#why was your salesperson confused when I walked into your store full of glasses and asked if I could please buy some glasses

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

Third time getting glasses from a specific chain of stores. Each time a different store.

Third time things turns out suspiciously more expensive than expected.

Third time they fuck up the specs on the lenses and are baffled, absolutely baffled that I wanted glasses I could use for what I said I needed them for.

[reveriesforyou]

Her Thrift Shop

Hey babes! This is an entirely innocent, fluffy oneshot about a reader who works in a thrift shop after school that happens to be right by where her crush, Peter Parker, walks home everyday! They have a few minor interactions before Tony Stark forces Peter to confront his feelings for the reader one day in the shop. I hope that you guys like it!

Her Thrift Shop

    The thrift store in which she worked was right smack in the middle of where Peter Parker often walked home. She smiled, balancing her chin on top of her hands as she leaned against the sales counter that she manned, fondly reminiscing of her favorite Peter sightings.

    The first time that she had spotted him, Peter had been walking home with his best friend, Ned, while she dragged a rack of clothing outside. They had made direct eye contact from two opposite sides of the street and she’d stumbled over the rack’s wheels, while Peter flat out walked into a streetlamp. She’d done her best to politely stifle the giggle aching to bubble out of her throat, but Ned full on cackled at Peter’s expense. Even from across the street, the girl could tell that Peter was strawberry red. Shoving his palms into his pockets, he paced ahead while Ned was still bent over laughing.

    The second time, Peter was walking home with his head bent down, bobbing his head along to the music that coursed through his headphones. She noticed him from inside the shop, peeking her head out from behind the mannequin that she was attempting to wrestle into a figure-hugging dress. She sighed, pausing her frantic movements to walk as Peter peacefully walked by.

    He just looked so damn cute all the time. His hair was unruly from the gusts of wind that filtered throughout the city, and his blue sweater looked soft and warm, and she was ready to bet her entire existence that he smelled of clean laundry. She noticed that Peter’s jeans were rolled at the bottom, and her heart ached. There was hardly anything she wouldn’t give to be with him. At this point, she’d settle for a nod of a hello, or a wave, anything that allowed her bask in Peter’s acknowledgement of her existence.

    “That’s a cute boy,” her much older co-worker commented loudly from behind her. “Do you know him?” She questioned, wiggling her brows up and down and smirking at her.

    The girl’s coworker happened to be her only coworker. The woman owned the tiny consignment store and only had enough money to employ one other salesperson, which happened to be her. The woman was in her early 60s but flirted as if she was still a teen. She was sharp, and witty and never allowed the store’s uniquely vintage merchandise to go for less than it was worth. Utter and complete warmth resided in her eyes, and she was happy to help people create the perfect outfit. Goodness, as well as happiness, radiated from her being. The girl smiled, knowing that her friend was the kind of adult that she’d like to eventually grow into herself. However, she refused to inherit the woman’s brashness in these sorts of situations.

    A ferocious blush overcame her features and she quickly averted her gaze and went back to forcing the tiny dress down the hips of the mannequin. “No, he just goes to my school. We haven’t even said two words to one another.”

    “Oh, that’s peculiar because he’s got major heart eyes for you right now,” the woman commented, nudging her younger companion’s arm. “Look, say hello!” She began to wave at Peter, much to the girl’s dismay. “Hi sweetie!” The lady called out to Peter’s bashful form across the street.

    “No! Oh my gosh, he’s going to think I’m such a weirdo!” The girl cried out, burying her face in the dress.

    “Honey, the only reason that he’d think you’re a weirdo is because you aren’t waving back.” The woman shook her head, “he’s absolutely precious, don’t fuck it up! For goodness sake, wave!” She commanded and finally, the girl did, unable to meet Peter’s eyes. The girl did, however, take note that Peter was waving hello back to her.

Her third and final favorite Peter sighting was when she was rushing to park her car, hurriedly taking the first spot available on the side of the street opposite to where the thrift shop sat. As the girl hastily clambered from her vehicle, she’d been so quick to slam her door shut that she had nearly wrecked her hand in the process.

Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and the girl could feel tears welling up, but someone caught her hand before she could inflict any harm to herself.

“Did it get you?” Peter’s worried, brown eyes peered down at her. “I- I tried to stop it, but it was just so close.” He stammered, cupping his hands together to examine her for damage that he didn’t prevent.

“Peter,” the girl started, coherent words were coming very hard for her at this point in time, “I didn’t even see you. How’d you get here so fast?” Peter was bright red and the girl could tell, judging by the heat she felt all over, that she was too. She mentally chided herself for being so careless. The girl just couldn’t believe that the first conversation that she had with the guy of her dreams would be taking place right after she foolishly almost broke her own wrist.

Peter shook his head as a mumble escaped his lips, “was close to you, but not in a creepy way, I just happened to be walking home and I saw you, and you were there, and your car-” he rambled, still holding her hand.

She cut him off, “thank you, Peter. I’d be in a whole world of hurt without you.”

Peter’s blush only intensified due to the sincerity dripping from her words, he couldn’t even bring his head up to meet her gaze. “Course, least I can do for the pr-, you.” He cut himself off as fast as he could before she realized that he was going to inform her that she was the prettiest girl in their entire high school. Truth be told, Peter had made up his mind that she was positively the prettiest girl to ever exist.

She gestured to the thrift shop, “come in sometime, we’ll hook you up with some neat, vintage apparel!” She cringed inwardly, cursing herself for speaking like an advertisement in front of Peter.

“Yeah! Yeah, totally, definitely, yeah!” Peter said, awkwardly letting her hand go, “I’ll just, yeah! You know, schools have dances, and whatnot. I’ll see you sometime.” He shrugged his shoulders as they each turned to go their separate ways.

“See you soon?” She questioned as Peter smiled and waved, worming his other hand into the pockets of his hoodie, “And Peter? Seriously, thank you again for saving me from my own lateness,” she laughed.

Peter beamed at her, holding eye contact as he backed away from her, a genuine smile sweeping across his features, “It was my pleasure!”

He watched as she ran across the middle of the street and yanked open the thrift store’s door. She turned and waved to him one last time and Peter did the best he could to not skip the rest of the way home. She had literally just told him to come back and see her. He was going to do everything in his power to create some sort of reason for their paths to cross again.

    The girl was forced to exit her daydreams when the front door’s bell pinged, alerting the young girl that customers were entering the little shop. She smiled, opening her mouth to begin welcoming them inside, but when she turned, she took note of who her patrons were and  froze, her eyes wide open. Standing the thrift store’s doorway stood a grinning Tony Stark and an evermore timid Peter Parker.

    “Peter?” She stuttered out, confusion lacing itself into her tone. Mr. Tony Stark had a nearly endless supply of cash, and she was aware that he’d gotten Peter some expensive items before, so wonder coursed through her body as she tried to figure out why it was that they stood in her tiny, vintage consignment shop.

    “See,” Tony said, nudging Peter’s chest with his elbow, “she does too know you.” Peter turned around and she could hear him utter a soft, but powerful, string of curse words as Tony ambled up to her counter. “Hello there, we’re here looking for an outfit for the upcoming school dance, got any ideas?”

    Her brows knitted together, “But Mr. Stark, our next school dance is months away?” She fiddled with her necklace, snaring her lower lip between her teeth.

    “Ah yes, well, this was all just a clever ploy to get Peter through the door so he could actually talk to you instead of talking everyone he comes into contact’s ear off about you.” A soft gasp fell past her lips as Tony continued, “I’m just going to leave him here. Do what you wish with him, I’m sure that he won’t mind.”

    As Tony turned on his heel and neared the door, Peter looked as though he was exasperatingly attempting to communicate something to him, which Tony blatantly ignored, mumbling a, “you’ll thank me later,” as he allowed the door to slam behind him.

    After a few moments, Peter turned to her, redder than she’d ever seen him and said, “you know Mr. Stark, he likes his grand entrances and exits both.” Peter did his best to laugh off the bucket of embarrassment that he was currently drowning in, and he made a show of locating the men’s section and sifting through racks of clothes.

    From her safe space behind the counter, she knew that she could either do her job and try to actually get somewhere with Peter, or, she could remain behind the glass and rot with the regret of not even trying with him for the rest of her life. Plunking up every ounce of courage that she could muster up, she decided on the first.

Making her way over to where Peter’s body was obscured by articles of clothing, she called out, “is there a specific era that I can help you locate, sir?” She asked, a small smile teasing the corner of her lips.

“I- I, uhm, sure,” Peter stuttered out, his nerves taking control of his body. “Could you help me find something that’ll make me look like Marty McFly?”

She laughed and before she could stop herself, she grabbed Peter’s hand and began guiding him through the endless abyss of clothing to the 80s section. He did his best to ignore the way her hips slightly swayed in her velvet miniskirt, and ignore how floral and sweet she smelled, but Peter couldn’t help but follow her puppy eyes.

“So, here we are at the-” the girl started, but Peter quickly cut her off.

“Do you wanna maybe, shit, I interrupted you,” he dropped his eyes and shifted slightly away from her, “I know that the next dance is a while away, but when it finally gets here, would you want to possibly, maybe, go with me?” He scratched the back of his head and scuffed his sneakers against the floor.

She gasped, her heart rising into her throat, “yes! Yes, yeah, totally! Peter, I’d love to go to the dance with you, but until then, do you maybe want to go to the new art exhibit right around the corner? I get off in an hour or so, if you don’t mind waiting, or if you do, you can come back, or you know, something.”

Peter perked up immediately and began nodding his head wildly, “I’ll wait for you, if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course,” she smiled, moving in closer to Peter, the adrenaline of asking her crush out on a date fueling her to be even more daring. “But only if,” she leaned up onto her tiptoes, her mouth not even a few centimeters away from his, “I can dress you like Johnny Castle from ‘Dirty Dancing’ instead on Marty McFly.”

Peter slipped a delicate arm around her waist and breathed, “if you move a little bit closer, you can dress me however you want.”

Doing as Peter had suggested, she eliminated the space between them, giggling into the first of their many kisses inside of her thrift store.