As A Bag Balm Fan, I'm Insulted. But Also I Totally Understand Lol, Maybe Try Aquaphor Or Vaseline! A

As a bag balm fan, I'm insulted. But also I totally understand lol, maybe try Aquaphor or Vaseline! A bit pricier but works really well, and doesn't smell like sheep.

Me, to a group: hey it's like bitter cold and my skin's killing me, old lotion isn't cutting it

Group: try bag balm, it's amazing! Cheap! Farmers use it on their hands and put it on a cow's udders in cold weather! We swear by it!

Me: cool, I'll grab some!

Me, 2 days later:

I SMELL

LIKE FUCKING

SHEEP

Carpe Noctem [PREVIEW]

Main Masterlist

PREVIEW.

Pairing: Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Nun!Reader

Warnings: (additional tags to be added/changed) Dead Dove Do Not Eat, religious imagery & symbolism, vampirism, Dark!Matt, blood consumption, corruption kink, SMUT (18+), pain kink, blood play, ANGST, canon typical violence, physical assault, allusions to sexual assault, hunter and prey vibes, allusions to stalking (possibly full-on), scent kink, marking, blasphemy, no happy ending

Summary: Over the past centuries, nothing could have stopped Matt Murdock from wanting, craving, everything, even what he could not have; money, power, and sex, among other more materialistic things, but nothing has him in quite a chokehold like the insatiable hunger for blood he was cursed with the night he died. Nothing could have stopped him from getting what he wants until one day in March, you enter his life.

Matt has stolen, beaten and killed without care, but corrupting a child of God is a line he dares not cross. You, a nun. It’s unthinkable. The part of him that longs for the life he was torn out of—the boy still riding the waves of Catholicism, that Matt Murdock—would rather see him impaled on a wooden stake than allow him to take your blood. Your blood, your innocence, and all that you are; the aroma of rosemary and sanctity that surrounds you is a siren’s call that draws him inevitably closer. The same walls of Clinton Church that house you would incinerate him, and he still wants you. He wants you, but he can’t have you.

Devoting yourself to the church saved you from the abyss, but it may also lead to your eternal corruption at the hands of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Matt Murdock. A vampire. Soon, you find yourself not only on the verge of losing your innocence to this angel of the night but your life, too, and your world drastically changes for what you realize might be worse than death itself.

(18+ MINORS DNI!)

A/n: I’m back, back, BACK again! Vampire!Matt brainrot is real, and this idea was so dark in my head and kind of ironic, really, I had to put it out there for you. I will be doing my research on Catholicism religiously (pun intended) to make this as accurate as possible, but it’s still an alternate universe and I like making up my own rules. Everything I write is my personal playground, and I invite you to join me for this steamy piece of angst. So far, this is only a concept, but I will get to writing it as soon as I can! The idea is there, and I’ve got some things planned out already. So, if you’re curious, do stick around!

AESTHETIC.

Matt.

You.

RELEASE DATE: TBD!

(If you want to be tagged to know when I release it, as always, feel free to let me know. I don’t bite. Well, only sometimes.)

121 notes View Post

cheshirecat484

1 year ago

ATTENTION ARTISTS OF TUMBLR

since tumblr is going to start scraping blogs to train ai be sure to glaze and nightshade your art!! Not only will both of these programs protect your art from being copied but nightshade also poisons any ai that tries to steal it

here is some more info on these tools and where you can download them:

Nightshade: Protecting Copyright (uchicago.edu)

Nightshade: Downloads (uchicago.edu)

Glaze - What is Glaze (uchicago.edu)

Glaze - Downloads (uchicago.edu)

32K notes View Post

cheshirecat484

11 months ago

All the angst was sooo good, this fic in general is so amazing, and it has my heart and soul every time it updates 😭😭

Also love the way you write Edward. He's always been a dick, and it's nice to see that represented (I ate up the twilight books)

Bound | Chapter 7

Word Count: 4.3K

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could’ve hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: all of the feels and sadness in this chapter for reader and Bea. But it's a step closer to the reader and Rosalie finally meeting. not gonna lie, this one hurt

<- Previous

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” (Y/N) muttered as she examined her features in the mirror. “It’s been a couple of years, and my face has not changed at all. Not even a gray hair on my head. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Bea chuckled as she walked over to the young witch. Her hands rested on her shoulders as she brushed away the strands of hair from her skin and left a soft kiss on it. “Maybe it’s genetics,” she mused. “Just be grateful you don’t have to deal with smile lines and crow’s feet at twenty-three. Now, that’s a travesty.”

“How could your happiness ever be a bad thing?” (Y/N) smiled. “You’re as beautiful as ever, Bea.”

“Oh, you only say that,” the girl chuckled. “I would gladly give you the three grays I found in my hair.”

“My little salt and pepper beauty,” the other witch teased. “I know you’ll look marvelous with an all-white mane.”

“Oh, goddess, I just hope it’s at least twenty years down the line,” Bea whined. “Not anywhere near my twenties or thirties.”

“Well, maybe you could give some to me,” she laughed. “I’m in serious need of some aging here.”

“I wish those were my problems,” Bea sighed. “Anyways, as much as I would love to stay here and chat about how your skin and your hair are perfect, I do need to go to school if I ever plan to finish college. I think five years is enough time to have finished already.”

“Everyone has their own pace, Bea.”

“Yeah, says the girl who finished her degree in three and a half years and is already finishing her master’s.”

“Well, not everyone can be me.”

“Clearly,” she playfully scoffed. “Beautiful and unbelievably intelligent. Save some for the rest of us.”

“I’d give it all to you if I could,” (Y/N) smiled. “But for now, you’re going to have to apply yourself in school and embrace your changing body. I know I will.”

With a hug and a kiss on Bea’s lips, the two young women left the small house and walked onto the village center to head to the coven’s entry point. They chatted amongst themselves, enjoying the cold air of October, when Margaret, a coven elder, stopped them in their tracks.

“Good morning, girls,” the woman said. “Are you off to school?”

“Beatrice is,” (Y/N) answered. “I’m simply escorting her.”

“Well then, why don’t we leave that to Russell?” Margaret asked but both girls knew it was an instruction. “I fear I must steal you away, (Y/N). It’s a rather urgent matter.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Oh, nothing you have to worry about, Beatrice,” she smiled. “But I do need to speak with her.”

“Russell will get you to school and back safe,” (Y/N) assured, smiling at the awaiting man. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Alright,” Bea sighed. “I’ll see you then.”

(Y/N) watched as Bea and Russell disappeared through the trees, one second there and the next gone. As much as she wanted to take off running after them, the last thing she would ever do was disobey an elder. If their instruction did not go against anything she believed, there was no chance she would ignore them.

“Come on now, (Y/N),” Margaret called her attention. “Off to my cabin.”

The girl followed the woman to her home, running a million scenarios in her head. She knew there were no rules she had broken, and she doubted it had anything to do with her human and witch studies. (Y/N) had always been on top of it all. She had even been assigned the role of mentor only two years before. Clearly, she had been doing something right.

“Is something the matter, Margaret?” the girl asked as they finally reached the witch’s house, nerves building far too high for her.

“I was wondering the same thing, (Y/N),” the woman smiled brightly. “I just couldn’t help but notice that in the last–give or take–six years of your life, your face has remained as young as it was then. Not a single sign of aging.”

“Oh, that,” (Y/N) chuckled awkwardly as she looked down. She had been working tirelessly to find answers by herself, but no one seemed to be able to give her what she needed. Not even her magical books had given her what she had been looking for. “I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about that just yet. But I promise I have been looking everywhere for answers. ”

“Why don’t you have a seat, little one?” Margaret invited her to sit on the rocking chairs that lived on her wooden porch, grabbing a worn-out book from a shelf by the entrance of her home. “I think it is safe to assume your search for answers has been rendered fruitless. There’s no surprise there. Not much has been recorded about your particular situation.”

“My situation? I can’t say I’m following what you’re saying, ma’am. What situation could I be in? ”

“Do you remember the teachings about soul pairings, my child?” (Y/N) nodded, unsure of where the conversation was leading. “I am sure you also remember the teachings of other supernatural beings that share our spaces. This journal right here belonged to my great-great-grandmother...”

“Lady Esther?” the young witch interrupted. “Those are the personal writings of our first High Priestess?”

The woman smiled at (Y/N)’s eagerness, but it pained her to know that excitement would soon die down. “Grandmother Esther made sure to record each and every situational encounter she had, preserving a possible solution to the most curious of cases. The books have been passed down from generation to generation to aid in scenarios such as yours, where not even supernatural logic makes too much sense,” she laughed. “As soon as I saw the signs, I remembered a story she had written in her personal journal–this book has been open only to our family’s eyes. When she was younger, she went through the same thing you are right now.”

“Signs? What signs have there been?”

“Well, the inability to age is one of them,” Margaret said. “There’s also the night of your alleged magical resurgence. And before you ask, yes, Beatrice spoke to me about it because she was worried that it could be something bad. There’s also your new ability to heal quicker than others. For example, the cut that you had two months ago that seemed to heal overnight.”

“I just thought after that night, my magic was different,” (Y/N) mumbled. “So, you’re saying this has happened before? To High Priestess Esther?”

“That is correct, my dear. And she was just as confused as you are,” she rocked. Margaret flipped through the pages until she landed on the specific date she was looking for, handing the open book to the expectant girl. “It was a hard time to be a witch back then–not that it’s any easier now–but somehow she had managed to skate by unnoticed. One day, she noticed her face had stopped aging, and so had her mother. Her face seemed to be frozen in time, but she didn’t know why. That was until she met the immortal Samuel.”

“A vampire?” Margaret nodded in confirmation. “But I’m not sure I understand. How did meeting Samuel affect her physical status?”

“You’re rushing the story, my child,” Margaret chuckled. The girl was itching for answers, but patience was something the elder always taught. “There’s a reason I mentioned soul pairings earlier. When we are born and reborn, fragments of our soul enter the lives of others, tethering them to ours. Throughout your life, you might meet some of your soulmates, yet no connection will be as strong as the bound soul. Not many find them in their lifetime. The lucky few that do experience a love like no other. That’s what Samuel was to Esther—the love of a lifetime. Are you following?”

“I believe so. They had a supernatural connection that tied their lives together. Mind, body, and soul.”

“You’ve always been a smart one, (Y/N),” the woman chuckled joyfully before she continued. “As the years went on, Esther started to tie loose ends together. The reason she was never changing was because he was never changing. Bound souls are connected, body and soul. When Samuel had been turned into a vampire and, in turn, immortal, so did she. Esther wrote about how, after the first encounter, her magic was stronger, and her connection to the elements felt surreal. But the love she felt when she was with him was something unparalleled to anything she had experienced in this lifetime.”

“But if she’s immortal, how come we’ve never met her? How are you here? Vampires can’t procreate.”

“In those times, vampires were still heavily hunted. Samuel had gone into town one day and, unfortunately, never made it back home. They shared thirty beautiful years building a life together, isolated from society. Living in the shadows, doing their best to survive. Unfortunately, once Samuel’s life ended, so did Esther’s immortality. Her life cycle had regained its normalcy,” Margaret sighed. “She had been devastated for a long time. She describes how she felt her body was hollowed out and her magic began to falter. “Fortunately, she found love again in the man who was my great-great-grandfather, Abraham. They made a family together, creating our coven,” she smiled. “Esther never forgot Samuel, carrying his memory close to her heart every day that passed until her death after approximately 140 years of life. Her story now is not unlike yours. Though supernatural beings have now learned and adapted to the ever-changing society.”

“But this means that as time goes by, everyone I love will pass, and I will continue on being as I am today,” (Y/N) stated, tears burning the corners of her eyes. “How do I cope with losing all the people closest to me whilst I have no foreseeable ending to this life?”

“Death is something we all must endure, one day or another. Even immortal beings face mortality in many ways. How to handle the inevitability of death is a very personal thing. In time, you’ll learn the best way to accept it.”

“But that means…”

“Yes, (Y/N). You’ll one day go through the pain of seeing Beatrice pass,” the woman confirmed. “I know it will be hard, my child. But it is a moment you must endure. You have her entire lifetime to enjoy by her side. Don’t let the inevitability of her passing stop you from living.”

The young witch remained silent as warm tears burned their way down her skin. She had grown accustomed to death from a young age. That wasn’t the problem. (Y/N) had lost her mother when she had been all but fifteen years of age, and her father had passed long before she could even remember his voice. It wasn’t death that scared her. It was living after Beatrice. What pained the girl beyond repair was that not only could she not give Bea the life she dreamed of, she couldn’t even give her the life they had planned.

(Y/N) wouldn’t be able to grow old beside her, taunting each other about who had more white hair. She would never get to the point where they would both need canes to walk or salves and ointments for their aching joints. No. She would only be able to watch it happen to Bea while she remained the very image she saw staring back at her in the mirror. There would be no aging pains for her, no shriveling skin or weakening bones. All there would be was her and the passage of time.

As the hours passed, it dawned on the young woman what she had to do. As much as it broke her heart, there was nothing else that would make sense for her future. If she had no chance at her happy ever after, she’d make sure that at least Beatrice would.

She couldn’t have known how much time had passed, but when the sound of Bea’s laughter by the door rang through the house, the sun had already set. (Y/N) peeked her head out the bedroom door to find the girl saying her goodbyes to the lovestruck Russell, a bouquet of roses hanging from her right hand.

The young witch saw possibility there. She saw right before her eyes everything she could never give her. She saw the life they had always dreamed of, the life only one of them would be able to live.

“Sorry I’m late, darling,” Bea said as she hung her coat on the rack. “Russell invited me out to the movies. I forgot to call.”

“It’s okay,” (Y/N) responded, trying her best to conceal the sadness that had sunk its claws into her throat.

But she couldn’t. At the tone of her voice, the raven-haired girl turned around and crossed the room in an instant. “What’s the matter?” she asked as she led them toward their couch, sitting beside (Y/N), her hands gripping hers comfortingly. “What did Margaret say?”

“I-I, uh,” (Y/N) stammered, unable to get the words out.

And before she could say anything else, Bea noticed the tears that brimmed (Y/N)’s eyes. Her eyes were already red and puffy, a testament to the pain she was already feeling. “What’s wrong, Rubs?” she questioned worriedly. “Is it bad?”

“I don’t… I don’t know if it is or not,” she sighed. “But it’s gonna change everything, Bea. It’s already changed me.”

“Sweetheart, you’re scaring me,” Bea said. “What’s going on, (Y/N)? What changed since this morning?”

(Y/N) could feel her breaths staggering, the nerves coursing through her veins making her tremble under the weight of the inevitable. This was it—the moment when she would lose it all. With a heavy heart, the witch set off to explain all that Margaret had told her. She told her about Samuel and Esther, about bound souls, and vampires and witches. Finally, she told her what it all meant to her. The very reason both their lives would never be the same. “She said the reason I haven’t shown any sign of aging and I had that odd attack that night was because my soul is most likely tethered to a vampire,” she explained, fighting the new tears that threatened to spill across her cheeks. “I’m never gonna age, Bea. Everyone around me will grow and die, and I will stay just as you see me right now before you. I don’t know how I could ever give you the life you’ve always wanted.”

Bea rose from her seat as though it had burned her. Her thoughts spiraled and sparked inside her head before she could process anything that (Y/N) was saying. None of it made sense to her. She was a witch and knew of the existence of many other supernatural beings. But that? That she couldn’t get her mind around.

The girl pressed her palms to her eyes, stopping the tears before they stained her face, but not before they pooled around her eyes and mixed with the black of her makeup. She was distraught, unwinding at the seams, unable to process her emotions properly. Bea couldn’t grasp that those would be their last moments together as they were.

“What does this mean for us, (Y/N)?” the girl asked. “What are you gonna do?”

“I wish I could tell you I had it all figured out, Bea, but I don’t,” she cried. “I don’t want to lose you, that’s for sure. I just don’t know what I can offer you.”

“What about school and all that? You just got accepted to Yale. How are you gonna be a lawyer like this?”

“I don’t know, Bea!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about any of that just yet. I just found out that I’m immortal today. There’s nothing laid out just yet.”

The younger witch knew what (Y/N) was saying without words, and she also knew she wouldn’t say the words even if they were the only ones that had to be said. Bea wanted to believe there was a way to fight the inevitable—find a sliver of hope in the midst of their dark reality.

“You deserve everything you’ve ever wanted, Bea,” the older witch broke the silence softly. She took tentative steps towards the other, softly wrapping her arms around the unconsolable woman. Bea leaned into her touch, even though her body screamed to get away until it was all resolved. “You deserve a wedding, you deserve kids, you deserve the big house with the even bigger garden, you deserve someone to grow old with. And as much as I wish I could give you that and the entire universe, I can’t. I can only give myself, darling, and I promise I’ll try my hardest to make you the happiest you can be with whatever time we have.”

“You can’t promise that, (Y/N),” Bea whimpered. “As much as we want to, neither of us can promise that.”

“Why not?” she cried. “I love you more than anything in this universe. That’s enough for me.”

“It’s only gonna be enough for now,” the younger girl sighed defeatedly. “We can’t exist on love alone, sweetheart. I wish it were that easy.”

“What are you saying, Bea?”

“I think it’s best that you move to Connecticut, set yourself up over there while you’re going to school,” she said, swallowing the sadness that threatened to wreck her. She had to be strong for (Y/N). She had to be strong for them both. “After, you’re gonna have to move from place to place. Never stay too long in one city or state. Never go back there until anyone that could remember you is alive.”

“I could just stay here,” (Y/N) offered, knowing it wasn’t going to be an option. “I don’t have to ever leave the village. We could have a life here.:

“You know that’s not possible, sweetheart,” Bea sighed. “Maybe back in the days of Esther, but I know you’ll grow angsty. You have dreams, (Y/N). You have goals you want to accomplish. You can’t stay here and wait until I die for you to start living. I couldn’t live with myself if you did.”

“What about what I want?” she said in a voice so broken that it almost shattered Bea’s resolution. It made her wonder if there truly was a way for them to work out. But she knew. “What if all I want is you, Bea?”

“You’ll do great things, beautiful,” she said as she turned in (Y/N)’s arms and ran her fingers through her hair. “I know everything you do will be as amazing as you are. You will go on and do all these things and see the world, and I’ll always be here, cheering you on from the sidelines.”

“What am I supposed to do without you, Bea? We were supposed to be forever.”

“And you’ll have forever, (Y/N),” she smiled sadly. “I won’t. And I can’t steal away a part of your life because of it. Don’t ask me to do that.”

(Y/N) gazed into Bea’s eyes as tears blurred her vision, trying her best to plead with just one look. “You wouldn’t be stealing any part of my life, Bea,” she trembled. “You’ve shown me a life I could have. A life with you would be a life fulfilled. Why can’t that be enough?”

“Maybe in another life, it could be,” Bea whimpered. She placed her hands tenderly on the girl’s cheeks, softly wiping away the tears that didn’t seem to stop. “But it wasn’t meant to be in this one, my sweetheart. We had the years we did, and they will always be the best of my life. And what gives me a respite is that you will have so many great years after me because I just know your life will be glorious and that I’ll continue to love you every day until I take my last breath. And I know you’ll be happy—even after me, you’ll be happy.”

(Y/N) couldn’t find words as they knotted in her throat. Her eyes felt like an open faucet as tears fell faster than she could hold them back. All she could do was wrap her arms around Bea and hold her as tight as she could. Because for that moment, she was still there, they were still possible. For that moment, she could pretend they were forever.

And that’s what she did every day and every night for the coming three months. (Y/N) would hold Bea as though she’d turn to dust the second she let go. There was not a moment she didn’t spend with the younger witch. She even pretended to be excited about the cross-state move, showing the girl apartment listings and bringing her to buy whatever she’d need for it. Maybe if she acted like she was all for the move, there would come a day when she would be.

There was one thing she was sure of, at the end of those three months, she’d be losing the greatest love of her life. And before she could truly prepare herself, the day had come.

“Time flew too fast, didn’t it?” Bea whispered from the bed, watching through hazy eyes as the witch walked from side to side, gathering all she needed for the long trip to Connecticut. “Can’t believe the day is finally here.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) sighed quietly, whispering her next words. “Kind of wished today never came.”

“Do you have everything you need? Remember, you’re supposed to meet up with Lance over there. He is part of our sister coven over there and knows everything about your situation.”

“Yes, Beatrice. I know what I have to do,” she spat unintentionally. “You’ve had this planned out for three months already. Almost feels like you can’t wait for me to go.”

“You know that’s not true,” Bea bit back quickly. “The last thing I want is to lose you, (Y/N). But we both know that it simply wouldn’t work. Not in this lifetime.”

“It could have worked,” (Y/N) cried. She didn’t care that she’d have to redo her makeup or that she’d have puffy red eyes during her train ride; she simply allowed the tears that had never seemed to stop to fall free. “If you would have given us a chance, it would have worked.”

“For what, sweetheart?” the girl questioned softly, unable to meet the same bark that (Y/N) had. She was sad, she was weak, she was losing her everything. “You grow restless when we stay merely a day in this house. What makes you think you’d last sixty years?”

“I could do it for you, Bea.” (Y/N) walked to their bed and sat by Bea, taking one of her hands in hers. “I would give my entire life to be with you.”

“That’s a price I’m not willing to let you pay,” she whispered softly, using her free hand to caress (Y/N)’s wettened cheek. “You need to let me go, (Y/N). You need to let me let you go. It’s the only way either of us will be able to make the choices we need to make for our futures.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Bea smiled tenderly. “You could tell the sun to stop shining, and it would. You can do anything, (Y/N) Carmine.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“You have to,” she continued. “Go. See the world. Get your degrees. Open the law firm you’ve always dreamed of. Help supernatural folks like you’ve wanted. I’ll be here, always. Getting old and loving you. But don’t stay stuck. If you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for me.”

Without another word, (Y/N) kissed Bea’s lips and gathered all she would need for the trip. The air inside the house was thick with pain and sadness, but neither girl made another mention of it. They simply let things be until it was time for her to go.

Russell had come to help with her bags, putting them in one of the few cars the village owned. He knew all that had been happening under the girls’ roof, but he never judged, never put in his two cents, and never, ever, turned them away. Maybe because he was smitten with Bea or because he respected his friendship with (Y/N), but he’d never looked at them any differently than he did everyone else.

“We’re just about ready to go,” he announced from the doorway. “Car is packed and running.”

“Thank you, Russell,” (Y/N) smiled softly. “‘I’ll be out in a moment.”

With a tip of his hat, he turned to leave the girls to say their goodbyes. It was the last moment they’d ever look as young as each other. Beauty stuck in time, and love perfectly conserved in the image of a memory. That’s how (Y/N) wanted to remember them: young, happy, and full of love.

“I’ll come back every year,” she whispered to Bea as she cradled her cheeks. “Every single year, no matter what.”

“And I’ll be waiting,” Bea smiled, tears falling down her cheeks. “I’ll always be waiting by Bound Soul’s Bank. Every year, to the day, I’ll be there. Even when I’m old and frail and can barely walk, I’ll be there.”

“You are my sun,” (Y/N) cried shakily.

“My moon,” Bea responded in tandem.

“And all of my stars,” they said in teary unison before sharing a last passionate kiss and a tight hug.

The last image (Y/N) had of Bea was as she ran through the village behind the running car, yelling words of love and encouragement until there was no trail left to follow and the trees engulfed her figure.

And with a shattered heart, and the promise of a never-ending future, (Y/N) did the hardest thing she could imagine. (Y/N) Carmine started to live.

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cheshirecat484

1 year ago

Oh god why would you do this to me Bella!? This is heartbreaking 😭💔

Don't Walk Away [Part One]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Summary: Frank is a good man–you learned that the day he brought your dog Lucky into your life. The two of you soon began a relationship afterwards, one that was rather unconventional with how often Frank was always on the road. But one night when he's back, you're hit with the realization that you're in love with him. Noticing your nerves, Frank eventually pulls the truth out of you–and then you're left confused and heartbroken when you wake up to find him gone the next morning.

Warnings: 18+; Angst with a happy ending (in part two), emotional hurt/comfort, smut (in part two), love confession

Word Count: 5.7k

a/n: This was going to be a one part thing but I wanted to give this story everything I needed to which meant it was growing into something bigger. So there will be a part two coming that has the happy ending and smut. For now, this is angst. Enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Humming absently to yourself, you sealed the lid on the tupperware container of the leftover pasta you’d made for dinner. A crisp breeze made its way through the open windows in your kitchen, that comforting and familiar scent of autumn soon approaching wafting inside and filling your house. You loved this time of year when the nights finally cooled off and you didn’t have beads of sweat rolling down your back from the scorching heat of the day. There was something serene and calming about having your windows open at night, the sounds of the crickets outside a peaceful background to your evenings.

As you made your way over to the refrigerator, you heard the sound of a car rolling to a stop somewhere along the street out front, the noise louder than usual with your windows wide open. You saw Lucky raise her head from off the kitchen floor, perking up at the noise as you opened the refrigerator door and placed the container of leftover pasta inside. Lucky let out a soft whine from the floor next, your attention fully turning down towards your dog as you shut the fridge.

“It’s just a car, girl,” you told her. “Nothing to be worried about.”

Making your way towards your dishwasher, you pulled the door open and slid out the bottom rack. Turning, you began pulling the dirty pots and bowls out of the sink from this evening and setting them one by one inside of the dishwasher. The loud thud of a car door closing outside rang out through your kitchen and Lucky jumped up from the floor. You paused, half-bent over the dishwasher as your focus shifted to her. She was standing perfectly at attention facing the living room, her entire body absolutely still except for her cropped tail. It was doing that hopeful, eager wag she would get where her tail would wag exactly three times before it stopped for a couple of seconds only to wag three more times.

And she only ever acted like this when she noticed Frank was back.

“Is your daddy here?” you asked Lucky.

Her head turned back towards you, a happy glint in her eyes. You couldn’t contain your own excitement either, a large grin slipping onto your lips as you slid the dishrack back before closing the dishwasher door. Heading to the sink, you washed your hands, your smile only growing when you heard Lucky softly whining in barely contained joy.

By the time you were drying your hands on the kitchen towel, you heard a knock coming from the front door. Lucky bolted off towards it immediately, her excited barks loudly echoing through your previously quiet house. Making your way out of your kitchen and to the living room after her, you could hear Frank’s laughter coming through the open windows. The warm, resonate sound of it had you picking up your pace as you headed to the front door. It had been awhile since Frank had last stopped by and you'd certainly missed him.

Unlocking the door, you hurriedly pulled it open to reveal Frank Castle standing on your doorstep–or Pete Castiglione as everyone else in the world knew him as. But you had come to know him for exactly who he was shortly after the night you met him eight months ago now.

He was the one who’d brought Lucky into the animal hospital you’d been working at late at night. She’d been in terrible shape, barely holding on from the abuse she had clearly suffered from, and she had been covered in injuries from what appeared to be dog fights. He’d been in a panic about her, begging you to do whatever you could to save her that night when he’d barged in through the front doors carrying her limp body in his arms. Frank had barely left the animal hospital’s parking lot for the entire week she’d been in your care. He had always been checking in on her, asking if there was anything he could do.

It wasn’t long before you’d looked into who he was, curious about the man who cared so much about an abused dog that supposedly wasn’t his dog–and then you’d managed to uncover his past. You’d been a bit wary of him at first, but Frank had only ever been kind and respectful to you and your colleagues. It was clear he had a big heart judging by how much he cared for the dog he’d rescued and couldn’t seem to let go of. Though when she was finally ready to go home and recover, you’d expected he would want to take her with him, but he’d surprised you when he had told you that he couldn’t. He was apparently living on the road for now, traveling from state to state without a real home, trying to find where he belonged. He had stayed only long enough to make sure she was healed and safe before he left.

You had ended up taking her in and naming her Lucky–because she was lucky Frank had been the one to find her and rescue her that night. But you’d also referred to her as your good luck charm because two weeks later, Frank had returned to the animal hospital you worked at and was asking about her. When he learned you’d been the one to give her a home, he’d asked if he could see her again. It was Lucky who had ultimately brought you and Frank together; she was the reason the pair of you had eventually fallen into the unconventional relationship you’d had for months now while Frank continued to live his life on the road trying to find himself–though you always wondered if he was really just punishing himself.

Pulling the screen door open, Frank stepped inside with a broad smile spread wide across his face, his warm brown eyes focused on you. The sight of him had your heart feeling ready to burst, a large smile spreading onto your own lips in return. Lucky quickly began excitedly hopping around by Frank’s legs, demanding attention as happy barks flew out of her one after another. She only quieted when he'd finally tore his eyes from you and focused his attention on her.

“Hey girl,” Frank greeted Lucky. “You missed me, did ya?”

He took two steps inside before swiftly dropping down to his knees on the floor beside her. Lucky was quick to bombard him in a series of kisses straight away, only further encouraged by his large hands scratching behind her ears. Laughing lightly at the pair of them, you closed the front door and locked it before turning and leaning against it, watching the both of them with that smile lingering on your lips. Lucky’s entire lower half wiggled back and forth in delight as Frank continued to enthusiastically scratch behind her ears, muttering sweet words of praise to her. The reunions between the two of them had always went like this whenever Frank showed back up at your place, and it always warmed your heart to watch them together.

It was a few minutes before Lucky finally calmed, lowering to sit on her haunches in front of Frank with her tongue happily hanging out of her mouth looking as if she was smiling herself. Frank glanced up at you, one hand still absently petting Lucky as he directed that broad smile still on his face at you. The sight of it had your heart almost skipping a beat–it had been two weeks since you'd last had the opportunity to see that smile in person.

His attention not leaving you, he slipped his duffle bag from off his shoulder and dropped it to the floor by his feet. “How’s my favorite girl?” he asked.

“Feeling a little left out of this reunion,” you teased.

“Well I can’t have that now can I?” he mused.

He gave Lucky two more pats on her head before he rose back up to his feet, eyeing you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slowly sauntered towards you. You quirked a brow at him, the corner of your lips curving even higher upwards. The moment he was within reach, his hands were on your hips. You could feel the warmth of them seeping past the thin fabric of your sweatpants, his fingers firmly gripping you in an almost possessive way. He stepped in closer to you, closing the distance between you both as his face hovered just before yours. Your own hands rose up, landing on his chest just over his dark jacket. Your eyes locked onto his brown ones, spotting that familiar light in them they always had when he was with you. Though every time he said goodbye to you before heading out to his truck, ready to get back on the road again, you swore you saw that light extinguish behind his eyes.

“What about you, beautiful?” Frank asked, his voice a gentle rumble in your ears as he cocked his head to the side. “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you when you’re gone, Frank,” you assured him, hands snaking their way up his solid chest until you could wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him in closer to you. “And I’m always happy to see you.”

“Is that right?” he murmured.

Frank lowered his forehead to rest against yours, his eyes closing. Yours closed seconds later, your tongue slipping out to wet your lips in anticipation of your greeting from him. He was so close to you that his lips brushed yours when he spoke next.

“How much did ya miss me?” he asked.

Without hesitation, your arms pulled him in the rest of the way to you as you tilted your face up, capturing his lips with your own. It surprised you that his lips were always so soft every single time you kissed him because everything about Frank usually screamed the opposite of soft. And right now those lips of his were moving so deliberate and slow against yours over and over again, the feel of them finally back on yours making you suddenly breathless. You quickly found yourself getting lost in him, your body melting into his as he pressed you further back into the front door. The scent of leather and gasoline and smoke filled your nose as your mind went blank to everything else but him. Frank took another step into you, his hands sensually sliding their way down your hips and around towards your ass as he kissed you exactly like a man who'd been gone for two weeks would.

Kissing Frank for you was vastly different than kissing anyone else you ever had before. With Frank, every kiss and every touch from him always felt full of passion and something more . Something more than just lust and desire and the urge to scratch an itch. You’d never experienced that with anyone else but him, and you’d always been left wondering what that had meant.

When you felt Frank’s tongue drag its way along your lower lip so painfully slow and purposeful, you couldn't resist the faint moan that fell out of your mouth. Frank swallowed down the sound before he squeezed your ass in his large hands. Then he pulled away from you just a bit, chuckling at the whine you emitted in protest.

"Much as I'd love to continue this, beautiful," Frank murmured, pausing to place a sweet kiss back to your lips, "It's been hours since I ate. Been drivin' all day trying to get back to you before you went to bed. D’ya mind if we catch up while I eat?"

Your right hand withdrew from its place around his neck, gradually making its way towards his face where you began to affectionately stroke his stubbled cheek. Frank’s eyes crinkled at the corners as you did. It was a moment before you answered, just enjoying the slight rasp of his beard against your fingertips, content that he was here again. Though you loved the slightly outgrown beard he always showed up with, clearly not having had a chance to shave in a few days each time you saw him again.

"Only if you don't eat that packaged shit in your bag," you replied, gesturing your head at his duffle bag with a grimace. "I just finished dinner a bit ago, I can reheat you some of the pasta I made."

Frank's smile widened further, his hands gripping your ass firmly again. "You're too good to me, sweetheart," he told you.

"Well somebody needs to make sure you're eating more than tuna fish from a bag and beef jerky," you shot back, nails playfully scratching along his jawline. "I need to make sure you're not malnourished out there on the road."

"Oh do you now?" he asked, his hands releasing you.

"Mhmm,” you hummed out as Frank stepped back from you, a grin forming on his lips. “You make sure you take those dirty things off before you make yourself comfortable, though," you told him, gesturing a finger down at his black boots.

Frank's grin curled up even higher before he dipped his head once in a single nod. "Yes, ma'am."

You hummed out a pleased noise before turning and making your way back to the kitchen. It came as no surprise to you that Lucky didn't follow after you, choosing to stay behind with Frank as he gathered his bag and took his boots off.

Opening the refrigerator door, you pulled out the container of pasta you'd only minutes ago put away before setting it on the kitchen counter. Next you reached up into a cabinet, pulling down a bowl and then grabbing a fork from a nearby drawer. Afterwards, you began scooping a generous portion of food into the bowl–you knew damn well Frank ate like shit when he wasn't with you. You also knew he loved your cooking.

As you opened the microwave door, you heard Frank's tired feet shuffling their way towards the kitchen. By the time the pasta had begun reheating in the microwave, Frank was at your back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling the back of you into the front of him. He buried his face into your neck and you tilted your head, giving him easier access as your eyes fell closed. He nuzzled quietly against your skin for a moment, the scratch of his beard almost a tickle.

“Missed you,” he murmured into your neck.

Your hands landed on top of his arms where they were wrapped around your waist, a contented sigh slipping out of your lips. You missed him every single day he was gone, constantly checking your phone for a new text or a call or a voicemail from him. Always desperate for anything at all from him. For the past few months you’d found yourself wishing he’d just stay one of these days instead of always slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder in a few days’ time, carrying your heart off with him as he drove away in his truck.

“You know you don’t always have to leave,” you told him quietly.

Frank inhaled an audible, deep breath, holding it for a long moment before he expelled it roughly. He soon drew his face from your neck as his arms began to unwind themselves from around your waist. Your stomach nervously twisted in knots at the physical distance he was clearly creating.

You’d had this conversation with him two times before. The first time it was mostly one-sided with you doing most of the talking. The second time had resulted in a fight. Frank had gotten incredibly upset with you and you hadn’t exactly understood why before he’d grabbed his bag and disappeared. You thought that was the end of things until he’d called you a few hours later apologizing profusely. Though you didn’t see him for almost three weeks after that.

Before he could respond with anything, the microwave beeped loudly. The sound cut through the tension that had formed in the kitchen. Clearing your throat, you focused on grabbing the hot bowl from the microwave.

“Why don’t you get comfortable and I’ll grab you a beer?” you suggested, shooting him a strained smile over your shoulder.

For a moment Frank stood there silently just a foot behind you, an unreadable expression on his face. You could see the muscles jumping in his cheeks as he ground his teeth together–in anger or something else, you had no idea. It was a bit before he finally nodded, turning and shuffling his way towards your kitchen table. You watched him slide out a chair before sinking down into the seat. Lucky was at his side instantly, resting her head on his thigh.

With the steaming bowl of pasta in one hand, you made your way to the refrigerator and opened it. As you pulled out a beer for him, you could feel the weight of his stare on you.

“So what stories did you bring me back this time?” you asked him, trying to diffuse the tension as you shut the fridge door.

Almost instantly his face lit up with a smile, another one of his deep, rumbling laughs filling your kitchen. Your nerves quickly melted away at the sound as you headed over towards him, depositing the bowl of pasta and beer in front of him on the table.

“Oh I got plenty of stories, sweetheart,” Frank told you, straightening in his chair as he grabbed the fork, hungrily spearing a few noodles.

Pulling the chair out beside his, you settled down into it before resting an elbow on the table. With a bright smile back on your face, you rested your chin in the palm of your hand, listening intently as he began to animatedly fill you in on his past two weeks.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Slowly waking, your eyelids fluttered open only to be met with the darkness of your bedroom. It took your brain a moment to register the warmth that was at your back, though you smiled in the darkness when you remembered Frank was curled up behind you with his large hand resting on your hip under the sheets.

The tension had quickly vanished between the pair of you while Frank had eaten and the two of you had caught up. Shortly afterwards, Frank had grabbed a shower while you’d been hurriedly closing up all of the windows in your house. Then you’d made your way to the bathroom and slipped out of your clothes, joining him under the warm spray where the two of you caught up with each other in another way.

Now he was fast asleep behind you wearing nothing but a pair of his boxers. His breathing filled your bedroom with each soft and rhythmic exhale from his mouth. You always missed having him in your bed whenever he was off on the road. It always felt too big and empty without him here sharing it with you.

That thought hit you hard right in the chest and you winced. It had been nearing a year of this long distance relationship with Frank now, and even though you’d been aware of his situation of being on the road when you’d started it with him, you’d recently come to feel differently about it. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust that he wasn’t with anyone else–though at first you’d wondered about that–but there was something there that you hadn’t been able to put your finger on before. Some other reason that his constant coming and going had started to feel different to you. That you’d stopped being so open to it.

You slipped a hand up out of the sheets, rubbing the heel of it against your eyes. That nagging feeling was back again. It was the same one that had you feeling restless and like there was something missing whenever you thought about Frank lately. With a sigh you shifted in the sheets, carefully trying to maneuver your way out of the bed and away from him without waking him up. Though you knew he was usually completely exhausted whenever he turned up on your doorstep and would sleep through just about anything.

Quietly you made your way down the side of your bed, sneaking past Lucky who was contentedly passed out in her dog bed, curled up in a tight ball. You continued to tiptoe towards the door, exiting your bedroom before continuing to make your way down the short hallway and into your kitchen. You could feel that nagging, unnamable feeling eating away at you again as you stopped beside the kitchen counter, reaching a hand up and opening a cabinet before pulling down a glass.

Silently you made your way over to the sink, filling the cup halfway with water before you turned, resting your back against the counter. You drew the glass to your lips, sipping on the cool liquid as your eyes focused on the dark hallway nearby. Despite the stillness of your house, if you listened closely, you could hear Frank’s even breaths drifting out of the bedroom. The sound of it brought a faint smile to your lips.

And that’s when it hit you.

Your hand tightened around the cold glass as the realization came crashing into you all at once, nearly drowning you in the revelation. You wondered how you’d been so blind to what had been right in front of you for so long.

You had fallen in love with Frank.

It had happened somewhere between all those phone calls and text messages you’d shared with him these past eight months, along with those impromptu camping trips he had brought you and Lucky with him on. Somewhere between the nights he’d cooked you dinner and taken you to bed, showing you just how much he’d missed you while he was gone. All those times he’d shown up on your doorstep–sometimes with a bouquet of flowers or with breakfast and coffees in hand–you’d fallen for him.

There was no denying it.

Though you immediately became terrified of the realization. You knew about Frank’s past. You knew he’d been married and he’d had two children. You knew that all three of them had been brutally murdered right in front of him. And you damn well knew he still thought about them everyday–he still had nightmares some nights when he was with you. Horrible ones that made you feel useless to help him in any other way besides offering him comfort as he wept into your shoulder in the middle of the night.

How the hell could you tell him you loved him? Did you even tell him that?

A nervous churning began in your stomach as your eyes dropped down to the almost empty glass in your trembling hand. You were in love with a man who wasn’t a physical constant in your life. Sure, Frank kept in touch with you on and off throughout the day every single day that he was gone, but he wasn’t here with you every day. And that’s what it was you’d found yourself wanting lately. But with what he’d lost and how he seemed to keep spending his days searching for something out there on the road, could he ever even be here with you?

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you turned and dumped out the last bit of water in the sink before setting the glass on the counter. With a quivering exhale, you wrapped your arms around yourself before quietly tiptoeing back to the bedroom. Though the moment you entered, Frank began to stir in the sheets. You stopped instantly at the foot of the bed when you saw his head rise from off the pillow, his brows furrowing together.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Frank’s groggy voice asked.

Nervously you tucked some hair behind your ear, continuing back towards your side of the bed. You shook your head as you pulled the sheets further back, aware of Frank’s eyes following you through the darkness.

“No,” you answered quietly. “Just needed a glass of water.”

You slipped back onto the mattress, laying on your back this time as you turned your head along the pillow. You sent Frank a tight smile as you pulled the sheets back over yourself. A moment later you felt his hand sliding its way carefully up your neck, coming to cradle the side of your face. He carefully drew it further towards his, his thumb absently stroking your cheekbone with such tenderness that your heart stuttered in your chest. You swallowed hard, that tight band of nerves that had formed at your recent revelation in the kitchen a minute ago twisting noticeably in your gut.

“You sure?” Frank asked.

Your brows twitched together briefly at his question. “Yeah, why?” you asked him cautiously.

“You seem…on edge,” Frank pointed out, his thumb still stroking your cheek. “Did I do somethin’?”

Instantly you shook your head, though your immediate denial only seemed to further pique his interest. He shifted on the mattress, drawing himself up onto an arm as he gazed down at you, brushing some hair from your face.

“What’s goin’ on.”

It wasn’t a question. You heard it in the tone of his voice, he knew something was wrong. Internally you cursed that Frank was such a perceptive man.

Swallowing hard, you shook your head again as your gaze dropped down to his bare chest. The marks from your nails were still visible along his skin in the dimly lit room and your cheeks heated at the memory of your time with him in the shower earlier. But that heat quickly gave way to your nerves under Frank’s heavy stare.

You knew Frank had only ever been with you after the passing of his wife. He had never let anyone else in–he had never even slept with anyone else besides you after Maria had passed. And he’d opened up to you about a lot of the pain he carried over these past few months, too. But what you didn’t know was how he would react to this thing between you both suddenly being something more than what it had been for the past eight months.

“Tell me,” Frank ordered.

“I just–”

You stopped, biting your bottom lip as those knots in your stomach from earlier twisted tighter and tighter. Fingers curling around the bedsheets, your eyes snapped shut. You weren’t sure if you could get the words out.

“You just what?” his gruff voice gently pressed.

Inhaling a trembling breath, you tried to find the courage to answer him. You knew he wouldn't drop this now. Maybe he’d surprise you–you hoped so–but if you were being entirely honest with yourself, you didn’t expect him to reciprocate your feelings. And you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about that, either. Could Frank ever even love you? Maybe not now, but possibly someday? Would he ever even let himself feel that way for someone that wasn't Maria? You admittedly weren't sure about the answers to those questions, and you weren't certain Frank himself even had the answers. And that scared you now more than it ever had in the past.

“Talk to me,” Frank urged when you remained silent.

“I don’t–don’t exactly know how to say this,” you whispered, the words falling out of you in a rush. “I guess I never really let myself think about it before so I–I didn’t realize it until…just now. I mean, you’re always coming and going so I’ve never really–really let myself think about the possibility that I–” your voice broke off mid-sentence. Even you could hear the tremble in your words. Closing your eyes tighter, you tried to push the words out, unable to look him in the face as you bore your heart to him next. “I love you, Frank. And I–I don’t expect to hear you say that in return to me. But I–” you sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as you repeated the confession aloud to him, “–I love you.”

Silence met your ears. You felt the way Frank’s thumb paused its repetitive movements along your cheek as he stiffened beside you in the bed. You kept your eyes clamped closed, too afraid to see his reaction. But the longer the silence dragged on in the bedroom, the worse that feeling in your stomach grew. Maybe you should have lied and not said anything at all. Even if you didn’t expect to hear him say it in return, you still expected something .

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t–”

You were cut off by Frank’s hand on your cheek pulling you towards him before his mouth was suddenly on yours. You rolled over onto your side, your right hand snaking its way around his waist and up his back, fingers digging into his hard muscles. His hand held you to him, firm but gentle, as he kissed you with an intensity you’d never felt from him before. You’d barely had a chance to register much else before he sharply broke away from you.

Your eyes flew open at the abrupt end to that passionate kiss, confusion written all over your face. Though seconds later Frank was pressing his forehead to yours, his own eyes closed. He remained silent, not saying anything in return as his thumb began its affectionate path along your cheekbone again. For now, you took that as a positive response, one that briefly quelled the rising nerves in your stomach as you brushed your nose up against his.

Frank pulled away from you after a moment, his lips placing two long, lingering kisses along your forehead before he settled back on his pillow. His hand released your cheek to instead wrap around your waist, drawing you further into him. Easily obliging, you snuggled up against the front of him, relaxing into the heat and comfort of his body as your eyelids briefly lowered.

He may not have said it back, but you figured that kiss meant something good, at least. You figured you had tomorrow to talk to him about it all. You’d make sense of things then. For now, you just wanted to curl up against Frank and drift to sleep in the safety of his arms.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Lucky’s high-pitched whine met your ears first. You rolled over, burying your face into your pillow and trying to block out the sunlight seeping past your curtains and hitting the back of your eyelids. You groaned, throwing a hand out to your right and hoping to pull Frank closer to you–but your hand hit the cold mattress. Instantly your head rose from your pillow, your eyes blinking rapidly as they tried to adjust to the bright light in your room.

The space beside you was empty.

Frowning, you pushed yourself upright on the bed, your eyes surveying the bedroom. Lucky was sitting beside the bedroom door, her dark gray ears drooping as she ducked her head. She whined again as she looked back at you.

“Frank?” you called out.

When you didn’t get a response, you kicked the sheets off of yourself and hurriedly threw your legs over the side of your bed. Brows furrowing together in confusion, you stood up and made your way out of the bedroom and down the short hallway with Lucky following after you. Though you immediately came to a stop in the living room. Frank’s boots were missing from where he’d set them last night by the front door.

Your mouth went dry as your eyes flew to the couch next. His duffle bag wasn’t where he’d tossed it on the cushions before his shower last night, either. Your heart began to pound in your chest, the beating of it uneven and erratic.

“Frank?” you called out again.

No answer.

Lucky walked past you, making her way to your front window. She nuzzled the curtains out of her way as she looked outside. Feeling like you were moving in slow motion, you made your way to the window after her. Reaching a hand out, you pulled the dark blue curtains back.

Frank’s truck wasn’t parked out front where it had been last night.

A sharp gasp fell out of you, your hand dropping the curtain and flying up to cover your mouth as you stumbled a couple of steps backwards. You could feel the burn of tears building in your eyes, a tightness forming in your chest.

Frank was gone. He must’ve slipped out of bed sometime last night or early this morning and just left without a word. A strangled noise slid out from behind your hand at that thought and you pressed your lips firmly together, trying to keep from crying.

A desperate, hopeful thought ran through your mind next. Maybe he’d run out to grab breakfast and didn’t say anything because he thought he’d be back before you’d woken?

Hurrying back down the hallway towards your bedroom, you headed straight to your nightstand and practically ripped your phone from the charger. You unlocked it, noticing there weren’t any notifications from Frank. Opening up your contacts, you quickly found his name and dialed his number. You held the phone to your ear with bated breath.

Though it didn’t ring. Not even once. Instead, your call had gone straight to Frank’s automated voicemail.

Slowly you lowered the phone from your ear and down to your lap as you blankly sank down on the edge of your bed. Your finger ended the call as your vision began to blur from the tears quickly welling in your eyes. It wasn’t long before they began to spill forth, hot and wet as they raced down your cheeks. Lucky’s head gently lowered to your left knee as she softly whined again. Almost instantly you crumpled in half, throwing your arms around her neck as you sobbed into her fur.

Frank had left you. All because you’d gone and fallen in love with him.

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cheshirecat484

8 months ago

Hey remember when US and Russia was all like “We’re the best!!! We’ve won the space race!!!!” But India sent a kick-ass space probe to Mars and the whole mission was fuel efficient, costed less and a roaring success in the first try and then they were like “…..wait no that can’t be true” and still have the audacity to call us “underdeveloped” or only view us as a ‘third world country’? :)

For anyone who needs more info, the probe was called Mangalyaan (which literally means space probe vehicle) or Mars Orbiter Mission (MOM) and you can also get more information here and here

253K notes View Post

cheshirecat484

1 year ago

Omg this is so cute, I can't wait to see more! Nice job author!!

Trust Me- Chapter 1

Masterlist

summary: Peter has a plan. Peter had a plan. And it sure as hell didn't involve a bunch of judgy adult vigilantes joining him and harassing him about his age.

cw (more like things to expect): canon typical violence, abuse of the words "crawl" and "web", Peter Parker acts his age, characterization will be based off of the tv shows and the comics depending on the character

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

Peter appreciated his Spidey-Sense.

It saved his life several times.

But, it was moments like these where he wished he could just flip a switch and get it to shut up.

He was sitting on a beam high up near the ceiling of the warehouse where a weapons deal was going to happen soon. Peter had spent the last 30 minutes searching the building for anything remotely suspicious and found nothing. No drugs. No weapons. No technology. Not even a random person just lurking around. The place was completely empty.

But his Sense was screaming at him to be careful. That’s the thing about the Sense, it was never specific. It was just like he instinctively knew he was in danger, he had to figure out what/where the danger was coming from on his own. It wasn’t the beam (it was more than sturdy enough to hold him) and it wasn’t a lack of web fluid (he made sure to keep extra on him), so what was it?

His thinking was interrupted by voices entering the building.

“Remember we get the money, give them the weapons and leave. The sooner we get this over with the better.” The man Peter mentally dubbed “Goon 1” told “Goon 2”. They were each holding two large black cases, if it wasn’t for the fact that Peter knew they were selling privately manufactured weapons he would assume they were just selling rifles.

“Yeah, yeah.” Goon 2 said, clearly not taking this seriously enough.

Good, Peter thought to himself. The less serious they were the easier it would be to follow them back to their base. Just then two more men entered the building carrying two large briefcases each. The four men talked for a bit, nothing interesting, the typical threats of what they would do to one another if the other pair screwed them over. They swapped cases and went their separate ways.

Peter followed Goon 1 and Goon 2 out of the warehouse, watching as they hopped into a black truck and sped away. It wasn’t difficult to keep up with them, it was just annoying to have to run the whole way instead of swing. But, sacrifices had to be made to not get caught. Though he had yet to meet a henchman who was smart enough to realize they were being followed even if he swung to follow them.

Goon 1 and Goon 2 drove all the way to Harlem, got out and entered another warehouse.

‘What is it with bad people and warehouses?’

Peter jumped on to the roof of the building and climbed down its side to peer into a window. It was a whole system of men and women building, testing and packaging weapons. From all the research Peter has done, it seems like they were inspired by the Vulture and his operation.

Peter crawled around the whole building to get a head count of just how many people he’s about to be dealing with. There were forty-five people on the first floor but on the second there were another four who seemed to be having a meeting. A meeting that was taking place in a soundproof room, judging by the sound and thickness of the walls. He went back to the roof to pace.

Ok, first take out the guys in the meet. There’s only four and they’re probably the most important ones to catch. Then, crawl around the building webbing up all the exits except for the window to the room where the meeting is happening. Crawl back through that window and get to work. Peter thought to himself.

He knew logically that forty-five people was a lot (even for him). But he was feeling calm and focused. More so than he had in the past few months; even his Sense had stopped going off.

He could do this.

He broke the glass window and webbed the only door to leave shut. The man closest to Peter went to punch him but he saw it coming. He grabbed the man's arm and swiped the man's legs from under him, forcing him to land hard on his back allowing for Peter to web him to the floor. The hair on the back of his neck rose and Peter turned around, shooting a web to jam the gun that was about to shoot him. He was quick to web the would-be shooter to the wall.

He looked at the last two standing, a woman and a man. The woman rushed forward, pulling a knife out of her boot, going in to stab Peter. He jumped to the side, grabbed her outstretched wrist and the back of her neck and slammed her into the wall next to her fellow criminal. As he webbed her to the wall, the man jumped on him and put him into a guillotine choke and tried to drag him to the floor. Peter reached over and grabbed the man's jacket and used it to throw the man over his shoulder and through the table the group had been sitting at. Webbing the last one to the floor, Peter was feeling pretty damn good about heading down to the first story.

He crawled out the window and started webbing up all windows, doors and anything that could be a possible exit. He walked down the building to the ground and took a couple steps back to look at his work and re-fuel his web shooters. His Sense went off and he immediately looked up at the roof. There were four figures on the top of the building.

Peter sighed, shaking his head, “Why can’t I have one simple night?” He asked no one as he shot a web to the side of the building and used it to fling himself to the roof. He lands in a low crouch, one hand on the ground.

“Get out of here Spider-Man.” a gravelly voice says dismissing him.

“I put too much work into finding and catching these guys to leave, just cause you tell me to.” Peter tells The Punisher.

He responds with the sound of him loading his rifle. Beside him Jessica Jones is lounging on the ground drinking from a flask. “Put the whiskey away, we move the second Red gives us the cue.”

“Shut up, Frank.”

“Will you both be quiet?” Daredevil hisses from the other side of the roof where he stands beside Luke Cage who adds, “Let him work so we can finish this.”

“Are you kidding me?” Peter asks, his offense clear in his voice. “I did not do all of this work for you guys to show up at the last minute and take over. No, absolutely not. Get the hell out of here.”

The adults finally turn to actually look at him. The sudden attention makes Peter fix his slouch. Jessica opens her mouth -probably to tell him to shut up too - but Daredevil speaks first, “How old are you?”

Oh shit.

“That’s none of your business.” Peter says slowly, resisting the urge to cross his arms.

“You’re not even out of high school yet, are you?” he asks, his tone shocked.

If all the attention wasn’t on him before it definitely was now. “I’m not taking questions from people who refuse to leave Manhattan.” Peter snaps.

“Why did you cover up all the entrances? How the hell are you supposed to get in?” Luke asks, trying to bring the focus back. Spider-Man’s age was something that could be dealt with later, these people in the building were not.

Peter looked at Luke. He had heard all about Harlem’s Hero; his enhanced strength, durability and stamina was a big point in Peter’s research when he was trying to find ways of coping with his own abilities. “I’m going to get in through a window I left open.”

“The only window open is the middle one on the second floor.” Daredevil unnecessarily pointed out to Peter.

He rolled his eyes behind his mask.

“Not exactly a problem for a wall-crawler like Spider-Boy over here.” Frank said to the group, looking impatiently at Daredevil as if he was the reason why they didn’t have an entrance instead of Peter. “Listen kid-”

“I’m not a kid.”

“Whatever. Open the door and we’ll all go down there and settle this” Frank said.

It was a good idea, Peter probably could use the extra hands since they were on a time limit, only an hour and forty left before his webs began to dissolve. But the whole questioning his age and the tone of gentle parenting mixed with dismissal the group was using toward him really made him want to just abandon them on the roof.

“Or you can just go in there alone and get shot up.”

Bitch-

Peter bit back the snide remark on his tongue and just jumped off the roof; swinging around the building and into the window he opened earlier. He closed the window behind him and took out a bottle of web solvent and - ignoring the whines of the criminals who wished to be released- used it on the door, walking out of the room. He was pretty sure that he’d be done before the webs began to dissolve but he webbed the door again just to make sure that those four stayed in the room. He slinked down the staircase to the first floor, crawled up the walls and looked at the people below.

They worked in four groups of ten and one group of five, spread out across the floor, completing various tasks. Two groups building weapons, two groups testing and the group of five packaging the weapons into cargo containers.

First, the cargo group. Then, the builders. Then, the test group.

He crept until he was above the cargo containers. He flipped down, landing on the ground between two containers silently, and waited. Peter grabbed a worker as they passed by, knocked them out and webbed them to the side of the container. He did this until all five were out.

Nice.

The builders were next, they had two assembly lines going right next to each other. Peter stopped to consider how bad it would be to just go crazy, webbing everything insight, because there was no way he was going to be able to take them down one-by-one like he did with the previous group.

Then an alarm went off.

Not nice.

The main lights shut off, the emergency ones coming on a second later, coloring everything in a red light. The goons panicked and began to take up arms.

Very not nice.

He started webbing the containers with weapons closed. One of the workers saw him, she picked up a sledge hammer -what the hell do they need a sledge hammer for???- and went to hit him. He grabbed the hammer, distantly Peter felt it crush in his palm, and kicked the woman in the chest causing her and the person behind her to fall. He webbed them both, then used the handle of the hammer to knock out three others. He could tell by the gunshots and the sound of groans around him that his fellow vigilantes found some way into the warehouse.

Probably just burst through the walls, the barbarians. Peter thought as he ran towards the commotion on the far end.

He took down about ten more people on the way; hitting a few of them harder than he intended too (he didn’t want to think about what state they might be in, they were down, that was enough).The Spidey-Sense continued to hum in his mind so loudly it was the only thing he could focus on. He allowed it to consume him and moved purely on instinct, dropping to the ground, quick but not quick enough as a bullet lodged itself cleanly into his side

Damn

He turned and caught a fist just before it connected to his temple. Without thinking he punched the person, hard ,feeling and hearing their jaw break. He looked to the owner of the hand and saw Luke Cage looking shocked as he took a step back from the force of the hit. Peter knew he didn’t put his full strength into it, he knew that Luke was capable of handling a hit like that but that didn’t stop the guilt from seeping into him.

The sounds of gunfire stopped suddenly and for a brief moment Peter thought that someone had finally managed to kill Frank Castle. “You sure that’s all of them, Red?”

Nope

“They're all either knocked out, unable to move or dead.” Daredevil said, muttered something under his breath that made Frank push him. Peter began to shuffle towards and up the stairs clutching his side, he needed to get home asap.

“You two better not start arguing again.” Jessica said, walking towards two of the weapons on the floor. She picked them up and threw them at Frank who started examining them. “Call your officers.” she called out to Daredevil, strutting to the main doors. She pulled at them, trying to open them, she struggled for a bit before trying to kick the door down. “Spider-Kid, get over here and open the doors!”

“No!” Peter yelled from the second floor as he poured some more solvent on the door.

‘If they found a way in, they can find a way out.’ and with that thought he began to swing his way back to Queens, hoping that he wouldn’t pass out from blood loss on the way there.

Authors notes: thank you for reading

6 notes View Post

cheshirecat484

1 year ago