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dadsbongos · 3 months

Text

The Lovers

word count - 4.8 k

warnings - ENEMIES to lovers..., non-graphic deaths and violence, i humanize and objectify pav in the same breath, fem reader (referred to by "girl" bc he's the worst)

first time capitalizing a fic title in months

DAY 2. NOON.

Blood splotches decorate the cobblestone floor, already drying into maroon against the wood planks of the train cars. The droplets lighten in shade the deeper into the train you go, and eventually, you find crimson. Pure cherry ink on dark wood. Cherry rots into a blackened smudge once again on the wheel of Olivia’s wheelchair. One hand settled over the thin black rim on her right, and the other twisting a roll of bandages around her fingers. She blinks up at you, bottom lip tucked so tight between her teeth that the rosy flesh is blistering white.

“I’m really sorry,” she sighs, abandoning the spool of cloth in her lap to push up her wiry glasses, “Terribly, I am, but I don’t- “ she pauses, “I’m worried that the others would be… biased in their care…”

Your gaze flits up from Olivia’s pensive face to the blonde man spread across the train’s cushy two-seater. His midsection is wrapped with reddish blooms vining all down the white crossings, arm bound in a sling over his chest. His eyes are scrunched up, brows furrowed towards the middle of his forehead; a fitful, delirious limbo overtaking him. Occasionally, he jerks himself awake in a wide-eyed panic before the pain knocks his brain topside again.

The Bremen lieutenant would hardly be a challenge to put down in his current state. You are one of few from the contestants that Olivia feels can be trusted not to undo her hard work of keeping the soldier alive. Combine your level-headedness with your lackadaisical attitude in searching Prehevil, and you make the perfect candidate to watch over Olivia’s patient.

Unfortunately.

“If he annoys me, can I press on his wounds?”

A wild grimace overtakes Olivia’s face, “No! No, please, please do not do that.”

“Fine,” you waltz past Olivia and study the blonde’s pinched face, “Go, go. I’ll watch the traitor.”

“Thank you!” she sighs in relief before exiting the train car, calling back hurriedly, “I’ll try to come with more bandages before sundown!”

When the lieutenant is not trapped under the rolling, ruthless waves of agony, you could almost mistake him for any other man. Maybe even a handsome one: with a strong nose and symmetrical bone structure. His lips are faintly the color of roses, too. Pale and pink. Dry, though. Not nearly as luscious as pretty petals.

Golden tresses, which you are mature enough to admit are alluring. His hat was off and his hair ruffled and fanning out over the magenta seat. Skin frail and pale - you could crush his ribs if you tried. Charming in a way you’ve only known real men to be.

Certainly, though, as soon as the pig squeals - the illusion of perky flowers and honey will melt away. Scorched by the moon as the villagers outside.

Foolishly, you agree to sit around waiting for the swine to be well enough to squeal. A smarter woman would’ve put it down (especially when it's previously shown a taste for blood), but you like Olivia and her tender heart so you do no such thing.

DAY 2. NIGHT.

As thanks for not murdering Pavel as soon as she’d turned her back, Olivia brought you fresh water and dried meats from scavenged homes alongside the fresh bandages. She left again soon after swapping the bloodied cloth for fresh ones.

“Do tell me when he wakes up,” she grins up at you. As if apologetic for having you carry out a duty you’d already agreed to, “I’m sure this isn’t an easy ask. I’m sorry.”

“If I wanted to make you feel bad for asking, I wouldn’t have said yes,” you wave off the concern, “Don’t die out there, Olivia. I’d miss you too much to do my job,” you gesture vaguely towards the immobile lieutenant.

She chuckles quietly before nodding, “I’ll do my best.”

Pavel’s groans are increasing both in frequency and throatiness - he’ll wake soon, you’re sure of it. He even turns onto his side, exhaling thickly - so harsh and ragged he actually coughs up bubbles of spit. Jittering with alert, he gasps sharply and rockets upward. Snapping at his waist and swiping out wildly with his unbound arm, clawing at the musty air directly in front of him; even attempting to swing out the arm wrapped and tied around his neck.

As soon as the hair-splittingly thin burst of adrenaline fades, he hisses in pain. Cupping the covered gash in his chest before curling his uninjured arm around the other, he throws his head back and gasps again. Suffocating under the re-stretching of closing wounds and fragile muscle.

Despite his uniform, you find yourself at Pavel’s side. You brush a hand down the length of his spine before patting between his shoulder blades, your other hand soothing down his navel to press him down into the cushions. Swiping aside curls of gold, you shush his groaning and search the care bag Olivia left behind. In your palm comes a bind of tobacco and a pipe that is smooth and cold against your skin.

“Quiet, quiet,” you coo, stuffing the chamber of the pipe with the almost sickly sweet, nutty-scented tobacco before raising Pavel’s head and sitting the lip into his mouth.

His eyes are still wrinkled shut, chest beginning to sporadically pop and shrink in a struggle to suck wind through his throat.

Part of you wants to tug his hair and call him stupid, but a larger part of you is consumed with pity. Pity for a creature so entrapped with torment that he cannot remember the second most basic function of his body.

“Breathe through your nose,” you continue to run your fingers through his sweat-matted hair while striking a match against the train’s floorboards and lighting the tobacco, “Smoke slow. It will ease you.”

Pavel’s neck cranes upward and remains there, head pushing against your stroking hand as he (rather noisily) inhales through his nostrils. Then, he fills his lungs with the sting of tobacco, blowing it back out through the pursed corner of his mouth.

Once you’re confident Pavel can breathe and smoke without choking himself to death, you turn again to rattle through Olivia’s care bag for herbs. Anything to aid the physical pain before the distraction of tobacco wears off.

Eyes fluttering open, Pavel stares down at you as he lifts an arm to pull the pipe from his mouth - blowing smoke down into your face. You pinch the exposed skin of his side harshly, only letting go when he jerkily arches his back to escape your cruel fingers.

“Unbelievable,” you shake your head, “No. A Bremen pig would, of course, disrespect someone trying to heal them.”

“If you wanted me dead, I already would be.”

“I still have time.”

You unplug a glass vial the shade of elderberries and press it to Pavel’s closed lips. When he stubbornly fastens his lips tighter, you glare directly into his eyes.

“Open. Or it’s being poured over your neck.”

Pavel groans in protest, but finally opens his mouth and allows you to dump the blue liquid into his throat. He gags at the bitterness of raw, untempered pressed herbs, almost gagging until he realizes you have no intention of stopping your pour. So he chooses to swallow down the vial as quickly as it comes instead of drowning to a mere glass of blue.

When you’re tucking the emptied glass away, Pavel replaces the pipe and huffs down at you, “You’re not a very courteous nurse.”

Instead of dignifying the jab with a response, you sit up fully on your knees to scour over the lieutenant below. From his tousled hair to his bloodied and wretched uniform to his muddied boots.

You reach up and contemplate digging a thumb somewhere in the center of his bandages before thinking better of it and snatching the pipe from his lips, “You should put away your breasts.”

Inhaling the smoke, you blow it down in Pavel’s annoyed face and grin when he coughs.

He glares up at you somehow harsher than before, “I could shoot you for that. I should shoot you for that.”

“Then who would protect you from all the other people that want you dead?”

Silently, he mulls over the question. If he reaches some sort of logical conclusion, he refuses to share. Most likely, though, you’re assuming he has no such answer. Aside from you, there is Olivia, but even she could not be swayed into staying on this train longer than necessary. It could drive one mad, bound inside this narrow tube of car after car after car with the same seats and floorboards and rolling rug. So she very politely requested you to stay behind instead.

You sit down on the hard floor below you, pulling your knees to your chest and winding both arms around your legs. Pavel turns his head to the side, lips in a pout. Drinking the blue liquid earlier has revived them, at least somewhat, they are even pinker. More full. Smoother. When you’ve had enough staring there, you stare at his eyes: so gray they shine like gun metal in the flitting moonlight.

Maybe Pavel would notice you examining him if he could tear his own eyes away from where they’re lingering by the sliver of exposed skin by your ankle. Classic: boarish pig lives up to his name. His gaze crawls up your shin to your bent knees, then a little lower as if to catch a glimpse of where your thighs and rear are squished against your chest and the floor (respectively). At least you have the decency to not objectify him during your observation - not that you even could. The lieutenant is leagues more off-putting than handsome.

Once he’s gathered the guts to bore his steely gaze into your face, he grins with a half-hearted shrug, “I haven’t seen a beautiful woman not kissing the piss lord’s ass in ages.”

You ignore the pass completely, “So, the temple square?”

Pavel sighs and extends a hand, palm up and fingers splayed wide in front of your face, “A failure.”

“You don’t say,” you bypass his hand and feed the lip of the pipe directly into his mouth, pressing it against his tongue and watching him firmly tuck it between his lips before letting go, “Why try?”

Puffing from the pipe, Pavel only shakes his head while exhaling thick plumes of slate-hued smoke. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and cradles the pipe in his hand, turning it delicately to inspect the body, “Why not?”

You make a show of looking from his face to his bandaged torso before snickering, “Serious question?”

Pavel takes one final draw of the pipe before balancing it atop the wooden frame of the seat. He lays his uninjured hand gently over his torso, blinking up at the ceiling with tired, wet eyes.

“You are cruel, you know this?”

“It’s a good defense,” you grin at the man innocently, “Especially against brutalist pigwhores.”

“Targeted,” again, he pouts, “Mean. You are a mean girl.”

“Maybe that’s what you need. I think Mama was too nice to you.”

Pavel withholds the wince at your words, merely pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth and inhaling through his nose sharply. He shrugs when he really wants to bite, “You think so?”

Hopefully, he muses, he can rip out your throat when he finally snaps back.

“I do.”

“You know what I think?” you merely fold your arms, so he continues, “Nobody put the spoiled girl in her place. Now she’s a confident woman full of hot air,” he smiles, “I don’t do well with confident women like that. Make me jumpy.”

You ‘hmph’, but respond with nothing new before rising from the floor and snatching the care bag to squeeze against your chest like a child would their stuffed bear. Laying across the unoccupied, opposite seat, you turn so that you're faced away from the lieutenant.

Pavel stares at your back. He hadn’t been entirely teasing earlier - he truly hadn’t found a woman beautiful in a long while. Not that it was a problem to admit a girl was pretty, but there was always some dull ache to accompany the thought. Women riveted by his status in the Bremen army disgusted him, and women disgusted by him and his status were usually unwilling to bend to his charms. Even then, if he met a woman who was nurturing and sweet, undeterred by his enlistment, he was consumed with revenge.

Now that he’s officially gone and tried and horrendously failed, he can at least swim in the delusion that there is a chance for romance. Besides, he is in his thirties, that’s about the time when people begin settling down, right?

He reaches up for the pipe but finds that it’s gone out. No more vermillion embers to offer comfort.

“Oi,” he calls into the night. Not even crickets sing back. He shifts as if to sit up, but his entire waist flares with pain and sends him crashing back into the velvet cushions. So, he settles on raising his voice, “Hey!”

“Sleep, pig.”

“Pav.”

“Hm?”

“My name. My name is Pav,” he considers throwing the pipe at you altogether, but if the gold-encrusted bowl actually hits your skull then you’d likely leave and never return, “Call me by it.”

“Why should I?” you twist, scowling over your shoulder, “You signed up for the Bremen army, now take what comes with that in Prehevil.”

“You don’t strike me as a dull girl,” he grumbles, “So don’t pretend to be one.”

Suddenly, you’re sitting up again, the bag still clenched between both of your arms, “Do you know what the Bremen army has done to people? Has done to me?” you spit on the floor, right below where Pav rests, “Pigs! Horrible, wretched, rotten pigs!”

Pavel allows you to scream, allows you to finish, before returning, “Do you know what the Bremen army has done to me?”

He’s so quiet, he’s downright whispering. Voice husky and layered with years of buried terror and bloodlust.

“How should I care? You enlisted! Whatever they made you- !”

Now he cuts you off.

“They razed my home during the First Great War,” that once blinding sheen in gunmetal eyes is dark like obsidian, “My family. My mama,” he mocks you, “Dead. I joined to kill the Kaiser, I never wanted to be a Bremen pig. I never asked for this.”

“You came to kill the Kaiser as a lieutenant?”

“I did.”

“You must’ve known…” you swallow your words. A lieutenant to kill the commander? Even without the Kaiser’s other soldiers, Pavel wouldn’t possibly have been able to do that and get away with it. Not unless he wanted to hide out in Prehevil for the rest of his days.

“At least I will never die knowing I didn’t try,” he cackles sickly, “Great leader Kaiser spat the bullet out like it was nothing… Maybe he is some God sent back to torture us.”

“Maybe you missed,” you slump forward, elbows digging into your knees, “Couldn’t that be more likely?”

“No,” he looks at you with widened eyes, “No, no,” he shakes his head, “I don’t miss my shots.”

“If you’re sure,” you smile suddenly, shaking loose the stiffness in Pavel’s shoulders, “When you’re healed, we can try again, hm?”

“Really?” he’s shocked by the madness of your suggestion, “Did you miss the part where I said he took a bullet to the head and walked it off?”

“Apparently, we’ll die here anyway,” you shrug, yawning and fluttering back down onto the seat, “So, why not try again, Pav?”

A girl that nurtures despite his bloody uniform, and now despite his terrible need for revenge. You are as cruel as you are doting. Fiery and unfair and oh, he thinks he wants you to card your fingers in his hair again. Gentle only to him.

“As long as you don’t abandon me once you see for yourself,” Pavel can feel less burning in his chest when he breathes now, “Spat the bullet right out, I tell you.”

You shrug, “I guess I’ll die one way or another here.”

Pavel shakes his head, not bothering to tilt his head away from you as he drifts off.

…

DAY 3. MORNING.

He awakes to a great pressure around his throat. Snapping into consciousness, he finds you standing over him with shaking arms, and when he’s brave enough to follow the branches to where they’re stemmed - your hands are around his neck. Your breathing is shaky, and there’s wetness reflecting off your cheeks. Pavel claws at your wrists with his hand, twisting his body so his bottom half is hanging off the seat. Ignoring the scorching rage that sears over the fresh gash in his stomach, Pavel kicks out at you. His heeled boots dig into your gut, squishing intestines and fat and blood as he pushes you away.

Loudly, his boots thunk back against the floorboard when you’ve fallen away, throwing yourself dramatically across the opposite seat. Like a sick Europian lady from the Gilded Age, you drape over the frame with sniveling wails.

Pavel skims his fingers over where your own were clamping his throat shut as he shudders for breath. Ignoring your sobs, he shouts, “Did you hit your head or what?! Heal me, talk to me, just to end my life?! Are you- ?!”

“Enough!” you scream, voice snapping raw in the middle, completely fizzled out at the end. Wiping at the ceaseless tears gushing over your face, you scream again, “She should’ve gotten out of here! She should’ve gotten out and ran instead of… Instead of…” you cough out phlegm and despair trapped in your throat, “Instead of…”

Marina’s downcast face, moles decorating her frown as she twisted a cracked pair of Windsor glasses between her hands. She could barely look at you when she said it before handing over the glasses. I’m sorry, Marina whispered, Olivia… I just thought, maybe, you should know…

Pavel remains as he is, lumped against the back of the seat with both legs dangling onto the floor. Dried blood scraped up under his heels. He heaves for breath, watching as you cradle yourself in your arms and rock. You wither before him, babbling and wheezing and shrouded in shadow.

“What are you going on about?”

“Be quiet,” you snap, louring through puffy, red eyes and wobbly lips, “Be mournful. The woman that saved your life has died,” before Pavel can squeeze anything out from his gaping mouth, you stand and point down at him to command again, “Be nice. The war is over, and you’re not even a real lieutenant, you can show kindness when a person has died.”

He shuts his mouth. Opens it again. Shuts it. Then, finally,

“I didn’t know her.”

From the way you cross your arms and turn away, he can gather that that was the wrong thing to say.

“And yet she saved you,” your arms tighten around yourself, “She saved you, Pav… Be nice.”

You’re a sweet thing, Pavel thinks. You clearly hate him for not displaying the tenderness that you are around the woman’s death. At least at this moment, you hate him.

“I’m taking a walk,” you announce, flinging open the cabin door and slamming it behind you.

Pavel contemplates calling after you, but figures the sound of his voice could only make you stay away longer.

You’re a cruel, sweet thing.

Not even leaving the care bag closer for him to reach in and take from.

DAY 3. NOON.

When you return, the train car is silent sans the gentle hum of Pavel’s breathing. Almost reminiscent of clockwork, a well-oiled machine, his broad chest rises and falls smoothly as he’s rearranged himself sideways on the seat. With his slung arm over his chest and spare one tucked under his head as a makeshift pillow.

Having Pavel stretched out before you gives ample time for you to more thoroughly judge his physique - if you’d be able to strangle him while he’s awake. If he could fight back. If he could lift you with his pure muscle and restrain you with a single hand while the other…

Maybe, you think.

His arms are large, but not obnoxiously terrifying like the boxer. His waist is slim despite the broadness of his shoulders and chest.

Suddenly, he groans, nose twitching in his slumber. It draws your gaze up to his face. That unsettlingly symmetrical face with the strong nose bridge and soft, rosy lips.

Not to mention his flaxen hair - curled and tousled and forcefully in your sights with that Bremen hat off. And with his Bremen uniform (seemingly always) unbuttoned to his stomach, you make out his pectorals past his bandages. You make out two indentations over his heart: silvery scars.

He could almost be handsome. If he were more emotionally attuned.

You kneel by his side, swinging the care bag across the aisle and into your lap. His bleeding has visibly lessened, as only the lightest shade of pink has spread over the pale cloth. Sneaking scissors up by his soft skin, you avoid slicing him as you snip the bandages and begin unwinding them. Pulling gently so as to avoid waking the man, you successfully clear him from the restrictive cloth and assess his healing wound.

More coral pink than crimson red, now. You assume the mass improvement is thanks to the blue vial Olivia had provided. Even as the gnarly cut expands under Pavel’s breathing, it fails to start bleeding again. Which you’re grateful for since, as a precarious glance into the bag confirms, you have freshly run out of bandages. And you fear that snagging any old cloth from any old barrel could give Pavel an infection.

“What was it Alll-mer said? Pluck out your eyes if you cannot respect modesty?”

“I’m checking your wound,” you pinch his side. The skin is warm and fleshy and so, so soft between your fingertips. He whimpers and tries to evade your hand by squirming higher on the seat, “When did you wake up?”

“Not long ago,” he watches you reach into the bag and pull free another glass vial of blue liquid, “Only to see you ogling my body.”

“It’s a hideous one. Hard to look away.”

“You love to lie, mean girl?” he ‘tsk’s, “Shame. Lies are so ugly from a pretty mouth.”

“As if you would know.”

“Confident woman,” he sings to himself, grinning, “Confident, confident woman.”

Shoving the blue vial towards Pavel’s face, you square your shoulders and settle your face sternly, “Drink.”

“I liked it when you did it for me,” he opens his mouth then, refusing to break eye contact.

You comply, shifting onto your knees and pressing the chilled glass against Pavel’s lower lip; tipping it to flow into his warm mouth. He gulps down what you graciously offer, bringing his uninjured arm out from under his head and settling it over your hand around the vial. His thumb presses against your knuckles. You tangle your other hand into his hair and let the golden curls thread over your fingers. Once the vial is finished, you can’t explain it but there’s a sudden thundering in your chest. So vivid and hard in your ribs that it makes you nauseous.

Pavel blinks, lashes fluttering at you as his hand remains over yours.

Sunshine slants across his face. You see him more clearly now than this morning or last night or when he was wrought and warped with pain.

He looks pretty like this. Foul-mouthed and promiscuous and even forthright rude, but undoubtedly pretty.

His hand moves to your cheek, tenderly cupping the flesh with glass still pressed to his lips.

The thunder comes with lightning that strikes blazing fire. Heat fans through your chest and up to your forehead.

“If you want to go after the Kaiser, you should rest,” you whisper, as if speaking any louder could shatter the both of you from this moment, “We both should. Best to gather our strength before searching for him.”

Pavel shakes his head, obsessively smoothing the pad of his thumb over the apple of your cheek, “He will gut us both, cruel girl. I don’t want to see that for you. If I find him it’s alone,” he swallows thickly, “And I’m tired.”

“So,” you realize with a startled tremble that your internal combustion is affection for the former lieutenant, “you’ll stay?”

And with greater terror, you realize that you actually want to stay with him.

“I will die knowing I failed,” he sucks in a sharp breath, pressing his lips firmly before granting you sight of the rosy flesh again, “but I will have you to die with, cruel girl.”

At least even in humiliating defeat, Pavel can be loved.

“Are you scared to die, Pav?”

You’re a sweet one, he fondly recalls. Assuming he had much to live for outside his schlocky revenge scheme.

“Projecting, hm?”

You pinch his side. He lets you.

DAY 3. NIGHT.

“Now, bend it.”

Pavel hisses but manages to fully extend and curl his newly unwound arm with nothing more than a click in his elbow. He lays both hands in his lap as you bunch the bandages and sling into a ball and lay it off to the side.

“Good,” you utter softly, “You’ve healed a lot faster than I would’ve thought.”

“Right?” Pavel turns his head to stare down at you, tilting his head back, “You should sit with me.”

“You’re feeling charitable,” he scoffs at your tease, not moving to accommodate his invite, “Where should I even sit, then? You’re taking the entire seat.”

When he merely smirks, you get the idea.

“You’re gross.”

“Indulge me, cruel girl,” you rise to your feet, gnawing your bottom lip in contemplation, Pavel leans against the armrest and cinches his legs together, “Would you make a man die alone?”

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation.

But would you make Pavel die alone?

You swing a leg over his torso, careful to avoid the healing slash and straddle Pavel’s waist with both hands landing over his exposed chest. He cups your cheek again, now taking pleasure (and slight pain) in cradling your face with both hands. He hasn’t gotten to see a beautiful woman in ages, and he thinks maybe it isn’t so bad to go out staring at one.

Moonlight cascades over the both of you, so bright in the train cabin it almost burns.

“If we could still run, where would you go?” you ask.

“Where would you want me?”

“Flirt,” you’re leaning in, though, trailing a finger over his scarred chest. Your nails bite at the flesh, he grunts in disapproval, “How can I believe anything you say? You betrayed your leader. Would you shoot me, too?”

Pavel is sure you’re anything but serious in asking, but it's dangerous the way he feels compelled to answer genuinely, “Never. I’d miss your… What was it? Brutalism?”

“Enough,” the moonlight sears over where Pavel’s hands are curved around your cheeks. You lean down more until your lips brush his, “You call me rude, but you’re- “

He slices your derision short, pressing his petal soft lips against yours with a quiet, contented sigh.

Moonlight bares witness. And you cannot pull away even as the fire in your heart rages from affection to molten lava. You’re not even entirely sure you would want to.

…

Karin cannot feel her fingers as she stands in the open train car door. She’s seen many things - many terrible, awful things. Especially so in the past seventy-two hours than her entire career as a war journalist, but this may be what truly drives her mad. She can feel it - the need to retreat inside her mind and shut down completely; the need to give up hope of salvation. Maybe she can suppress it long enough to sit by that seashore, get a good view to wash out the image before her.

Wriggling on the train loveseat is a fleshy creature, almost like mushed peaches. Occasionally, pleased sighs and hums will escape one of its two smiling faces as the lumps slide and shift along the cushion. One face nuzzles closer to the other and the measly bread and meat Karin swiped from deserted kitchens lurches in her stomach.

None of the other monsters she’d encountered had been so undeniable in its previous humanity. It reminds her of the holed, broken, pliant corpses of uniformed soldiers dead in trenches, and it reminds her of the first time she ever saw a real dead body. She puked on its boot, unable to run back and spew bile elsewhere before it was spurting past her lips.

Karin’s stomach is stronger now, though. She has the time to turn and trudge on wobbly knees towards the seaside before she pukes - squirming flesh and smoldered limbs tangling in her mind.

Moonlight burns at the back of her neck as The Lovers moan and coo happily behind her.

#pav fear and hunger #pav yudin #fear and hunger x reader #pav x reader #pavel yudin x reader #fear and hunger fluff #working title to this was p(av) in v #laugh NEOW

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miloswebs · 8 months

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If Pav and Gayatri ever broke up… he’d come straight to you ready to sob and eat whatever food you have. He becomes a spider-burrito with your blankets and needs you to pet his hair man. (he never lets you touch his hair)

#pavitr prabhakar #spiderverse pavitr #Pav x reader #Pravitr x gayatri #across the spiderverse #spiderman #spidersona #into the spider verse #Spiderman india #Pavitr x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar x you #Platonic ship

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beansap · 11 months

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this is INJUSTICE

#where is the love!!! where is the love for pav!!!!#across the spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader

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captain-lessship · 11 months

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His “Sidekick In The Chair” No Longer Pt. 1

a/n: No die hard comic fans come for me but I do know that Toxin (A symbiote) has helped spider man in the comics and I wanted to write something that has the potential to get funny but I will warn you, there is a sad bit in this part.

CW: Possible Spoilers (idk i know not everyone has watch the movie or read the comics)

“Every superhero has a sidekick!” He whined.

Your best friend, Pavitr, had offered to walk you home and had talked non-stop about you helping him.

“Pav,” you turned around, fully ready to shut him down but you saw the sheer hope and excitement in his eyes, “I- Fine!” You lamented. “But I am not your sidekick, we are equals.”

He smiled widely at you as he slung his arms around you, “I knew you’d agree! Thank you. And sure! You can be a hero too!”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Besides how hard could it be?”

“About that… we need suits.”

“What?”

“Oh come on, all superheroes have cool suits and besides you can sew!” He said.

“I really really hope that I get side swiped by a car.” You groaned.

“You’ll never get hurt while I am here.” He said, voice trying to be serious.

You were unimpressed, “Let’s hope you never have to use that line.” You patted him on the back.

When you got home, you immediately got to work doodling up a suit that would be fit for your rather expressive best friend and now partner in crime fighting.

You smiled to yourself as you drew and after what felt like hours, you added color. As you stared at the costume, your mind began to wonder, thinking about all the shenanigans and by relation, danger he’d be getting into and you wouldn’t always be there.

You were set on the sidelines: No powers, only your mind to help him. You knew he was smart and wouldn’t purposefully get himself in deep trouble but yet, you still worried.

And your worrying was for the best.

There was now a-

“Hole in our universe.”

A hole in your universe.

“Pav, sweet sweet, Pav,” you held your phone closer to your ear, “Why is there a god damn hole in our universe?” You yelled into your phone.

“Geez, don’t yell! Calm down, it’s being fixed and… I’m sorry.”

You were shocked. It wasn’t that Pavitr never apologized, it was that he never apologized without adding on why it wasn’t his bad.

“It’s- Pav, it wasn’t your fault. You are not responsible for other people’s actions.”

“I know, I know but I feel partially responsible: it’s my city. And there’s a hole in it.”

“It’s being fixed, it’ll be okay.”

A sudden knock on your window made you jumped and you turned in your chair to see him. You walked to your window and opened it.

He tumbled in and slumped to your bed, still in his Spider-Man suit. You sighed as you walked over and sat beside his face down figure, “So is this a ‘Leave me alone for five minutes and bring me tea’ or a ‘I am just being dramatic’ ?”

“I am not dramatic!” He shouted at you.

You just stared at him as he jerked his mask off, a very angry and hit look painted across his face.

“You know what?” He stood up, “Forget it! You don’t know the half of it!”

“Oh what don’t I know?” You said, feeling yourself become annoyed.

“What it is to be an actual superhero!”

It cut you deeper than it should’ve. There was just something about the way he said it that made you believe that he never thought you were more than his tailor and direction giver.

Anger filled you, “Oh please!” How quickly could he forget that he would not have been able to do it without you.

“You just don’t! And I don’t expect you to!”

“No, I don’t get the easy part. I don’t get the powers and I don’t get the praise but I hope you can do it without me.”

He stared at you, eyes scanning your face, “I don’t have the easy part. I have to except the fact my life is written out for me.”

“Well, should be easy to live then, the reassurance that it will all be okay must be great!” You folded your arms across your chest.

There was silence for a bit.

“What do you mean without you?”

“You said I wasn’t a real superhero,” you felt your anger subside, “And I got mad.”

He looked at you, “I am just… disappointed in what I now know my life will be like, it’s all already drawn out and I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“What will it be?”

“My uncle, and every other Spider-Man’s uncle, were already destined to die. So is a police investigator that I am close to.”

You could’ve swore you saw tears form in his eyes, something that never clouded the face for your sunny spirited friend, “Every Spider-Man has a Gwen Stacy. Every Gwen Stacy falls in love with Spider Man.”

You picked up on what he meant, you walked to him and wrapped your arms around him and felt his body give slightly, sniffing and snuffling noises leaving him. “Every Spider-Man and Gwen Stacy can’t be together, can they?”

He nodded yes, acknowledging that his young love was predestined to end. All you could do was hug him.

You thought about that all through the night. Mind drifting to how sad it must be. Suddenly something touched your foot.

It was cold.

Slightly slimy.

And it was moving.

With a shaky hand you pulled back the cover, revealing a crimson colored mass.

Before you could scream, it began to rise slightly off the bed and a pair of pearly white eyes with a light blue sheen came to the thing that was in your bed.

Fear filled you as words came from the creature.

“Hello.”

“Hi.” You all but whispered.

“Are you frightened?”

“Uh, yea, no offense but it’s not everyday a random blood looking creature appears in my room.”

“I am Toxin.”

“Is there something you need or what?”

“I can make you a superhero. You would want to help your friend, right?” Toxin remarked.

“Okay eavesdropper, but how could you do that?”

“I just need your body. Then you will have all my powers.”

“Could I web swing?”

“We could try.”

“What’s the catch?”

Toxin laughed, “Smart, aren’t we? Well there is one. What you eat, I take half the nutrients. I use your body as a sort of home.”

“It won’t kill me, right?”

“No. What parasite intentionally kills their host?”

“You need a marketing class.” You sighed, “But I guess we could take one.”

“We could.” Toxin smiled widely.

You extended your hand and Toxin climbed onto it, you shuddered slightly at the feeling, “How are you gonna get inside me?”

“Take a deep breathe.”

You closed your eyes as you breathed in through your nose, feeling him slip in your nostril. It felt like when a doctor swabbed your nose to see if you had the flu. You choked slightly, feeling it drip down into your chest. Then the voice came.

“It’s nice in here.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” Toxin said, “Now, I request a sandwich.”

“PB & J?”

“Grape jelly.”

“Of course.”

Little did you know who was outside your window, having seen the encounter between you and the alien. It was Pavitr. His watch chimed.

“Canon Event Successful. Continue your work.”

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girl-in-the-chairs-void · 6 months

Text

His life~ (Nanami Kento x reader)

Warnings; none, just fluff and Kento being a sweetheart.

Cold moonlight poured into the room, dimly shining over your sleeping figure, on your stomach, one of your legs stretched out in a position that looked slightly uncomfortable to be sleeping in on the couch.

The digital clock flashed red; 2:30am.

The front door opened with the hushed jingle of keys, the various charms attached to it clicking softly against each other as Nanami gripped onto them.

His chest tightened at the sight of you, curled up on the couch. You were barely covered by the blanket, having made yourself very comfortable on the piece of furniture hours ago in an attempt to kill time waiting for Nanami to come home. He takes notice of the bags under your eyes and swollen eyelids, a red hue coating your cheeks and nose as you sniffles in your sleep.

He drops his work bag with a soft thud, walking to your side and dropping on his knees to be an eye level with you. You’re fast asleep and definitely won’t notice the way his glasses come off to reveal the familiar tender look on his eyes. You definitely won’t notice the way he removes the soft blanket off of you only to wrap his radiating body around your frame, gathering you in his arms. Your legs wraps around his waist, arms clinging to neck as he carries you like a child, your face tucked safely into the crook of his neck. He exhales; he’s home…

“Kento” you coo into him, and he swears he could melt right here.

You definitely won’t recall the way he’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear to lull you back to slumber. “Shh, I’m here, sweetheart”, “I got you, go back to sleep,” “my sweet, you’re beautiful, y’know that?”. You can do nothing but hum and nod drowsily.

Maybe it was love at first sight or the friendship you two had developed over the years of attending Jujutsu High. But Nanami couldn’t help but feel protective towards you the moment he had layed eyes on you, unbeknownst to him at the time. Your cursed energy was- out of this world and he felt the need to be around it the more he got to know you.

Years later, here he is, tucking in his life into your shared bed. Taking off his uniform and slipping under the sheets with you, tucking you back into his arms and holding on for dear life.

Because he knew, if he ever lost this- lost you, he’d never come back home.

A/n; uhmmm is this a comeback??? I haven’t written in ages and honestly this has been in my drafts since I dived into the manga and now I’m at that heartbreaking part…YALL know what I’m talking about-😭😭 anyway I hope you enjoyed!!<33

#nanami kento #jjk kento #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami Kento x you #kento x reader #jjk season 2 #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #Pav writes

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kurakuradon · 7 months

Text

guy’s been standing in front of the atm for hours someone tell him to fucking move

#across the spiderverse #jonathan ohnn #atsv the spot #the spot #astv x reader #atsv fanart #across the spider verse fanart #spiderman atsv #🛎on queue.#started off as a drawing-from-life digital painting but I got too silly #also! try and spot the references 👀#hehe. get it. spot.#there’s a ref for miles; b. parker; porker; noir; gwen; pav; hobie; and peni/mech #and a hidden Miguel spider symbol somewhere #oh and a in-movie gag ref #fan art #2023

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kairiscorner · 9 months

Note

i just thought of something 👀👀 what would the spiderteens think of a reader who is really nerdy or can talk on and on about a topic they're very interested in (bonus points if the topic is academics-related). they ramble about it and when they realize they're rambling they get all shy while apologizing profusely and then they stop talking out of embarrassment. 🤐🤐🤐

~ 🫐

SO CUTEEEEEE, I HOPE U LIKE THIS !!! (also happy monthsary to this blog !! consider this as a gift, to all fellow nerds and non-nerds on my blog :DD)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

• ────── ✾ ────── •

⋆｡°✩ — miles morales.

he loves how bright and wide your eyes get, how broad your smile becomes when you're rambling, going on and on about your favorite topics at school. miles doesn't have the strongest opinion on school, he finds it pretty decent, but seeing you be so passionate about your niche interest about anything in school–be it an interesting scientific theory, mathematical equation, literary piece, historical or cultural event you know well–he finds himself getting roped into your interest and... gets lost in your eyes. he lets your voice lead him to a whole lecture room where you just talk, talk, and talk about your beloved lessons as if you were the teacher, just so much more passionate about what you know and love learning about.

when you realize you're rambling is the second cutest part, you get all flustered when your gaze meets his and you feel all conscious about the way your facial muscles stretch since you've been smiling for minutes on end just talking about the lesson you love so much. the cutest part is when you giggle to yourself while talking about what you love and while you apologize for rambling. miles gets bewitched every time you giggle and smile through your intense fluster.

"hey, hey, hey, no... don't stop." he whispers to you with a loving smile as he placed his hands on yours, looking up at you with his chestnut brown eyes and warm gaze. "tell me more! you're so much better than all my teachers combined, you'll be the reason i'll get a pluses on every subject now." he said with a small chuckle and he leaned closer to you, ready to hang on to every word you say.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

⋆｡°✩ — gwen stacy.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

she's always the first one you go to when rambling about your favorite lesson being finally discussed in class; it makes for good conversation while gwen's fixing up her worn out ballet shoes or thinking over her answers while you two do homework. she chuckles to herself when you start using onomatopoeias to emphasize your points, as if she can fully understand how much you love the subject you keep going on and on about, when all she can do is witness how adorable you are being all bright-eyed and innocent when talking about the subject and topics you love.

it's only when she chuckles out an, "okay, nerd," to you that your voice falters and you try finding your train of thought again after gwen derailed it with that little comment of hers that was only meant to tease you. she notices you hesitation to talk again and gets worried, she asks you if you're doing alright and telling you she's sorry if it hurt you, she never meant for that.

she places her hands on both of your shoulders and smiles at you softly. "when i say you're a nerd, i always mean... that you're my charming, darling of a nerd. i love you and your big, fat brain and when your cute, nerdy little voice gets louder when you talk about your interests. you're the smartest and the cutest, my little nerd." she says playfully with a cheeky smile as she plants a kiss on your cheek, watching you get all flustered and stammering as she giggles and gets all flushed in the face seeing how adorable you look right now as a bumbling mess of a nerd, her nerd.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

⋆｡°✩ — pavitr prabhakar.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

he's never had to really try at school, but he does it anyway, because his main source of inspiration is your little dorky ass. he has never seen anyone be so in love with the lessons being taught, being so passionate about them—he feels the need to do even better than he's already doing at school because of you, and because of that... you two have been shipped together. a lot.

pav doesn't mind it, in fact, when you two got closer, became friends and everything, he realized you were a walking encyclopedia of the subject you like. you'd ramble on and on to him for hours if you could, with the sweetest smile on your face and the brightest shine in your eyes—it was like you could do no wrong, except for talk, talk, and talk about everything you loved that not everyone else in school did with the same fervor as you.

"you know..." he interrupted you mid-sentence as he smiled widely at you, his gaze fixed upon you as your eyes met his and you got all... flustered. "i could listen to you talk all day, you're way more fun than the teachers, i bet you know a lot more than they do for the lessons. can you maybe... be my tutor? that's the perfect excuse to ask if i can come over to your place, hmm?" he asked you with a sly smile and a smooth talking voice that had your stammering and giggling like a dork, which you were to him. "what a cute little dork i scored, so adorable!"

• ────── ✾ ────── •

⋆｡°✩ — hobie brown.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

his smile matched yours as he listened to you blabber on and on to him about this one topic you guys had during a lecture that you just couldn't help but be so in love with. he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you in closer to hear you better. your voice went quieter at times when you felt hobie get closer to you or heard him hum in response to your rambling, with him smiling even wider and gazing down at you so lovingly and affectionately.

he'd nod and share his own understanding of the lessons you learned, despite not being so fond of the education system, he'd very invested in what you're interested in. hobie's done his own learning and can keep up and share ideas with you, but he's also done a lot of loving with you, so having him be so supportive of your nerdy self that refuses to shut up about your favorite subject and topic and be the one to make you all flustered and stuttering is a dream combination.

he squeezes your arm gently and flashes you a sweet smile as you keep talking about your favorite topic from the lecture you had. "oh, really? damn, well, did you know..." he went on and on sharing his own understanding of the topic—which you found so cute—and he turns to look at you and raises an eyebrow. "y'know, i... kinda fancy cute little nerds like you who shut up when i y'get noticed–actually, i just fancy you and your big brain. c'mere, lemme pepper that cute little head with the biggest brain in the whole universe with kisses." he said with a slight chuckle underneath his breath at the sight of you getting more and more flustered, and becoming a completed melted mess of his little nerd as he peppered your face with kisses.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

tags !! @k4tsu3 @onginlove @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @solecitoszn @euphovlq @arachnoia @conitagray

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themastaralex · 10 months

Text

Spiderverse messages

It's always gotta be something with pav doesn't it 😭 and you and Miguel honestly remind me a lot of ellie and Joel from tlou

#miguel o'hara #miles morales #gwen stacy #pavitr prabhakar #hobie brown #tbh you and pav are best friends #gwen stacy x reader #lyla spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miles morales x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #hobie brown x reader #oh btw youre 6'4 in this for comedic purposes #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv

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paperwayne · 10 months

Text

upside down.

Pairing: Spiderverse!Hobie Brown | Spider-Punk x Reader

Word Count: 462 words

Warnings: None

Hobie thinks he’s being funny when he hangs upside down with his feet flat on the ceiling, arms crossed and gaze expectant as you turn around and drop your toast at the sudden sight of him.

“That’s not funny,” you insist with a huff, bending down to pick your breakfast up. Five second rule – “What, is the floor too dirty for you?”

“Something like that,” Hobie replies, his face a deceptively blank slate.

You stick your tongue out at him. “Weirdo.”

“Social conformity is a prison.”

You stare at him as you eat your toast in quick, large bites, licking the crumbs and butter from your lips when you finish. He waits patiently, only raising an eyebrow when you take your second piece of toast out of the toaster and wave it at him.

“Want it?” you ask.

“Not particularly,” Hobie says. “Thinkin’ of having something else.”

“Oh? What?”

“I’ll tell you, but you have to come closer.” He untucks one hand to beckon you towards him.

Now it is your turn to raise an eyebrow. You draw closer, slowly, a warm thrill shooting up your spine as one corner of his pretty mouth tugs up (or is it down?).

When you’re about a foot away, you stop.

“This close enough?”

He hums thoughtfully. “Not quite.”

You shuffle nearer still. Six inches.

“Is it upside down coffee?”

“You’re half right.”

“Which half did I get wrong?”

Two inches. You can feel his breath on your lips.

“The coffee part,” Hobie says, before he closes the gap.

Your eyes slide shut as he kisses you, mouths soft against each other as he reaches down to cradle your face. You lift your free hand to trace your thumb down his jaw and over his cheekbone. He hums, a raspy, appreciative sound.

When the two of you part, he grins and pecks your lips. “Right, then,” he murmurs. “I’m all set.”

“You really should eat an actual breakfast,” you say, trying your hardest not to swoon. Your cheeks are hot and you scarf down your toast to distract yourself from it.

Hobie unsticks himself from the ceiling and somehow lands on his feet, then immediately goes to wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on your shoulder. “Toast is good, innit?”

“Oh, now you want some.”

As he shamelessly grabs a slice of bread and sticks it in the toaster, you lean against the counter and watch. Even here, casual and domestic, Hobie Brown is beautiful.

It’s only a few seconds before his eyes meet yours again. You bite the inside of your cheek, and he shoves his hands into his pockets.

“Want me on the ceiling again?” he questions.

“No.” Your hands snake their way around his waist. “Right here will do.”

#hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk x reader #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spiderverse #smatsv #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv #fanfiction #fluff #marvel #hobie hates the am but he loves being a menace more #i dunno man i just needed to actually finish something bc my pav fic is taking forEVER :'<

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pavstars · 1 year

Text

jotaro x reader (ft. itty bitty jolyne)

[ crossposted on ao3 @ sinnerspades ]

author’s note: pav strikes again! hopefully jotaro isn’t too ooc, it’s weird writing him so soft but auggghhh papa jotaro.... my heart...give me summer now!!!!

Thinking about summers with Jotaro and your sweet Jolyne, still only a toddler. The sun takes forever to set in the sky, and you sit on the floor of your living room with the fan running on high, staring at car headlights passing by through the screen door. Jolyne sits in your lap while you sit on the carpet, leaning your back against the couch while she flips through a tiny book about sea creatures. Is she actually reading it or is she just entranced by the colorful fishies?

She closes the book with a smack and grins up at you with her rosy cheeks, she looks just like her dad you think. “All done!” She exclaims proudly. You grin right back at her and ruffle her dark wavy hair.

“Good job, bug! Your papa is almost done with work- I promise. And then we can go catch fireflies.”

It looks as if she’s in deep thought, and then suddenly she furrows her brows in a look of utmost importance, her little green eyes meet your own. “You promise?”

You're taken aback by how serious she looks. She probably got that from her dad too. “Of course I do, let’s just hope your papa keeps his promise as well.”

“Pinky swear it!” She exclaims, holding out her tiny hand to your own. You giggle and lock your much bigger finger with her own, shaking it firmly like a handshake.

“I completely pinky swear with everything in me Jojo!” You nod and she seems satisfied enough, unlocking your fingers and standing up off of your lap. You dust her little yellow overalls off and follow in her steps to stand up, turning with a grin when you hear the telltale sound of your husband’s office door opening.

“Papa!” Jolyne shrieks and runs down the hall, crashing into his leg and wrapping her arms around it with a “squeeeeeeeeeee”

The corners of his lips lift up in a small, fond smile and he picks her up in his big arms, walking over to where you were still standing at the couch by the door. Jolyne is too busy wrapping her arms around her father’s neck and giggling to care that he leans down to let you kiss his cheek.

“Good grief you’re a handful Jojo…” He shakes his head and she just giggles harder as he nudges the screen door open with his foot to take her into the front yard. You follow close behind and seat yourself on the front porch steps, as does he after putting the kid down to let her run about in the yard chasing the little bugs lighting up the night sky.

Jolyne is eagerly starts running circles around the grass with her wide eyes staring up at the sky, her stout arms are stretched up and she tries to cup the bugs in her little hands with a look of determination knitting in her brows.

Jotaro nudges your shoulder with his own (much larger one) and you sigh happily, leaning your head onto him. After dinner he had gone straight to his office much to your dismay. But you understood, he was a busy guy and his deadlines weren’t exactly forgiving. You’d take what you could get.

“Hi.” You look him in the eyes and the fondness on your face is so strong that you can see his cheeks flush slightly, whether that was from bashfulness or just his discomfort making eye contact- either way you found it endearing.

“Hey.” He responds back, breaking his cerulean gaze away from you to look at his daughter causing mischief by the sidewalk.

“You don’t have to make eye contact with me, you know.” You smush your cheek against his shoulder.

“We are literally married.”

“Well duh, but I know it makes you a little uncomfortable.” You shrug.

Truly you didn’t mind it at all. It was a nice surprise whenever he tried to, but you really didn’t expect anything. You knew his little quirks- you had to have after dating him for so long and being friends with him for even longer. If he had trouble keeping eye contact it wasn’t any biggie, he was loving in other ways, and besides it made it more intimate when he actually did decide to meet your eyes.

“You’re just pretty.” He chuckles and now it’s your turn to flush red. You two had been married for god knows how long, even had a little ruckus of a child together, but he still gave you nervous butterflies in his weird stoic Jotaro way. “I like to look at you,” he continued.

“-but you don’t like getting caught?” You mused, finishing his sentence.

“Don’t finish my sentences.” he playfully shoves you from his shoulder and you yelp, shoving him back, ruining the rare moment.

“But I know you sooooo well!” You try to grab at his sides in retaliation.

“Mama and Papa are fighting!” Jolyne exclaims, running from her perch in the grass to tackle Jotaro. It’s a valiant effort but he’s built like a brick shithouse and there’s no way she’d ever be able to knock him over- or at least that’s what you think until he lets her win, falling back onto the porch with a big huff of air leaving his lungs. Your little girl sits on his chest and lightly pounds her fists on him, letting out the cutest little oras you had ever heard. Dear lord, you thought. Not another one.

She keeps up her effort until finally growing tired and plopping down on top of him with her face smushed into his stomach. “Papa is too strong…”

“We weren’t actually fighting, hun.” You giggle and run your fingers through her dark curls.

“Mmhm,” Jotaro agrees and brings his hand up to replace yours, twirling one of her curls around his big finger. “Because if we were I would’ve won.”

Your jaw drops and you slap him lightheartedly. “You would not have you ass! Oops- I mean you jerk!” Your hand slaps over your mouth and you can see your husband’s chest shaking in silent laughter.

Maybe a long long time ago you would’ve actually fought: memories long passed of working for Dio under the control of a fleshbud in exchange for something, anything, not unsimilar to how he’d met Kakyoin and Polnareff as well. It had been a long time since either of you had thought of your trip to Egypt, but that wasn’t to say you had forgotten about the memories made and the lives lost along the way. He still kept that framed picture by his desk in the office, and you had the same one as well hanging up just outside the bedroom door in a cherished frame.

Jolyne doesn’t seem to care about the slip up, (you wouldn’t be surprised if she eventually formed a colorful vocabulary living with you and her father), but after regaining her energy she’s crawling off of her dad to let him sit up and begging you to turn the sprinkler on so she can run around. It’s so hot out and she’s just too damn sweet that you can’t say no.

The next half an hour is spent watching her sprint around the dry grass with muddy feet through her jelly sandals, cheering and dragging you into the spray of the cold water, fireflies long forgotten. You’re glad she chose something to tire herself out with because after her bubble bath you get to tuck her into bed and she goes right to sleep without a fuss.

For the rest of the night you finally get to take a cold shower to beat the heat, sneak ice cream and eat it on the couch with Jotaro (glad Jolyne hadn't caught you in fear of sticky kid fingers and another bath ) and eventually you're able to slip into bed and wrap your arms around his familiar frame, feeling cozy and content with your little family. -That is until you wake up in the middle of the night sweating to death and wanting nothing more than to be apart from each other in the swampy Florida humidity.

#jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #jjba #jjba x reader #jotaro fluff #jolyne kujo #baby jolyne #family bonding!!!#jjba imagine #jotaro kujo #ooc sweet papa joot #pav ramblings #yearning for summer #my writing

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conitagray · 9 months

Text

“you’re alive in my head..”

pavitr prabhakar x reader.

genre: pure angst (a little fluff if you squint) | warnings: blood, death, sad pav☹️, super sad

summary: the canon event altered his life forever. | inspo: marjorie by taylor swift.

words: 1k.

a/n: @smokeywhalee came up with this trope and we both cried mentally adding up ideas to eachother (i love her and her ideas yall FOLLOW HER or elmo will end up next to you at 3am)

and marjorie by ts changed my life forever it’s so good i’m not okay 😊💔

p.s: please have tissues next to you 🤧 (and "they" is ur variant btw!)

so sorry in advance pookies

pavitr had been your bestfriend for so long— you were by his side ever since he became spiderman, his partner in crime, and he always liked you. —

everything about you just made him fall head over heels for you, but he never had the heart to confess owing to the fact that he doesn’t want to lose you yet.

he wished he did sooner..

ever since pavitr’s dimension was falling apart, he couldn’t help but feel devastated, afraid it would happen the same to you, and he was right.

the very moment that was happening, you so happened to be running away from the commotion— your bestfriend pavitr and the other spider people fighting for their life and his dimension, you were about to escape, but unfortunately, a big chunk of debris hits you— slamming you to the ground as you groaned in pain.

you heard the screams of pavitr from afar, as he slung over to you— his friends shouting for him to come back but he couldn't care less about them now that you were hurt badly.

he lifted the debris off of you and carried you bridal style, his words muffled as you couldn't see anything— your vision blurred.

"jaanu please hang on okay? i promise ill get you the hospital as soon as i can please don't close your eyes on me." he panicked as he removed his mask to reveal his teary-eyed face as he held you close, webbing away from the commotion as he wanted to bring you to the nearest hospital.

"pav, i..." you took all your strength to get his attention as he stopped webbing and went through the empty street, your heartbeat slowly slowing down as it became harder to breathe.

he noticed immediately and laid you on the ground, his hand cupping your cheek as he kept whispering a "no no no please no." trying to stop the blood from your chest.

"pav, i.. love you." you mumbled your last words to him as you closed your eyes— your last breath, last tear and last smile to him all leaving your body as you lay lifeless on the ground, his screams were all that was audible, becoming increasingly faint until they were completely gone.

pavitr's tears were now hitting the ground as he clutched your lifeless body, holding on it for dear life as he sobbed— his heart breaking now that he lost you, his canon event.

his tears never came to an end as he couldn't believe he was processing everything, he lost his thithli.

gwen, hobie, and miles run over to him as they saw pavitr and you, your dead body but they couldn't do anything but feel heartbroken with paviitr as it was his canon event even though you were dead now, you're alive in his head.

he wished he could spend one last prominence with you, but now that you were gone, he wished you were still around.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

pavitr never moved on, never recovered from your death; if he didn't know better, he'd wish you were still alive; he wanted he could say i love you— and that remorse has filled him with guilt every single day.

hobie would always try to cheer him up and it would never work, he would still feel devastated and blame himself for your death— that he couldn't save you in time. it was never his fault.

all of this happening with his dimension falling apart and losing you hit him like a truck, he lost his spark and he'd do anything to get you back, anything — and he wished he could find one way to say i love you to you one last time.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

he’d never been to hq ever since your death, he was merely drained to continue as spiderman anymore— the fear and guilt overcoming him; scared the same would happen to other people like it happened to you.

hobie got to cheer him up somewhat and convinced him to finally go to hq but when he walked in, he bumped into a familiar face he knew oh too well.

“im so sorry i—“ pavitr turned around to apologize to who he bumped when his blood ran cold, his whole body frozen as he couldn’t believe who it was, you; but not entirely.

“it’s okay! i’m fine— and are you okay?” they said, scanning pavitr’s body for any injuries and so.

“yeah— i’m, im fine— can i talk to you for a second?” pavitr said, breaking out of his trance as he grabbed their hand and walked to an empty corner.

“woah okay—“ they followed pavitr, standing in a small corner waiting for him to talk.

“are you… [name]?” he asked, your name coming out of his mouth breaking his heart. their eyes went wide— the shock of their name coming out of his mouth indirectly.

“y-yeah i’m from earth 5100..” those words broke pavitr’s heart, a lump going down his throat as he smiled— knowing that they weren’t his.

they could see the obvious heartbreak in pavitr's eyes and its like they could feel his pain too; "i suppose you lost a variant of me in your world..?" they muttered as pavitr nodded— his tears planting his brown skin as their heart broke.

"can i..?" pavitr whispered, gesturing for a hug as they agreed with open arms— he rushed to their arms, breaking down in more tears as he felt your touch again— but not entirely yours.

"i'm so sorry.. im sure they're so proud of you for getting through this, i know you want them back but im not them."

"i know.. i just wished i could say i love you to them one last time." he muttered, his face buried in their neck as he cried harder— clutching their shirt.

he has no choice but to owe the fact that he lost you, and the person in front of him is oh so heartwarming to him, its not you and he has to accept that, but you're alive in his head.

#conitagray #hearts4hobie #angst #across the spider verse #pavitr my beloved #pavitr prabhakar #atsv pavitr #spiderverse pavitr #pavitr x reader #pavitr x you #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pav #spidervariant #pavitr #pavitr my BABY #CRYING\

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dadsbongos · 23 days

Note

hii can i ask pavel bf hcs pretty pleasee i am soo in love with him….

kinda just general fluffy ideas that ignore the various plot implications of pav actually having a significant other

you two will not organically meet, pav sees you and thinks you’re perrrdy and then amasses schemes and flowcharts and data on how he can best introduce himself to you so you’ll like him

in his head, as you’re first meeting, is basically computer code for him to find the most charismatic version of himself to make you swoon

Pavel “if smile and nod = true then kiss” Yudin

but to him its justified because he reasons his feelings are honest

he is kind of a menace tho, he ACTS very polite opening doors buying flowers, even paying your tabs

his words though… oh god he’s terrible

pav is kinda THE “i only like my partner” trope guy cuz he genuinely cannot stand talking to people that irritate him, and most people that aren’t you irritate him

openly passive-aggressive to people that interrupt his time with you

he’s also prone to just saying bizarrely horny shit out of nowhere, you’ll be on a nice date :3 a cute dinner :3 and he goes

“I like this wine, it makes me want to suck your cleavage.”

“Your hands are cold, should i warm them with my testicles?”

i also have a personal hc that he HATES unfamiliar men unless they’re visibly timid/scrawnier than him

so he SEEMS like the jealous type at first, but his absolute disdain over you hanging around other men actually has nothing to do with jealousy he just hates mfs

speaking of: pav isn’t very jealous at his core, he figures anybody who wants to leave him will so he’s not going to embarrass himself by clinging onto someone who doesn’t want him

however, he lovesssss jealous partners, that’s one of his toxic traits

pav loves the possessiveness and passion, being shown that he’s important to you is soso vital to him

he doesn’t actually want to be controlled and chained down, but he likes pretending he does and teasing the idea so you’re sometimes forced to play the crazy s/o when you’re… not lol

goes out of his way to say to his lil bunker buddies “oh yeah, might not wanna read this letter, my love is kinda crazy. kinda out there. a little unhinged, even, they can get super intense.”

and then your letter is just like “hi honey hope you’re sleeping well :) love you lots and keep doing your best!!”

he is VERY affectionate also -- whenever he’s home he’s clinging to you constantly

you’re cooking? he’ll be hugging you from behind

you’re reading? he’ll lay on top of you

he has to go back to work? you should come with! he’ll sneak you in :3 the bremen army will never even notice you’re there!

wants to get married so you can hurry up and move in the family housing, but also doesn’t want to get married in case you’re tied to him for his extreme treason

#pavel yudin x reader #pavel x reader #pav yudin x reader #pav x reader #fear and hunger x reader

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your-local-simp-writers · 11 months

Text

A Web of Affection

Word Count: 1000

Warnings: None

Pavitr x GN!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The soft glow of moonlight spilled into your bedroom, casting a gentle radiance over the cozy space. You sat on your bed, heart fluttering with anticipation, as you heard a faint tapping on your window. With a smile, you hurriedly got up and opened it, revealing the familiar figure of Pavitr Prabhakar, your boyfriend.

"Hey there, love," he greeted, his voice filled with warmth and excitement. "Mind if I swing in?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his endearing words, and you stepped back, allowing him to gracefully enter your room. The sight of him, clad in his iconic suit, never failed to make your heart race.

Pavitr removed his mask, revealing his kind eyes and charming smile. "I couldn't resist paying you a visit," he confessed, his voice overflowing with joy. "You always brighten my day, and I wanted to brighten yours too."

A blush crept across your cheeks as you stepped closer to him, relishing in the comfort of his presence. "You're the one who brightens my world," you replied, your voice filled with affection.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush against yours. His touch sent a wave of warmth coursing through your veins. "I've been thinking about something," he admitted, his gaze locked with yours. "Something that makes my heart race whenever I think of it."

Curiosity sparked within you, and you tilted your head, urging him to continue.

A mischievous twinkle lit up Pavitr's eyes as he gently guided you to sit on the edge of your bed. His fingers intertwined with yours, and he took a deep breath, his excitement palpable. "I want to share something special with you," he bubbled, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.

Your heart swelled with anticipation as Pavitr stepped closer, his exuberance infectious. He carefully lifted your hand, bringing it to his lips, and placed a delicate kiss on your knuckles. It was a gesture filled with sweetness and genuine affection.

His gaze locked with yours, and he spoke with a big, heartfelt smile. "I want to give you my very first upside-down kiss, It's like a dream come true!"

A gasp of delight escaped your lips as a rush of happiness coursed through you. You watched in awe as Pavitr positioned himself, hanging upside down from the ceiling of your room, his mask pulled up just enough to reveal his beaming face.

With a playful giggle, he motioned for you to lean in. Your heart raced with excitement as you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a tender, upside-down kiss. It was a moment filled with pure joy, the sweetness of the gesture radiating through every touch.

As you parted, Pavitr lowered himself gracefully to the ground, his eyes shining with adoration. "That was incredible!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with wonder. "You make everything feel like magic!"

You couldn't help but giggle, your cheeks flushed with happiness. "You're the magic in my life," you whispered, your voice filled with love.

He closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you in a warm, affectionate embrace. Your head rested against his chest as you listened to the sound of his excited heartbeat, finding solace in his presence.

Together, you sat on the edge of your bed, basking in the glow of your love. Pavitr's infectious enthusiasm and big, sweetheart filled the room with warmth. Laughter and joyful whispers filled the air as you shared tender moments and dreams for the future.

And as the night drew on, you knew that this moment, this upside-down kiss shared between you, marked the beginning of a love story filled with extraordinary adventures and a web of unwavering affection. It was a memory that would forever be etched in your hearts, a symbol of the love and connection you shared as you swung through life together, side by side, with a love that was as cute and bubbly as your beloved.

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 year

Note

Hello Star!! I saw that your requests were open and I was wondering if you will okay to write a Bradley x reader with the prompt; “please talk to me. i need to know you’re alright.” Thank you so much bby<333

A/N: Pav! Thanks for this amazing ask! You're so lovely and this prompt was dynamite. It was supposed to be a drabble and 2.7K words later, here we are! I hope you love it as much as I love you and this request! More under the cut!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Most people mention their first boyfriend or girlfriend when they talk about falling in love for the first time. You always had a different answer. You fell in love before you even knew what romantic love was. You were nine years old when your parents moved your family across the country to San Diego. As expected of a precocious nine-year-old, you were less than enthused at the thought of leaving everything and everyone you knew what felt like a million miles away. And you’d shown that frustration by causing a fuss through every moment of the moving process, from packing your things to the long flight to San Diego. Your mom had finally had enough of you underfoot when the moving van showed up with boxes of your belongings in front of your new house.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you take your stuffed bear and play outside.” Though she was smiling, you knew the difference between a request and an order, and this was definitely an order. There was a small backyard fenced off behind your house full of long blades of overgrown grass. Curious, you took your bear, named Pooh Bear long ago, after your favorite childhood cartoon, on an exploratory adventure. After hours in a cramped, stuffy plane, the fragrant sun-warmed grass felt like heaven. The backyard was so overgrown that you had soon fashioned yourself and Mr. Pooh, your erstwhile associate, as explorers making your way through an unknown jungle. In the back corner of the yard was a large, beautiful old tree. Throughout your explorations, you soon found yourself babbling away at Pooh and settling down in the shadow of that beautiful tree. You’d talked yourself out and were waiting for the noise of the movers to fade so you could finally beg your mom for a snack when a plane landed in your lap.

“Hello? Hello!” A reedy voice had called over the fence to you. “Is there anybody there?”

“Yes! Are you missing a plane by any chance?” You shouted back.

“I am! I’m in house number 15!” The voice yelled back at you. “Can we meet in the front yard so I can get my plane back?”

“I just have to tell my mom where I’m going, and I’ll meet you right there!” You’d yelled back, excited. A friend! Hopefully, this boy would want to be your friend.

Plane and Pooh Bear in tow, you excitedly scurry back into the house.

“Mom! Mom!” You’re practically shrieking in your excitement.

“What?! What is it, sweetheart?” Your mother had sounded harried, her hair sticking to her forehead in the heat of an early San Diego summer.

“A boy from next door lost his toy plane over the fence! Can I go give it back to him?” You’d wheedled, your voice pleading as you had tried your best to look as innocent as possible. “I promise we’ll be in the front yard and only in the front yard. He said he lived in number 15!”

“Alright, sweetheart. You can go to return the plane. But if you hear me calling for you, you’d better come right back. Ok?” She held your eyes until you’d nodded eagerly, your glasses sliding down your nose with each jolt of your head. Permission gained, you’d rushed out the front door, pausing perfunctorily to shove your feet into a pair of flip-flops, dodging the movers as you’d rushed helter-skelter out of the house. Pooh Bear and plane in hand, you’d skipped out to the sidewalk in front of your house. To your left, the house was obscured by the moving truck in your driveway. The house to the right, however, was labeled number 15. You knew you’d got the right house when the screen door slapped open, and a gangly tow-headed boy strides out. This must be the boy who'd lost the plane. He’s tall with dirty blonde hair and big brown eyes.

“Hi!” You introduce yourself and Mr. Pooh Bear. “I’m nine years old and just moved in next door. Here’s your plane!” You’d been grinning widely, the gaps in your teeth on full display as you peered up at the boy, carefully cradling the plane in his hands.

“I’m Bradley, Bradley Bradshaw.” He’d finally responded. “I’m eleven.”

“So you like planes?”

“Yeah,” He’d finally smiled back at you. “I love them. My dad was in the Navy. He died when I was two years old. He used to fly in one of these every day. My Uncle Mav gave me this toy. Thanks for bringing it back.”

“Can you tell me more about it?” You’d asked carefully.

That had been the beginning of a beautiful friendship with Bradley Bradshaw. He’d been your best friend since that summer day when you were nine and he was eleven. Most of your childhood had been spent running into and out of your houses. Both of your mothers had oft joked that they’d be in-laws as soon as you grew up, as close as you were.

You’d been sixteen, and he’d been eighteen when you’d realized your feelings for Bradley were more than friendly. That summer had been the most taxing on both of you. His mom, Carole, had been increasingly sick, and he hadn’t known how to deal with the possibility of losing her. You’d spent many an afternoon sitting under the tree in your backyard, holding your best friend as he’d sobbed, still gangly but grown into his height. You’d been his support, standing at the cemetery later on that summer, propping him up as he’d laid the only family he had left to rest. You'd been the only person he'd told about Mav pulling his papers to the Naval Academy. You were the only person he’d said goodbye to a few weeks later when he decided to leave everything he'd ever known, including you.

You were roused from your sleep by pebbles clattering against your window. In the early morning light, you’d cracked open your blinds to see Bradley’s window open across from yours. You’d heaved the blinds open and scribbled on a notebook, “I’ll meet you downstairs!”. You’d snuck downstairs and met Bradley on your front lawn at his nod.

“Hey, Bradshaw. What’s going on?” You’d felt exceedingly ugly in your duck-printed pajamas, especially as Bradley was fully dressed.

“I’m leaving.”

“What?!”

“I enlisted in the Navy yesterday. I’m driving to Pensacola for my basic training, leaving right now.”

"Is this because of Mav? When he pulled your papers?" You'd been in shock, processing the news.

"Yeah. I'm still angry, but I found another way to fly for the Navy. And this time, I will prove that I can do it." You'd seen the anger in his eyes.

When your eyes had teared up at the thought of losing him, he’d crushed you to his chest.

“I know, Sweetheart.” He’d murmured. “I know. I’m going to miss you too.” His eyes are soft and sad in the dimness of the morning light. “I couldn’t leave without telling my best girl goodbye.”

“Bradley!” You’d sobbed in earnest, feeling your heart break for real. “I don’t want you to go!”

“I don’t want to go either. But I have to!” He’d tried so hard to convince you. “It’s the only chance I have to achieve my dreams.”

“But I love you, Bradley!” You’d finally had enough, letting the words slip off your tongue in your grief. “Please don’t go.”

He’d cried before kissing you clumsily. “I love you too, Sweetheart. I wish I’d told you how much before now. I have to go to Florida, but I want you to promise you’ll call.”

And call you had, every night for all the years he’d been in the Navy, continuing until he’d been back in San Diego at Top Gun. That was when you’d finally taken your relationship to the next level and then gotten married a year later, just like Carole and your Mom had hoped over a decade earlier.

Being a Navy wife was the hardest thing you thought your relationship would ever have to overcome. The constant worry for him and the length of his deployments stressed your relationship more than you’d ever seen. Or so you thought. This new mission Bradley had been pulled into as part of a special detachment scared you witless. It scared him too. You’d known him for two decades; the only time you’d seen him this frightened was before Carole died. Add to that the stress of having Maverick in his life again, and you didn’t know when you’d get your happy, sweet, golden retriever of a husband back again.

Three short weeks later, after everything had gone down, you got the bare bones of the mission details from Maverick and knew the healing process for Bradley would not be easy after what he’d been through. At first, Bradley had seemed lighter, more like the boy you’d first fallen in love with. He was reconnecting with his Uncle Mav. His physical wounds had healed in no time at all. And then the nightmares set in. Nearly every night, he’d woken you screaming for Maverick, sweating profusely, shivering, and shaking. On occasion, you’d even woken to hear him retching in the bathroom. No matter what you did, he wouldn’t open up to you. So you’d resolved to keep an eye on him. That’s why you found yourself at the Hard Deck one night with the rest of the newly named permanent Dagger Squadron.

Bradley was his usual cheery self, outwardly, at least. But you knew him well enough to see the differences. He'd joked and bantered, drinking and trash-talking as he played pool. But when the spotlight shone on others, you could see the shadows in his eyes.

“Hey, Missus Bradshaw!” Phoenix is grinning. You smile back at your husband’s closest friend in the Navy.

“Hey, Phe.”

“C’mere.” She tugs you to a less crowded corner where Bob sits. She gestures between them. “We’ve been meaning to talk to you. There’s something up with Rooster. He’s not himself, not since we got back. He’s quieter, and though Bagman seems to make him just as loud as he used to be, he hasn’t roused the bar into song since we returned. The piano’s gathering dust over there. Mav’s noticed, and so has Penny. We’re all getting worried about him. But he won’t talk to us. Maybe you can use your feminine wiles to get him to cough up what’s bothering him?”

They’re both gazing expectantly at you, Bob as always following Phoenix’s lead.

“I’ll see what I can do, Phe. But he doesn’t talk to me either.” You shrug, letting your worry bow your shoulders. “Do you know where he went?”

“I saw him head out onto the beach.” It’s sweet Bob who speaks. You grin in thanks, pressing a kiss to his cheek, adjusting his glasses, then your own, and leave your drink with Phoenix before heading out to find your husband.

It’s a beautiful summer night in San Diego. The balmy ocean breeze brushes your hair from your face as you pull your sandals off and walk barefoot through the sand. Bradley’s starfished out in the sand, a little ways off. He’s humming tunelessly under his breath, and you can’t help but smile when he breaks into the chorus, “Goodness Gracious, Great Balls of Fire!”

“Hiya, Handsome,” you murmur tenderly, sitting on the still-warm sand near his head. “This isn’t where I expected to find you.”

He laughs, eyes blearily focused on your face, tone nearly hysterical as he cackles joylessly.

“You nearly didn’t find me here at all, Sweetheart.” His voice is rough. “In another world, if it weren’t for Mav, you’d be a widow with a Military flag in our house.”

“B …” Your chest aches at his words. “I know, baby. Mav told me.”

He sits up carelessly, tugging you under his arm.

“Please talk to me. I need to know you’re alright.” You place your hand over his heart, resting your head against his broad shoulder. “I’m worried sick. You’re not eating. You’re not sleeping. You’re a shadow of yourself. And I don’t know how to help you.” You’re sniffling now, breathing in his cologne as you sit cradled in his arms. “Please, please talk to me, Bradley.”

For a long time, all you can hear is the rush of the ocean and the faint roar of the patrons at the Hard Deck. Bradley’s a line of heat against your side as you sit in the sand.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know how to find the words.” His voice is harsh, throat working furiously as you look at him. “In the middle of that mission, with missiles flying through the air and me as their target, I thought I’d never see you again. I wanted nothing more than to see, hold, and tell you I loved you again.”

Tears are dripping down his face, mirroring the tears leaving your eyes.

“And then I got shot down. And I knew I’d never see you again. Never see our babies be born or teach them everything they need to know. And the worst of it all, I made my peace with that. I asked Jake, Bagman, to take care of you after I was chosen before we launched. He’s exactly the kind of man you’d be happy with if not me.” He’s breathing roughly, on the edge of a panic attack, eyes staring unfocused out over the water. “And then Mav pulled his pilot shit, and I don’t know how to live anymore. I feel like Bradley Bradshaw was left in the snow that day.”

“Bradley, baby. I wouldn’t want to go through this life with anyone but you!” Your voice is thin, reedy, “I love you. And,” Your voice is wry as you continue, “while I’m sure Jake Seresin is a consummate gentleman, I think Phe would have a problem with me spending the rest of my life with him.”

You both chuckle, somewhat hysterically, sitting in the sand.

“So, where do we go from here?" He's quiet as you both sit, staring out at the waves.

"We live, Lieutenant Bradshaw." His mustache quirks at your use of his title. "We live our life together, as we promised in our vows. You're going to get the name of the therapist Mav's been seeing and make an appointment to talk to them."

"And," You murmur as Bradley rises to his feet, drawing you up with him, "you need to kiss me. Now. Kiss me like you wanted to when you weren't sure you would ever see me again."

He's smiling now, like he was at eighteen when he'd kissed you goodbye and like he has every time he'd kissed you since. His mouth against yours is gentle, his mustache brushing softly against your upper lip as you stretch to meet him. His arms wrap around your waist as the kiss deepens. You can finally feel him relax in your arms. This is where his healing begins.

You can't help the grin on your face and voice as you walk back to the Hard Deck, looking at your husband.

"And anyhow, Mr. Bradshaw, you'll kiss me a lot in the coming months."

"Why's that?"

"You're telling me you won't kiss your pregnant wife as she grows your only child?" You're pouting at first, but that transitions to giggles as he comes to a complete stop on the wooden planks that lead from the Hard Deck to the beach.

"You're pregnant?" His voice cracks, wonder in his eyes.

"Yeah. I've been drinking soda with Bob all night. I'm about 12 weeks along. Baby Bradshaw was conceived when I met you in Hawai'i for our anniversary when you were temporarily stationed there."

You're swept into his arms again and kissed until your lips ache with the force of it. He drops you gently back onto your feet before flinging the glass doors leading into the Hard Deck open with a crash. It's late, and only a few stragglers, the Dagger Squad, Mav, and Penny, are left inside. His dramatic attention brings everyone’s eyes to the two of you.

“WE’RE HAVING A BABY!” He roars, all the pain and fears finally off his shoulders now that he’s spoken to you. Now that he’s shared his fears with you. The bar comes back to life in barely a second. The Dagger Squad, save Phoenix, Bob, and Penny, congregates around Bradley while the other three congregate around you. You’re soon squished tight in congratulatory hugs by everyone. You grin when Bradley Bradshaw finally sits at the piano, serenading your heart home. Healing will be challenging, but not so long as your husband tells you he loves you.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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