#cash machine near me

[susanhorak]

#spoken_english #تعلم #learn_english #تعلم_الانجليزية دورات اللغة الانجليزية - ماكينه الصرف الالي بالانجليزى - اسم الصراف بالانجليزي هناك بعض العبارات الهامة التي يجب أن تتعلمها عن ماكينه الصرف الالي بالانجليزى حتى يمكنك أن تصف يومك لشخص ما.فمثال على ذلك يجب عليك معرفة الكلمات المهمة أثناء التعامل مع ماكينة الصرف الألى ATM كى لا يحدث لك مشكلة اثناء التعامل معها.فى هذا الدرس سوف نتعلم الكلمات والمصطلحاتالمعبرة عن اسم الصراف الالى

لو عجبك الفيديو اعمل مشاركة من اللينك ده دورات اللغة الانجليزية - ماكينه الصرف الالي بالانجليزى - اسم الصراف بالانجليزي https://youtu.be/kTYoGXfEvqY

ليصلك كل جديد اشترك بالقناه http://bit.ly/2HQGd4q

يمكنك الاستفادة من الدروس والموضوعات التالية دورات اللغة الانجليزية - ماكينه الصرف الالي بالانجليزى - اسم الصراف بالانجليزي https://youtu.be/kTYoGXfEvqY

كيف اتعلم انجليزي - الكلام عن العلاقة العاطفية بالانجليزى - علاقات بالانجليزي https://youtu.be/N4FhDWOl4aw

كيف اتعلم انجليزي - ازاي تكلم الكراش - قول كلمه للكراش https://youtu.be/li7bs0_Bkhw

تدريب اللغة الانجليزية - مصطلحات مهمه في الانجليزي - مصطلحات اللغة الانجليزية https://youtu.be/BuvtZd1wjL4

تدريب اللغة الانجليزية - كلمات انجليزية مهمة - كلمات انجليزية صعبة https://youtu.be/JYzMDv3YVgE

تعليم انجليزي - تعلم اللهجة الامريكية بطلاقة - اسرار اللهجة الامريكية https://youtu.be/80wlukJomQU

تعليم انجليزي - الشتائم الامريكية ومعانيها - جمل شتائم بالانجليزي https://youtu.be/GVv4atfCnE8 #مواقع_تعليم_انجليزي #برامج_تعليم_انجليزي #تعلم_اللغة_الانجليزية #تعلم #spoken_english #english_speaking_course_online #spoken_english_in_telugu #نهي_طلبة , Noha Tolba

#plus atm machine near me #Noha Tolba #free atm machines near me #closest atm machine near me #سحب نقدي بالانجليزي #معنى صراف بنك بالانجليزي #اسم الصراف بالانجليزي #طريقة استخدام الصراف الالي #ماكينه الصرف الالي #ماكينه الصرف الالي بالانجليزى #طريقة استخدام ماكينة atm #مصطلحات البنوك بالعربي والانجليزي #مشاكل ماكينة الصراف الالي #انواع الصراف الالي #English Language Courses #دورات اللغة الانجليزية #atm machine near me #cash machine near me #Youtube

[giveawaycard2024]

get $750 to your Cash

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[jansevakendra11]

https://jansevakendr.org/category/cash-deposit/

Cash Deposit Machine Near me

A "Cash Deposit Machine Near Me" refers to a self-service banking terminal where customers can conveniently deposit cash into their bank accounts. These machines are typically located in various accessible locations, offering a quick and secure way to deposit money without visiting a bank branch.

#Cash Deposit Machine Near me #Cash Deposit

[grahakseva]

Cash Deposit Machine Near Me

A Cash Deposit Machine (CDM) is a self-service terminal provided by banks where customers can deposit cash into their accounts. These machines are usually located in or near bank branches, allowing users to conveniently deposit money without having to interact with a bank teller. The process typically involves inserting cash into the machine, verifying the amount, and confirming the deposit.

#Cash Deposit Machine Near me #Cash Deposit

[mostlysignssomeportents]

"Efficiency" left the Big Three vulnerable to smart UAW tactics

Tomorrow (September 22), I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. Tomorrow night, I'll be in person at LA's Book Soup for the launch of Justin C Key's "The World Wasn’t Ready for You." On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

It's been 143 days since the WGA went on strike against the Hollywood studios. While early tactical leaks from the studios had studio execs chortling and twirling their mustaches about writers caving once they started losing their homes, the strikers aren't wavering – they're still out there, pounding the picket lines, every weekday:

https://www.cnbc.com/2023/08/09/how-hollywood-writers-make-ends-meet-100-days-into-the-writers-guild-strike.html

The studios obviously need writers. That gleeful, anonymous studio exec who got such an obvious erotic charge at the thought of workers being rendered homeless as punishment for challenging his corporate power completely misread the room, and his comments didn't demoralize the writers. Instead, they inspired the actors to go on strike, too.

But how have the writers stayed out since May Day? How have the actors stayed out for 69 days since their strike started on Bastille Day? We can thank the studios for that! As it turns out, the studios have devoted so much energy to rendering creative workers as precarious as possible, hiring as little as they can getting away with and using punishing overtime as a substitute for adequate staffing that they've eliminated all the workers who can't survive on side-hustles and savings for six or seven months at a time.

But even for those layoff-hardened workers, long strikes are brutal, and of course, all the affiliated trades, from costumers to grips, are feeling the pain. The strike fund only goes so far, and non-striking, affected workers don't even get that. That's why I've been donating regularly to the Entertainment Community Fund, which helps all affected workers out with cash transfers (I just gave them another $500):

https://secure2.convio.net/afa/site/Donation2?df_id=8117&8117.donation=form1&mfc_pref=T

As hot labor summer is revealed as a turning point – not just a season – long strikes will become the norm. Bosses still don't believe in worker power, and until they get their minds right, they're going to keep on trying to starve their workforces back inside. To get a sense of how long workers will have to hold out, just consider the Warrior Met strike, where Alabama coal-miners stayed out for 23 months:

https://www.thenation.com/article/activism/warrior-met-strike-union/

As Kim Kelly explained to Adam Conover in the latest Factually podcast, the Alabama coal strikers didn't get anywhere near the attention that the Hollywood strikers have enjoyed:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvyMHf7Yg0Q

(To learn more about the untold story of worker organizing, from prison unions to the key role that people of color and women played in labor history, check out Kelly's book, "Fight Like Hell," now in paperback:)

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Fight-Like-Hell/Kim-Kelly/9781982171063

Which brings me to the UAW strike. This is an historic strike, the first time that the UAW has struck all of the Big Three automakers at once. Past autoworkers' strikes have marked turning points for all American workers. The 1945/46 GM strike established employers' duty to cover worker pensions, health care, and cost of living allowances. The GM strike created the American middle-class:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-09-18-uaw-strikes-built-american-middle-class/

The Big Three are fighting for all the marbles here. They are refusing to allow unions to organize EV factories. Given that no more internal combustion cars will be in production in just a few short years, that's tantamount to eliminating auto unions altogether. The automakers are flush with cash, including billions in public subsidies from multiple bailouts, along with billions more from greedflation price-gouging. A long siege is inevitable, as the decimillionaires running these companies earn their pay by starving out their workers:

https://www.businessinsider.com/general-motors-ceo-mary-barra-salary-auto-workers-strike-uaw-2023-9

The UAW knows this, of course, and their new leadership – helmed by the union's radical president Shawn Fain – has a plan. UAW workers are engaged in tactical striking, shutting down key parts of the supply chain on a rolling basis, making the 90-day strike fund stretch much farther:

https://prospect.org/blogs-and-newsletters/tap/2023-09-18-labors-militant-creativity/

In this project, they are greatly aided by Big Car's own relentless pursuit of profit. The automakers – like every monopolized, financialized sector – have stripped all the buffers and slack out of their operations. Inventory on hand is kept to a bare minimum. Inputs are sourced from the cheapest bidder, and they're brought to the factory by the lowest-cost option. Resiliency – spare parts, backup machinery – is forever at war with profits, and profits have won and won and won, leaving auto production in a brittle, and easily shattered state.

This is especially true for staffing. Automakers are violently allergic to hiring workers, because new workers get benefits and workplace protection. Instead, the car companies routinely offer "voluntary" overtime to their existing workforce. By refusing this overtime, workers can kneecap production, without striking.

Enter "Eight and Skate," a campaign among UAW workers to clock out after their eight hour shift. As Keith Brower Brown writes for Labor Notes, the UAW organizers are telling workers that "It’s crossing an unofficial picket line to work overtime. It’s helping out the company":

https://labornotes.org/2023/09/work-extra-during-strike-auto-workers-say-eight-and-skate

Eight and Skate has already started to work; the Buffalo Ford plant can no longer run its normal weekend shifts because workers are refusing to put in voluntary overtime. Of course, bosses will strike back: the next step will be forced overtime, which will lead to the unsafe conditions that unionized workers are contractually obliged to call paid work-stoppages over, shutting down operations without touching the strike fund.

What's more, car bosses can't just halt safety stoppages or change the rules on overtime; per the UAW's last contract, bosses are required to bargain on changes to overtime rules:

https://uaw.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/Working-Without-Contract-FAQ-FINAL-2.pdf

Car bosses have become lazily dependent on overtime. At GM's "highly profitable" SUV factory in Arlington, TX, normal production runs a six-days, 24 hours per day. Workers typically work five eight-hour days and nine hours on Saturdays. That's been the status quo for 11 years, but when bosses circulated the usual overtime signup sheet last week, every worker wrote "a big fat NO" next to their names.

Writing for The American Prospect, David Dayen points out that this overtime addiction puts a new complexion on the much-hyped workerpocalypse that EVs will supposedly bring about. EVs are much simpler to build than conventional cars, the argument goes, so a US transition to EVs will throw many autoworkers out of work:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-09-20-big-threes-labor-shortages-uaw/

But the reality is that most autoworkers are doing one and a half jobs already. Reducing the "workforce" by a third could leave all these workers with their existing jobs, and the 40-hour workweek that their forebears fought for at GM inn 1945/46. Add to that the additional workers needed to make batteries, build and maintain charging infrastructure, and so on, and there's no reason to think that EVs will weaken autoworker power.

And as Dayen points out, this overtime addiction isn't limited to cars. It's also endemic to the entertainment industry, where writers' "mini rooms" and other forms of chronic understaffing are used to keep workforces at a skeleton crew, even when the overtime costs more than hiring new workers.

Bosses call themselves job creators, but they have a relentless drive to destroy jobs. If there's one thing bosses hate, it's paying workers – hence all the hype about AI and automation. The stories about looming AI-driven mass unemployment are fairy tales, but they're tailor made for financiers who get alarming, life-threatening priapism at the though of firing us all and replacing us with shell-scripts:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

This is why Republican "workerism" rings so hollow. Trump's GOP talks a big game about protecting "workers" (by which they mean anglo men) from immigrants and "woke captialism," but they have nothing to say about protecting workers from bosses and bankers who see every dime a worker gets as misappropriated from their dividend.

Unsurprisingly, conservative message-discipline sucks. As Luke Savage writes in Jacobin, for every mealymouthed Josh Hawley mouthing talking points that "support workers" by blaming China and Joe Biden for the Big Three's greed, there's a Tim Scott, saying the quiet part aloud:

https://jacobin.com/2023/09/republicans-uaw-strike-hawley-trump-scott/

Quoth Senator Scott: "I think Ronald Reagan gave us a great example when federal employees decided they were going to strike. He said, you strike, you’re fired. Simple concept to me. To the extent that we can use that once again, absolutely":

https://twitter.com/American_Bridge/status/1704136706574741988

The GOP's workerism is a tissue-thin fake. They can never and will never support real worker power. That creates an opportunity for Biden and Democrats to seize:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/18/co-determination/#now-make-me-do-it

Reversing two generations of anti-worker politics is a marathon, not a sprint. The strikes are going to run for months, even years. Every worker will be called upon to support their striking siblings, every day. We can do it. Solidarity now. Solidarity forever.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/21/eight-and-skate/#strike-to-rule

#pluralistic #strikes #uaw #labor #automakers #big three #big car #eight and skate #work to rule #tactics

[mimiriko]

You are increasingly becoming aware that bringing the exact amount of change to the vending machine was a risk. A risk you never make because this particular machine is notorious for malfunctioning and dropping snacks.

It’s near midnight. A lone breeze brushes past and ruffles your nightwear, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You could go back to your room, but there’s a tender soreness in your legs from the days work. It’s too troublesome for the mere purpose of sweetening your mouth.

But your chocolate…

“You’re still up?”

A figure shadows you. You look up to your right, and see the moon in the form of bedhair. Sometimes, he forgoes his glasses when everything is casted in black and slightly easy on his eyes, so you’re met with blue rimmed with snow peering down at you.

“Hungry,” you respond, focusing back on the task at hand. Cautiously, experimentally, you tip the machine further right, small uniform shakes to loosen the kitkat stuck on the edge, an arrow away from a bullseye. Satoru stretches next to you, idly releasing the kinks in his neck. “I wanted to sleep early today,” he bemoans, slumping to your side and stays put, even with you floundering with his weight.

“Quit it!” you yelp, tightening your grip on the machine. You’re finally making progress and he decides to set you back three steps.

“Suguru told me i’m getting eye bags,” he prattles, rubbing at the aforementioned place, “I cannot have eye bags. Imagine that! My perfect sky blue eyes and dull skin underneath. It will ruin my whole look.”

Almost there…you feel yourself going cross eyed from staring at the kitkat for so long. The hook of metal around the corner of the package is slipping, just a little jostle away from setting your chocolate free.

But you stop.

You notice it’s suddenly quiet.

The reflection of the display glass allows you to see him staring just as you are, attentively watching if you make it out of here happily or suicidal. You straighten a bit, weirdly put on the spot.

“Hey…why don’t you just—“ his hands shoot out, shaking it ten times rougher than you.

Your alarms blare. “Wait wait wait—”

Your kitkat is set free.

And you watch it drop to the row below it, on top of a juice box.

“Oh.” He says shakily, a nervous giggle following. “Whoops.”

You turn your face to his side profile, and he pointedly looks ahead. His neck is bared to you, unblemished and devoid of accessories. A solid mark left on him would paint a good picture, an outline of your teeth. It might be the first mark he has ever gotten.

You think of Yaga-sensei, and his strict protocol for punishment when a fight breaks out. Especially when it disturbs others, because you’re definitely sure his screams will bleed to the top floors. You’ll make sure it does. Shoko will give you a celebratory hug for finally giving it to him, but will be disappointed that you would have to miss your lunch together. Utahime from all the way in Kyoto will mail you a gift and you’re pretty sure even Mei Mei would send you some cash.

As if sensing your malevolence, he quickly backs away. “H-Hold on! Look—“ he digs in his pocket hastily and pulls out a note. With sweaty hands he inserts it into the machine, and takes your hand palm up and places another kitkat in your hold.

You stare at it, and then at his pockets. ��Give me another.”

You end up walking back to your dorm with handfuls of chocolate and a broke Satoru holding more just for you.

#I love kitkat they’re my favorite #this was supposed to be angst LMFAO #☆.satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n

[catboybiologist]

Hi! I'm Sierra. Time for a pinned post refresh.

Otherwise known as CatboyBiologist, or @hi-sierra (my SFW blog [this one is SFW too, but less so]). This page is remaining active, but if you want to find me somewhere else, I use the same username on reddit, Instagram, co-host, and tech.lgbt. This is me:

Trans woman, PhD student in molecular biology, boymoder, shitposter, freediver, hot girl on your phone, hiker, rambler (this post included), tgirl tummy tuesday supplier and enjoyer, former femboy, bane of bioessentialist fuckwads who try to use biology to validate biogotry, flaming bisexual, 196 nanocelebrity… whatever was the first thing that brought you to my blog, I hope it’s enough to get you to stay! I post selfies, hornyposts (minors and people who are averse to that be warned), stuff about the ocean, posts about my growing sense of wanderlust, my adorable lil tortoise, tutorials for transfemmes and GNC people, rambles about science, documentation of my own transition, rambles about transness, rambles about the eroticism of programming a machine to feel arousal, rambles about nature, and random shitposts. Please send me pictures of cute animals in your life!

If you wanna support my science career and my transition, consider dropping a tip here! PhD salaries are notorious for being negotiated to be exactly the cost of living…. And then forgotten about for years as inflation drops that below minimum wage. So I’m always a little strapped for cash. Anything helps!

Links to some of my tutorials and relevant resources under the cut:

I'm tracking my transition, and some people have said they found this helpful! This spreadsheet is generally updated monthly:

Usually, I write a little journal to go with it when it updates- you can find that under the #trans journal on my blog.

If you're interested in checking out some of the things I'm trying to write, here's a post with links to individual stories I'm making:

https://www.tumblr.com/catboybiologist/741010247774306304/writing-consolidation-post?source=share

My femboy guide, written well before I started HRT, but still has relevant info:

A "boyboob" tutorial, aka how to make it look like you have cleavage in an outfit that looks better with it:

A quick and dirty guide to taking better selfies, with a specific emphasis on people who may have stopped hating their body recently due to transition:

And here's a few of my personal favorite little rambles and posts about my transness, in no particular order:

CW for transphobia on this one:

A massive shoutout to @foldingfittedsheets for this amazing art of the lil borgir holding a trans flag:

I adore this so much <3 if you want to support their art, her commissions are open and really sweet!!!!

And of course, a massive shoutout to @whalesharkcat for this lovely pixel art of my tortoise:

I still love this so much, and will continue to into the future <3

For preHRT selfies, search the femboy tag. For post HRT selfies, use the "trans selfie" tag. I've been on HRT since August of 2023, so I'm still very early in the process! Day to day, I present male, but I plan to change that around the 1 year mark.

I guess that's about it! One final note is that I've been alluding to video/podcast style things for a while now. With my aderrall prescription, I've actually put in a lot of research work that might lead to 1-4 of those, so that might actually happen in the near future! No promises of course, life always catches up to you.

And if you liked my previous pinned post better, here it is:

Anyways, if you read this far, thanks for sticking around and bbyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

#just slapping tags I use frequently here to make them easily viewable #trans selfie #femboy #trans journal #tortoise #biology #oceanposting #also hi 196 #196 #r196 #r/196 #rule #/r/196 #trans #transgender #cute trans #tgirl tummy tuesday #tgirl tummy #transitioning #trans woman #trans femme #transfemme #trans is beautiful #trans tummy tuesday #tort #russian tortoise #trans tumblr #trans tutorial #cross dressing #no i am not conflating my transness with crossdressing and femboyhood Im just tagging bc thats how I used to present

[brodieland]

.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 10 Things I hate about you ´ˎ˗

Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader Synopsis: Percy starts trying to make his move on Y/N, but she just won't budge!! Warning(s): swearing Word Count: 1902

╰➤ MASTERLIST pt2

"That's actually the new rule? God Silena must hate you," Piper joked.

"You wouldn't even imagine, she's so dramatic. And her taste in boys isn't any better," you shook your head. You were both walking to get some water, absolutely dehydrated from soccer.

"Makes me glad I like girls," you both laughed. As practice neared it's end, Piper was heading towards her dad's car to go home. You made your way over to the bleachers where your bags sat and grabbed them before heading back to your car. When you sat down, you got a text from Silena,

'can u get some McDonalds on ur way back'

'no' 'sike im going now'

You pulled into the parking lot seeing the drive-thru line was too long to wait. You walked up to an empty kiosk, to tired to interact with anyone, and ordered your food.

"You go to AHS right," a guys voice you didn't recognize asked from behind you.

"I don't know, what does my uniform say?"

"That you're a soccer kid. You sure your any good?"

You sighed as you turned to face the mysterious boy behind you. He was taller than average with messy black hair. He had a hoodie with some sweats on. "Soccer balls aren't the only kind of balls I can kick the life out of, so can you fuck off?"

"Woah, feisty one aren't you?"

"By feisty would you maybe mean iconoclast, orrr?"

"Maybe more intractable," you raised your eyebrows.

"Wow, big words huh," You went to turn back and finish ordering. Percy took the chance to walk over, leaning on the machine whilst facing you.

"What? Did you think I was stupid?"

You internally groaned, why was he still here? "You definitely have the look. Now, do you mind?"

He was standing in front of the machine to pay, "Oh, never."

He had a shit eating grin as he pulled his phone and paid. "Hey! I didn't ask you to do that."

"Call it my treat," he smiled.

"No I'm paying you back, I think I have cash in my bag," you went rummaging through your bag to find absolutely no cash. "Apple Pay?"

"Hey, are you asking for my number? That's really sweet," it feels like an aneurysm just burst from the annoyance this conversation has left you with.

"Nevermind fuck you I'm not paying you back," you spat back.

"Meaning now you owe me," Percy said. Deep breathes.

"I don't owe you shit, its not like I asked you to pay."

"Yeah yeah, potato potato," Percy made his way towards the door. "See ya around, I'll figure out how you can return the favor."

You might just have to air out the McDonalds. You sighed and waited for five minutes as they called out for your order. When you grabbed the food you made your way home, eating Silena's fries on the way back. Dad was working late at the hospital so it was just you two.

"Have I ever told you your my favorite sister?"

"No not as of late," you put the bags of food on the table and started chowing down. "You literally haven't spoken to me in two days. Be glad I'm so nice."

"Well nice is a really strong word," you glared at her. "If you really wanted to be nice, then you'd-"

"No."

"You don't even know what I'm gonna say."

"Fine, what?"

"You'd go on a date so I can go on a date-"

"No," Silena grunted loudly.

"Why do you insist on keeping me captive in this home. I wanna enjoy my teenage years you know."

"You not missing out on much. The guys here are lame, including your oh so dreamy Lukey."

"He's literally amazing. Like have you seen him? His car?"

"Hard to miss. He's just so in your face, it makes me sick," you faked gagged.

"Haven't you ever wanted to live the perfect teenage life."

"Tried it. It sucked, not what it's caked out to be," you smiled as you started to clean up. Silena leaned back into her chair sighing, looking defeated. "You know, college is only two years away. I think you'll be fine until then."

"My life is so boring," she said as she walked up to her room. You could tell she was upset, but you weren't going to date some loser just so she could get tossed by Luke when he was bored. That was something he did a lot.

You went to do some homework at your desk while listening to some music. You saw your phone went off and went to check it, someone had texted you.

'I think I found a way for u to pay back the favor'

There's no way.

'how tf did u find my number'

'dw bout it??' 'why u gotta be nosy??'

'im blocking you'

'wait??'

'no??' 'fine wtf do u want'

'on Friday there's a party'

'no'

'alright I'll pick you up at 9'

'no you won't???'

He stopped answering after that. How on gods green grass did he find your number? You just ignored it, putting your phone on silent and getting back to your homework. Without realizing it, you fell asleep at your desk.

You woke up when you heard banging at the door, "Y/N!!"

You leaned up and stretched in your chair. Desk naps are absolute back killers holy. "What do you want?"

"Did you ever make it to your bed," Silena looked at you up and down.

"No, what time is it?"

"Time for you to hurry the hell up, we need to leave now," she said as she stormed out. You groaned as you stood up and walked over to your closet, grabbing some jeans and a hoodie before running down toward your car. "About time."

"I could just not drive you," you said as you both stepped in the car. You were just joking of course, she doesn't need to be asking Luke Castellan for a ride anyways.

You pulled in the parking lot, and before even coming to a full stop, you saw your sister jumping out and making her way to Mr. Convertible. BARF.

"Dude, I don't think the plans working," Charles said, sounding worried.

Leo sighed, "look we just need some time, Y/Ns not gonna just give in after like, a day."

Charles groaned as he stared at Silena and Luke flirting from a mere 50 feet away. The way her long hair flowed in the wind, the way her lip gloss shinned in the sun, he couldn't get enough. "Whatever, I have French tutoring with her later, we'll see how it goes."

"Not gonna lie this is kind of hard," Percy said from behind the two, making them jump.

"Jesus, you need a bell or something," Leo said with his hand on his heart, feeling it speed up.

Percy rolled his eyes, "Anyways, I think she blocked me, and all I did was pay for her food."

Charles just softly facepalmed. When he got his face out of his hands, he saw Luke walking towards them.

"Luke," Percy cheered while holding his arms out. Luke did not return the hug.

"Dude, I'm not paying you to get fucking aired. I need you to take her to the party this Friday. Not the one in 20 and a half years," Luke complained.

"Dude, its not like Y/Ns the easiest person to ask out around here," Leo chimed.

"Literally," Percy agreed. "Look, I invited her out to the party, just gimme a moment bro." "Plus, I'm gonna need a pay raise."

Luke laughed in his face, "Yeah no way."

"Then you can say goodbye to little ms Silena over there," Luke rolled his eyes as he pulled out his wallet, slapping a Benjamin into Percy's hand. "Love you too."

Luke just held up his middle finger as he walked off, "He's such an amazing ray of sunshine isn't he?"

Percy and Charles just stared at Leo, "What? Am I not allowed to be my funny and whimsical self?"

They both walked off without saying a word. Silena and Charles have their free period and use it to study on some French together.

"So how's operation 'get my impossible sister a date' going," Silena asked.

"Well, we have a guy, but she's just not going for him. We need some help here, what kind of guy does she go for?"

"The problem is she just DOESN'T," Charles gave her a look before she continued. "Not like that. I mean, she thinks guys like Logan Lerman and Dylan O'brian are pretty hot, so Percys probably her type."

"Okay so we got that right at least," he grumbled.

"I mean the reason she just shits on all the guys here is because she thinks of them all as 'misogynistic assholes of the patriarchy,' she rolled her eyes.

"So what, a guy who can shut the fuck up when needed or something," Silena laughed at Charles joked, and he sweared he started ascending.

"Yeah just maybe," she smiled.

"Silena, can I ask you something?"

"Whats up?"

"You know the party on Friday. Would you wanna go? I mean if Percy can convince your sister and all you know."

"Of course I want to go, which is why I really need Y/N to just man up," she paused. "or woman up, I guess."

﹒º. ౨ৎ

You sat back and doodled in your notebook in your English class. After spending most the class debating over sexist views in classic literature, you felt kind of annoyed. Its like no one cares these days, you know?

The bell rang and you walked over to your friend Hazel. "Honestly you should be like a lawyer or something, watching you arguing these boys is like music to my ears."

"You might be on to something, I love belittling them as it is. Imagine I got paid to do it," you laughed. When you walked out the class, you saw Hazel's boyfriend, Frank, waiting for her outside. You waved hello then paused when you saw Percy next to him.

"Oh look who it is," Percy exclaimed. You didn't even waste your breathe as you just turned and walked off towards your locker. Percy quickly rubbed his temples and ran after you. "Where ya going?"

"Anywhere," you said as you made it to your locker to grab your next books. Percy stood off to the side, leaning on the lockers. "What do you want now?"

"To take you out this Friday night," he smiled.

"I'd rather swallow 4 laxatives and a bowling ball and staple my ass cheeks together than be stuck in a room full of intoxicated teenagers," you slammed your locker shut and walked off.

Percy followed after you, "Don't you have the fun vocabulary!!"

"Extensive," you smirked.

"Look, it'll be fun."

"Doubtful."

"Do I need to ask in like, fucking greek or something," Percy pleaded.

"Maybe choose a language you actually know first."

"Μπορώ να μιλήσω ελληνικά μια χαρά," you looked at him wide-eyed. "Why must you continue to doubt me?"

"How do I know you didn't insult me?"

"I don't know, just trust me maybe," you shot up an eyebrow with an amused upside down smile on your face. "όπως είπα, θα είμαι εκεί στις εννιά εντάξει."

"No, to whatever you just said," you chuckled as you headed off to your next class.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

✰ Μπορώ να μιλήσω ελληνικά μια χαρά - I can speak Greek just fine ✰ όπως είπα, θα είμαι εκεί στις εννιά εντάξει - like i said i'll be there at nine ok?

✰Taglist: @liviessun (just lemme know if u wanna be added)

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #percy pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #silena beauregard #silena pjo #charles beckendorf #charles pjo #charlena #luke castellan #luke pjo #leo valdez pjo #leo hoo #leo valdez hoo #leo pjo

[purelyfiction]

is it too soon to do this yet? - jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader

Word Count: 1,977 words

Summary: this aint for the best, my reputation's never been worse so, you must like me for me. we can't make any promises now can we babe? // is it cool that i said all that? is it chill that you're in my head? cause i know that it's delicate. is it cool that i said all that? is it too soon to do this yet? 'cause i know that it's delicate.

Content Warning: fluff!! possibly insta-love for those put off by that.

Author Note: first: i wrote something?? on time??? second: for @ohtobeleah 's galentines writings :))) unedited/unbetaed we die like idiots

you had been here for a good time. your friend was getting married and her bachelorette was taking place in this quiet coastal town near a naval base. had that been part of the appeal? absolutely. who didn't want to watch a bunch of walking red flags as they did their daily trainings on the beach?

a little dive bar friday night with a shoddy jukebox, cheap beer and countless sailors - it had been the most fortunate surprise when you'd walked in with no other plans but to show off your sashed friend.

luckily for your group, sailors were suckers for a good bride to be and her girl crew. even luckier for you since you'd been playing DD for the last three days of the five day trip and you were finally able to take a damned sip of alcohol, which you rightfully deserved. glass in hand, you approach the jukebox to survey the music choices as the other girls were served shots (you wanted a drink not a hangover). you're about to pick out a song when you realize the machine hadn't been modernized and it still took cash. sadly, you spin back to the bar but not before dousing the man behind you in the makings of your whiskey sour.

"fuck, i am so sorry-" a hand grips your arm and he shakes his head.

"no, no, don't worry, i'm just upset on your behalf. what a waste of good whiskey." you look up, green eyes charming their way into easing your guilt. "I was gonna offer you a song, but ugh- maybe i ought to offer you a drink instead?"

he ends up buying both.

and as your friends sing along to the ancient song on the jukebox, you sit with this lone aviator and get to know him. long after your friends have retreated to the airbnb.

it was funny to think that was almost a six weeks ago. you'd flown to california for one week of fun and never went back, thanks to a rouge cowboy with eyes that matched the jumpsuit he donned to work each day.

you'd been crashing at an short-term rental since your friend's bachelorette, save for the weekend of the actual wedding, when jake had been your plus-one. everyone had relished in how the string of fate had connected you like this.

they'd also spoken of how insane you were. to uproot your entire life for the sake of what was supposed to be a one night fling. but it didn't bother you. not when the expansive reach of his hand had guided you through crowds that night. had danced with you and made a part fool of you both. i am a fantastic dancer, i have no idea where these guys are getting the idea i'm a trainwreck. his voice so easy and content on the drive back to the hotel that night.

now here you were, cooking for the two of you in his apartment as you waited on your boyfriend to get back from work. the label was maybe a week old at this point, but it fit him like a damn glove. so much so you'd started reaching out to potential leasers to sublet your apartment back home. maybe you were rushing into this. your job had been fine with you staying out in california longer - you were remote anyways, that had been the main perk of the job. but moving? for a man you'd known maybe a month?

the door slams shut and the entire apartment shakes. jake's place was small, tiny even, so you're greeted with his tense expression the minute you look up from your spot at the kitchen counter. "hey baby, how was-"

"fine." he grits the word out, dropping his duffel to the floor and disappearing down the hall. the bedroom door shuts with a click instead of a bang this time.

this wasn't boding well for you. you had a grand plan to make dinner, watch movies and have a nice and easy night in together, maybe talk for a bit. you'd wanted to discuss going to see an apartment this weekend. you didn't want to move in together, but you needed to look for a place of your own instead of crashing here so much. if this was going down that road. yet, the pilot seems to be in the worst mood to have that kind of discussion.

when he finally comes back to the kitchen, he slinks in behind you and presses a quick kiss to your head. "how was that call you were dreading." he's changed out of his uniform, a pair of sweatshorts on his waist, a dark t-shirt on his shoulders as he glides to the fridge. the tension is still carried in his frame even if he isn't outwardly acting as if there is something bothering him.

"ugh, it was - it was fine." now you're shutting off just like he was. it might be just you mirroring his actions, or maybe it was more. uncertainty? uneasiness? doubt?

the crack of teeth on an apple pulls you from your mind. you look to the fruit in his hand as he steps out to the living room on the opposite side of the kitchen wall. "i- dinner is almost ready, you know."

the tv stirs to life, echoing off the walls of the bachelor pad. the lack of decorations or real furnishings had been one of your reasons for wanting to pull the trigger on the move. to have some of your belongings back in your life, some familiarity.

"yeah, i'll eat." finally you're over it. you're not taking this from him, not when you had shit on your own mind that needed to be addressed. turning the burner off you step out of the kitchen, coming to the coffee table and snagging the remote. with it switched off, he looks at you with offense. "i said i'd eat what is the big deal?"

"what is going on with you?" your hands come across your chest as hangman snags the apple with his teeth as he dives into his pocket for his phone.

"nut-ing" the word comes out odd since his jaw is unable to move. you raise your eyebrows at him, which earns a similar reaction from the blonde. groaning he pulls the apple from his mouth. "rough day at work. got my ass handed to me by my superior, everyone talking shit because i flew better than anyone else- just in a piss poor mood. i'm sorry." you stare at him with concern now. it was just a bad day? then why was he suddenly as secure as a vault? locked away with high tech security and an obnoxiously long passcode.

"that's not all of it." you pry, slowly coming to sit down next to him. but when you do, he immediately stands up.

"yeah it is." he moves over to the kitchen again, tossing the apple core away. frustration eats at you again, tilting your head as your tone sharpens as he starts to step down the hallway.

"are you going to talk to me like your girlfriend or just like some bitch you're keeping around? cause right now it feels more like the second one." he freezes and his head drops back.

"look, i don't do the talking about emotions thing, i don't do the-"

"oh bullshit." you stand and march down the hallway, coming to stand behind him as his head sinks. "you put your heart on your sleeve when i saw you cry at dane and avery's wedding. and when you laughed to me about your childhood dog when you were drunk the night before at the rehearsal. or how you just seemed to stare at me with no concern in the world when we went out for ice cream last week - you do emotions. you do them and you feel them more heavily than most people i know." he slowly spins to look at you. "so start talking." the command is softer than the rest of your words.

finally, he relents. you sit on the couch with bated breath as he explained that he doesn't have the social life he had presented to you that first night. that his coworkers all think he's an asshole, that he's a dick and he isn't the kind of person to be friends with. "up until now, i didn't think i was the kind of person to be a boyfriend, let alone a friend."

it stung a little. jake as little as you had known him, had been one thing - confident. reassured in his personality and his work. he had this charisma around him that lured you in without him needing to really try. "i don't know how you believe that." you speak softly, pushing hair out of his face as it falls, gel from this morning weak from the impact of G-force pressures and california humidity. "you're a fun guy. you always make me laugh. i feel so.. safe around you. it's hard to imagine anyone else not appreciating that like i do."

jake's laid back on the couch now, looking up at you before looking at the ceiling. "yeah, well i guess the reality is that i'm easy to hate, hard to love. an acquired taste."

"that couldn't be further from the truth." it slips out so easily. green eyes perk up in curiosity.

"angel, i'm- to make it quick, i'm a menace. people know my callsign and they know my reputation. a selfish dick looking to get to the top and on top of women. hell, i don't know why you've stuck around as long as you have, so clearly somehow i've rubbed off on you."

your legs shift as you try to adjust on the couch to look at him better. "jake, i'm not going to be that girl. it would be a little weird if i was that girl, i mean, it's been what, a month?" he's slowly raising onto his elbows when you start in your ramblings, "but, you just- you take me by surprise in the best way, at every turn. yeah, sure they have some idea of you but it's not jake. it's not the guy who's impulsively buying karaoke machines to have idiotic nights in, or the guy who's sneaking pictures before anyone can notice because you're sentimental. or even the guy who hides the tears in his eyes at the end of how to train your dragon-"

he points at you with an amused expression, "you saw the way that dragon curls around him, he saved him." you can't hold back the laugh.

"my point is: hangman is so, so far from jake. cause i mean, i love jake, he's... he's my guy. and i don't get what's so hard to love about that." you give a small smile until it computes in your head what you've said. "i ugh..." jake keeps a coy grin on his features, leaning into his chin now that he's rolled onto his stomach, knowingly catching onto what you've said. "is it cool that i said that? i mean i- we can pretend that i didn't and forget this ever happened-"

he cuts you off with a soft press of lips to your own. the taste of apple juice still lingers on his chapped skin, before he pulls away. "it's cool." he offers, a hand coming to take your own.

"i promise i won't say it again." there's a mad blush on your face and jake just laughs.

"ah, don't you go promising nothing. let's just go finish dinner, yeah?"

and jake takes his rightful place next to you at the stove, towering over you as his head bounces along to the music you've put on, glancing at apartment listings that you pull up.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #hangman fanfic #hangman fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x reader

[mangofanarts]

Dapper asked Bad why did he suddenly want more neighbors and Bad's reply was that it was always good to have more neighbors, that they should get out more enough. And then Dapper's response after that was "we've always been fine with no neighbors." It just makes me want to scream because Bad wants neighbors so that they'll take care of Dapper when something terrible happens to Bad.

And Dapper noticing that it's weird for his dad to want neighbors because it is- weird! It's so very weird for Bad, someone who has lived in an underground dungeon before, making it specifically very far away so that no one could go near it - wants neighbors. Dapper knows so much about Bad because of the information that Bad tells him and Dapper is aware of how paranoid his father is of other people. What's up with this sudden shift in his dad? Why is he doing that? He says it's good to have more neighbors and to get outside more but they've never really had neighbors before on the other side of the island. His dad also doesn't really seem to care that much before about getting outside either. Dapper mentions it herself that it feels weird.

When Dapper mentions that, Bad quickly tries to make another excuse for why he wants neighbors. It's for money, of course! For business, Dapper! For cash money! Which Dapper seems more willing to accept, but not quite yet with the excuse as he says "Isn't Spawn for that?" and then Bad agrees, that Spawn is for that too. But then moves the topic away by showing Dapper his create machine.

#qsmp #badboyhalo #qsmp dapper

[psithurista]

approach shift - epilogue

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 2.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: PIV (protected), sneaky little non-descriptive pegging reference, disGUSting fluff

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

a/n: I'll keep it quick: I'm so sorry this took so long, but I just wasn't quite ready to finish it off haha. It's been two years almost to the day since I started writing this (and they've been fucking crazy years) so it feels very strange saying goodbye to these adorable losers. I once again can't even start to express how happy it's made me seeing your reactions to this fic, and I'm endlessly grateful to everyone who took the time to leave a comment or reach out to say hi. I hope you like this last sweet little snippet! x

series masterlist

SIX MONTHS LATER

“We need to get up,” you say, making no move to do so.

He turns his face from where it’s smushed into the pillow to speak, his eyes still closed. “You first.”

You groan. 

You have no idea what time it is, and your phone is out of reach, but the light through the curtains is blinding like near-noon and Bear’s supposed to be here at 10 to pick you up, so you’re almost definitely cutting it fine.

“Peter.” Your legs are tangled with his, his thigh between yours. He huffs morning breath sleepily into your face in response, reaching a hand out to pat your cheek. 

“Shh.” He shifts, pressing his thigh harder between your legs, skin sticky on skin. You know he’s doing it on purpose; he knows exactly where he’s pressing you. You make a quiet, satisfied noise, then pull away regretfully. 

“Bear’s gonna be here soon and you need to be dressed. She’ll freak if she has to see your ass again.” 

“Mmm. Yeah. I’m up.”

You sit up, and the slow weight of his arm slides off your waist. The bedroom door is open to the living room where you can see the debris left over from your at-home date the night before: the bowl still on the couch with a handful of unpopped kernels still rattling in the bottom, the fairy lights web-stuck across the ceiling still glowing gently and the blown-out candles stuck in pastel wax puddles to the coffee table you’d rescued from the curb a few weeks after moving in together. It’d been unbearably funny watching Peter’s elaborate performance of pretending to struggle under the weight of it on the way back home.

He drags himself out of bed, and you hear the coffee machine gurgling while you start pulling out clothes.

It’s hot and stuffy; the air’s stopped working again sometime in the night, so you screech the window open and prop the broom handle under the frame to keep it there. It’s a precarious solution—more than once, the window’s fallen shut while you’ve been at work, forcing Peter to awkwardly perform a frantic outfit change behind the dumpster in the alley so he doesn’t run the risk of running into one of your neighbours in the elevator. But the rent’s affordable for a pair of research scientists with a dash of supplementary freelance photography cash on the side, and the occasional bags of free food from a grateful shop owner after a thwarted hold-up.

“Should we call about the air?” you wonder out loud through the open door.

 “Don’t worry about it, it’ll be quicker if I just get up on the roof and fix it again myself,” Peter says, his voice stretching out into a yawn halfway through. He appears in the bathroom doorway, still naked, two mugs in his hands. 

You gasp in appreciation as he passes one to you. “God, I love you,” you murmur, taking a sip.

He grins dazedly at you in the mirror, his cheeks flushed. “Is that all it takes, huh? A crappy cup of coffee?”

You turn and slide the mug onto the counter so you can wrap your arms around his waist. “No. You’re cute, too. That helps.”

He kisses you, his thumb and index finger framing your chin. “M’not cute,” he says against your lips, leaning his too-warm body along yours. “M’intimidating as hell. Ask anybody.”

You’d only gotten as far as underwear before he’d interrupted you dressing, and it already feels like there’s far too much in the way between you. “You’re gonna make me late,” you say, reaching down to dig your fingers into the taut swell of his ass. “Gotta get ready.”

“Okay, so keep getting ready,” he says, mouthing at your neck. “You’re the one groping me.”

He’s right; now you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop. You press your hands to the small of his back, drawing him closer. You can feel his cock beginning to harden where his body is pressed against yours, and his tongue comes out to touch at your pulse. He makes a tiny noise in his throat as you slip one hand down between your bodies to wrap loosely around his rapidly-growing erection.

You stroke him once, gently, and he huffs. “I don’t see how this is helping,” he says. 

You hum your response, your resolve melting away as he strokes the back of his knuckles down your spine, making you shiver. “Maybe…” you say.

He ducks his head to kiss first one breast, then the other, your nipples standing hard and sensitive. “Maybe?” he prompts. His fingers brush your hip, coming around to rest just below your navel.

“Maybe, if we’re quick…” you say, biting your lip, pushing your hips upward to try to encourage his hand lower.


“Babe, I can be so quick,” he says, half-groan, half-laughter. He thumbs your labia, spreading you open just a little, so he can touch your clit. “Too quick, even, if you want. Some would say it’s a talent.”

You grin at him, letting go of his cock. “Bed. Now.”

He swings you up into his arms so fast your head spins, practically flinging you onto the bed. 

You sprawl out in front of him, your arms thrown back as he peels your underwear off. “Holy shit,” he says, running his hands down your sides, staring at the expanse of your body. His jaw is slack with longing, and the sight of his adoration never fails to make fresh heat flood your face, even after seeing him staring at you like this so many times.

He kneels down over you, sucking two fingers into his mouth as he does. You hitch your knees up to give him a better angle, and he gently presses a firm thigh between your legs. “How do you wanna…?”

“Condom,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair, making his eyes roll closed with pleasure. “No mess.”

He holds your lower lip gently between his teeth, and slowly pushes his two slick fingers inside you. You shift your hips up, and he withdraws them both again, using the slip of your arousal to work against your clit. He kneels up a little, so he can palm your breast with his other hand as he bends down to lick the inside of your thighs.

“Oh,” you breathe. His fingers stop circling to push back inside you, just as his tongue works a hot, messy kiss over your clit. You grab handfuls of his hair to try to keep up with the pace he’s setting, but the feeling of your fingers against his scalp only makes him work faster, a weak groan vibrating down through his tongue.

He bends his head lower, so he can lick around where your wetness has started to gather on his knuckles as he keeps pumping leisurely, in and out. It’s so wet you can both hear it, and he works faster, angling his fingers higher, until you’re writhing.

“Peter…come on, please,” you beg, yanking hard at his hair. 

It works to break his concentration, and he scrambles up, leaning down sideways so he can dig around in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. It’s filled with an assorted mix of toys and, stashed further back, Peter’s wrist canisters. The logic had been that anybody who broke into your apartment would be too freaked out by the toys to keep looking in the drawer, but it also meant Peter had to dig through a dizzying array of plugs and lube every time he went out.

You turn your head to the side and see the wistful way he glances at your strap-on, and you click your tongue. “We’re in a hurry, remember? Later.”

“Mmm. I’ll hold you to that,” he says, kissing you again as he rolls the condom smoothly over his cock.

He leans back, propping a pillow under your hips to give himself more leverage. As he sinks inside you, you hold your breath, letting it out slowly.

He groans above you, easing just a millimeter out and then back in, like he can’t help himself. It feels devastatingly good; he’s thick and beautifully hard right against where you need him, and thanks to his mouth, you’re wet enough that you’re ready for him to start moving immediately.  

You hook your ankles together behind his back to pull him in deeper, and he sinks home, fully seated balls-deep inside. You clench your muscles, just to feel as much of him as you can, and he grinds his hips against yours. 

You can feel the tension in his limbs as he draws back and starts to move. You’ll never, ever get sick of how he feels inside you, you think, your mouth open. He’s fucking you so good; his strokes long and firm and perfect.

He cups your ass with his hand to lift your hips even further, shifting the angle once again, and your breath stutters sharply in your throat as the head of his cock catches your g-spot.

“That’s it, right?” he murmurs, his voice wrecked. “Right there? That’s it, babe, c’mon, show me, I wanna see…”

You can’t even respond, your fingers gripping his biceps like his body is your only lifeline. It’s so good, and you’re getting so close, you just need…

“Fuck,” you gasp, high-pitched and panicked as you come, hard and blinding. 

He doesn’t slow down. If anything, he fucks you harder, chasing down his own release as you clench and melt around him. It only takes a few more moments before his cock jerks inside you and he curses, collapsing the hot weight of his body on yours.

You pant together, sweaty and spent. His cheek is crushed to yours, and he turns his face just enough to kiss any part of you he can reach—the top of your shoulder, your forehead, the tip of your ear.

When you manage to drag your eyes open, you find his huge doe-brown eyes already looking at you. “Good?” he whispers, kissing your shoulder again.

You smile at him, feeling drunk and dizzy. “So good,” you tell him.

You’re still wrapped up in each other like idiots when he jolts hard as though startled. You’re confused for about half a second, before the buzzer from downstairs goes off. 

“Oh, shit,” you hiss, scrambling out of bed.

“You get ready,” Peter says, somehow already dragging on a pair of sweatpants. The speed and dexterity with which he’s able to dress never ceases to amaze you. “I’ll stall.”

You’re stepping out of the fastest shower of your life when you hear the squeaky door to your apartment opening.

“Hey, Bear,” Peter’s voice says.

“Hey, Parker. Your shirt’s inside-out,” she says. 

You lean the naked top half of your body around the bathroom door to wave at her. “Hey, sorry, I just got out of the shower. I need like, three minutes to get dressed.”

She clicks her tongue, but doesn’t look overly annoyed as she flops onto the couch. “It’s hot as shit in here,” she says cheerfully, swinging her feet up onto your coffee table. 

You can hear her and Peter chatting as you hurriedly get ready; he asks her about Krista, she asks him about his aunt. Unsurprisingly, Bear and May had hit it off in a huge way at your birthday after May had excitedly demanded to know everything about the play Bear was auditioning for.

You give yourself a quick once-over to make sure you look presentable before you duck out into the living room. Peter and Bear have moved onto once again arguing about music; Peter’s on Blur’s side, Bear’s on Oasis’. 

You give them both a sideways look. “I’m not getting involved in this,” you say, checking to make sure your keys are in your bag. “But I’m just saying, in a real fight, Liam Gallagher would kick Damon Albarn’s ass any day of the week.” Peter grins at you from behind the counter, where he’s attempting to clean the disaster left in the kitchen from dinner last night.

“Oh, my God,” Bear says, looking you up and down. “Why do you look so worked up? Were you guys just fucking? Like right now?”

 Peter can’t turn away fast enough to conceal his snort, and you make a face at her. “It’s called caffeine. Come on, we’ll be late.”

Peter waves at her. “Say hi to Krista.”

“You should come with us, next time you get a night off work,” Bear says, helping herself to a stick of gum from the packet on the bench.

“Bye,” you say, leaning in to wrap your arms around Peter’s waist. “Be careful,” you add quietly, leaning up to kiss him.

He grins. “Always am.” He kisses you back, slow and gentle, before letting you go.

Bear shakes her head. “You guys are so gross. Later, Parker.”

Peter trails you to the door so he can close it behind you. Bear’s a few feet ahead of you, and you don’t mean to linger, but you can’t help but look back one last time as you go.

Peter’s leaning in the door, a dish rag over his shoulder. His hair’s chaotic from where you’d run your fingers through it, and his cheeks are still a little pink with warmth. 

As you watch, his eyes crease at the corners. “Love you,” he mouths, too quiet for Bear to hear. He still has the cutlery in his hands he’d been drying before you walked out; two knives, two forks. 

You can feel your face splitting into a smile you’re sure must be even goofier than his. You hold his gaze, and as Bear drags you away, you’re missing him already.

#peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker smut #tasm!peter parker smut #tasm fanfiction #tasm smut #peter parker x you

[dante-mightdie]

You mentioned bluecollar!simon would do some sketchy shit to make money when needed, out of morbid curiosity, what sort of stuff?

After reading that ask about Simon getting laid off it got me thinking

Even though your working full-time now to support the both you and Simon, you’re nowhere near making the same amount of money Simon was when he was working full time (idk I imagine reader having a job at like a petrol station behind the contour, it’s sketchy, the customers are sketchy and the pay is shit but at the end of the day it’s all that’s she’s got)

It’s getting to the point where you both are having to eat less/not until your satisfied but you can’t afford a weeks worth of food as well as water, electricity, rent, petrol, ect,ect,ect so you both just have to do the best with what you’ve got at the moment

Like you said, Simon is a very proud man and watching the love of his life have to eat as little as possible, shower as fast as possible and not use the heater because they can’t afford it breaks, not just his heart, but his ego

When reader first met him she made him swear up and down that he would stop doing sketchy shit for money, she helped him get away from those people who were leading him down the wrong track and made sure he didn’t get himself in trouble. So he started making money in a more adorable way, but now times are tough and feels as that he has no choice

He could feel their relationship start slowly falling apart and he just could have that so he called up one of this old sketchy mates to help him get back into making money like he used to

Of course he does this behind readers back because he swore to her he would never go back!! But what else was he meant to do? Let his sweetheart suffer? Watch her work herself to death 7 days a week 12 hours a day and do nothing? His a provider, his a problem solver and he’ll be damned if he lets down his baby in a time of need

He starts doing his sketchy job again, telling reader his just picked up some good contract work from an old friend that “owed him for a favour”

The money starts coming in and it’s good, really good actually. Bills are being payed mostly by him again, food is not really an issue anymore and his almost back to where he was before he got laid off. Reader and his relationship is back on track, no more big stresses or arguments anymore. Life is good

But it’s so so so hard for him to go back to normal blue collar work, his making a little more money now then he was working out in the elements sweating with aching muscles. OH and on the construction site AS WELL AS went behind readers back and continued his side hustle!! GOD HE WOULD BE SWIMMING IN IT!!!

Aghhhhh it’s so hard for him all he wants his for his beautiful baby to have the life she deserves, he would never want to break her trust but god just the thought of living somewhat comfortably financially makes his heart flutter.

I would LOVE to hear your take on that if you have the time. His so unethical but it’s from the heart. All he wants is for you to live happily and comfortably. Your worry’s only being what warm dinner to put on the table for when he gets home and if you should put the white loads or the dark loads on first in the washing machine.

Personally I think his sketchy gig world probably have to do with dealing some illegal substances, I know it’s a stereotype that blue-collar works use substances, idk but it definitely is in my country. But yeah I could imagine him liking to indulge before he met reader as well. SORRY IM RAMBLING BUT YEAH LOVE YOU HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS

- 🎀

listen listen he is 100% a fucking weed dealer

content warning: weed, drug-dealing, illegal activities, mentions of guns...

used to deal it to the lads on the site before he met you. was only something he did for a bit of extra cash but it spiraled and he was getting in to deep to that lifestyle. started dating you and decided it was time to get out of that life after you a found a gun in his flat...

hated the scared look on your face as you stared down at the weapon in your hand never wants to see you that exposed to that kind of lifestyle again. so he dropped out. got a steady job, moved in with you, living an honest life...

but then he got laid off and he was desperate...

started selling weed again, maybe even started smoking it again to deal with the stress. and he can't deny it's nice to be able to spoil you again, bring you home little treats and presents, small date nights...

being able to take all the stress away from you made the risk worth it. no longer having to deal with hearing you crying in the bathroom because you're stressed about which bills you can pay this month eased the pain in his chest

and once he goes back to having a steady construction job again, he can't help but enjoy the extra spending money. actually being able to put money into a separate savings account, even starts looking at engagement rings and getting a bigger flat...

#mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #bluecollar!simon

[dirtysvthoughts]

𝓟 𝓡 𝓘 𝓥 𝓐 𝓣 𝓔 𝓓 𝓐 𝓝 𝓒 𝓔 𝓡 - CHAPTER ONE

pairing: gang leader! soonyoung x stripper! reader

word count: 2.3k

general tags/warnings: smut, pwp, female! reader, mentions of violence, m*rder, and blood, stripper things, a steamy lap dance, reader gets fully nude, big dick! soonyoung, pet names (pretty girl, baby, etc.), reader falls for soonyoung, sex w/o condom (remember if they can’t wrap it, protect yourself please), kinda a slow burn for the start of the series!

playlist songs: everything you want - pap chanel, streets - doja cat, naughty girl - beyoncé

notes: ITS FINALLY HERE BABESSSS!! i’m so excited to share this series with y’all and i hope you enjoy it! <3 every chapter will include up to 3 songs inspired by the events of the story!

soonyoung sits alone in a dark corner of his faction’s warehouse, only a few spotlights illuminating their large meeting space - deep in thought. tonight, it was just him and his five most trusted guys, finishing what might’ve been their most difficult job yet.

soonyoung is the leader of one of the most infamous gangs in the region, known for their ruthless ways. they’ve murdered, gambled, brawled with other rival gangs. many of their incidents have ended in extremely close calls, with someone either near death or two steps away from handcuffs. but they didn’t care. this was they way of life they chose. anyone that dared come in their way, they eliminated them without hesitation.

“double check the duffel bags, and make sure not one bill is missing," soonyoung says as he gets up, going to wash away the rest of the blood remnants from his hand. their job tonight was taking out another gang’s higher ups, they and they put up a hell of a fight. soonyoung genuinely wondered if the close calls he got in that knife fight were even worth they amount of money they were promised. “i swear to god if he fucks up my income again, that’s his ass,” he grumbles, hoping that this would be over with faster than he thought.

when he finishes, he approaches the table where the rest of his comrades were. “well?” he says, watching one of the guys as he puts the last stack of paper through the money counter, the familiar sound of cash rustling through the machine.

“that’s it - all $40,000 from tonight’s job, boss,” one of the guys say, wiping his forehead, hissing when he brushes against a slight gash. soonyoung smiles for probably the first time all day, relieved that finally, he could get to do what he wanted to do.

“alright boys, gather up the bags and shut all of this shit down - i got the perfect place for us to spend some of this cash,” he presses a button opening a garage door as he walks out first, heading to a black suv.

——

“club illusion?” another one of his guys say as they pull into the club’s parking lot, viewing the neon purple and green signs. “not to question you soonyoung, but why here?”

he rolls his eyes and scoffs i’m the passenger seat, surprised at how not everyone was connecting the dots. “word is, they have the best and prettiest dancers here, and they might have some dealers here, heard they have the strongest shit too..” soonyoung says as he jumps out the car, fixing his jacket as he walks forward, everyone else exiting the car packing around him for protection.

the group walks past everyone in the long line, complaints and shouting starting to get louder the further they reached the entrance. but before soonyoung can sneakily bypass to get inside, one of the bodyguards stops them.

“yo, i’m pretty sure you see this line - what makes your think that you’re better than everyone else?” soonyoung smirks as he shows the patches on his jacket, signifying his affiliation and ranking. the guard’s eyes widen for a second, but he slips back into his demeanor.

“listen,” he says in a low tone for only him and the guard to hear, “i’ve had a long day, and i would really like to relax.. and you don’t wanna see me not relaxed,” the guard glances at the other men, meeting their menacing stares, and looks back at soonyoung.

“drop your weapons in the bin,” the guard says. soonyoung places his hand on the guard shoulders, smirking at him as he walks past. “wise choice,” he says as he drops his knife in the bin, the others following suites, chuckling as they walk past, some of them flicking him off.

—-

blue stage lights flood the club’s main floor as people sit on the tables and lounges, dancers in skimpy outfits, twirling on the poles and shaking their asses to the heavy bass. cash scatters some of the stage platforms, dancers teasing their audience by sexily covering themselves with it. the air smells hazy, a tinge of weed lingering in the atmosphere.

“forget i questioned you boss - we definitely needed to come here tonight,” he smiles, nodding his head at a dancer he made eye contact with. “i’m not leaving until i fucked one of these girls and have them screaming my name,” he says starting to drift away from the others.

“you guys are free to go where you want,” soonyoung says, eyeing his surroundings quickly. “if you run into any body, let me know and i’ll handle it.”

as the guys separate, soonyoung walks forward, observing the sights around him. as his mind takes it all in, the dj drops a beat and comes back on the mic.

“what’s up, club illusion!” the dj yells and the crowd responds appropriately. “we got some great dancers in the building and they got bills to pay, so show ‘em some love!” the audience cheers and more people continue to toss their cash on the stages.

“now coming to the main stage, one of club illusion’s sexiest, seductive dancers - welcome to the main stage, ms. sageeeeee!!” the crowd screams wildly as the lights dim and they focus on the main stage, soonyoung’s eyes immediately taking what was in front of him.

the music starts, the familiar “oohing” of the streets silhouette remix playing with through the speakers.

and that’s when he sees you.

you confidently strut on stage, your black, glossy 8 inch pleasers striding one in front of the other, your strappy black bodysuit practically exposing all of your backside. once you reach the pole, you roll your head to the right and slide your hand up your body.

“put your head on my shoul-” the music switches and you go into a side spin, the crowd continuing to go crazy as you transition and hold a pose upside down.

as the song progresses and come to end, soonyoung can’t your eyes off you for one second. he’s enamored by you - your movement, your presence, not to mention how sexy you looked in that barely-there bodysuit. you strike a final pose on the pole as the music fades. the audience continues to scream, bills covering the front of the stage.

after holding for a few seconds, you transition off the pole and gather your money, one of the bodyguards helping you down the steps when you’ve finished.

and that’s when you notice him.

from across the room, he looked like just another man in the club, but close up, you couldn’t deny how hot you felt when your eyes met each other’s. his all-black fit from his distressed jeans to his oversized jacket, his height, his black hair - he looked too good to be true.

as you begin to part ways, you wave and wink at him, hoping you caught his attention. he smirks at you, letting him know that the message was received. you blush inwardly as you turn back around, praying that he would at least rent out a section on the main floor, if not a v.i.p. room.

——

as soon enter the dressing rooms backstage, you’re met with showering compliments from some of the other dancers. you thank as many as you can as you reach your spot, freshening up in case you get called back again.

as you scroll through your social media after a few minutes, one of the bottle girls comes in to the room and approaches you. “sage!” she calls you, your head snapping up to meet her eyes. “oh hey, min! what’s up?” you say putting your phone down.

“there’s some guy that keeps asking for you in one of the vip rooms, he looks kinda cute too,” she smiles nudging at your shoulder. “you better hop on that before someone else does,” she walks away heading back with her empty tray. you pause and think before you finally make a decision.

“wait, min - which room is it?”

“should be room 3!” min winks at you before going back to the main floor.

—

you’re never nervous about vip room experiences. so why now? why do you feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest?

you’re embarrassed at your conflicting emotions. never once has a customer gotten you flustered. but then again, your customers don’t usually have an air of mystery and attraction hanging over them.

you breath out a huge, but silent sigh and pull yourself together. no matter how attractive the man downstairs was, he wasn’t gonna start making your falter.

you push the curtains away as you enter the dimly lit room, silently thanking the gods that min’s guess was right. there he was, sitting on the couch across from the pole platform. his eyes were on his phone, but now they’re completely focused on you. even closer, he still had you writhing. how could one human being look so insanely hot?

“so, you’re the man from the main floor,” you twirled your hair strands, smiling at him, walking toward him with your left arm crossed against your chest. “i heard you requested me by name. no one’s ever really done that before here,” you now are in front of him, getting dangerously closer to each other’s bodies.

“well they should more often, baby,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair. “you’re too fucking phenomenal not to be called out by name.”

if you weren’t flustered earlier, you were definitely flustered now, desperately making sure it wasn’t showing on your face.

“speaking of names, you now know mine,” you sit next to and face him on the couch, crossing your legs. “but i don’t know yours.”

“soonyoung.”

“soonyoung,” you repeat, smiling to yourself. “i like that.”

“well soonyoung,” you say getting up from the couch, standing in front of him, slotting a leg between his. “i don’t normally give my customers choices, but i like you. do you wanna see me on the pole again? or would you rather you and i get a little closer?” you say as his hands begin to touch your body.

“i think you know where i wanna go with you,” he caresses your cheek, “i wanna see you dance on me, for me, pretty girl.”

—-—

your back faces his chest as you grind into him, his hands simultaneously roaming your thighs and playing with the straps of your bodysuit. beyoncé’s naughty girl plays through the speakers, your waist rolling in rhythm to the music.

you push your ass further on him, making sure you can feel all of him as he gets harder under your touch. “you know you can take it off right?” you say as you turn your neck toward his face. “in fact, why don’t you take it off for me?” you bite your lip hard as his hands reach further up, fondling your breasts.

after some time, he does as you ask, slowly taking off your bodysuit. you help him out as the material goes down your legs, and once it’s fully off, you toss to the front of the room.

“you’re so gorgeous,” he groans as he traces your folds, and it takes everything in you not to moan out loud. instead you muster a sigh as you turn around to have your body face front.

“if i told you i wanted to fuck you, right here in this position, how much would it cost me?” he places his hand near his jeans, hoping you were feeling the same way he did.

you pause to think about your options. “mmm, $500 sounds good to me.”

without hesitation, he pulls out a large wad of cash, thumbing through the bills and giving you a little bit more than $500. you swear he read your mind because before you can even ask, he opens his mouth.

“think of it as a nice tip,” he winks at you as you stuff the bills in your heels.

you slowly bring him in a kiss. he separates from you first, but you quickly bring him back in, kissing him with more fever. he unbuttons his jeans, zipping them down as his boxers come into view. you think you’re ready, but you’re still visibly stunned when he pulls his dick out. his thick length and veins on full display.

“damn, soonyoung,” you say biting your lip, nearly drooling. “you’ve definitely proved you have big dick energy.”

he laughs as he starts to pump himself for you, more pre cum beginning to gather at his tip. once he’s finished, he beckons you with his finger.

“make me feel good, my pretty girl,” he says as you sink down on him, both of you groaning out at the same time.

“sh-shit, soonyoung, fuck!” you hiss, holding onto his broad shoulders. “you’re so big and i feel so full,” you feel like you might cum already with his he was sheathed inside you.

when he finally starts moving, you feel like you’re seeing stars. the way he pounds into you, you can feel the coil in your stomach get tighter. after a few more minutes of him penetrating and you moaning soonyoung’s name, you finally feel it.

“o-oh, soonyoung, ‘m gettin’ close, shit, ‘m cl-clo, ah!” you nearly scream as you come all over his lower half, part of your juices on his black denim.

“well, uh,” you giggle, looking down at him. “that was something,” you brush your hair away from your face, finally looking in his direction. he smiles back at you, putting his dick back in his pants.

you pull each other for one last kiss, wanting to feel his touch just one more time.

“something tells me that it might be a minute before i see you again.”

“you never know, pretty girl. yeah i have busy job, but i can definitely make the time for you.”

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #soonyoung smut #hoshi smut #hoshi scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #soonyoung imagines #hoshi imagines #soonyoung fanfic #hoshi fanfic #dsvtt: private dancer #dsvtt: kenny’s works

[grahakseva]

Cash Deposit Machine Near me

A "Cash Deposit Machine Near Me" is a term used to search for or inquire about the availability of cash deposit machines or automated teller machines (ATMs) in the vicinity of a specific location. These machines are usually provided by banks or financial institutions and allow customers to deposit cash into their bank accounts or perform various banking transactions, such as withdrawing money, checking balances, or transferring funds, without the need for visiting a physical bank branch.

#Cash Deposit Machine Near Me #Cash Deposit

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Bad For Business: Level Three

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.5K] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutal annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter. “What do you mean, it just stopped working?” 

Standing under the broken aircon unit was not how you wanted this shift to go. Especially on the hottest day of the year. 

Especially with Jason Carver and Steve Harrington. 

It was hotter than ever inside the empty arcade, the rows and rows of machines doing nothing more than pumping heat into the room from their whirring fans. The jumpy, happy tune from Mario Bros. was starting to make your eye twitch and you hadn’t seen a customer the entire time you’d been working. Normal people were at the community pool, the richest of Hawkins relaxing under their own air conditioning, on their floats in their private swimming pools. 

“I don’t know!” Jason fumed, rounding on Steve with more anger than necessary, seeing how he was the one to cause the ancient thing to die. There was a broken off broom handle sticking out of the vent. “I just tried to get the thing to aim towards the desk more!”

You were standing too near Steve, bare arms brushing, pressed close behind the desk as the boy swore, skin glistening and doing everything he could to not look at you. You’d taken your stupid staff shirt off an hour ago, a too thin camisole thing underneath, cropped and letting everyone know that you definitely weren’t wearing a proper bra. 

Your skin was flushed, a little damp, your hair sticking to your neck and sweat beading at your chest, clinging to the space between your vest and your shorts. Steve definitely wasn’t looking. 

“You impaled it,” you muttered, staring up at the sputtering fan. “You absolute fucking moron.”

It was the straw that broke the sweaty camel's back, because Jason’s nostrils flared and he dropped the second half of the broken broom onto the floor. He held up his hands in defeat, face red with heat and anger. “I’m out. I’m done,” he told you before rounding on Steve. “Sort this shit yourself, Harrington. And maybe teach your girl some manners whilst you're at it.”

No one spoke as he stormed through the empty arcade, the lights flashing on the machines no one played. The door opened for just a second as Jason slipped out, a bright flash of blue sky and sunbeams over the black walls, the neon signs and ultraviolet light. There wasn’t any breeze, no wind that came in, nothing to soothe the heat that lingered heavily in the air. 

“She isn’t my girl!” Steve shouted the same time you yelled feebly, “I’m not his girl, jerk.”

But the door had already slammed shut and Jason’s car could be heard ripping out of the parking lot. An almost silence followed, the hum of the machines, the stuttering of the barely alive aircon unit, Steve’s strained sigh. And then, a click. 

Deafening, final, ending in darkness.

The lights went out, the sickly yellow overhead fluorescents, the flashing neons on the machines, the screens and even the green numbers that usually flashed on the cash register. With no windows in the old unit, well, you couldn’t see shit. 

“You’ve got to be fucking joking me,” Steve muttered and he cursed when he moved, bumping into you as you both tried to find the edge of the desk and the same time. “Fuck, you’re on my foot—”

“That’s ‘cause you’re in my way,” you huffed, arguing weakly, an edge to your voice that sounded a little like panic but you weren’t going to tell Steve that. You weren’t a fan of the dark, especially the kind that made your own hand invisible in front of your face, the kind of dark that made you doubt your own vision. “Move, Harrington.”

“Move where?” Steve growled back, his hip bumping against your own, the edges of knuckles grazing against your ribs, against too much bare skin. It was suddenly so much warmer. “I can’t see shit, princess, what am I supposed to do?”

You tripped over something, a cable, a part of an old machine that Murray liked to keep, who knows, but it sent you into Steve’s side with a noise of objection. You swore, grabbing at anything you could, cringing when it happened to be Steve’s arms. He’d long rolled his shirt sleeves up, the cotton folded up to his shoulders, the lines of muscles there slick with sweat, more distracting than ever now you could feel them. 

“Christ,” the boy chastised, “you’ve got as much grace as a baby giraffe, here—“ Steve didn’t finish his sentence, he just reached out to grab at you, hands on your waist, fingers skimming over the hand of your shorts as he righted you. 

You were still holding his shoulders and you were close enough that you could see the outline of his features, the faint slope of his nose, the line of his jaw, even in the dark. Neither of you said anything, not right away. And then you were both pushing back, hands leaving each other, hips and elbows and ribs bumping into cabinets and stray stools. 

“Where’s the fuse box?” Steve asked and he sounded further away now, like he was moving towards the office door, wherever it was. Something clattered to the floor and you heard him curse and then kick it. “Murray’s gotta have a flashlight somewhere, right? Probably stashed with his not so secret weed that he ‘confiscates’ from the kids,” he snorted. 

Another thump, a small bang and then Steve’s hands found the office door, a pleased and triumphant sound leaving his lips as the hinges squeaked. The noise suddenly pushed you into action, a nervous anxiety gripping you as you tried to take a step forward, squeaking when your foot landed on a stack of papers that slid under your sneakers. 

“Harrington!” You yelped, stumbling forward clumsily. “Steve? Jesus Christ, Steve!” 

The door squeaked again, and although you couldn’t see him, a burst of cologne and sunscreen filled the space in front of you. Hands found yours, fumbling, awkward, as clammy with sticky warmth as yours were. 

Suddenly the heat was cloying, suffocating. You felt tightly wound, head scrambled, throat dry. “What’re you doing?” 

“Helping you, dummy.” Steve snorted, beginning to lead you around the desk, your free hand skimming along the wall, skating over the frayed edges of old posters and forgotten thumbtacks. “Unless you wanna stay here and amuse yourself. Argue with the wall or somethin’, you’re good at that.”

“Shut up.” There wasn’t much heat behind it, your words nowhere near as harsh as they’d usually be, ‘cause you were clinging to Steve’s hand as he led you back to the door. “Asshole.”

The office was just as dark as the rest of the arcade, the old computer on Murray’s desk as dead as the rest of the machines. You let go of Steve’s hand when you found the edge of the lunch table, the legs wobbling as you made contact with it and you could feel Steve behind you, around you, the sound of drawers opening and closing filling the quiet room. 

“The fuck is this flashlight?” You heard him murmur, and then, “shit, wait, yes!”

A beam of light flooded the small room, orange-yellow and a little weak but it made your eyes water and squint and the sudden burst of colour. Steve must’ve reacted the same, hissing as his eyes stung, both of you stumbling. 

Shoulders bumped, elbows knocked, hands brushed. Again. 

You were closer than you’d realised, toes almost touching and Steve was all tight jeans and bare arms, lines of muscle you usually didn’t pay attention to wrapping around strong forearms. His hair was a mess, wilder than usual, sticking to his forehead and over his eyes, cheeks pink from the heat. 

You watched him swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes flickering down to roam all too obviously over your frame. Tight shirt, cropped, slick skin, peach flavoured lip balm that he’d watched you reapply in the tiny mirror by the lockers that morning. Silence stretched on, a yawning, all consuming thing that seemed thicker than the heat, warmer than the summer outside. 

You licked your lips, salt on your Cupids bow and you watched Steve’s gaze follow the movement. The flashlight fell, bouncing on the worn carpet and the beam flickered across the wall, Steve’s trainers, your bare legs. Steve’s head knocked against your own as you both bent to pick it up, swearing softly and the boy winced, knowing he hurt you more than you hurt him. 

“Shit,” his voice was quiet, low and a little rough. “Sorry.”

You were still too close, knelt on the floor with the boy, heads dipped together and you were desperate to shrug off the unfamiliar feeling of softness, the genuine apology from Steve making your chest stutter and still. 

You let Steve grab the flashlight, muttering a “whatever,” in order to brush off the moment. You watched him stand, turning quickly when he flashed the beam back down to see you still on your knees before him, tits pushed together in your stupid little vest top, a bead of sweat rolling down your neck and into the dip between them. 

He wasn’t looking. He wasn’t looking. 

So he left you in the dark as he pushed away the leftover coats that the rest of the staff had left since winter, pulling at the handle of the fuse box, letting clatter noisily against the wall. “C’mere for a second,” he said gruffly, not looking at you at all. “Hold this, yeah?”

“Manners are free, Harrington,” you tutted, “don’t be a bitch.”

Steve still wasn’t facing you, but you were pretty sure he was rolling his eyes. “You wanna stay stuck in the dark? In this heat?” He asked, he handed you the flashlight. “Least you can do is hold this, princess, don’t break a nail now, god forbid.”

You snatched the light from him, shouldering into his space just to piss him off, too close and too warm, cologne and sunscreen and chlorine scent hair from an early morning swim, peach scented chapstick and sweat. You hated it. You hated that you didn’t hate it all. 

“Come on, sparky,” you nudged Steve, an elbow to his side, the flashlight pointed at the circuit board, showing rows and rows of switches and wires. “Fix it. Don’t break a nail, sweetheart.”

Steve glared at you, brows stitched together and his brown eyes honeycomb in the light. He looked like he wanted to argue, to snap back at you and bite, but instead he pressed his lips together and turned back to the fuses. 

His fingers lingered over the switches, pausing to read the peeling and faded labels under each one, hesitating before he flicked the plastic. Some did nothing, the arcade remaining in darkness, in silence. Steve mumbled under his breath, a grumble that made you want to laugh but you kept your lips pressed together, the light still held aloft for him. 

You were silent as you watched him push at each one, plastic flicking up and down, doing nothing. You grimaced as Steve started to play with some of the wires, pushing them back into the board with a little more force than made you comfortable, as if he knew what he was doing, as if was suddenly an expert in hard wiring and electrics. 

“You’re gonna blow us up,” you warned, slapping at his hand when he kept prodding at things he didn’t know about. “Steve, Jesus, stop it!”

The boy tsked, budging up closer to you, only to try to shoulder you out of the way, shaking his hand loose from your attempt to grab him. It was a childish scuffle, one you’d definitely had before with Steve, over stolen bags of chips, the last can of soda, the set of keys that worked properly. But this time it was in the dark, skin still slick and the air too heavy and he was so fucking close, hands sliding over the bare skin on your stomach, your sides, his hair tickling your cheek as he poked at your ribs, trying to make you give in. 

And then, all at once, Steve’s hand pushed at yours and the flashlight fell again, the beam flickering off just as something in the fuse box sparked and popped. 

You yelped and Steve swore, both of you clambering backwards, away from the possibility of a full on fire, grabbing at each other like that would help. There was a beat of silence, one second, two second, three, just the sound of you and Steve breathing a little heavy - and then the lights came back on. 

You blinked, squinting into the too bright strip lights and it maybe took you both too long that you were still clinging to each other, your fingers twisted in the front of his shirt, Steve’s wide, warm hand pressed to your lower back, his frame slightly in front of yours… like he was trying to block you from any danger. 

He sprang away from you when your eyes met, your nose scrunched as you tried your best to act annoyed, like your heart wasn’t rattling in your chest, like you couldn’t smell Steve’s cologne on your own skin. You pushed back just as hard, ass bumping with the table, forgotten lunch boxes falling to the floor. 

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled, ducking to hide your warm cheeks.

Steve scoffed, running a hand through his hair and looking anywhere but at you. “What’re you even talkin’ about? I fixed it, didn’t I?”

“That was a fluke,” you laughed, more haughtily than you’d ever sounded but god, you were still too warm and you could feel the leftover pressure of Steve’s hand on your back. “You pressed some buttons and hoped for the best, get real.”

Steve glared, snapping the fuse box shut and leaning against it, arms crossed. “S’real cute coming from the girl who didn’t want me to leave her alone in the dark.”

You weren’t sure how you ended up toe to toe again, how you’d managed to cross the small office, chin lifted defiantly, cheeks warm. “No one would wanna be left in the dark!” You tried to reason, words feeling clumsy in your mouth because Steve was smirking, looking far too amused. “It’s not like I wanted to be beside you. I would’ve followed Jason, Jesus, don’t flatter yourself, Harrington.”

Steve just shrugged, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek to stop his grin. He sighed all dramatically and poked a finger to your cheek, laughing when you huffed and slapped it away. “Keep telling yourself that, princess.”

“You’re so full of yourself. I would’ve been fine without you.”

Closer still, toes touching, noses too close, the heat still clinging to you both. 

“I saved your ass,” Steve teased. “Admit it.”

“No you didn’t, asshole.” You were unreasonably annoyed about how relaxed Steve was, cocky and lazy as he leaned against the desk.

The boy grinned. “Yeah? Wanna fight about it?”

The sound of the games resetting saved you from replying, the electronic cacophony of alarms and theme songs breaking up whatever was about to happen. You left Steve in the office and spent the rest of your shift with your T-shirt back on, sticky skin and unable to look him in the eye. 

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

heyyy. Just had a thought about what would tan would be like on reader's birthday but they aren't together. So readeranf the twins are friends so what kind of stuff would they get her. Feel like tan would get something really meaningful and sweet that is something that he must really listen to what reader says in general to know. And when he gives her it he's reaally awkward and a blushing mess cyz he's worried she won't like it and he's saying stuff like'you can return it if u don't like it' 'its a stupid gift so u probably won't like it'. Love ur stuff recently :))

my baby hi!! sorry this has taken me longer to reply to than I usually would. been a little busy last couple days!! I got a little carried away and I couldn’t stop coming up with things😭💌

TAN GIVING READER BIRTHDAY GIFTS.

but

this guy is so thoughtful that no one can tell me otherwise!! he's a good listener, especially when you think he's not paying attention AND he's got cash to flunk which helps aid his gift-giving abilities so so so...

he's a bit of a snooper, so if he sees a tab open on your laptop or computer and it's a shopping website, he'd quickly click on it and take a picture so that he can remember what it is. maybe he deletes the items from your cart so you can't buy them for yourself

if you and the twins are shopping, and tan sees you eye up something, he'd make a note to pick it up (he's come back in a few hours or next day)

it depends on what things you like - ie flashy designer gifts or gifts for things you need/ can't buy. but he doesn't want to disappoint you so he'd get you something within that category (in that safe sweet spot)

maybe he mistakes things, so if he thinks you like a certain candle scent, he'd get it for you in air freshener form, not knowing that you know there's a difference in the smells (hence why you've never bought it for yourself) so he thinks he's being sweet (he is) but you don't really like the smell, but he's so thoughtful that you say you love the scent name (that makes sense right?)

he goes overboard and definitely puts lem's gifts to shame (even though he got you perfect gifts (I feel like lem just knows what you want and like, and the presents have funny inside jokes))

he tries hard to find the balance between a friendly and romantic gift - not wanting to overstep that line 

maybe your washing machine broke? so he buys you a new one, but a model better than your one before. maybe you mention how your floor seems empty? so he buys you a rug to match your space (would probs ask lem for advice) maybe you mention how you're running low on a lip gloss you like? but he doesn't know the shade name, so he gets you all the shades in that brand/ line so you can pick and choose when you want (it's your go-to one and you have it out often, hence why he knows the brand - he can read the logo) clear, pinks, purples, reds, browns, oranges - he'd get them all 

maybe you mention how you want to liven up your bedroom to match the season? so he buys you new bedding with colours to match your room (again, he asks lem to help) maybe you had your eye on a pair of shoes or boots but they're way out of your price range? guess what? he's had them boxed up and in his wardrobe the whole time (ready to give you on your bday) maybe there's a foreign snack you like but it's near impossible to find? so you bet when he's away for work he hunts around the shops to see if he can find any. ALSO!!!!! if he can, he'd buy loads, like I mean loads and pay to mail them back home so he can give it to you for your bday (dying)

and when it comes to actually giving them to you, he's all nervy and anxious bc he doesn't want you to hate them, so he puts it out there that he's uncertain about what he got you (even though he knows he did a good job) ALSO he really really values your opinion!!! so he says things like "I got the receipt at home if you don't like it" "that one's stupid. I thought it was alright in the shop, but I dunno" "you're hard to buy for (lie) I'll get you better stuff at christmas (or whatever it is you do or don't celebrate)" “I won’t be offended if you swap it” (or return/ refund)

and the reason you have a slight scowl is not bc of the gifts, but bc of what he's saying. like they're PERFECT gifts and he's saying that they're not 

so you're like "how did you even know I wanted that?" and he says how he has his sources yadayada

he's such a cutie pie <3

#12johnwick897 #tangerine #tangerine headcanon #tangerine x reader