How are y'all struggling to fish in SV?? I'm over here fishing with one hand while eating a full course meal with the other or idk straight up scratching my BALLS
scientists in the 1990s, putting a Get More Purple gene attached to a harmless plant virus into an already purple petunia: please get more purple
the petunia, sensing an apparent honest to god Get More Purple Disease, using the previously undiscovered RNAi antiviral ability to shut down all other purple genes along with it just in case: you put VIRUS in petunia? you infect her with the More Purple?? oh! oh! her children shall bloom white! jail for mother, jail for mother for One Thousand Years!!!!
Summary: Peter's worried that he ruined date night by coming home in desperate need of stitches, you let him know that it's okay
W: mentions of sex, wound/injuries mention but its all fluff!
w/c: 1.5k
a/n: can be read for any spidey!
masterlist
Peter is use to long nights, but he’s just not doing anything any other person his age would be doing. Most of the time when he tells people he is busy at night, their thoughts go to partying or his friends would think he was doing sort of experiment or something they deemed ‘nerdy’.
It would shock them to know he was out in the city fighting crime.
There were some things holding Peter back though. His job, his friends, Aunt May, and you. Every time he would put the mask on, your face would flash before him. You are the reason he is trying to keep the city safe, but oftentimes he would wonder if it was better to simply keep you only safe. It would be easier this way, not to mention there would be no shocking reason a villain would target you.
But Uncle Ben’s words haunt him. Ben was an empathetic saint who made sure to pass that behavior down to his nephew, but he also would never have wanted Peter to see the crime and danger that he does know. It was like two little Peter’s on his shoulders, one saying to help the city and that's it selfish if he doesn’t, but the other would say that Peter keeping his loved one close was enough, he didn’t owe the city anything.
But young fifteen year old Peter made the decision that the now Peter still follows: taking up the title of spiderman, and saving the city of New York.
And honestly, he loved it.
Tonight was just like any old night, saving the city and saying things to piss off criminals. He was looking forward to coming home to you, as you both just moved in together and were planning a small one month anniversary because of it. It was a nice apartment, thanks to your well paying job—one that Peter always made sure to brag about others—and Peter couldn’t be more grateful.
You both decided spoil yourselves by ordering take-out from this new fancy place down the street, and Peter thought of maybe planning to end the evening with a movie and some sex if you were in the mood. He was excited to do nothing out of the ordinary from the average lovey-dovey couple.
But this time, like all times, things weren’t going to plan.
His goal was to take down some mob that moved to Queens from Long Island that he’s been tracking for about a month now. It should’ve only taken a half hour, he just needed to sneak in and web up the people then later call up the police and leave an anonymous tip. He’s been prepping this for too long, but apparently, so has the mafia.
Somehow tripping an alarm, gunshots started rapidly firing at him and he was able to quickly get out of the way. He sensed too late a small army of goons charging at him. Peter couldn’t let his mission go down, so he started firing away with his web shooters, webbing up all of the bad guys.
It was brutal, and he just managed to get away—only with a serious cut down his stomach.
He felt like crying but pushed through the pain to get back to the flat as it was five minutes away, He kept telling himself to push through for five more minutes; he also made a mental note to beef up security at the new home.
He hoped you weren’t home, he didn’t want you to see him get blood on the new flooring or the furniture. Hopefully he would be able to sew and clean up his suit before you notice anything off too.
Skillfully, he opened the window door to the shared bedroom and not so gracefully fell onto the ground. His senses went off and he knew he was going to be caught, so he slowly got up, cradled in this now bruised arm with the other, and headed off to where his senses told him you were.
“Hey Petey! I was able to get off early and pick up the takeout…” You stopped talking when you saw him. Mask off and suit torn. You dropped the glass in your hand and onto the floor, then sweeped everything off the table. You went over to Peter and laid him down at the dinner table.
“What happened?” You hastily asked, tearing open the kitchen cabinets to get the first aid-kit.
“Stab wound, then I fell on my arm kinda weird.” Peter informed you. He sucked in his breath when he moved to see your worried face, not because it strained his neck but because you had that look across your face. You were still wearing your work clothes too; Peter guessed that you were planning on finishing setting everything up before you changed into comfier clothes. You were probably looking forward to tonight, he thought, now the night was ruined.
You started with the hydrogen peroxide, drowning the wound in the liquid that made Peter wince. You took out the sterilized needle and started stitching. Your hands moved skillfully as you deal with the blood that seemed to keep seeping out and Peters thrashing out every time he got too overwhelmed.
You next moved onto Peter's arm, rolling him slightly over and assessing him. He winced again when you pressed on his shoulder blade.
“It’s definitely dislocated. On the count of three okay?” Peter nodded, prepping for the worst. “One, two.” You fixed his shoulder before you got to three.
“Thanks.” Peter winced. He lifted his good arm up to cradle your face. You leaned into him, letting your hand rub his arm as you smiled at him.
Peter didn’t even need to worry now, he’s safe with you and luckily he just started to feel better, his fast healing finally coming into play; but that doesn’t stop him from the overwhelming guilt on his chest. He glanced over to the dropped food on the ground, luckily the boxes didn’t spill since they still had the lids on them, but the shattered glass from the plates and cups made him feel worse.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered, his eyes going back to you. He sucked in a breath, waiting for your reaction when you finally remember how you’ll be spending the next half hour cleaning up broken glass alongside Peter, instead of having your tasty take out.
“Peter.” You sighed, kissing his hand softly. “You have no reason to apologize.”
“But you got off work early and you picked up thé Chinese food, and-” He looked down at the floor then whined and covered his face. “I broke your favorite cup.”
“Peter,” you tried to rip his hands off his face. “Peter.” Your voice had caution to it, but with no real warning. You couldn’t pull his hands away thanks to his stubbornness and his super strength. “Come on, dude.”
“Dude?” Peter gasped. “Is that my punishment? Being demoted to dude?”
“Come on, love.” You corrected, rolling your eyes. “Let's get you out of that suit.”
You helped him sit up and he just started smiling. “Wanna punish me that way? Definitely down for literally whatever–”
“I want to get that nasty ass suit off you.” You helped him onto his feet and with his arm around your shoulders and your hand on your back.
“Really? Got me all excited. Feel like I’m gonna bust a nut.” He joked. You still noted how Peter never got out of the phase of making jokes when he is uncomfortable.
“You’re gonna bust your stitches.” You sat him down on your bed and he slowly started to get the suit off, right before your hand swatted his away and you did it yourself.
It was quiet for the next couple minutes, Peter embraced your small touches. They were simple and short but filled with care and concern, just like all of your touches were. You helped him out of the suit, just like you do when he has had a bit too much to drink, and got him his cotton pajama shorts with a super soft shirt that wouldn’t itch or irritate his stitches or wound.
“Are you sure you’re okay? I mean it when I said I’ll do anything to make it up for your ruined evening. Not just sexual stuff.”
“Pete, you don't have to do anything to make it up for me.” You stroked his cheek with your hand but he soon started to ramble on with meaningless words before you interrupted him. “Love, you are out there every night busting your ass to make New York a safe place for people and doing it all in tight-ass spandex. You don’t have to apologize for needing some stitches.”
“But your favorite cup.”
“But it came in a six pack, Peter.” You smiled and wiped a small tear falling down his cheek. “I’ll just use the other ones, like I always do when that one is in the dishwasher.”
“You have 6?” Peter gasped. “Why haven’t I noticed?”
“You’re too busy saving the city Pete.” You smiled. You started to stroke his hair and Peter just smiled.
“How are you even real?” He asked in true bewilderment, smiling up at you.
You smiled back, shrugging your shoulders. “How are you even real?” You giggled back, your figure loosely trailing down his chest. “You’re the one climbing up walls, my little creepy crawly.”
“Yeah but you're the one that makes me feel all mushy on the inside.” Peter retorted, an equally mushy looking face that most definitely matched his inside. “My…Pookie Bear?”
“Pookie bear?”
“I tried.”
“Alright, Charlotte web.” You sighed. “What do you say to using the frisbees for plates and eating the takeout tonight.”
a day in the life of sakusa kiyoomi (featuring you)
6:30 AM:
“omi, nooo.”
“let go. i gotta.”
“no.”
“come on, don’t be a brat,” he groans.
“if you love me, you’ll stay.” sakusa sighs, pecking your forehead softly, hand gliding over your back as he feels you against him. it’s warm and it’s home, and he’s almost tempted to stay glued to you.
almost.
“i have to go jog, i’ll be back,” he mumbles, unlatching himself despite your hands attempting to claw their way back to him. “stop that, you’re—hey! don’t smack my ass, weirdo.”
and even though his cheeks are tainted red and he’s thoroughly embarrassed, he grins to himself when he walks to the bathroom and hears your giggles.
7:20 AM:
“omi, quit picking at the calluses on your hands.”
“‘m not,” he denies through a quiet mumble, hiding his hands under the table with a pout.
“you’re hopeless.”
the plate of breakfast placed before him makes his heart flutter. sakusa can’t stop the little chuckle he lets out when he sees the strawberries assembled into a little heart on the plate.
“and you’re a cliche sap,” he teases. and when he catches the spoon you throw at him, smirking when you groan at his athleticism, he almost considers skipping practice to stay home with you.
“hurry and eat, you’ll be late.”
“i’m never late.”
“i don’t care, shut up and eat,” you huff. his chair scoots closer to yours when you settle next to him with your own plate.
7:34 AM:
“babe, bab—oh my goodness—okay, that’s enough. i’ll be late—oh my god,” he groans through the onslaught of kisses you place on his face. he pretends he’s annoyed, but the blush and the wobble of his lips as he fights back a smile says otherwise.
sakusa loves goodbye kisses, you’re no fool.
“okay,” you peck his lips one last time. “there, i’m done. now you may go.” he shuffles a little and stares at the ground, pout on his face.
“ahem,” he clears his throat.
“you’ll be late, what are you—”
“you’re forgetting two things.”
“what?” he glares at you, and you glare back.
“first of all, you’re supposed to say i love you? what happened to that?” rolling your eyes, you purse your lips at him with a raised brow.
“kay, i love you. what else do you need?”
“thank you, i love you too.” his eyes meet the floor again. “you missed a spot,” he murmurs quietly. and even though you laugh at him, and he scowls and shoves you away for a bit, you place two big kisses to his moles, sending him off.
7:57 AM:
“omi, why’re ya smilin’ at yer phone like that?” sakusa’s grin instantly drops, and his usual scowl graces his features. atsumu tends to have that effect on him.
“ooh! are you talking to y/n? i love them! tell them i said hi!” bokuto’s voice is booming loud as ever—too loud for eight am on a monday morning for him.
“no, you don’t need to say hi—”
“tell them i said hi too!” he glares at a certain ginger instantly. he’s a bit annoyed that his last minute conversation with you before weight training is interrupted, but he doesn’t deny that deep down, he’s at home here too, surrounded by three loud mouths he can’t escape.
he shoots a quick message with a scowl on his face.
bokuto and hinata said hi
and atsumu, too he adds after the setter insists through whines.
and when he gets a tell them i said hi too! he can’t help but smile softly again—although it drops two seconds after when atsumu opens his mouth once more.
12:36 PM:
“my shoulder hurts.”
“you slacked off on your stretches again, didn’t you?” he doesn’t meet your eyes as he unpacks his bento.
“no.” he did. and he knows you know, but sakusa doesn’t like being scolded. especially not on his lunch break.
“yes you did, kiyoomi,” you say sternly. and he pouts, unhappy with your tone.
“don’t yell at me, i’m hungry, i don’t deserve this right now.” he pulls out the note you left him, scanning over the sweet message, noticing the little bunch of hearts on the bottom next to your signed name. he cracks a smile, turning the note to face you through the screen. “you’re a cliche sap part two.”
“and you’re an idiot who can’t take care of himself part two. quit picking at your calluses and quit slacking on your stretches. make sure you stretch longer before practice.” sakusa glares at you through his phone, but his heart does a little squeeze at how you take care of him.
“kay, whatever, you’re rude. now tell me about your day so far.” he’s kept very entertained throughout his lunch break as he hears your rambles about trivial things.
8:17 PM:
“i’m home,” sakusa calls out. silence. with a frown, he calls out “i said i’m home,” louder this time.
“oh my god, i’m coming, you’ll live if you’re not greeted in two seconds,” you huff as you emerge from the bathroom. but still, your hands cup his cheeks gently, pulling him into a searing kiss with a soft smile on your face.
“i could very well die,” he mumbles in between kisses, burying his head into your neck and pecking the skin there as your hands smooth through his curls. “missed you.”
“me too. dinner’s gonna be ready in a bit, go shower,” you whisper.
“no, not yet.”
“omi, we’ll cuddle after—”
“yeah, but i wanna cuddle now.” smiling to yourself, you rub over his shoulder, the one you know is sore, and he slacks more weight into you.
“hey,” you whisper.
“what?”
“i love you.”
“yeah, i love you too,” sakusa grins before tugging you along to your shared room, plopping himself on top of you in bed.
8:33 PM:
“and then i was spiking the ball, and i saw him just trip in the corner,” he snorts along with you, shaking his head as he recounts details from practice. “he thought no one noticed but i’m pretty sure everyone did.”
“i saw a kid trip at the grocery store today,” you chuckle. “i’m going to hell for laughing.” sakusa cracks a large grin, poking your cheek with his index finger.
“you’re going to hell anyway.”
“so are you.”
“that’s why we’re a match made in heaven. or hell. you know what? both.” his hand finds yours under the table, squeezing it gently as your thumb rubs over his knuckles. “oh yeah, i need a hair cut, remind me to make an appointment later this week.”
“no, omi! it’s not even that long,” you whine.
“yes it is, it gets in my eyes when i go to serve.”
“then wear clips. you look hot with longer hair,” you insist, making him scowl.
“no, that’s weird.” but he can’t help but sigh when your pout deepens, weak to his knees at the look. “fine, i’ll do it like next week or something instead,” he mutters. the smug grin on your face makes him roll his eyes, but the brightness in your eyes fills him up to the brim with warmth.
11:31 PM:
“can we go to bed now, love?” sakusa yawns, nudging you from his spot on your chest. you hum as you scroll through your phone.
“what are you? an old man? only grandpas head in for the night at eleven thirty.” he raises an eyebrow.
“you nap all day, you lazy brat. that’s why you’re never tired at night.”
“excuse me, i did a lot of work today, don’t even start. a few smacks of a ball shouldn’t get you this tired.” he pulls the blanket over his body, huffing as he gets comfortable on top of your body.
“fine, you stay up, i’ll sleep.”
“omi, don’t sleep on me, you’re heavy.”
“oh well,” he mumbles, already dozing off. you want to be mad, but he looks utterly beautiful in his sleep, cheek smooshed against your chest, face calm and at peace. he looks a few years younger, and you can’t help but smile to yourself, pushing back the hair from his face and kissing his moles.
“i guess your hair has gotten a bit longer,” you whisper. “goodnight, omi. i love you.” and sakusa, as if he knows, smiles a bit in his sleep, humming contentedly.
he considers today a pretty good day.
raise your hand if you remember this from my old blog ;)
(a/n: the highly requested part 3 is here !!! i hope this part does the others justice hehe😚this one only has 2 characters bc i lost motivation halfway through tho😢anyways—
all scenarios are written in the timeskip !! as always, thank you for your support everyone!💞💞💞)
oikawa
you knew your boyfriend was a hard worker, and you loved to encourage him
lately he had been working more hours than ever before and you wanted to show him that you appreciated him
so on your day off, you decided to surprise him
you made a ton of food that he liked and prepared the space for a night together
you set up blankets and snacks and movies; everything that you could think of
after spending most of the day gathering and setting things up, you sighed, awaiting his arrival
you hear the door open and perk up; he’s finally home! you look around to make sure everything is in place for the night and wait for him to enter the room.
“welcome home, tooru!” you grin, and he looks around. his brows furrow, and your smile dims slightly at his reaction.
“what is all this?” he asks, and you swallow.
“i thought you could use a night to relax. with me,” you offer, gesturing to the food and shrugging. he sighs, and you pause. “you don’t like it?”
he scrubs a hand over his face. “i don’t really have time for this. i have to get up early tomorrow, and i can’t have any distractions, okay?” he explains. distraction? your heart sinks. of course he doesn’t have time tonight. you should’ve expected it.
“oh,” you mutter, looking away. “well, you can just go to bed without me.”
he nods and heads off without another word. you want to follow him to bed, taking any time with him you can get, but you still have to clean everything up, so you stay.
it’s a couple hours later when tooru wakes up, throat dry and scratchy. he gets up to grab a glass of water but pauses at seeing the light seeping from under the door. you’re still up?
he opens the door cautiously, careful not to make any sound as to alert you of his presence, and peeks out the door.
you’re wiping down the counter, chin resting in your free hand, and you stare down at the marble sadly. you look tired and lonely, and tooru’s chest begins to ache upon seeing you like this.
you put the rag down and rest your head in your hands, taking a breath. your stomach growls and you grimace, having forgotten dinner, but you resume cleaning anyway.
he opens the door and steps forward, making his presence known, and you straighten up, startled.
before he can say anything, you grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water before handing it to him. he takes it from you, looking at you guiltily.
he feels terrible, now that he can step back and acknowledge everything that you did for him today. or, everything that you tried to do for him today. he hasn’t been spending a lot of time with you lately, and he knows you were just trying to make it better.
“hey, um—” he starts, but you cut him off.
“you should go back to bed! you have an early day tomorrow, right?” you ask, turned away. he winces upon remembering how he shut you down earlier.
“yeah, but...” he trails off, looking around. he can see all of the food you made sitting in tupperware containers, untouched. “you made all this food, and—”
“it’s okay, tooru. just go back to bed,” you mumble, scrubbing the sides of the pot you’re holding and sighing.
more than anything, you’re embarrassed. embarrassed at having put in a day’s work just to be shut down by someone who didn’t care for it in the first place. now, all you want is for him to just leave.
“hey,” he coaxes gently. “you haven’t had dinner, right? why don’t we sit down and eat?”
“tooru, i don’t need you to humiliate me even more than you already have, okay?” you blurt, face hot.
he stares at you, mouth opening and closing as he searches for something to say. it never comes, so he just nods, and retreats toward the door.
but when he takes another look over his shoulder, he sees you leaned over the counter, face in your hands, and he crumbles.
he pads over to you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in firmly. you make a noise of protest, but he shakes his head.
“i’m sorry. i should’ve appreciated everything you did for me today,” he murmurs softly, face buried in the crook of your neck, and you shrug.
“‘s fine. i know you have things to do,” you respond, and he turns you around to look at him.
“hey,” he tilts your chin up. “that’s not an excuse. i should’ve set aside time for you, too.”
you smile a little at that, and he pats your head affectionately.
“let’s take the day off tomorrow. we can do everything you planned for, ‘kay?” he suggests, hopeful, and your eyes light up.
you wrap your arms around him and squeeze tightly. he coughs, laughing and burying his nose in your hair.
“thank you, tooru.”
suna
when it came to your housing situation, suna didn’t care about the aesthetics of it nearly as much as you did
even so, he liked to listen to you talk about the things you wanted to do with the place
so you decided you’d surprise him while he was at practice by redecorating everything and making the house look nice !!
you went out and found a couple pieces to put up on the wall as well as some little lights and things
you spent the entire day setting everything up and stood back, looking at it proudly
all you had to do was wait for him :)
you move the new lamp to the right just a bit, and look at it. perfect.
you stand back, inspecting each element of the living room to make sure it looks just right. you grin, excitement making your heart pound.
finally, you hear the lock clicking open, and run to the front door. rintarou stares at you blankly, and you beam at him, coming around behind him to cover his eyes.
“y/n, i don’t want—”
“i have something to show you!” you singsong proudly, leading him to the living room. he grunts, and you uncover his eyes.
“tada!! what do you think?” you wait eagerly, reading his face as his eyes scan over the room. he scoffs, and you frown. “what?”
“it looks like you chewed up a salad and spit it out all over our room,” he mumbles, gesturing to the house plants you bought just to decorate. you gulp before laughing nervously.
“i don’t know, i kind of like it!” you offer, and he cringes.
“well, it’s your idea. doesn’t matter what i think about it,” he shrugs, and his obvious disapproval stings.
“of course it does! i wanna know what you think,” you murmur, and he shrugs yet again, tiredly shuffling into the bedroom wordlessly.
disappointed, you finally let your shoulders fall sadly. you hadn’t expected him to be over the moon about it, but you still wanted him to like it.
you feel stupid; it’s his room too, and his approval is just as important as yours.
you go to pick up one of your hanging plants, taking it off its hook and holding it up. it’s got the greenest leaves you’ve ever seen, and you think it might be your favorite one.
you bring it up to your face and sigh. “you’re a beautiful plant. i hope your life is good to you,” you whisper, kissing its leaves. you once saw on tv that talking to your plants makes them grow nice and strong, and while rintarou always made fun of you for it, you started doing it anyways.
one by one, you take the plants down, whispering affirmations to them along the way.
—
suna’s stomach grumbles loudly, and he groans. he didn’t get the chance to stop for dinner on the way home, and now he’s paying for it.
he’s about to open the door to the living room when he hears something. it sounds like mumbling, though he can’t make out what you’re saying.
slowly, he pushes the door open just a crack and puts his ear against it.
“you’re the last one, little guy,” you say quietly, and he opens the door just a tad bit more, peeking through it. his eyes widen; all of your plants are sitting on the counter, removed from their initial places. you’ve taken down the lights, too, and put the lamps in a box. you laugh, but suna can tell it’s not real.
“rintarou never really liked plants, i guess. should’ve thought about it before i messed his living room up,” you shrug sadly, and his heart sinks.
he didn’t mean to hurt your feelings; the plants were really a nice touch! he was just passive about these things, and he didn’t think you’d take his commentary to heart.
“i hope you get lots of water and plenty of sun when i take you back. please grow strong,” you whisper, and suna pauses. take you... back? you’re gonna return them?
he opens the door, and you turn around sharply, alert.
“talking to the plants again?” he teases, hoping to lighten up the mood, but you just stare back down at the pot your holding. his chest hurts at the sight, and he pads over to you, taking the plant from your hands.
“let’s just put these back up, okay?” he suggests, but you shake your head.
“‘m just gonna return them,” you answer quietly. “i don’t wanna keep them up if you don’t like them.”
“but—” he protests, but you cut him off quickly.
“it’s fine, rin. it’s not a big deal.”
you turn away, organizing the rest of the plants, and rintarou sighs helplessly.
but then, an idea pops into his head, and he blinks once before sighing again, defeated. fuck it, he thinks.
“i’m sorry for calling you chewed up salad,” he mumbles, embarrassed. you freeze, turning around slowly.
“..what?”
“i think you’re a, er, very beautiful plant. you have nice... leaves?” he cringes, holding the plant to his face, and you chortle, laughing loudly. suna softens at the sound, relieved at finally hearing a real laugh from you. he walks toward you, holding the plant next to his ear. “i think it wants to stay,” he whispers, and you sigh.
“i don’t want to decorate our house with things you don’t like, rintarou.”
“baby,” he says gently. “i didn’t mean it like that, okay? i think our house will look perfect however you decide to decorate it,” he shrugs, and you exhale, letting him hold you.
“okay, okay.”
“i think so too!” suna imitates whinily, shaking the little plant at you, and you giggle happily.
To everyone running here for refuge from Twitter since they are selling it to Elon Musk, welcome! In order to survive here, you must sacrifice one of your monsters or discard your entire hand.
areudirty
baratheonpilled
pixelskylines
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
dailybridgerton
tangentwithtanner
kaledo-art
