only fifteen

Speaking of punching nazis, in 1937 a judge asked Jewish gangster Meyer Lansky to rough up meetings of the German-American Bund, a Nazi-affiliated group. Lansky wouldn’t accept the money offered, and turned down help from Lucky Luciano, saying it had to be a Jewish thing. Here’s his recollection of the events:

“We got there that evening and found several hundred people dressed in brown shirts. The stage was decorated with a swastika and pictures of Hitler. The speaker started ranting. There were only about fifteen of us, but we went into action.”

“We attacked them in the hall and threw some of them out the windows. There were fistfights all over the place. Most of the Nazis panicked and ran out. We chased them and beat them up, and some of them were out of action for months. Yes, it was violence. We wanted to teach them a lesson. We wanted to show them that Jews would not always sit back and accept insults.”

… “The Nazi scumbags were meeting one night on the second floor. Nat Arno and I went upstairs and threw stink bombs into the room where the creeps were. As they came out of the room, running from the horrible odor of the stink bombs and running down the steps to go into the street to escape, our boys were waiting with bats and iron bars. It was like running a gauntlet. Our boys were lined up on both sides and we started hitting, aiming for their heads or any other part of their bodies, with our bats and irons. The Nazis were screaming blue murder. This was one of the most happy moments of my life.”

pidge: motherfucker

shiro: hey now, watch the language

pidge: shiro you do realize that 1. you’re not my dad and 2. i’m not a baby, right?

shiro: yeah, but you’re only fifteen. what does a fifteen-year-old like you have to swear about?

pidge:

pidge: shiro,

shiro: yeah, no, i realized as soon as the words left my mouth

“It was a slip. The first thing I thought about was an abortion. I was only fifteen at the time. But after getting my ear chewed off, and all of the bitching, and all of the scolding, I decided to take responsibility. My daughter is three now. I’ve had to give up so much. I can’t go to university. I can’t go out, or go on trips. Now my life is nothing but a routine. I’m a slave to paying rent. I work seven days a week at a casino for minimum wage. I have to support my grandmother and sisters. My mother left the house in December to live with a man. I never talk about any of this. I keep to myself because nobody cares. Even if I’m happy—nobody cares. I only worry about my daughter’s happiness. I only think about her future. I have hope for her. But not for me.”

(Medellín, Colombia)

cause! we! are! never! ever! ever! getting! back! together!

i honest to god don’t think we acknowledge pidge’s incredible accomplishments enough

i mean

y’all this poor child is fifteen

she is only fifteen and she is fighting in a war and has come close to death multiple times

not to mention she has absolutely zero contact with her father or her mother or her brother or any of her family members

and even through that

she has done the following things:
-figured out alien technology she’d never seen before in three seconds to rewire an enemy drone
-modified a giant war machine that has abilities that science itself can’t explain
-faced multiple, incredibly skilled soliders that probably had centuries of experience all by herself when they had orders to kill her and won
-basically saved the entire universe’s fate by herself with the help of a drone and a few mice (like…what were they gonna’ do without voltron if sendak had succeeded in getting the lions to zarkon??? PIDGE JUST SAVED COUNTLESS LIVES HERE PEOPLE)
-created a program to translate galra text even though she has never learned the galran language
-created a beacon to alert the castle to her location out of literal garbage
-saved the entire team by absolutely wrecking the cube
-hacked into a galra drone that had security against interrogation and got it to answer her questions
-oh yeah and going back to that beacon she literally saved coran’s life. like he would have just disappeared if she hadn’t done that. 
-hacked into the security of what was basically space alcatraz??? like it’s literally one of the highest security prisons the galra have and she just hacked into it’s system like it was no big deal???
-was willing to risk death in order to get information on her family’s whereabouts (like seriously if shiro hadn’t pulled her away she’d be flat out dead)
-struggled with the fear that her friends wouldn’t accept her for who she really was but was still brave enough to tell them (like honestly we don’t acknowledge this one enough. it’s fucking terrifying to think that you won’t be accepted by your own friends but pidge was still brave enough to own who she was and tell them. i honestly think this is one of the bravest things she’s done and no one talks about it.)

not mention that before she was even in space she was able to sneak into a high security facility twice to get information on her family even though he’d already been threatened to never go back and could’ve gotten into serious trouble

pidge has been through so much pain and suffering that a fifteen year old should never have to experience and yet she still pulls through it and is an absolutely badass hacker and defender of the universe.

in conclusion: pidge is fucking incredible. 

  • Percy at 20: OK, I have to solve this hydra problem before brunch with Jason and Nico
  • Percy at 40: Chiron, I only have fifteen minutes. I have to pick the kids up at school. Where's the Gorgon?
  • Percy at 60: I have Cash in the Attic at six so I have to hurry. Ares making trouble again?
  • Percy at 82: No, Zeus. I really can't help. Well, I'm dead. What? Ah, fuck no. *gets brought back to life to deal with more god crap*
Transference (M) – Chapter 01

cr. [X]

Summary: During a routine visit to the local bakery, you stumble upon an intriguing business card and figure, what the hell. 

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2,061

Warning: Tantric!Hoseok, therapist/client relationship, discussion of BDSM, sex work, profanity.

A/N: This work is a byproduct of about 6 months of insomnia and 60-hour work weeks, which resulted in a series of recurring dreams about Jung Hoseok which were…*fans self*

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

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Reputation | Richie Tozier | Part 1

Anonymous said: An IT imagine where reader is Bill’s older sister and Richie has a MASSIVE crush on her. She has a pretty bad reputation ( kinda like Bev, but worse. Like done things with Henry Bowers, etc. ) Plot can be up to you! Just maybe a scene where she’s all sassy and this kinda represents why Richie likes her so much?? Thank you. Love your writing so much!

Richie Tozier x Reader.

Warnings: Swearing.

Part 2

Part 3


After the passing of your brother, Georgie, all you ever felt was grief. It followed you like a shadow every where you went. And frankly, you wanted it to piss right off. Over the months that your youngest brother had been missing and - in many eyes - presumed dead, you’d grieved in a way that worked for you. 

You’d heard all the insults before: ‘Whore’, ‘Slut’, ‘Ash-head’, ‘Chimney-breath’. The list went on, and somehow you’d learnt to live with it. Some of the things people said about you were rumours, but majority wasn’t. You were only fifteen, but had gained a name for yourself all over the town. As many would say, the list of the people you’d fucked, the amount of cigars you smoked during the day would cause a brand new pen to run out of ink before the list was even near finished. 

Long story short, you’d gained a pretty bad reputation for yourself over the course of seven months. Although, the person you once were was still there; buried underneath miles and miles of stone walls you’d built around yourself. Only a selected few were able to see this. Those who could be bothered seeing you for who you really were and not the stupid status you’d made for yourself due to the consequences of grief. 

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anonymous asked:

I need more about keith and the ferret

hellyeah

  • The ferret does not have a name, and never will. This is essential to the au.
    • Shiro: So then… What do I call it? Them. It-em.
    • Keith: I usually call them ‘ferret’, ‘long boy’, ‘demon’, etc.
    • Shiro: Yeah but does the… long boy… actually respond?
    • Keith: Why would the demon respond, Shiro? They’re not my ferret.
  • Hunk and Pidge try to like, track down the ferret to see where it goes when it leaves Keith’s house but the ferret always loses them.
  • Keith just assumes this is a ferret but he like… doesn’t really know… it might be a weasel. It’s probably a ferret. It’s definitely an omen.
  • There’s an unspoken rule that you’re not allowed in Keith’s home alone with the ferret. Like, everyone has a key to Keith’s apartment, and they can drop in whenever, but if you let yourself in and see The Ferret standing in the kitchen under the flickering lights, you shut the door and wait in the hallway for Keith to come home. Allura once waited for two hours because Keith got caught in traffic. She claimed she’d been only waiting for fifteen minutes though when Keith asked.
    • Coran is the only exception to this. One time Keith walked through the door and found Coran and the ferret watching Jeopardy together. The ferret had on a bonnet. Coran refuses to explain what happened.
  • The ferret doesn’t drop by that often, which is why Lance swears it’s an ominous omen. It’ll probably show up maybe once or twice a month… Sometimes more, during the winter. Keith accepts these visits without question. Everyone else has a lot of questions.
  • There’s a framed picture of Keith and the ferret in the walk-in hallway
Fuel to Fire (intro)

Stucky x reader

Notes: fluff, tattooing, some angst, smut (m/m and m/m/f) 

Summary: Living their dream, Bucky and Steve run their tattoo shop ‘American Ink’ together, happily married for several years and business is going well. When a girl walks into their shop and inevitably into their lives right after they’ve received some exciting news, they have no idea how their lives are about to change with some harmless but straight-forward flirting. 

A/N: This is the introduction to the tattoo-shop AU, a Stucky x reader story that could be compared to my earlier series: Savages. I have no idea where this is going or how long it’s gonna be. I’m just gonna see where it takes me. 

“Buck-.. you think we’re gettin’ boring?” Steve muses, his arms behind his head, relaxing against his pillow as he stares up at the ceiling.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Steve” Bucky groans, popping up somewhere below Steve’s belt, pushing his hair away from his eyes. “m’Tryin’ to suck your dick here, you mind?”

“I don’t, actually” Steve grins. “I was just thinkin’”

“Yeah. I know” Bucky shuts him up, pinching his husband’s side, earning a yelp in turn. “Stop it and let me suck your pretty cock”

“Baby, c’mon, hold on a minute, okay?” Steve pleads, putting on his best pouting face and big blue eyes.

Bucky groans, rolls off his husband, “Okay, okay. Stop with the eyes already. What’s on your mind?”

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Love first visited me when I was fifteen.
Love was best friend;
love was not meant to be.
He loved me,
and I thought I loved him too
for a while.
I destroyed him over two years
with my selfishness -
I was only fifteen.
I left carrying a broken heart in my hands,
and lost a best friend.


First love came when I was sixteen.
This time, it had warm brown eyes, soft hands and softer smiles.
It whispered shy confessions into my ear, and they sounded so genuine I made the mistake of believing them.
Love told me that I was the most beautiful thing that happened in his life, and it held me on nights I couldn’t sleep.
First love continued for about two years, during which I experienced the painful reality of giving your all to someone.
It taught me passion, pain, sadness, anger, betrayal.
First love was as blissful as it was torturous.
It left with me shivering on the cold bathroom floor, with months of sadness to follow.


Now I am nineteen, and love has decided to fleetingly appear out of nowhere.
Love now has a childish face but sturdy hands and broad shoulders.

It caresses me with tenderness I have not experienced before; it shares my joy and my sadness as if they were its own. Should this love not work out, I’ll be broken again; but I will go on living because one day I know it will visit me again.

A timeline of Ted Bundy’s life and criminal activities:

• 11/24/46 - Is born as Theodore Robert Cowell in a home for unwed mothers in Burlington, Vermont.

• 05/19/51 - Bundy’s mother, Louise, marries Johnnie Bundy and her son takes his step-father’s last name.

• Spring 1965 - Graduates from Woodrow Wilson High School in Tacoma, Washington.

• Fall 1965 - Enrolls at the University of Puget Sound and attends the school until the Spring of 1966.

• 06/23/65 - Murders Lonnie Trumbull and seriously injuresroommate Lisa Wick in their Seattle apartment.

• Fall 1966 to Spring 1969 - Attends the University of Washington.

• 1967 to 1968 - Courts Stephanie Brooks, who closely resembles his future victims.

• Fall 1968 - Brooks breaks off relationship with Bundy.

• Early 1969 - Visits his brithtown of Burlington, Vermont, and learns for certain that he is illegitimate.

• Fall 1969 - Re-enters Univ of Washington and meets Liz Kendall, his girlfriend throughout most of the murders.

• Spring 1973 - Graduates form the University of Washington.

• 11/25/73 - Abducts Kathy Devine from a Seattle street corner.

• 12/06/73 - Devine’s body is found near Olympia, Washington.

• 01/05/74 - Attacks Joni Lenz in her Seattle apartment. Lenz survives.

• 02/01/74 - Abducts Lynda Ann Healy from her basement bedroom in Seattle.

•03/12/74 - Abducts Donna Manson from the campus of Evergreen College.

• 04/17/74 - Abducts Susan Rancourt from the Central Washignton St. campus.

• 05/06/74 - Abducts Kathy Parks from the campus at Oregon St.

• 06/01/74 - Abducts Brenda Ball from Burien, Washington.

• 06/11/74 - Abducts Georgeann Hawkins from an alley near her University of Washington fraternity house.

• 06/17/74 - Brenda Baker’s body is found in Millersylvania St. Park. It is unknown when she was abducted.

• 07/14/74 - In seperate incidents, Janice Ott and Denise Naslund are abducted from Lake Samm St. Park.

• 09/02/74 - A Jane Doe is abducted from Boise, Idaho.

• Fall 1974 - Enters the University of Utah Law School.

• 09/07/74 - Body parts of Ott, Naslund, and Hawkins are recovered 2 miles from lake Samm St. Park.

• 10/02/74 - Abducts Nancy Wilcox.

• 10/18/74 - Abducts Melissa Smith from Midvale, Utah.

• 10/27/74 - Smith’s body is found in Summitt Park near Salt Lake City, Utah.

• 10/31/74 - Abducts Laura Aimee from Lehi, Utah.

• 11/08/74 - Botches abduction of Carol DeRonch but abducts Debby Kent later that day from school in Bountiful.

• Thanksgiving 1974 - Aimee’s body is found.

• 01/12/75 - Abducts Caryn Campbell from a hotel in Aspen, Colorado.

• 02/18/75 - Campbell’s body is found near the motel she disappeared from.

• 03/03/75 - The skulls of Healy, Ball, Parks, and Rancourt are found near Taylor Mountain in Washington.

• 03/15/75 - Abducts Julie Cunningham from Vail, Colorado.

• 04/06/75 - Abducts Melanie Cooley from her school in Nederland, Colorado.

• 04/23/75 - Cooley is found dead twenty miles from Nederland.

• 05/06/75 - Abducts Lynette Culver from her school playground in Pocatello, Idaho.

• 06/28/75 - Abducts Susan Curtis from the campus of BYU while attending a youth conference.

• 07/01/75 - Abducts Shelley Robertson from Golden, Colorado.

• 07/04/75 - Abducts Nancy Baird from Layton, Utah.

• 08/16/75 - Arrested for possession of burglary tools during a traffic stop in Salt Lake City.

• February 1976 - Abducts Debbie Smith in Utah.

• 03/01/76 - Is found guilty of aggravated kidnapping in the DeRonch attack.

• 04/01/76 - Smith’s body is found at Salt Lake International Airport.

• 06/30/76 - Sentenced to 1-15 years in prison.

• 06/07/77 - Escapes from Pitkin Co. Law Library in Colorado while preparing for trial in the Campbell murder.

• 06/13/77 - Is apprehended in Aspen, Colorado.

• 12/30/77 - Escapes from Garfield County Jail in Colorado and flees to Tallahassee, Florida.

• 01/14/78 - Enters Chi Omega sorority house in Tallahassee, killing Lisa Levy and Magaret Bowman.

• 01/14/78 - Also attacks Cheryl Thomas in her house nearby, seriously injuring her.

• 02/09/78 - Abducts Kimberly Ann Leach from her school in Lake City, Florida.

• 02/15/78 - Arrested while driving a stolen VW in Pensacola, Florida.

• 04/12/79 - Leach’s body is found in Suwanee St. Park in Florida.

• 07/27/78 - Indicted for the murders of Levy and Bowman.

• 07/31/78 - Indicted for the Leach murder.

• 07/07/79 - Leach and Bowman murder trial begins.

• 07/23/79 - Found guilty of the murders of Levy and Bowman.

• 07/31/79 - Sentenced to death for the murders of Levy and Bowman.

• 01/07/80 - Trial begins for the Leach murder.

• 02/06/80 - Found guilty of Leach murder.

• 02/09/80 - Sentenced to death for Leach murder.

• 07/02/86 - Obtains a stay of execution only fifteen minutes before he is scheduled to die.

• 11/18/86 - Obtains a stay of execution only seven hours before he is scheduled to die.

• 11/17/89 - Final death warrant is issued.

• 01/24/89 - Executed in the electric chair at 7:16 AM.

Accidentally Exposed - Josh Dun Smut

A/N: Thank’s for 500, here’s a long ass Josh Dun smut to celebrate.

REQUESTED

Pairing: Josh Dun x Reader

Type: Smutty smut

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Blood, nudes, sex, the fun stuff

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - ALSO SEND ME FEEDBACK

Originally posted by jcsephsdun

“I understand,” you say through gritted teeth. “Thank you for the consideration.” 

You push the end button and throw your phone onto the carpet of your apartment frustratedly, wanting to scream but also crawl under the covers and cry your eyes out.

You were a newly graduated student from a photography college and had big dreams to have your own photography company, but that wasn’t going so well to say the least. Right out of college, you moved straight to the heart of California, hoping to land as much as an internship with a company. Your resume was online and on many websites, but you barely got offered jobs, to which you weren’t even interested in. And when you applied to companies, you were rejected. Since you had to pay the bills, you had landed a job as a bartender, earning less than minimum wage to pay for your rent. You were past the state of angry and sad. You were loosing hope and money at rapid pace. 

Keep reading

The 1930s in America were a period of rampant anti-Semitism, particularly in the Midwest. Father Charles Coughlin, Detroit’s “Radio Priest,” and William Pelley of Minneapolis, openly called for Jews to be driven from positions of responsibility, if not from the country itself. Organized Brown Shirts in New York and Silver Shirts in Minneapolis both outraged and terrorized American Jewry. While the older and more respectable Jewish organizations pondered a response that would not alienate non-Jewish supporters, others–including rabbis [such as Stephen Wise]-asked the gangsters to break up American Nazi rallies.

Historian Robert Rockaway notes that German-American Bund rallies in the New York City area posed a dilemma for mainstream Jewish leaders. They wanted the rallies stopped but had no legal grounds on which to do so. New York state judge Nathan Perlman personally contacted Meyer Lansky and asked him to disrupt the Bund rallies, provided that Lansky’s henchmen stopped short of killing any Bundists. Enthusiastic for the assignment if disappointed by the restraints, Lansky accepted all of Perlman’s terms except for one: he would take no money for the work. Lansky later observed, “I was a Jew and felt for those Jews in Europe who were suffering. They were my brothers.” For months, Lansky’s workmen effectively broke up one Nazi rally after another. As Rockaway notes, “Nazi arms, legs, and ribs were broken, and skulls were cracked, but no one died.”

Lansky recalled breaking up a Brown Shirt rally in the Yorkville section of Manhattan: “The stage was decorated with a swastika and a picture of Hitler. The speakers started ranting. There were only fifteen of us, but we went into action. We … threw some of them out the windows…Most of the Nazis panicked and ran out. We chased them and beat them up… We wanted to show them that Jews would not always sit back and accept insults.”

In Minneapolis, William Dudley Pelley organized a Silver Shirt Legion to “rescue” America from an imaginary Jewish-Communist conspiracy. In Pelley’s own words, just as “Mussolini and his Black Shirts saved Italy and as Hitler and his Brown Shirts saved Germany,” he would save America from Jewish communists. Minneapolis gambling czar David Berman confronted Pelley’s Silver Shirts on behalf of the Minneapolis Jewish community.

Berman learned that Silver Shirts were mounting a rally at a nearby Elks’ Lodge. When the Nazi leader called for all the “Jew bastards” in the city to be expelled, or worse, Berman and his associates burst in to the room and started cracking heads. After ten minutes, they had emptied the hall. His suit covered in blood, Berman took the microphone and announced, “This is a warning. Anybody who says anything against Jews gets the same treatment. Only next time it will be worse.” After Berman broke up two more rallies, there were no more public Silver Shirt meetings in Minneapolis.

book ends — p.p. au

summary : there’s a little bookstore on the corner of a street in manhattan, and when peter parker gets a job there he’s not really expecting to fall head over heels for the cashier in charge — you. just your typical bookstore au, where peter isn’t spider-man.

word count : 3.4k

author’s note : i love this so much i’m nUTTING this is literally my pride and joy i’m gonna weep okay i know it’s long but literally my favorite thing ever okay i love you

gif credit : @hllands (sorry for not including it before, was not aware you made it and i did not mean to discredit you work in any way)

   A piece of white copy paper, written on in bold red ink and stuck to the front of the antiquated bookshop’s front door, is gleaming in the streams of sunlight that beat down upon it as Peter Parker makes his way down the busy street. He’s not usually one to spend much time in the city itself, only because of the unruly train schedule and the way that May worries herself if Peter isn’t home at precisely the time he said he would be. With the trains, you can never be positive that you’ll be getting to where you need to be in the estimated amount of time it says on the google, so he tries to never linger in Manhattan for longer than he has to. 

   However, it’s a Saturday, and he’s trying to figure out who will hire him despite his somewhat young age of only fifteen and his minimal work experience- which is to say, no work experience. He’s not even sure how jobs work, to be quite honest, but he needs to start pulling his weight around the house even if May insists that she’s doing just fine on her own. He sees her stress about the bills nearly every week, sitting at the kitchen table with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose and her glasses slipping down her face as she punches numbers into a calculator with the other hand. He sees the little exasperated sighs and the worry lines that she’s far too young to have and so Peter decides that he’s going to get a proper part time job in order to help her out. 

   It’s the least he can do; she’s taken him into her little apartment and treated him the way a mother would a son. She pretty much was his mother. And if he had to get a job to repay her for everything she does for him, he would do so without complaints. Which led him here, standing in front of the little bookshop on the corner that seemed to be empty save for someone sitting atop the counter beside the register, from what he could see as he peers into the dusty, sun streaked window. 

   The aforementioned piece of paper that’s been strategically placed smack in the middle of the front door- you can’t miss it if you’re trying to enter the shop- has the words NOW HIRING: INQUIRE WITHIN scrawled on it in letters to bold to be ignored. Peter pretty much has to walk in, the quaint little store is calling to him and he turned down this particular street for a reason. He believes in the whole everything happens for a reason type of ideal, the coincidences and the little things in life that were such blatant, blaring signs that Peter would be a complete moron not to listen to them. So, he sweeps his gaze over the sign one final time and then pushes the door open, the tiny bell atop the door jingling in a quiet but melodious way as he enters. He shuts the door softly behind him, then takes a long look across the stores. 

    There are books stacked in irregular ways next to shelves and on windowsills and next to the front door. The ones placed among the main window like an enticing display are anachronistic, perfectly classic; weathered and yellowed from their ripe old age and collecting dust like there’s no tomorrow. Peter supposes that might be part of the charm of the store; to make everything look old so that the hipsters flock to it, bees to honey or birds to breadcrumbs. But really, it’s the emptiest store he’s ever been in aside from his nearest CVS Pharmacy at eleven o’clock at night to pick up gummy bears for May when she was craving them that one time last week. He walks further into the store and sweeps his hand along the row of the new releases, the ones he figures people would be the most interested in.  

   You tilt your head to the left curiously, watching the boy with the nicely side swept hair and the gray sweater examine shelf after shelf, and he’s all careful hands and scrutinizing eyes and he’s pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he reads the back of a novel from the newer shelves and runs his fingers along the smooth spine of it and you have to admit, there’s a quite real possibility that he is, in fact, one of the cutest boys you’ve ever seen. Rarer still, he’s pretty much the only undeniably attractive boy to walk into this bookshop; the others were well under the age of twelve and hadn’t come looking for books willingly, they had been dragged in by excited mothers and begrudging older sisters. You shift from your position on the counter, your thumb holding your place in your book as you lean froward to continue examining the brunette whose eyes were glued to the shelves in front of him. 

    You slide off the counter and your shoes land on the wooden floor with a soft thump that makes Peter’s gaze shoot up in surprise, the description on the back of the novel in his hand forgotten. The book he’s holding drops to the floor as you make your way over to him, weaving through the maze of shelves like you’ve been doing it all your life before coming to stand in front of him. 

   “I’m supposed to ask if you need help with something,” you explain, brushing your hair out of the way so you can tap on the name tag hanging from your shirt. Y/N. “But you look like you’re fine over here. Unless you do need help…” You trail off a bit, hopeful that he does indeed need your assistance today because no, you don’t really have to ask him if he needs anything, you just kind of want to. Peter nods vigorously, bending down to pick up the book he’s let fall to the floor and shoving it back into place. 

   “UH- yeah yeah no I need help,” he says quickly, placing his hands into his pockets and thinking to himself yeah Peter, help with your inept social ability is what you need. Damn it. “I’m, um, I’m Par- no, no, I’m Peter Parker, not Parker Peter. That wouldn’t sound right. I keep doing that, sorry,” his face goes red as he grows more and more flustered. You watch him with thinly veiled amusement before grinning and sticking your hand out for him to shake. 

   “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Peter Parker, not Parker Peter,” you press your lips together to stop yourself from laughing, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He releases a little breath, shakes his head at himself, then matches your handshake. You turn toward the shelf he’s been staring at for the past seventeen minutes, and it’s your favorite section: young adult. “So… what’d ya need? I’m kind of an expert around these shelves,” you motion at the books. 

   Peter tries to ignore the sweaty feeling on his palms where he shook our hand. “Oh, well actually, I saw that you guys were hiring and I- I need, you know, a job thing. I can do whatever,” he adds, eyes widening when he realizes that he needs to sound more qualified than he does. “You know, I like, read and whatnot… I can count money? I know how to put things in alphabetical order…” 

   “So, uh, basic human skills then?” You tease, raising an eyebrow. He runs a hand through his hair, giving a nervous laugh. All right, so he was pretty fucking cute. You had to give him the job. You’d be mad not to. You pretend to think about this, then you take him by the sleeve of his sweater and lead him to the register as you slip behind the counter. “Kidding. Don’t look so nervous. I’m like the least intimidating person ever.” I beg to differ. Peter’s hands twist the hem of his shirt around. “You’re hired. Fill this out and you can start Monday. I’ll let the boss know.” You hand him an application form and smile at him, his nerves dissipating as quickly as they came when he saw you. Your fingers trace over the cover of your book out of habit, and his eyes follow the cover. 

   “You sure your boss will be okay with you hiring a kid with no work experience whatsoever and bad social skills?” He asks, grabbing a pen off the cup beside your register as you shrug. 

   “The boss is my mom so… I’m pretty sure you’ll be fine,” you lift yourself back onto the countertop so you can peer down at him as he begins filling out the application right then and there. “Benjamin. That’s nice. I like it.” You point to where he’s scrawled his middle name in terribly messy handwriting. 

   “Yeah? Thank you,” he smiles back at you, but it’s soft and it’s sad even though he knows you couldn’t possibly have any inclination as to who he was named after. Swift to change the subject, Peter lets his pen rest against the paper and grabs the book lying next to you on the counter. “The Night Circus. What’s this about? Any good?” 

    He flips it over so he can read the back of it, the cover a shining black and red that he can’t help but run his hand over because it’s smooth and surprisingly nice to touch. You can’t help the way you light up inside when he asks you about your book. People never took much interest in what you read, and your friends had a habit of teasing you about your intense reading habits since no one else enjoyed it quite as much as you did. “Yeah! Yeah I love it so far, it’s about magicians and stuff but… way more complicated than that. Really good though. It’s right over by where you were looking earlier.” You point in the vague direction, but Peter is aware of what section you’re referring to. “I kind of just grab the books off the shelf sometimes and take ‘em home. My mom doesn’t really notice and there’s not that many people who come in here anyway so I have a big collection at home.”

   “That’s awesome!” Peter genuinely grins at you, chin perched in his hand as he hands you back the book. “When you’re done, d’you think I could borrow it? So we can have something to talk about during work. Plus it sounds interesting.” The smile you give him, absolutely radiant, is indescribably beautiful in Peter’s eyes and he watches you disappear for a moment only to return with a shiny, new copy of the book sitting on the counter. 

   “Mom doesn’t check,” you say again, your face heating up when your fingers brush against his in the exchange of the book. “Gonna warn you, though, I’ll be done by the end of the weekend, so don’t expect me to have the same book come your first day of work.” 

   Peter opens the first page. “Whatcha gonna be reading on Monday, then?” 

   You meet his eyes for a split second. Warm, watchful, careful eyes. Eyes that you could definitely see yourself falling for. “I’ll let you know.” 


   He’s indubitably happy for the rest of the weekend. He bounces his knee whilst on the train ride home, he grins to himself alone in his room as he lies on his back and holds the book above him so he can read by lamplight, and when he sits down to dinner with May he keeps blushing for no apparent reason as he eats boxed macaroni and cheese that May insists she could make from scratch if she really tried. 

  “You’re awfully happy tonight,” she remarks, taking a bite of the Kraft dinner and surveying her nephew carefully. “Anything special happen today in the city?”

 Peter shrugs nonchalantly, trying to play it off as if it were nothing special, but he knows that you’re special, and he’s only known you for maybe an hour and he had forgotten to ask for your number like the clueless idiot he was more often than not. Didn’t matter, though, because he was sure that he could get it on Monday when he headed over at noon. Thank the Gods for summer vacation. “Oh, um, nothing really,” he says, trying, and failing, to contain his excitement. “I just got a job and I met a girl and I like her already and now we work together and we’re gonna talk about books all the time and I’m really excited because I start Monday and she gave me a book and we’re gonna talk about it and I might fall in love with her but I don’t know yet but there’s a very strong possibility of that happening and I’m really really happy right now but that’s it no big deal you know?” 

   May blinks. Peter often goes off on tangents when he’s overly enthusiastic, or when he’s nervous. But she reaches across the table and squeezes his hand tightly. “Let me know when you’re positive that you’re gonna fall in love with her, because I’d like to stamp my approval on this one. I’m happy for you Peter.” May pauses, then says, “Don’t even think about giving me your paycheck.” 

   “May!” 


    Every morning from Monday on consists of Peter arriving at work with a cup of coffee in his hand, iced coffee because it’s summertime and there’s a Dunkin Donuts on every corner of New York City, promptly at twelve to see you sitting in your usual position with a book in your hand. You read rather quickly, and Peter can hardly catch up with the five books you go through each week, but he tries since he needs to be able to talk to you about something. After sometime, though, you start talking about things other than books. There’s science, and math, art, and school, and your parents and his Uncle Ben, and May, and anything and everything you can think of. But your day always starts the same. 

   Peter, walking in with his coffee in hand and a lanyard slung around his neck, his little ID picture adorably dorky because he’s half blinking but still smiling. He slides another coffee across the counter toward you- he eventually received your number that same Monday morning he started working there and then texted you asking for your usual order. Sometimes he gets you a donut, too, if you ask him. Then, he starts sorting through the new orders that have just come in, stacking them alphabetically of course (it was one of his special skills, after all) and calls across the store, “Whatcha reading today, Y/N?” And you’ll yell back the answer, typically a different one every two days, as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and marks the title on a list of what he has to read. He refuses to read Game of Thrones, insisting the show was much easier for him to follow. You practically threw a fit when you found out he hadn’t finished the Harry Potter series, so that was at the very top of his list and he came in this particular morning with a copy of the third book sitting in his shoulder bag. 

   “Morning, Peter,” you call out happily, not looking up from the pages of The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater when the bell overhead the door sings out an announcement of his arrival. You hold out your hand for your drink, and it lands there without hesitation. 

   “Good morning,” he grins back, pushing up your hand to see the cover of your book properly. “Whatcha reading today?” He looks up at you expectantly, taking a sip of his drink. You place your bookmark in your book and hand it over to him, kicking your feet back and forth. “Should I add this one to the list, too?” 

   “Yes!” You exclaim, waiting for him to be finished with the first page. “But don’t you dare read anything on it before you read Harry Potter, got it, Parker?” The warning is so playful it makes Peter laugh before he nods, taking his spot behind the register this time. You have to write up the chalkboard signs for outside the store, and it’s been agreed that you have the prettier handwriting out of the two of you. “My mom thinks you’re doing a good job helping me out,” you mention casually after a few minutes of comfortable silence, your tongue between your lips as you slowly begin drawing a purple stack of books on the chalkboard stand. 

   “Really?” Peter asks, eyebrows raised in surprise. He didn’t do much around the store, to be quite honest, mostly because he never worked the register. Even if he did, the way you did every day, there weren’t many customers that came in. You received more online orders than anything else. “I’m not even really sure why you hired me in the first place, honestly. I wasn’t qualified, like, at all, Y/N.” He laughs again, he’s always laughing with you. 

   You purse your lips, the pink chalk in your hand hovering over the book you were attempting to illustrate properly. There were a lot of ways you could reply to this. There was the risky way. There was the safe way. There was the in between sort of way. After an internal debate, you say, “Well, what can I say? I have a penchant for looking at pretty things, and, um, you’re not bad to look at, Peter. For a boy, you’re kind of pretty.” You don’t look at him when you say it, but he’s staring at you like he’s never seen you before. It’s the look of a boy falling in love for the first time. You can feel it in the heat in your stomach when you finally turn around to face him, standing up and brushing chalk dust off your jeans as he contains to gaze at you with that soft air about him. “What?” You lightly shove his arm. 

   “Wh- what? I mean, um, nothing, uh, nothing.” Peter runs a hand through his hair, messing up the carefully gelled way he does his hair every morning for work. “Absolutely nothing.” His face is burning red, eyes trained on the register like it’s the only thing he can look at without fainting, and there’s a trace of a smile on his lips but he doesn’t want to show it just yet. 

    You lean against the counter. In his peripheral vision, he notices the tiny smirk playing at the corner of your mouth, a smirk bordering on something gentler and kinder than you desired it to. Arms folded across your chest, staring at him hard. Your smile is burning as bright as the spring sunshine in April after a particularly hard day of rain the day previously, but he’s still not looking at you, so you say, “Did we just reach the part in the young adult contemporary novel where you start falling in love with me?” You see his hand freeze atop the register, and he can feel the way his cheeks are glowing too red to be blamed on the heat of the summer. “You know, I bet we did.” You move to make your way to the front of the store, but Peter turns around just in time to grab your hand and pull you into him.  

   His fingers smoothly slip through yours. “If we did, that’d be okay, right? You wouldn’t mind your love interest being… all me-like?” The self doubt is always so clear with him, but you bring yourself closer still with a shake of your head. 

   “You’d make a great love interest,” you reply softly.  

    The taste of cold coffee from Dunkin Donuts lingers on his lips when he kisses you for the first time that day, the coffee that he dumps copious amounts of sugar packets into because he can’t stand the bitterness but wants to keep drinking it. The coffee he loves despite the odd looks he receives from passerby that can’t help but stare at the boy with messy hair and a lanyard around his neck and bright eyes who keeps ripping open packs of sugar at the counter and pouring them in. You’ve loved cold coffee already, but you love it a little more now that there’s a new way of tasting it, and the next day when he walks into your little bookshop you’re the one with mouth that tastes like his morning pick me up- and neither of you have ever been more grateful for books in your life. 

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