when i think of june, i think of wispy streaks of lightning that cut through the sky like a knife slicing through fruit. that heavy, earthy, wet smell of grass. cool air against bare skin that makes your bones feel vulnerable. the richest greens, sweet and moist yellows, dark purples that swallow everything
Hi, are u tking in requests? Because I was thinking of one in which the reader is dating Peter Parker and her dad is Tony Stark (peter dindnt know) and she presents Peter to her dad in a dinner night and Tony is like :“You piece of shit,youre dating my daughter” and a lot of awkard conversations at dinner? I dont know, is it too mixed up? keep writing
A/N: Thanks for the request and I love the idea of the reader being Starks daughter so I had fun writing this :3
Warnings: ALOT of cussings, and mentions of sex and implied *wink wonk*
“Are you nervous?” I asked Peter, holding his arm while standing in front of the closed dining room doors.
“No- I mean… Yeah. I just hope your dad likes me.” He nervously chuckled.
“I know he’ll love you! I mean he’s really smart just like you. And funny- but kind of an asshole…” I smiled up at him.
“Ok…” He opened the door and grinned. “After you.” He motioned into the room.
“Thank you.” I giggled at him and walked past. My dad, who most call Tony Stark, was sitting at the table working on something projecting from his watch.
“Hey sweetie-” He said without looking up. Peter walked up beside me and froze.
“Uh-” Peter whimpered.
“Babe- are you ok?” I whispered to him. My dad looked up.
“Oh- hey Peter…” My fathers eyebrows furrowed. “What are you doing here?” He asked. My eyes widened.
“Hey… Mr. Stark…” Peter quietly said.
“You know my dad?” I whisper shouted at Peter.
“Yeah! I mean he made my suit and all!” He threw his hands up, keeping his voice low.
“Y/N… I thought your boyfriend would be eating with us.” He said through gritted teeth. I feel like he already knew Peter was my so said boyfriend but wanted to hear me say it.
“Hehe… dad… You apparently already know Peter… my… boyfriend.” I smiled as best I could to hide my embarrassment. I knew that look. My dad had his ‘I’m going to kick someones ass’ look.
“You son of bitch-”
“Dad!” I snapped at my dad.
“You piece of shit-”
“You don’t got daddy issues why you scoping after an almost carbon copy of me?” I groaned.
“Stop- let’s just… have dinner and be nice and- dad do not yell at him anymore.” I said while taking Peter’s arm and leading him to a seat next to me near my dad. We both sat down and my father sighed, swiping away his work.
There was an awkward silence as our food was brought out. Peters’ hand was clammy against mine and then he shook my hand from his. I looked down at the food which was steak.
“I’m sorry about my dad-” I began to whisper towards Peter. “I didn’t know you guys knew-”
“So, Peter…” My dad spoke up, catching our attention. “How long have you two been… a thing?” He asked.
“A-About… Eight months…” My dad growled at Peter’s answer.
“Sooo… How was work, dad?” I asked. I could tell Peter was tense so I put my hand on his knee and he slowly loosened up.
“It was-” He sliced his knife hard through the steak and the knife made a clang against the plate. “Good…” Peter gulped beside me.
“So, Peter… Does Y/N know? About the internship?” I could tell my dad was staring at Peter without even looking up.
“Uh… Um… Yeah…” My eyes looked up at my dad.
“I thought I told you not to involve anyone you cared about.” He said as he calmly set down his silverware.
“S-She accidentally found out- Mr. Stark.”
“I’m gonna kick your ass, Parker.” Peter tensed up again.
“Dad!” I yelled. Both boys looked my way. “Why can’t you just accept that Peter and I are dating and you can’t just be an asshole to him. It’s hurting me too!” I looked at Peter and he weakly smiled.
“I’m sorry honey… I’m just… Mad at Peter at the moment.” He mumbled. It clicked in my mind that Peter said he had gotten his suit taken away. I leaned towards Peter.
“Did he take away your suit?” I whispered to him.
“Yeah…” I giggled and then sighed.
“I have two children on my hands.” Peter nodded in agreement.
“Are you calling me a child, Peter?”
“No- No sir! I- was…” Peter hurriedly grabbed his water and started drinking from it to avoid the question.
“Listen- I’m totally fine with you two dating but I have some rules.” My dad held up one finger. “One- no sex.” I heard a choking sound from Peter and he coughed up some water. I guess we already broke rule number one. My dad didn’t even care and went on with the rules as Peter tried to regain breaths. “Two- mainly to you Peter- If you break her heart I really am going to kick your ass.”
“Yes, M-Mr. Stark.” Peter gasped and I patted his back.
“Three- no kissing in front of me. Four- If something happens to her you’re going to do everything you possibly can to get her back.”
“I would be doing that anyways even if you wouldn’t have told me too… Sir! S-sir…” My father rolled his eyes and his watch beeped.
“I have to go do something.” He pushed his seat back and started walking towards me. He kissed the top of my head and then looked at Peter. He just stared at him for a second. “Don’t expect me to kiss you either. I’m mad at you.” He turned around and walked out the door. Peter let out all the air he was holding in.
“Jesus- Christ. That was the most terrifying I’ve ever done.” We both laughed quietly and then leaned back in our chairs.
“I’m sorry- I thought that would have gone a lot better.” He shrugged.
“I mean… you could make it up to me.” He smirked down at me.
“Hm… do you want to break one of my dads rules?” I asked.
“What!? No! He might murder me!”
“Even if it’s rule number one?” I bit my lip and he whimpered.
“I-I think I could live with that…”
A/N:who wouldn’t wanna break rule number one with Peter ‘fuck me’ Parker
Jack watches from across the counter, propped up on his elbows, as Bittle prepares the peaches they picked together, hands and forearms and shoulders brushing in the shadowy lanes of the orchard. He watches as Bittle reaches for one, as he lifts it to his face and breathes deep, eyes closed and cheeks pink. The corners of his mouth tip into a smile, and Jack finds his own following suit, the contentment he feels mirrored and refracted back between the both of them, again and again and again. Summer in Georgia is hot and sticky, and Jack doesn’t care for the way his clothing feels too small, too tight against his limbs, but he loves this, here, with Bittle in his childhood kitchen.
With steady hands, Bittle slices just so into the flesh of the peach, catching the skin on the edge of his knife and pulling it free. He does this repeatedly, movements sure and easy even as his hand becomes slick with juice and the smell of peach permeates the air.
On March 6, 2002, 19-year-old James (Jimmy) Carwile and 18-year-old Derek Faxlinger met up with 20-year-old friends Jonathon Cockerill (pictured) and Travis Payea, and his 19-year-old roommate Christina Lumm at the house those two shared in Flint, Michigan. Also present was newcomer Danielle Taylor, 19, and they spent the evening drinking and watching movies. After several hours, Payea grabbed a video recorder and focused the tape on Taylor, instructing her to say hello. She complies, then he asks, “If you had one thing to say, if this was your last day on earth, what would it be?” Jokingly, she responds, “fuck you,” as Cockerill appears behind her with an outstretched cloth in hand. Taylor darts to the side when she spots him, while he follows, joined by Carwile, and they wrestle her to the floor, binding her hands behind her back. Meanwhile, Payea taunts her from behind the camera, asking how she’s doing, then he says, “I take it it’s been better, huh? Just think, you’re better now than you’re going to be in half an hour, that’s for sure.” Later, when she complains of it hurting, he replies, “Hey, it hurts, right? Well, think about it. Half an hour from now, you’ll never feel another thing.” The group prepares to leave and Payea threatens, “If you scream and you fight
we put a gag in your mouth and
throw you in the trunk,” adding, “If you relax and accept death
and what’s coming to you and
take it like a real woman would,
then you just accept fate and
realize what’s going to happen
and stop fighting.” Taylor lets out a whimper and Christina warns, “Don’t struggle.” With Derek Faxlinger left behind, Lumm starts driving the others to a remote wooded area a half hour outside of town with Carwile as her passenger and a blindfolded Taylor in the backseat between Payea and Cockerill. Cockerill holds a knife to her throat, as the taunts by Payea continue, and he allows her to say her goodbyes when their destination approaches. After exiting the car, Payea carries her to a shallow grave, and they begin shoveling snow and dirt on top of her. Payea then makes a slicing motion with the knife across her throat, and she remains slumped over in the grave, as he says, “Congratulations you’re dead.” Cockerill then begins filming the cast, revealing it was only a movie to them.
Two days later, Taylor returned to the house to retrieve the videotape and immediately turned it into police. All five of them were arrested and charged with assault and kidnapping. Since the videotape was the main piece of evidence, every frame was analyzed to prove whether the defendants claims it was intended as a movie and Taylor had known about the details beforehand were true. In their defense, they noted one scene, where she scratches her nose then puts her hand back behind her back, as well as another where she appears to free her hands, as evidence of her acting. Indicating they didn’t plan to cause her physical harm, tape that was wrapped around the sharp edge of the knife was cited too. They had also attempted the scenario with another female friend of Payea’s, but they stopped after three minutes because she became too freaked out. The prosecution countered with Taylor’s obvious terrified reactions throughout the video, as well as testimony from Christina Lumm stating Danielle was never told in advance about the prank. Lumm accepted a plea bargain on a reduced charge of attempted felonious assault and received a suspended six-month sentence pending the completion of probation. On a reduced charge, Derek Faxlinger was ordered to pay a 200 dollar fine. The other three each plead no contest to kidnapping and assault. Jimmy Carwile received a four month sentence, while Payea and Cockerill got eight months, all suspended sentences following the completion of probation.
She felt very young; at the same time unspeakably aged. She sliced like a knife through everything; at the same time was outside, looking on. She had a perpetual sense,… of being out, out, far out to sea and alone.
“Lance. Come in, Lance.“ Shiro’s commanding voice rang in his ear.
“What’s up, boss man?“ Lance answered with a casual tone that always annoyed most of the paladins.
“Where the hell are you, Lance?“ As if on cue, Pidge snapped at him in their comms.
Lance grinned at the Galra soldier he managed not to kill during his infiltration in one of the control rooms. He shot both of the Galra’s knee caps just to be sure the alien won’t run away from him, and for the sake of precaution, Lance decided to tie the Galra up in one of the metal chairs in the room. And because he felt like it, he stuffed the Galra’s mouth with some cloth he cut out away from one of the fallen Galra soldiers on the floor.
“I’m in one of the control rooms, Pigeon, cool your jets.” Lance whispered. “I’m a bit outnumbered but I can handle a couple of Galra soldiers on my own.” He even panted for added effect. They had to believe that he’s a little preoccupied so they’ll leave him alone, so he can do what he was known for back on earth.
“Are you sure, bro? I’ll be there in a few minutes if you need some assistance.“ Hunk, the bestest friend he could ever have, asked.
“Nah man, I can handle a few of these aliens. Besides, you and Keith have a mission. Protect the mullet head, yeah?“ Lance continued to whisper, shooting a few blasts from his bayard to sell his story even more. “I gotta go, guys, I think I just got found out.“ Lance pressed a button on his helmet which cut off his frequency away from the team. It was an altercation he made himself and no one seems to mind not hearing from him, so Lance figured why not.
“Now, we’re alone.“ Lance took off his helmet and placed it on the control board. He shook his head and massaged his scalp, his hair finally out of the confines of hi sweaty helmet. He made his way towards the Galra soldier who glared at him, yellow eyes glinting. “Comfy?”
The Galra mumbled against the gag in its mouth. Lance simply took another chair and sat in front of the tied up alien that was his prisoner at the moment.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Lance reached forward, “Ooh what is this?” He brushed his fingers against the Galra’s pelvis, which made the Galra groan and saliva dripped past the alien’s lips, and took hold of a hilt of a blade.
“I didn’t know you have one of these.” Lance inspected the wicked sharp blade, the black and violet surface catching the light, giving it an eery glow. He wielded the blade from side to side just like what his older brother taught him, slicing the air with finesse and speed. The Galra stared at him, not believing the way lance wielded a bladed weapon.
“You must be wondering where I learned to do this.” Lance continued to slash at the air but he was now slicing closer and closer to the Galra’s blown up knees.
“Wanna know a secret?” Lance leaned forward, his hands on either side of the Galra’s head, caging the alien.
“I’m a Salazar.”
Lance smiled, a smile he rarely used these days. This smile was the kind of smile he only wore when he’s at home, where violence and mind games were raw, there is where he thrived and showed his colors. The smile- a predatory show of teeth- he always wear when things are about to get messy and go Lance’s way. It was a the Young Demon’s smile.
Lance sighed in relief. There was something liberating from saying his family’s name, something every Salazar needs to be proud about. It’s like he never left the vast household that was his home.
“That name may mean nothing to you, but back on Earth?“ Lance languidly played with the knife, mere inches away from the Galra’s face. “The mention of that name can make grown men tremble in fear. But I guess here in outer space, the Salazar name doesn’t hold that much weight. I’d like to change that.“ He swiped the blade against the Galra’s face, drawing blood.
“Shall we begin?”
“I repeat,“ Lance situated himself between the Galra’s legs, the knife slicing through the Galra’s purple fur, digging deeper and deeper as he dragged the knife across the alien’s chest, “the Champion was captured with two other humans, one was even brought to the fighting pits. Where are they?“
“I have told you over and over again, Blue Paladin, I do not know! Please, please, I do not know. Please believe me.“ The Galra, Joras, begged. His yellow eyes were dull and wet with tears.
“I want to believe you, Joras, believe me I do.” Lance stopped his slicing and sighed at the alien. It’s time, he thought. Lance laid his hand against Joras’ cheeks with enough tenderness to calm a frightened lamb before the slaughter.
Joras nuzzled against Lance’s palm. Hook, line, and sinker.
“But I checked your credentials, Joras. You are one of the major generals in the Galran forces. You were the one in charge of the Champion when he was in the fighting pits.“ Lance wiped the tears that were flowing down the Galra’s furry cheeks, and cupped Joras’ face with his hands. “So you are either lying to me or you take me for a fool.“
Lance looked at the Galra in disappointment and frowned. He leaned in and kissed one of the slices he made on Joras’ cheek. “Which is it, Joras?”
“I-I…“ Joras refused to look at the Blue Paladin, confused on what to say.
“I get it. Really I do.“ Lance lifted his leg and placed it on Jora’s side, straddling the alien who spluttered when Lance sat comfortably on Joras’ lap. The earlier venom in Lance’s voice as he cut through Joras’ skin was gone and was replaced by a warm, velvety smooth tone that washed away Joras’ fear. Small comforts, he thought. “Most people take me for a fool, and I don’t blame them for it. I suppose it’s my fault for letting them think of me that way.“
“No! I take you not for a fool!“ Joras didn’t know what came over him for suddenly exclaiming what he was thinking, but the frown on the Blue Paladin’s face was gone which urged him to speak more. “You have successfully infiltrated this control room, one of the most secured control room in this ship. You have killed all of my soldiers who were the top of their class and was handpicked by me. And you have me between your legs, Blue Paladin, you have me bruised and bleeding, begging you to have mercy on me. You are no fool.”
Lance didn’t expect Joras to break easily that’s why he took his time with him. He remembered his brother saying: “There’s so much more to torture and acquiring information, little brother. It’s not just punching, slicing, and stabbing- though those methods get the job done. There’s a certain elegance to it.” At first he didn’t understand what he meant, but as time went by, he started to understand the intricacies of torture.
Lance learned that pain was only one of the methods you can use to break people. There were other means to make people talk, his brother stated as he typed in his laptop. And he found out that the best and full proof plan of action was to mentally and emotionally break them. Lance learned that pain and blackmail can only take you too far, that harming or intimidating a person doesn’t make them break. So Lance found a new method of torture, a method that works in his favor.
“Thank you, Joras.“ The Young Demon smiled. “But that doesn’t answer my question. I need to know where they are. “ Lance cupped Joras’ face and tilted it up so he can meet his eyes. “These people, they’re important to me. Don’t you want to make me happy? Don’t you want me to smile again?“
He can see the hesitation in Joras’ yellow eyes. He was there, he’s on the midst of breaking, he just needs a little push.
“Please don’t make me hurt you. I hated hurting you, Joras.“
The best way to break people was to make them care. Make them give a damn about themselves, about you, about your purpose. It doesn’t matter as long as you involve them in the process, make them feel that you care about them too. So that’s what Lance did.
Every time he sliced Joras’ skin, he apologized. When he punched him in the gut, he had to explain why he was doing it. When he buried his finger in the hole he made on his knees, Lance expressed reluctance to do it. He made the Galra feel that he was forced to do this, that it wasn’t his choice to hurt him. He made him believe that by sharing what he knows, he’s stopping the hurt that’s inflicted on them both. Lance made him care.
“Data pad.“ Joras whispered, “I promise you I do not know the people you speak of, but with my data pad and my clearance, you can search through the prisoner database from the time the Champion was captured to when he escaped.“
“Really?“ Joras nodded. He was clearly relieved when lance put away the knife but there was tension in Joras’ shoulders. “See that wasn’t so hard was it? All I wanted from you was information. I never wanted to hurt you, Joras, you should know that. “
Lance stood up to fish out the data pad from Joras’ suit. He turned it on and was not surprised to see that it doesn’t have a password. He was far from understanding the Galran alphabet but he was pretty sure their resident techy can figure it out. He placed the data pad inside his body suit’s pocket and went for his helmet.
“Thank you for your help, Joras. Really, thanks a lot. I know this may sound cruel but know that I have the right intentions in mind. Do you want me to kill you?“ He didn’t put on his helmet just yet. He simply held it in his hand while his other hand fiddled with his bayard.
Joras looked at him funny, but his shoulders were trembling again.
“I know you know what’s coming to you. Zarkon doesn’t appreciate snitches, just look at what happened to Thace. And what’s worse, Zarkon will just dispose of you like you were nothing. He will erase all of the things you have done in service to the empire, let people remember you as a traitor.“ Lance gave all that he had to not laugh right in front of Joras’ face. The strong and mighty Galra he met moments ago was now broken, shaking and scared.
“But if you die now, die on my hands, I can make it painless. I will let the entire universe remember you as the Galra who helped the Blue Paladin rescue the humans that ended the war against Zarkon. You will die a hero, Joras, don’t you want that?“
Lance already knew the answer but still he waited for the Galra to give his consent. It was the least he can do.
“You will make them remember me as a hero?“
“Yes, Joras. And even more.“
Joras looked dejected. Lance can see the resolve in his eyes as well as understanding. He knew that it was pointless to live when the moment the Paladins of Voltron leave their ship, he’s as good as dead. The higher ups will check the cameras and see that he was tortured, they’ll even hear him confess to Lance about his data pad. He will be dubbed as the Galra soldier who was tortured by the Blue Paladin, who begged for his life, an embarrassment to the Galra as a whole.
“Alright. It was nice to meet you ,Blue Paladn Lance. It is an honor to die on your hands.“
There you go. What do you think? I admit it’s a little messy but there’s something with an evil Lance that I quite like. I’m a sucker for evil geniuses and even more for Lance so why the hell not.
His body was a patchwork of
scars-a canvas of raised lines and white, taut skin. Andrew’s black bands
helped, but nothing stopped the wide-eyed looks to the remnants of his cheek
and the scars on his hands. He didn’t blame the onlookers, it was only natural
to stare. You pay attention to the differences. Hell, it’s how he’d survived this
long, so he could at least understand that. But in a heartbeat, what started
out as a glance morphed into morbid curiosity and that made Neil’s throat
It shouldn’t have bothered him and
when he finally took a deep breath and slowed his racing thoughts, he realized
it really didn’t. But in that instant, there was a slow, stretch of panic that
turned his stomach upside down. It was the sharp inhale of surprise, the quiver
of a hand, or the ever-apparent grimace on the stranger’s face that set his
And in that moment Neil wanted to
run. To avoid eye contact, turn on his heel and walk the other way, away from
their curiosity and their roving eyes. Such things were threats, or had been at
least, to his very existence.
And now he was living in a world
where he had invited such speculation in.
Summary: It’s the morning after you found Bucky playing the piano. And he’s really not very subtle about last night.
A/N: I was asked to write a part two and I didn’t plan on it until I had a surge of inspiration. This is long, I’m sorry. And it’s just straight up porn. Not sorry.
Warnings: Language, smut, fingering, hair pulling?, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids).
A harsh knock
pulls you from your sleep as you open your eyes drowsily. “Training room in 30
minutes” Steve calls before you hear his footsteps retreating. With a groan,
you roll over to see its 7am and your head falls back on to your pillow with a
sigh. Although you had a lot of fun, hell, it was infinitely better than you ever thought it would be, there was no
denying today was going to be rough.
your workout gear, you step in to your shower and wash away last night’s
endeavours, your fingers lingering over the small bruise rising to your skin on
your hip and you can’t keep the smile from your lips.
A/N: Sorry not sorry - I couldn’t resist. Have this small introduction.
‘You own a house’.
In front of Zelda there was a two-storey construction, owned by none other than the Champion of Hyrule, the Hero of the Wild. It even had a cute, dainty hand-painted sign, stating his ownership.
He nodded, and smiled proudly.
Link enthusiastically signaled her to go inside.
The house decoration was quite like its owner: simple, practical, discreet - but impressive nonetheless, for it was an outstanding display of his personality. The place screamed about his true character.
'When did you get all of these things?’, Zelda asked, observing the woodgrain and the fine work of the dining table. 'they are really well made’.
‘I got all in between missions’, he cleared out, eyes wandering through the objects. 'At some point I was tired of always being on the run. I wanted a safe haven; a place I could call home even in the chaos’.
Zelda felt a knot in her throat, as a well-known feeling resurfaced in her mind.
‘Please, don’t’. He looked sideways.
'Don’t what?’, Zelda asked, fidgeting with the plaits of her white dress, trying to conceal her prior reaction.
'The guilt’, he specified. ‘It’s over. Let’s move on’ - his eyebrow raised at the growl of their stomachs - 'and have some dinner’.
His words were scant, but straight to the point. She nodded, which made Link give her a warm smile.
He cooked outside as she laid out the table. Once he entered with the pot, the room was filled with the scent of roasted meat and spices; she knew she was in for a treat. After all, she hadn’t had a proper meal in literally a hundred years.
One pot and two more than empty dishes later, the commensals stared at each other.
'I’m still hungry’, Link mumbled, staring into his plate.
'You have to be kidding!’, Zelda commented, squinted eyes and brow furrowed in disbelief, 'we ate for five people at least!’
‘Still hungry, though’ -he got up and went to the storage under the stairs - 'wait a second’.
Zelda distracted herself picking breadcrumbs from the table, when a scrumptious looking fruitcake appeared right in front of her.
'You never got to celebrate properly your birthday that time’, Link timidly explained next to her, avoiding her eyes, ‘and I wanted to do something nice to welcome you’.
Zelda pouted, and although she did her best to suppress her tears, it was useless.
She just let them flow freely for a while, Link having absolutely no idea of what to do, for her tears reminded him of the worst, darkest moment of their past lives.
‘It’s just because I’m happy’, she explained, wiping her cheeks with her hands, 'this was so thoughtful and unexpected’.
Link just sighed in relief.
'Thank you’. She hugged him tight, putting her head on his shoulder. He returned the embrace, squeezing her softly - her hug being the complete opposite.
‘You should make a wish’, he noted, breaking the embrace, and bringing the cake closer to the birthday girl.
‘Where are the candles, then?’. she inquired, tilting her head to the side.
‘I couldn’t fit one hundred and seventeen candles in there’, he explained.
Zelda laughed so hard, her stomach ached.
‘Nevermind’, she sighed, grabbing a knife to slice the cake. ‘My wish already came true’.