❛ You can have my heart if you have the stomach
to take it. Kiss me hard enough to invert me. ❜

♱

COLD LITTLE HEART

            𝕸arcella Juliana Ortiz's heart had gone cold a long time ago.

            Once, it had burned—wild and fierce, an inferno licking at the edges of her ribs, fed by ambition, by sleepless nights bent over textbooks in the sterile glow of library lamps, by the dream of healing the broken and stitching the world back together. She had been brilliant. Steady hands, sharp mind, the kind of prodigy whose name would have been whispered in hospital corridors, whose future had been etched in marble before she had even arrived. She was meant to carve a legacy, to hold life and death between her fingers, to decide which would triumph with the precision of a scalpel's edge.

            But fate had always been cruel.

            Marcella knew this all too well—tragedy had never been an unexpected guest in her life, but rather a shadow stitched into the very fabric of her existence, silent and patient, waiting for the right moment to sink its teeth into her throat.

            There was a time she had looked upon the fragile balance of life and death with something close to reverence, a believer at the altar of medicine. But that girl—the one who dreamed in sutures and symphonies of heartbeats, the one who swore she was destined to mend what the world had shattered—was long gone. In her place stood someone colder, sharper, hollowed-out, and reassembled into someone unrecognizable. A woman made of smoke and tequila, of nicotine-stained fingers wrapped around glass bottles, of hands that were meant to save lives but now only balled into fists of rage. She had abandoned the pristine sterility of operating rooms for the whiskey-stained floors of a Queens dive bar. Gone were the heart monitors and the medical seminars; in their place, the murmured confessions of drunks and the bitter tang of regret that never quite left her tongue.

            Marcella told herself she liked it this way. That she had chosen this life. That it was easier to drown than to wade through the wreckage of what she had lost that night all those years ago—the night she should have died. She could still smell the iron, thick and pungent, clinging to her skin like a second layer. She could still feel his fingers around her throat—gloved, merciless—squeezing until the world blurred at the edges. The flash of steel against her sternum, the slow, sickening pressure as it split skin. The way pain had unfurled inside her, sharp and electric, a dying star collapsing in on itself. The scars never let her forget. They traced the story across her skin, a permanent record of what had been done to her, of what she had done in return. And the sound—God, the sound—of his body hitting the floor after she buried a bullet in his chest still echoed in her bones, reverberated in her skull like a gunshot that never truly faded.

            She had survived. But survival wasn't a gift. It was a sentence. Sooner or later, every debt had to be paid. And now, the city would bleed for it.

            Perhaps, in some cruel, inevitable way, the first drop of blood had already been spilled the moment she found the crushed spider. She hadn't meant to. She had only stepped outside to take out the trash—a simple, mindless task. But then she saw him. A broken thing draped in red and blue, crumpled in the rain-soaked alley, the stain of crimson pooling beneath him.

            Spider-Man.

            At first, she thought he was dead. His body was slumped, chest barely rising, fingers twitching in weak, useless spasms—like a dying insect. His suit was torn in places where flesh had split open, wounds gaping and raw. His mask was cracked, one lens shattered, revealing swollen skin beneath. She should have left him there. The city chewed people up and spat them out every day. One more body in an alley, one more casualty—what difference would it make? But before she could stop herself, her hands were already on him, pressing against the heat of his wounds, feeling the uneven pulse of life still clinging to him.

            She had dragged him inside. Laid him on her couch. Watched his blood soak into the fabric, dark and unrelenting, as she worked. Her hands had not held a scalpel in years, but muscle memory was a cruel thing—it never really left. The precision of her touch, the cold efficiency of her movements. She stitched him up in silence and when it was done, she sat there, watching the rise and fall of his ribs, waiting for him to wake. She had questions. But by the time his eyes flickered open—dazed, unfocused—he barely spoke. He looked at her like he knew her. Like he recognized something in her that she didn't want to name. And then, before she could stop him, he was gone. Stumbling out into the night, vanishing into the city like a ghost.

            Marcella had thought that would be the end of it. But, it seemed, in hindsight, that finding Spider-Man broken and bloodied had been an omen—a warning carved in bruises and split skin. A prelude to something far, far worse.

            Because after that night, the bodies started appearing.

            Women, carved open with the precision of a surgeon's blade, their blood spilling onto the streets like a grotesque love letter to death. A single scarlet rose resting delicately upon their chests. A mark Marcella knew all too well. But he was dead. Or so she thought. Copycat killer or dead man walking–it didn't matter anymore. The police were scrambling, always one step behind, chasing shadows, with no leads, no answers, and no mercy to offer. The monster that haunted the city's underbelly had returned, leaving nothing but carnage and terror in its wake.

            Marcella was no detective or hero. But she understood violence. She knew what it was to stand at the very edge of death and spit in its face. Now, she would do whatever it took to end this madness. And this time, no one—not even the ghosts of her past—was going to stop her.

            Marcella Juliana Ortiz was out for blood.

Starring

Lindsey Morgan as . . . . Marcella Juliana Ortiz

♱

( also known as M.J. / Marcie )

1995. The Final Girl. Med School Dropout. Bruised Knuckles, Steady Hands. Cold Heart. Drowned in Tequila, Baptized in Blood. Bartender. Motorcycles. Marlboro Red 100's. Moves Like Smoke, Hits Like Thunder. Sagittarius. A Girl is a Gun. Velvet Voice, Razor Tongue. Street-Smart & Book-Smart. Gold Hoops. Bite Worse Than Bark. Dark Past. Queens Baby.

With

Andrew Garfield as . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Parker

♱

( also known as The Amazing Spider-Man )

Featuring
Jessica Alba as . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Susana Ortiz
Gabriel Luna as . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kevin Cortez
Pedro Pascal as . . . . Detective Javier Velásquez
Patrick Dempsey as . . . . . Dr. Christian Vaughn
Osvaldo Benavides as . . . . . . . Dr. Rafael Acosta
Sandra Oh as . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Dr. Evelyn Cho
Willa Fitzgerald as . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sofia Simms
Chandra Wilson as . . . . . . . . Dr. Teresa Stevens
Sara Ramirez as . . . . . . . . . . . . Camille Herrera
Rosario Dawson as . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rio Morales
Evan Peters as . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Adam Walker ♱
████████████ as . . . . . . . . . The Surgeon
Others Mentioned as . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Described

            ♱ DISCLAIMER: i do not own spider-man, the amazing spider-man films, or any related characters, all of which belong to marvel and sony. this is a work of fan fiction written for entertainment purposes only, with no intent to infringe on any copyrights. all original characters, including marcella juliana ortiz, and original plot elements are my own creation.

            ♱ WARNINGS: mature themes, strong language, character deaths, graphic violence & gore, murder, serial killer, horror/thriller elements, sexual content, trauma, mental health issues, angst, drug/alcohol use, grief & loss, ptsd, heavy angst, neo-noir/gritty crime, potential triggering content, and etc.

            ♱ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hey everyone! first off, thank you for checking out cold little heart! this story is one i've been dying to write for a long time, especially because peter parker is a character so near and dear to my heart. he's always been my favorite hero—complex, deeply human, and endlessly courageous. while i love many versions of peter, andrew garfield's adaptation has always stood out to me as the most comic-accurate live action version. his performance captured peter's charm, wit, and emotional depth in a way that felt authentic and real, and i've always wanted to explore his story further.

that being said, this fic takes place after the events of the amazing spider-man 1 & 2 and no way home. we're diving into a much older peter—thirty years old, still the hero we know and love, but worn down by new york's harsh brutality. this won't be your typical friendly neighborhood spider-man story. it's going to be darker, grittier—a murder mystery thriller laced with neo-noir elements, inspired by the batman (2022), the scream franchise, and tess gerritsen's the surgeon. there will be blood. there will be fear. and there will be a city that does not forgive weakness.

now, let's talk about my badass final girl—marcella juliana ortiz. she's my take on an mj variant, but she's also so much more. marcella is deeply inspired by the iconic final girls i know and love, as well as claire temple from daredevil. she's a survivor in every sense of the word, someone who has been through far too much, and yet still finds a way to fight back. years have passed since her first encounter with the surgeon, and the trauma of it lingers. she's morally grey, hardened by the city, and willing to do what peter won't—kill. and that's where their dynamic gets interesting.

peter and marcella were once close, back in their early high school years, before everything changed—before he got his powers, before uncle ben died, before he fell in love with gwen. they drifted apart, but now, fate (and bloodshed) has pulled them back together. they are two sides of the same coin, bound by a city that refuses to let go. their journey won't be easy, and their ideologies will clash in ways neither of them are prepared for.

so, if you're ready for a spider-man story that leans into the darkness, the mystery, and the raw, beating heart of a city that never sleeps—welcome to cold little heart. buckle up. it's going to be a hell of a ride!

much love,
𝖑𝖚𝖓𝖆