You can actually see May and Ben’s old house from here if you look close enough.” He quickly said as he began to cross towards the window. He still didn’t let go of her shoes.
She slowly crossed the room to stand beside him so he could point it out to her in the darkness. “It’s, uh, that one over there.” he pointed towards a small speck of a house in the distance.
“Peter?”
“Yeah.” he turned his head towards her nervously. The way she stared up at him sent a shiver all through his body that he held tight, trying to hide. No vulnerability. No weakness. He had to keep himself at a distance. He couldn’t let her back in. Not like before. But he couldn’t help it. It was her, it was always going to be her. Without him realising his body leaned toward her and she too leaned further towards him.
“Thank you.” she whispered.
He watched her closely as her eyes moved back and forth as they scanned his own, almost as if they were looking for something specific. Permission maybe. If he just leaned in that little bit closer… but he couldn’t. He suddenly pulled himself away, causing her to close her eyes and worry at her lower lip as her eyes fell to the floor.
“Let me give you a tour.” he calmly said, trying to change the subject.
She slowly followed him as he walked past their dining room table that acted as a divider from the living area to the kitchen. He finally placed her shoes down on the large island and began to walk around it, opening up the fridge and the cupboards like he was on an episode of MTV cribs.
“I made sure they stocked the fridge and don’t worry, I had all of the old plates put back in the cupboards.” He motioned towards a large stack of mixed plates. They had two sets, one fancy formal set and a mixed set of different shapes and colours that looked like they had been sourced from different antique stores over the years.
She smiled at him fondly as he showed off a snack cupboard full of crisps and chocolate like he was still on a teenagers diet.
“Okay, so it’s got three bedrooms.” he said as he left the kitchen and began to ferry her towards a set of stairs that lead to a second floor.
He showed her the two other bedrooms and their shared bathroom first before leading her towards another set of double doors which he opened dramatically to reveal the master bedroom, complete with their old super king bed, with its deep blue velvet headboard. Their old vintage red oriental bedside tables, topped with black and white, vase shaped, striped lamps. A dark red wine coloured chaise lounge, sat along the back wall besides yet another door. Peter followed her eyes and eagerly moved across the room to pull it open revealing a large walk-in closet and adjoining ensuite.
She slowly followed him, her feet creeping slowly across the floor as she took it all in. He’d even had all of the old works of art they had collected mounted to the walls. She was surprised he hadn’t also had the walls painted or wallpapered like the way they used to have them from how he’d had everything placed in as close to how they used to have things as possible, but she supposed it had only been one day, it was a big enough task to carry this out as it was.
Her eyes roamed over the items in the closet, her fingers brushing against the fabric of all the clothes she’d ended up leaving behind. Designer dresses and pantsuits. In a cubby hole was a stack of folded satin pyjamas. There was a small dressing table built into the space with what looked like most of the products from Sephora placed nicely on top in front of the mirror or placed in draws under the table, along with the old antique tasselled blush pink and red velvet dressing stool she used to sit at.
Peter just stepped back and watched as her eyes silently scanned everything, her fingers touching all the things she hadn’t seen in three years. She suddenly froze when she came to a stack of box shelves, the middle one of which had a tray of perfumes on it. Peter felt like she was a ghost, caught up in a memory as she reached for one of the perfume bottles. It had been one of her Mother’s, a small glass decanter that held Chanel no.5, her mother’s favourite perfume.
“Is it too much?” he asked as her fingers tenderly stroked the contours of the bottle.
She couldn’t find her voice so merely shook her head, simultaneously willing the tears that threatened to spill over her cheeks any second to go away. “No.” she finally said, her voice sounded hoarse and broken. She looked at Peter, tears in her eyes. He immediately crossed the floor to her, wrapping her up in his arms.
He sat them down on the floor, the perfume bottle clutched close to her chest, while he held her close to his. She quietly wept into his shirt as he gently stroked her hair, cradling her head against him as he gently rocked them back and forth.
“I’m sorry.” he said gently against the crown of her head as he placed a tender kiss there.
“Don’t be.” she said as she began to settle, pulling herself away from him slightly so she could look at his face.
His fingertips tenderly brushed against her cheek, wiping away a stray tear before they laced themselves into her hair at the nape of her neck, his thumb continuing to reach and slowly brush small lines across her cheek as he looked at her.
They stayed there for a moment, enjoying each others closeness, finding a familiar home in the comfort of their bodies.
“I’m sorry.” she finally whispered.
“What do you have to be sorry about?” he cooed as his head leaned in closer to hers.
“I shouldn’t have left.”
“We both know he didn’t give you a choice.”
“But I should have been stronger…. I should have said no.”
“No you couldn’t have.” he said as he pushed her hair back away from her face, his eyes searching hers. “We both know the man your father was.”
“I should have said-”
Peter cut her off with a shake of his head. “No… no.”
In the silence that fell between them she reached for his hand, her thumb running a path across his wedding band. “You took it off.” she said.
“I know… I thought it would be easier if I…” he couldn’t finish his sentence.
“If you didn’t see it there all the time.” she finished.
“I still wore it though. Felicia got me a chain so I could still wear it around my neck.” he explained. Her eyes met his again then at the sound of Felicia’s name. “It’s okay.” he tried to soothe her as if he could read her mind and all of her racing thoughts. “I promise you it meant nothing. She means nothing… not like you do.” His eyes scanned her once more as his hand at the side of her face grew firmer, willing her to believe him. “It’s always you.” he promised as his face grew closer to hers. “Always you.” he sighed into her mouth before he gently pressed his lips to hers. It was short and tender, a question, permission, as he pulled his lips away hesitantly, allowing her the option to continue if she wanted to.
She quickly searched his eyes, that pull like molten honey, before her lips were reaching to chase his again. It was like taking a drug in which they both relapsed, like a high they’d both been trying to chase but failing, but now finally had returned to the only thing that would hit the spot. Their kisses grew quickly frantic as her hands grabbed tightly to his clothes as their breaths became shallower and more laboured.
He pulled his lips away from her, dragging them instead along the line of her jaw as she reached to rid herself of her blazer. His fingers gripped hold of her hips, turning her to straddle him properly as her lips fought to attach themselves back to his. He slowly rolled his hips beneath her, grinding himself up against her sex as her arms latched around the back of his neck, holding him tightly to her.
He breathed her in deeply through his nose as his hands nestled into her hair, his tongue reaching out to open her up further. She moaned against his mouth as he licked between her teeth.
His hand slid down her back, looking for the zipper to her jumpsuit but grumbled as he began to struggle. “Uhhgg, how the heck am I supposed to get you out of this?” She chuckled into his lips before parting from him.
He watched as she stood, her fingers reaching for the hidden zipper in the back, slowly pulling it all the way down. She pulled the top part off of her shoulders little by little until she revealed the white lace bra underneath she had found in the little bag she had been given that morning. Peter licked at his lips with awe as he looked up at her as she continued to strip down in front of him. She then hooked her thumbs into the waistband to lower the jumpsuit down her legs revealing the white lace thong she had also found in the bag, a matching set.
“Fuck baby, I know I said this morning they were nothing special but…” his voice trailed off, his tongue growing too heavy and his thoughts too hazy to finish his sentence.
She stepped out of the item of clothing, picking it up and dropping it back on the floor further away from them before she began to step closer to him again.
His hand reached to trail up her legs as she slowly lowered herself back down onto her knees, her legs straddling his thighs. Her hands began to reach for the belt of his pants when he protested. “Nuh, uh.” he said with a shake of his head, “Come here.” he said as he began to lower his back onto the floor and he shuffled himself down further between her legs until her sex was in line with his chin.
“Peter.” she sighed with a blush in her cheeks as he ran his hands up the backs of her thighs, his hands finding a home on her ass as he slowly pulled her down to sit on his face. He licked a thick stripe along her lace covered sex, the pressure of his tongue teasing her clit. “Peter.” she sighed again.
“What baby?” he cooed before his teeth gently nibbled at the lace that covered his dessert. His right hand slowly moved, his index finger hooking around the underwear to move it to one side and she sighed once more as his mouth reattached itself to her.
“Uhhh.” she sighed as she leaned forward, her good arm bracing herself against the carpet just above his head.
“Uhhg, I fucking missed the taste of this sweet pussy.” he moaned as he continued to lick at her opening, his tongue sucking her clit into his mouth every couple of strokes. “So fucking sweet.” She moaned and gasped at his words of praise as her other hand began to grip tightly around his hair, her fingers carding through his messy strands, holding him closer to her sex as her head tipped back in ecstasy. “So fucking pretty for me.” He continued to coo against her sex as he held her tightly to his face. His finger reached round to tease at her entrance.
“Fuck, Peter.” she moaned as he slowly slipped it into her wet heat, her hips already moving to grind against it and she felt him grin against the inside of her thigh.
“What is it baby?” he asked. “Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck, Peter…” she panted as she ground back against his hand as he slipped another finger inside her, his tongue still tracing lazy circles around her clit.
“Tell me baby, use your words, I want to hear that pretty voice.” he said before he cheekily sucked her sex between his lips again rendering her speechless. When she didn’t respond he quickly removed his fingers from inside her and she groaned in protest having been growing close to her climax. His finger grabbed tightly onto her hips as he quickly flipped them, rolling her over onto her back, one hand rapidly moving higher up her back as he cradled her to the floor.
He nipped playfully at the top of her thigh and she let out a small squeal. “Ow!.” she said playfully as she lifted her head to look at the shit eating grin that spread across his face as he nestled himself between her legs.
“I told you,” he said as he leaned in and licked another stripe through her folds to soothe the sting, “I want you to use your words.” He said as he sat up, his fingers hooking into her underwear and pulling them down her legs and off of her ankles before he dropped them out of the way somewhere behind him.
In that moment she thought it was criminal that he was still fully clothed, whilst she now lay almost completely naked on the carpet of their new dressing room all ready and pliant for him, but she was still reeling from being edged.
“Please, Peter, make me cum.” she cooed as her hands reached out for him.
He slowly slid himself back down onto the carpet, his hand interlocked with hers for a brief second before he was dragging them down the rest of her body. They moved around the backs of her thighs as he pulled her sex back closer to his mouth again.
“Anything for my Wife.” he said before his tongue dipped back inside her.
Her fingers fisted back into his hair at his ministration, his tongue drawing expertly across her sex, drawing sigh after sigh from her lips. His favourites were the little hiccuping sounds she made whenever he hit a really sensitive spot, being sure to take extra care whenever he found one.
Her back began to arch as she drew closer and his fingers reached up to enter her once more, his fingers hooking round in a come hither motion inside her. He felt her demeanour suddenly change though, her voice adjusting slightly, an almost impatience now in her tone. He quickly realised in her current position she was now leaning on her shoulder. He hesitated.
“No, don’t stop.” she said as she tried to focus on her impending climax and not the growing pain in her shoulder. “Please Peter.” she begged as her fingers pulled tightly against his hair, her pussy grinding to chase his mouth. He suddenly moved faster, wanting her to get to her high as quickly as possible.
“Come on baby, give it to me.” he coached, hoping his words would help. She grew quiet in her focus, her moans becoming strained and caught in her mouth. “Come on.” he said as he felt her begin to tense up, her back arching, mouth silently falling open.
Her climax crashed into her like a wave. “There it is, good girl. So fucking good for me.” Peter cooed as she began to relax back down into the carpet, her hips still grinding against his face in an attempt to ride it out. Peter licked up everything she would give him until she couldn’t give no more.
She made a little whine, her fingers pushing his head away as her sensitivity peaked. “MMMmm.” she groaned and he gently kissed the inside of her thighs before he crawled on all fours to hover over her. His looming shadow made her open her eyes to look at him before he leaned over to kiss her.
“Mmm,” he hummed against her lips before he pulled away. “Taste so fucking good for me baby.” he said as he began to kiss down her neck and across her breasts. “Missed you so fucking much.” he sighed as he leaned up to lock his lips with hers again as he wrapped his arms around her and gently lifted her off the floor.
She wrapped her legs around him as he carried her back into the bedroom, laying her down softly on top of the bed covers. They separated from each other as he finally started to undress. She watched as his fingers began undoing the buttons of his shirt but she was impatient and restless, she hadn’t been with anyone else the whole time they were separated, her only comfort her handy vibrator.
She sat herself up onto her knees as she leaned forward and began hastily undoing his belt. He was halfway done with the buttons on his shirt when she started to unbutton his pants, her fingers pulling on the zipper and pulling both his trousers and his briefs down in one messy pull.
His half hard cock sprung free and her fingers reached to wrap around his warm length, giving it a few pumps and encouraging it to full mast.
“Fuck baby,” he groaned as he shrugged off his shirt and she quickly took him into her mouth. His hands fisted into her hair as her tongue circled around the tip of his cock before her cheeks hollowed and she began to swallow the length of him into her mouth. He moaned as she moved her head back a moment and pumped his length with her hand, her saliva smearing along the length of his cock as she moved her hair out of the way before leaning back in, the flat of her tongue outstretched as she ran it along the side of his length as she continued to move her hand back and forth.
“Shit, baby.” He sneered between his teeth. Her mouth felt so good but there was something else he wanted to feel more. He grabbed either side of her face as he slipped himself out of her mouth, guiding her head up toward his so he could smash his lips into hers. She hummed against his lips. “Come here.” He said as he climbed up onto the bed as he laid himself back amongst the pillows.
He helped hold her steady as she climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.
She leaned over to kiss him as his hand reached to line himself up with her entrance. She gasped into his mouth as he thrust himself up into her. She let her forehead fall to rest against his as he stilled for a moment, allowing her time to adjust. He slowly began to feel her hips grinding down against him and he tilted his head to capture her lips once more as he began to rock inside her.
“Fuck, Peter.” She sighed as he moved himself at an agonising pace, the slow drag of his cock teasing all of the sensitive spots within her.
His hand caressed soothingly across her bare back but grew irritated as they caught the lace bra she still wore. He quickly unclasped it and she leaned back slightly to slip it from her arms and throw it across the room. The slight change in position though opened her up more and Peter began to tease a whole new spot inside her, her pleasure growing with every thrust up and grind down. Before they knew it the slow and steady pace Peter had started, began to accelerate as they found their rhythm, her fingertips bracing herself on his chest, her nails grazing his skin.
“Damn Princess.” He almost snarled, but she didn’t care, he was hitting just the right spot she liked, her head tilting back, mouth hung open in hiccuping gasps. “Fuck baby, you look so pretty like that.”
“Mmmhmmm.” She moaned in agreement as his fingers grabbed a hold of her hips.
“Right there?” He asked.
“Right there.” She panted. “Fuck!”
“You’re so fucking beautiful Princess, so fucking beautiful.” He praised. “You gonna cum for me Princess? Come on baby, cum for me.” He goaded as she leaned over him, her head burrowing into his neck and his arms wrapped around her tightly. He held her still as he adjusted his footing and began pounding up into her at a rapid speed that made her speechless, the only noise escaping her those small hiccuping sounds as her hand tucked itself around his neck, her fingers pulling at the hair there. He grunted into her ear.
She sighed as she finally began to regulate and catch her breath. “You like that baby?” She asked as her fingers tugged at his hair again, eliciting another grunt to escape him. “Come on Peter.” She began to egg him on as she felt her muscles begin to tighten, her climax building so close to dropping.
His hand slid down to squeeze one of her ass cheeks tightly as his other hand moved up to cradle the back of her head. She lifted it, her forehead moving to rest against his again as the sensitivity building in her core felt too much. Her mouth hung open as she panted into his mouth. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!” She moaned as her climax finally washed over her. But instead of giving her a moment to recover this only spurred Peter on to chasing his own high, his hips continuing to buck up and down as he held her close, swallowing every moan and whimper he made fall from her mouth.
She was speechless, boneless, limp in his grasp, just his fuck toy, pliant and willing.
“Peter.” She moaned as it grew too much.
“I know.” He tried to soothe.
“Peter.” She said again, tears springing to the corners of her eyes.
“I know baby, I know, just a little bit more.” He said.
She burrowed her head into the crook of his neck as it all grew too much, her cunt pulsing around him and flooding his cock with a new wave of arousal as she came again.
“Good, girl, so good for me.” He cooed. “My wife, always so good for me.”
He pumped himself inside her three more times before he suddenly slowed. There was a moment's delay before she felt him twitch and throb inside her as he emptied his load into her. She whimpered against his skin at the sensation.
“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking good. So fucking good.” He kept repeating as he held her there close to his chest.
His hand ran up and down her back soothingly, his fingers brushing aside the hair at the nape of her neck every so often as he allowed them both a moment to calm down and take it in. Their first time being together in three years.
Little by little her breathing settled and he finally shifted her head so he could place a kiss on her forehead. She immediately chased his lips for a real one.
“I love you.” He said automatically.
She hesitated for a moment as she turned her head to look at him better, to see if he truly meant it or it was just the heat of the moment. She stared into his chestnut eyes and began to melt as he looked at her, so docile. Only for her. Only ever for her. She found herself being drawn into that sickly sweet molten honey and she couldn’t help but say it, “I love you too.”
------------------------------
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!
The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter 2: Mr and Mrs Parker
Summary: Things are getting tense in the Parker household as their new enemy starts to make himself known.
Warnings: 18+ Only, mature content, eventual smut, weapons, shooting, life threatening incidents, a lot of emotional tension, swearing
Word Count: 2.7k+
A/N: I love this chapter so much. It's my first real proper action scene I've written. As the name of the chapter hints, it's very Mr and Mrs Smith inspired. I have been falling completely in love with these characters and now I hope you are too. So here we go... (also, any thought's on who might be Angel's Dad?)
TWO
Peter had heard of the Vulture before, but only at a distance. A rumour. An urban legend. Ghost story even, told by scared lackeys who had moved from one place to another looking for work after their last master had disappeared. Aptly named for the way he swooped in to feast off of what was left.
“No one talks about how he’s the mastermind who causes their downfall in the first place.” she fills in.
They had moved to the adjoining living room. Peter sat perched on the edge of the sofa, his elbows leant forward on his knees as he watched her pace back and forth as she recounted everything.
“He’d swoop in, in the dead of night, picking off anyone he could get his hands on, one by one. My dad didn’t think much about it at first. Thought it was one of the Italian groups getting too big for their boots. Then he took out the warehouse on West 49th-”
“In the Kitchen?”
“Yeah.” her voice was timid.
“Wait, you’ve been back in the city?” How had he not noticed? Why hadn’t Eddie told him.
“Yes.” she said again, the word barely audible. She couldn’t meet his eyes, her guilt clear on her face.
“How long?”
“4 Months.” she admitted. She finally looked at him as his brow furrowed. He sat back in his seat, his hands sliding down his face in exasperation. She could feel his energy twisting, his temper beginning to boil under the surface of his skin. “Don’t be mad at Eddie.” Her words shook him to his core. “I know you had him come find me.” She said as she stepped towards him, but didn’t dare go any further than the coffee table, the unspoken no man's land.
“You knew I had Eddie following you?”
“Peter, he’s an ex investigative journalist not the private investigator you think he is.” Peter didn’t respond, just stared up at her as he leaned forward on his knees again. “I told him not to say anything. I didn’t want it to start another war. It took me long enough as it was to try and convince my Father to let me come home with the promise I wouldn’t contact you. Let alone push my luck.”
Peter’s face fell. After all this time, she was still the one person he couldn’t keep his facade up with, except maybe Harry.
“Peter I promise you I didn’t want to leave. Why do you think there were never any divorce papers sent? That was the deal I made with him. I would leave only on the grounds that as soon as he died, I’d be straight back here. He knew that, that’s why he left you the whole Kitchen in the end.”
Peter still couldn’t believe it. After years, the only stronghold in the city he couldn’t penetrate, Hell’s Kitchen, her father’s domain, was now his.
“He’s gonna be coming for you Peter. He doesn’t take too kindly to not getting his meal after he’s made his kill.”
He stared at her, almost like she was a stranger in that moment. The way she spoke. Now hardened by the three year separation. All that time spent with her Father. She dressed differently, did her hair differently. Getting closer to 30 had changed her. No longer was she the fresh faced girl straight out of college he’d originally snuck around with behind her father’s back. Nor the innocent bride, no something had changed her, hardened her. That’s when he noticed it, a small flash of red.
“Get down.” he shouted as he leapt across the coffee table to tackle her to the ground as the first shot went off.
Her hands instinctively reached to protect her head as they both shuffled across the rug, Peter pushing the coffee table out of the way as a barrage of bullets came hurtling through the windows. They lay hunched down on the floor in front of the sofa.
“Where’s the closest gun?” she shouted over the sound of gunfire.
His eyes instinctively looked at his piece, still sitting on top of the kitchen island. Upon realising it was too far he looked at a painting on the wall to their left. If he could just get to the safe hidden behind it.
“Jesus Christ.” she shouted as her hand reached down to her trouser leg, lifting it up to reveal the holster strapped tightly around her ankle. She pulled the smallest pistol Peter had ever seen from it. She nestled closer to the sofa as she removed the safety, using the briefest of windows between shooting to check out the window. She could barely see a thing out there through the cracked glass. “I can buy you maybe 30 seconds, you’ve gotta make it count.”
He gave a quick nod of confirmation.
“Ready? 3…2…1-” she sat herself up, leaning her arms on the back of the sofa and making one shot, then two, both hitting their mark as Peter rushed towards the left wall. He practically ripped the painting off the wall to reveal the safe behind it, his fingers dexterously entering the code to unlock it,
He heard two more shots as his fingers reached for the pieces of the two guns inside. There was one more shot, then another, he was trying to block it out, focussing on sliding the magazine into the guns, one getting tucked into his belt once completed, the other still in his hand when-
“Ahh fuck.” he heard her cry. He turned to see her crouching back low behind the sofa, her hand covering her left shoulder, blood already beginning to seep through the long sleeved white turtleneck she had on. “Mmmmhmm.” she hummed in pain as he slid back across the floor towards her as another barrage of bullets rang out through the room.
“What happened to my 30 seconds?” he tried to joke and lighten the tone as he protectively crouched over her. His fingers tenderly encouraging her to move her hand so he could assess the damage.
“It’s fine.” she hissed as her eyes closed, head hitting the back of the sofa firmly as she tried to centre herself and push past it. “Merely grazed me.” she confirmed when he wouldn’t let up.
She pushed him away, placing some distance between them again and forcing him to get focused on the enemy outside once more. She watched as his head inched upwards to quickly look over the back of the sofa and out of the window which had completely shattered at this point, leaving a large gaping hole in the wall. His head quickly ducked again as a few more bullets landed in the top of the sofa, closer to his head.
“Bet you’re glad I redecorated now.” He joked as he watched her toss her now empty pistol to one side. He reached into his waistband for the other gun, holding it out to her.
“Thanks.” she grumbled as she propped herself back up onto her knees, assuming a similar crouched position to him as she rechecked the bullets and the magazine before cocking the gun.
“What, don’t trust me?”
“Old habit.” she grumbled. When had that become an old habit he wondered. “Come on Spider boy, what’s the plan here?”
He felt the corner of his mouth twitch upwards, he hadn’t heard that in a long time and it made him nostalgic, almost youthful again. But he quickly pushed it away, getting his game face on. “We need to get out of here, get around the back, take one of the cars from the garage.”
“I’m assuming it’s locked.” she said before seizing an opportunity to pop up from their cover and fire two shots into her target. Peter couldn’t help the admiration he felt as he watched her fire a perfect head and chest shot into her mark. If they currently weren’t fighting for their lives he definitely would have found himself growing hard. “Yo, Parker. Back here please!” she shouted at him, snapping him out of it. “Keys?”
“Same place as always.”
“So you didn’t move everything.” she sighed, as he took an opportunity to take his shot.
When he settled himself back down tight against the sofa, his body turned to face her, he finally said, “You keep low, head through the kitchen and out the back, I’ll cover you.”
She gave him a quick nod, waiting for his signal as he checked back over the sofa at their assailants as they took a break from firing to reload. “Ready?” She nodded again. “Go!” he said as he stood and began firing out the window at the gunmen.
She scuttled across the floor, picking back up her pistol as she went. She was halfway across the floor when the shooting started again. She just caught the sight of a dark figure moving along the windows to track her, before a bullet hit the hardwood floor mere inches to her right. She froze, her head turning in shock. “My bad honey, I’m sorry!” Peter called as he turned his body and shot out the window in the rogue gunman's direction.
She quickly slid herself into the kitchen, her body sliding to the left for the wall that stuck out a little further, giving her cover and allowing her to stand and assess her next move. She needed to get across to the other side of the kitchen to where the utility room was with the key cupboard. She peeked her head around the wall back in the direction of Peter who was now back crouched behind the sofa, reloading his weapon. A shot rang out, hitting the wall just to the side of her head and she quickly took cover again. That’s when she spotted Peter’s other gun he’d first come home with on the island. She lifted her leg, quickly placing her smaller pistol back in its holster, freeing up her other hand once more.
She took a steadying breath before sliding across the tiled floor, using her hand to stop herself once she was safely behind the large island, a couple more shots popping off at her heels and bouncing off the work tops.
“How’s it going Princess?” Peter hollered from the living room.
“I’m working on it!” she shouted back. “Would be a lot easier if I wasn’t being shot at every time I moved!”
“Uh, fuck it!” she heard him grumble to himself.
There was a commotion as furniture was hastily moved and she took that as her opportunity to reach up and grab the second gun off the island. She had just crouched back down into her position when she started to hear the gunmen outside grow frantic. “What the-! Ahhhgg!!” she heard one of them scream. This was her moment, she knew she had to seize it. Both guns in hand she rushed, still crouched low towards the utility room door. There were a couple more shots behind her and then another very unmanly wail before she reached the door, skidding through the open door frame.
She quickly made her way to the left wall, opening up the small cupboard in the wall to reveal a bunch of keys all on different hooks. She began to scan her eyes across the labels. Pool house keys, spare front door key, a whole load of window keys… “Aha!” she exclaimed in triumph as she found the garage door key. She then paused as her eyes fell on the different car keys, spotting the keys to the Porsche. She couldn’t help but smirk as she snatched them off the wall too.
There were a couple more shots, this time coming from the kitchen as she took one glance through the doorframe to see Peter rushing across the room towards her. She raced to open the back door, the adrenaline coursing through her doing well to mask the pain in her shoulder but she couldn’t escape the throbbing sensation that radiated from it. She groaned as the door finally gave way and she raced along the side of the house to where she could see the garage, her fingers quickly slotting one of the guns into her waistband. She paused at the corner wall of the house, checking for any of the gunmen. Her answer came by the way of another shot hitting the wall next to her head making her jump back into the shadows. “Fuck.” she grumbled as she closed her eyes, head falling back against the wall. There was a noise to her right, her eyes quickly flying open, back on alert, her fingers reaching for the safety of the gun in her hands, her arms quickly raising. She quickly lowered it again as she saw her husband, creeping across the back of the house towards her.
“What are you waiting for?” he hissed as he came up beside her.
“Really?” she hissed back, shooting him a look that said she thought he was the biggest dumbass she’d ever met. He merely shrugged. She rolled her eyes as she turned to peer around the side of the house again. Another shot. She recoiled, shooting Peter a look as if to say ‘that’s why I’m waiting.’ Out of the corner of her eye however she could see through one of the back windows of the house, the shadowy figures already making their way through the lower level to hunt them down. Peter, catching her sudden distracted look, quickly followed her gaze before snapping back to her.
“I’ll take care of them, you run.”
“Okay.” she said with a small nod. There was a pause between them before he was holding his hand out to her. “What?”
“I know you took it off the counter.”
She rolled her eyes as she reached back into her waistband for his gun. She slapped the heavy weight of it into his open palm.
“Thank you.” he said. She rolled her eyes at the tiny smirk in the corner of his mouth as their fingers brushed against one anothers in the exchange.
He stepped forward, pushing her back so he was in front as he readied himself. “Ready?” he checked in with her again.
“Ready.” she nodded and he stepped out, arm aloft shooting two bullets in quick succession in two separate targets. She heard their bodies hit the ground as she raced for the garage door, her blood covered fingers fumbling with the key in the lock. There were two more shots behind her, one hitting the top corner of the metal door just as she was turning the handle, pushing the garage door open.
Her eyes scanned the cars in front of her. “Fuck!” she muttered again as she noticed the silver Porsche further down the garage in the shadow of the other door. She quickly raced over to the second door of the double garage, her fingers working faster this time, but still not fast enough before another bullet hit the bricks that divided the two doors. Her eyes grew wide and she sneered at yet another close call.
“What’s taking so long?” she heard Peter call out.
She ignored him as she threw the second door open, her fingers fumbling for the button on the car keys, a loud chirp and lights flashing as it unlocked. She quickly raced around the drivers side, her shoulder protesting as she flung the door open. “Uhh.” she groaned, clutching it as she quickly slid inside. Her fingers were racing to put the key in the ignition with one hand before she’d even closed the door. There was a loud roar as the car came to life and she reached with her good hand to pull the door to, before she was putting the car in gear, her foot hitting the accelerator.
She broke quickly as she came alongside Peter, her good arm throwing the driver's door open as she simultaneously began manoeuvring herself into the passenger seat. There were two more shots as Peter put one foot and then the other into the car. The driver’s door slammed at the same time his foot was hitting the accelerator, tires squealing as he began to speed down the drive. She watched in discomfort as she shuffled in her seat as a few of the men in front of them quickly leaped out of the way of the car. She groaned in pain once more, as her arm bumped against the car door as Peter skidded off the drive and onto the road, the last few shots ringing out behind them as they sped away from the house as fast as they could.
--------------------------------
New chapters will drop every Friday!
If you want to be added to the tag list be sure to let me know in writing or re-blogging this post. All of these initial tags come from the likes on my original teaser, as well as the prologue and those who re-blogged that post and asked to be tagged. (I will not be adding on tags from likes alone from her on out, so if you want the tag you have got to ask for it.)
(If you liked the prologue or teaser post but haven't been tagged, it's because for some reason I could't, maybe check your settings and be sure to hit the follow button so you don't miss out.)
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!
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!
