How Am I Supposed To Live Laugh And Love In These Peter-parker-less Conditions??

How am i supposed to live laugh and love in these peter-parker-less conditions??

sleepy subway serendipity | tasm!peter parker x reader

summary: a stranger on the train ride home brightens up tuesday, the worst day of your week

warnings : swearing, discussion of theoretical danger to reader (not anything insane), fem!reader

1.9k word count

Tuesdays were hard for you. Your job had you waking up earlier than any self-loving person should wake up, and working later than any person ever deserves to work. The train home was always brutal, but Tuesdays were the worst. On Tuesdays, you worked far into what you considered to be your bedtime and always ended up having to take a late subway ride back to your “quaint” apartment. It was 11:23 PM and you had barely managed to hop onto the train before the doors had shut on you. As the train whirred off into the night, you took account of your surroundings. Despite it being later than you’d willingly stayed up in a year, the people of the “city that never sleeps” were in fact not sleeping. In fact, it seemed that every last one of them was on the downtown-bound 2, alongside you. As you did a quick scan of the car, you weighed your options. 

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#nick’s bisexual journey

Crying this is so good💕💕💕

hello miss j, hope you're doing well ♥︎

can i request a tiny fluff with peter, "i can take care of myself" gf and "i know but let me take care of you" bf type? does that make sense? it's okay if you don't want to, you can ignore it, ilysm <3

miss h! ily I hope this is okay <3333

"Let me help."

You weave out of Peter's waiting arms. "I can do it. Carried them all the way here, I'm sure I can make it to the kitchen by myself."

"Why didn't you tell me you were going for groceries? I could've come. I don't know if you've noticed, but I have arms too. And they're good at carrying things." He says all this hot on your heels, following you from the front door of your apartment and into the kitchen.

You put the grocery bags down on the floor by the counter and wipe sweat off of your forehead. "You were at school."

"I could've met you there."

"I got it," you say, grinning at him. He grins back and dives to pull groceries from the bag. The protest is on the tip of your tongue, an "I can do it," begging to escape. You bite your lip and let him help, though you mostly want to tell him to go sit down.

His hair is wet from the shower. He must've only got home a half hour ago and you know Thursdays are awful for him, three intense classes with no breaks and a stuffy subway ride home.

He can feel your stare. "Stop looking at me, creep."

You turn your head and make no indication of hearing him. He chuckles to himself, arms laden with meat and cheese for the fridge.

After you're done you dedicate yourself to cleaning out last night's dinner from your biggest Pyrex with a scouring brush. The water is hot enough to burn your fingers and the smell of day-old bolognese isn't something you enjoy, but you do it without complaint. Peter wipes down the countertops as you go.

He's done before you and takes up station by the sink, a tea towel in hand. His other hand is open, waiting for the dish. You turn off the faucet and steal the towel from his hands to dry the dish yourself. He rolls his eyes, leaving the kitchen after a quick squeezing of your shoulder.

And what hurry is he in? You leave the kitchen to find he's tidied your living room to an immaculate standard and lays sprawled on your sofa.

"Peter, you didn't have to-"

"I wanted to."

You smart. He bunches his legs up so you can sit opposite and you opt to lie like he does only mirrored, his socks on either side of you and yours digging into the side of his butt. He doesn't comment though his eyebrows raise coquettishly.

You're tired, you realise. Really tired.

You shut your eyes and push the side of your face into a lumpy couch cushion. For a few blessed minutes you rest, almost dozing, Peter's knee against your knee a warm spot of comfort.

"Can I talk to you about something?" he asks.

"Anything you want, handsome," you murmur, peeking at him through one eye. An insecure snake of nervousness presses in.

He pulls your leg up over his abdomen, hands running over it in an absentminded gesture as he weighs his words.

"I wish… I want you to let me do more for you."

You lift your head from the cushion.

"You know, like telling me when you need groceries. Calling me when you're sick. I don't want to find out the next day through text," he says it conversationally, but there's a seriousness under it all. "I want you to - to let me take care of you."

"I can take care of myself," you say. There's no anger in your words, only the smoothness of what you know to be true with a hint of confusion.

"Right," he says, fingers teasing the cuff of your pants. "Right - but you don't have to." His fingers ghost over your ankle. "I can take care of you. I want to."

"You do, Peter. You're always looking out for me."

He sighs very dramatically. "Yes, well, you're my favourite person on the planet. Kind of hard not to."

"Wait, do you have a crush on me?"

He pushes your leg off of his chest and it falls to the floor. You sink down flat and aren't surprised when he rights himself and climbs over you, thighs between your legs and face hovering over yours.

"Yes. I have a huge, stupid, awful fat crush on you. Is that weird?" he jokes, darting down to kiss your unsuspecting lips.

"Super weird," you say when he pulls back, giggling. "I'm embarrassed for you."

"The promise ring was too soon, huh?" he asks.

You press your hand against his face. The promise ring is silver and glowing against his white face. "I'm not sure we can keep seeing each other if I know you actually like me."

He looks smug as he dips down to your neck, murmuring between open-mouthed kisses, "You'll have to let me look after you eventually."

You slide your hands into his hair and gasp at the feeling of his teeth on your skin.

"Not likely."

"I'll make you eat those words," he says.

"Promise?" you goad.

He lets out an indignant harrumph that tickles you so badly you squirm away, worse when he pins you down to push a full blown raspberry against the skin just below your ear. You squeal unabashedly and plead for him to stop.

"What will you give me?"

"A kiss?"

"Don't want one of those," he says, going in for another.

You wriggle under his strong arms and think desperately. "I'll give you a massage?"

He pulls back and smirks at you. "Sounds tempting, but still no dice."

You stop him as he goes in for a third raspberry. "I'll - I'll let you give me a massage!"

"Deal." His triumphant smile is insufferable.

“very few people asked, but this is my favourite moment in the Heartstopper show. the look between them - this is the moment Nick realises that he is safe with Charlie. and allows himself to be truly vulnerable in front of him.”

alice oseman via twitter

5,500 km route of a loggerhead sea turtle tracked by Turkish scientists.

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Watching heartstopper again and I cant help but look for all the yellow and blue combos in the props, costumes, and lighting. It makes my heart happy and im about to make this series my entire personality watch out 💛💙.

(Gifs not mine!!! All credit to owners💛💛)