#pav x reader

[dadsbongos]

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.

[vrisrezis]

HIHI!! i was wondering if you could do pavitr finding out that reader has a crush on him because how shy they get around him?

Pavitr is naturally observant of people.

Which scared you a little, honestly. And it wasn’t wrong of you to! You’ve had a crush on pav for … literally ever! You didn’t want to give yourself away or anything!

But things never go your way, as you can imagine.

Pavitr was interested in you as well, don’t get him wrong. But he actually never came to the conclusion you returned the feelings, because he’s only seen you interact with him, rather than other people. As far as he’s concerned you’re naturally shy, easy to fluster and embarrass in general, it has nothing to do with romantic feelings because you’ve always been like that.

But one day, you had the honor of meeting pavitrs friends. Gwen, miles, even hobie (who you’ve heard oh so much about). Everyone is aware how cool hobie is, but even you seemed so casual around him. Both him and his friends are visibly surprised by how chill you seem, how sociable you are.

And only then does pavitr realize, holy crap, you’re shy around him specifically because you like him.

He definitely does a little victory dance about it, which his friends choose to ignore in favor of getting to know you, as they’ve only heard the best things about you. Although they’re admittedly more curious about you since clearly some information about you that Pavitr relayed was incorrect.

Pavitr doesn’t do anything about this newfound information, quite yet. He decides he’ll wait it out. He’d like to settle your relationship privately and not in front of his friends. For your sake, rather than his.

[lehguru]

HOW THEY KISS + SPIDERVERSE

characters: miguel o'hara, miles morales, hobie brown, gwen stacy, pavitr prabhakar, spider-noir

info: not proofread, this is my first spiderverse piece be gentle with me

miguel o'hara prefers to kiss you in private. whenever you two are in public, the maximum amount of affection he will give you is a soft hand squeeze and a forehead or cheek kiss. even if he's not against makeout sessions, his prefered type of kiss behind closed doors is a long soft kiss, with his hands holding your face and one of his thumbs softly grazing your cheekbone. when he pulls away, you can almost see hearts on his red eyes and they are so soft while looking at you, you feel like melting on his grasp.

miles morales' kisses are always fun and light. we all know the spiderman upside down kiss scene, right? that would happen all the time between you and miles. he often just shows up at your window, hanging from somewhere, and says 'just wanted to see ya' beforekissing you softly and going away. even with him doing that often, his favorite kiss is the ones you give him as a hi and a bye; for some reason it always makes him feel at home, as if he could go to you if everything and everyone was against him.

hobie brown makes his life mission to have his kisses be as surprising as possible. you can never see his kisses coming and he loves it. he comes up behind you and hugs you, kissing the crown of your head. he also often holds your hand, makes you do a little spin and kisses your knuckles, looking at you with his grin. it's rare for him to kiss you on the lips, mostly because he prefers other types of affection.

gwen stacy always kisses you softly and quickly. her kisses give the vibes of a first kiss with someone you like. butterflies fly wildly in her stomach and she presses a quick kiss against your lips, then she looks away with a wide smile. if you make her look at you again, so you can kiss her more, she won't be opposed to it. always make sure to leave a lip gloss stain on your cheek and would adore if you left one on her cheek too.

pavitr prabhakar kisses you so dramatically, it makes you laugh every single time it happens. when he sees you, he gives a big sigh, covers his eyes and compliments your entire self. when he hears your soft giggles, he approaches you and hold your face with both of his hands. he looks into your eyes and then, finally, kisses you. after pulling away, he presses a soft kiss on the tip of your nose and your forehead, smiling lovingly at you.

spider-noir kisses you as if you two are the main couple of a movie. all of his kisses are so passionate and so full of his love for you, they always leave you breathless and yearning for him. unfortunately, as mysteriously as he walked into your life, he always kisses you, murmurs how much he loves and cherishes you and leap into the night, leaving you alone with your own thoughts and emotions.

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

[miloswebs]

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)

[mara-xx217]

If requests are open, can i pav being all over about the reader. And sorta seeks an ✨️opportunity✨️ to "get to know each other." I'm starving for this guy. idk why

Warnings: Some Non-con Kissing, Groping, Teasing

Cornered in the street, you didn't know what the Bremen soldier wanted from you. Well... Maybe that wasn't completely accurate. He had catcalled you, Marina and Abella, and you had bitten right back at him, fueled by your friend's confidence. Even without them at your side, you found yourself talking back, sweating as he fingered at his gun but coming to the conclusion that he was all bark and no bite, as he had always shrugged and brushed you off when you called him a pig and a coward.

Until now, when he had decided that he was done merely chasing your skirt and now wanted to actually feel it.

"H-Hey-?! What the hell do you think you're-?! M-Mmpfh-?!"

Your eyes go wide as you were kissed against your will, ass grabbed and shoulder shoved so that your back was flush against a wall, a knee shoved into the thin space between your thighs so you couldn't merely wiggle out of the Bremen soldier's hold.

"Mmm...~ I love it when girlies put up a fight~" His accent was strange and gave you pause for a moment, but your concentration was broken as your ass was pinched hard.

"Owgh-! D-Damn it, you bastard-!" You growled and tried to bite him as he feigned a kiss but he merely laughed as you looked up at him with tears in your eyes and a dark flush on your face.

"So cute... Just like a little kitten! Maybe I'll take you home with me..." He licked his lips as he looked you up and down. You hesitated, flustered as he grinded his knee into your groin. You had to look away, your stomach churning as you bit your lip to prevent any shameful noise from escaping from your mouth. He was pleased by your reaction, yet-

"Go on. Go on, little kit. Run off. I have some business to attend to yet... Though I most certainly will be back for you...~"

He grabbed you by the collar and shoved you away from him, stuffing his hands in his pockets as you tried to regain your balance. W-What...? Just like that? He was letting you go, though not without looking at you one last time like a starving dog that was licking its lips.

"Better go before I change my mind, little girl."

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @cherrysodalite, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather @horny-3

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

May I say just Tyler pulling you close to him while you’re staying safe from a tornado hmmm

A lil protective moment with him is all I want 🫠🫠. Ask and you shall receive, my dear.

Pairing; Tyler Owen’s x reader

Word count; 1.2k (I got carried away just a little)

cw; tornadoes, rodeos, idk what else? FLUFFF AND a sprinkle of angst.

“Is this how they do it in Texas too?”

You looked up at the man beside you, his green eyes stilled on you. You were focusing on the rodeo he’d brought you to, men out on horses and bulls, taming the wild animals, riding their fears.

You looked back Tyler, he was still focused on you and not on the game. Heat rose to your cheeks, turning them into a red mess as you rubbed your hands nervously on the fat of your thighs. It was too hot to wear anything but jean shorts and a tank.

“Pretty much, not different from how they originally used to do back in the early days actually. But Texans have their pride.” You didn’t really have the accent to be taken as someone from Houston, but the badges- fabric patches with Velcro- you wore on your jeans at all times were evident enough of how proud you were to be from Texas.

The man chuckled, his eyes getting just a little smaller as crinkles formed around them, his cheeks lifting forming into a beautiful smile on his lips.

“Well ain’t that the right way to do it”

You both laughed, turning back to the rodeo. You tried to get a little bit comfortable in your seat, adjusting yourself before deciding to just sit a little bit straighter. Your hands reach for the arm rests, expecting the cold metal to make contact, but it never happens, instead your met with a warm, calloused palm of Tyler’s. He’s a little surprised at first, you both are, he slowly gathers the courage and weaves his hand through yours, helping you adjust.

You keep a hold of his hand, looking at him wide eyed and he’d say you look like a deer caught in headlights but that won’t do the justice to how beautiful your eyes look right now. The way sweat glistened on your body, your lips parted and slightly heavy breath of yours that fans his face. You’re mere inches away but it feels too far to him. He needs to feel you, feel those lips on his, caress your soft skin under his rough hands an-

A loud siren buzzes through the arena snapping the two of you out of it. A tornado siren. You felt the continuous buzz of the alert through your jeans, looking back at Tyler with the same look in your eyes.

We gotta get out of here.

And so, in a very calm yet hasty manner, you and Tyler take off. Calmly brushing past the crowd and scared civilians to get to his truck. It might not be enough to stay in there but you may have enough time to get somewhere safe.

Think think think, where is safe? And suddenly it hits you.

Your hands are still attached, his hand squeezing yours a little too tight when he feels like you might get swallowed by the rushing crowd.

“I got it!”

You finally get to his truck, quickly getting in and driving.

Tyler is scared, but the way a smile forms at your lips, he almost forgets you’re in the middle of fucking life and death.

“You got somewhere close?”

You nod, giving him the directions as he hits the gas on full. It’s an old bunker you found literally yesterday when you came out to explore the town. Trying to figure out places that could be safe for the people to evacuate to. It is small, enough to fit around two or three people and you hope it’s not jammed up for the two of you to seek shelter.

The tornado is not far behind. Gaining speed and strength as it chases the two of you. You’re not ready, this was not in the plan and you’re certain that today is not the day you’ll die. Not when you’ve just stared to get to know him.

Tyler strategically positions his car, activating the drills as the two of you exit, running towards the patch of metal in the middle of the farm field.

He gets to it first, letting go of your hand mid sprint to open it up for you. Letting you climb down before getting in, the metal trap door a little too heavy with the winds and rain for him to completely shut it. So he leaves it open, letting the cold rain pour down into the bullet as he reaches for you.

You’re holding onto the pipelines, not having it in you to move further because of the wind. You feel his hand on your waist, holding onto you for dear life as your grip on the pipes tightens. One hand holding onto you and the other onto the pipe right above you, Tyler grounds himself on the floor. His feet turned soon as he tried not to move. Your hand comes up to where his rests on your waist, clutching it tighter before he pulls you even closer, chest to back.

You can feel his heart pounding, like your own, against your back. You’re both heaving. Your heavy breathes turning into calmer ones as your eyes closed, trying to breathe in his scent, feeling the way his arm feels around you. Thinking about anything but the giant tornado above your head. The smell of him engulfs you and you find yourself thinking and wanting to feel is him, him, him, him.

It’s enough. The sheer skin to skin contact, the smell of your hair right under his nose, the feel of his hot breath on your neck. It sends shivers down both of your spines and in no time the sky clears and the wind and rain passes over. The tornado moved or completely died, you’re not sure.

But you’re sure about the man that is still latched to you. Holding onto for dear life. The way he’s nuzzling his nose into your hair, his lips brushing against your scalp and leaving tiny kisses you can barely make out.

“It’s gone” your voice is nothing but a whisper. You turn in his arms, his hand still attached to your waist as you look up at him through wet lashes.

He has this wild look in his eyes, concern, fear, and love all moulded into one. You feel them dart to your lips, and back to your eyes before his other hand comes up to brush some hair from your face.

“Thank you for that” he whispers, “if you hadn’t known about this place, I’d probably be dead”

You give him a smile, squeezing his arm before snaking your way out of his grasp.he reluctantly lets go of you, wanting to keep contact with your soft skin and that close proximity that kept you warm. But he lets you go, you’re shaken, just a little bit. This wasn’t your first tornado, but god it felt like you both were about to die there.

He helps you get back up, climbing up the ladder just behind you.

The walk back to the truck is quiet, you’re only half an arm length away from him but it feels too far.

He opened the door to the passenger seat, letting you in before getting into the drivers seat himself. Letting out a long breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in before deciding to break the silence.

“So, you know anymore rodeos that end like that?”

A/n; The ending feels rushed, idk? I hope you liked it!! Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated, lovies🫶🏻🫶🏻.

[starlightkun]

❧ teaser word count: 973 | full fic: 26.0k ❧ genre: angst, fluff, paranormal/supernatural au, ghost!jisung ❧ warnings: mentions of death, prominent side character dies early in the fic, depictions of grieving, family member of the reader is sick (it’s dementia-like, though the disease is never named in the fic), family tension/drama (reader has some family members that are not very nice to her), reader has some sleep/physical health issues at one point, reader is just really going through it in this fic for a while ❧ extra info: the reader’s mom in this has early-onset memory issues; i didn’t name a specific disease because im not a medical expert of any kind and didn’t want to misrepresent any real-life illness in this fic. i combined both my own experiences with my own family members who have had these kinds of illnesses and some research, but i am not an expert and the representation in this fic may not be entirely accurate! ❧ estimated release date: saturday, august 24, 2024 3:00 p.m. eastern time

Crying at a wake was normal. Encouraged even. But you weren’t amongst loved ones, remembering someone you’d lost. You were alone, sitting at the top of the stairs in the dark, crying into your arms to muffle your sobs as you tried to compose yourself from the confrontation you’d just survived. Barely. Your hands were balled into fists to keep them from shaking.

“Are you okay?” A quiet voice caught your attention, gentle, then hushed as he seemed to be speaking to himself, “Why are you asking that? Stupid, stupid.”

You picked your head up out of your arms, quickly wiping the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks as you spotted a young man at the bottom of the stairs. He had dark hair and was dressed in a pair of black pants, a white shirt, and what looked like a black cardigan over the shirt. You didn’t recognize him from the wake, but you hadn’t greeted everyone, nor did you know all the mourners personally. Many were either family friends of your stepdad’s from before he met your mother, old colleagues, or distant relations.

Sniffling and trying to right your clothes, you offered him as much of a smile you could muster, “I’m sorry, it’s uhm, been a long day.”

He froze, his eyes locking on yours and going wide. The man looked behind him, as if expecting you to have been addressing somebody else, and upon seeing an empty hallway, he turned back to you and hesitantly replied, “That’s… okay. Are you alright?”

“Oh, as alright as I can be, I suppose,” you admitted, dabbing at your eyes with your sleeve again. You weren’t sure why you were telling this random man that, but he had spotted you sobbing at a wake, so there wasn’t much of a point in covering that fact up. “Were you looking for the bathroom or…?”

“No, just stretching my legs.” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his cardigan. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” You nodded. “I don’t think I saw you at the funeral. How did you know my stepdad? Family friend?”

“Yeah, I was around when his kids were growing up.”

“Oh, are you a childhood friend of his sons or something?”

“Friend is a stretch, I think,” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly as well, adding a polite but hollow, “I’m sure they appreciate you coming out to pay your respects.”

As he shifted on his feet, the shadows on his face lessened, letting you see his features better. You furrowed your brow with interest.

“How old are you? I mean—You don’t look older than me, you must’ve been much younger than them growing up.”

“I-I mean, we weren’t very close,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Feeling bad about putting him on the spot in this sort of scenario, you offered him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that. I didn’t grow up with my stepbrothers, so I guess it’s a bit hard for me to imagine them having friends—Oh!”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you slapped a hand over it, wishing you hadn’t said them, especially not to some stranger, who for all you know could turn right around and repeat it to your stepbrothers. That would be the last thing you needed, to give them another reason to hate you, and by extension, your mother.

“That didn’t come out right!” You desperately tried to backpedal, holding your hands out in front of you. “I-I meant that I haven’t met a lot of their friends, since our parents got together later in life, and—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassured you calmly, taking a couple hesitant steps up the stairs. You scooted over to make room for him to sit next to you on the top step. He pressed himself against the banister, leaving plenty of space between you two. “I didn’t mean to, but I heard some of what they said to you in the kitchen.”

“I would normally be upset at you for eavesdropping, but I’m kind of glad that somebody else heard some of the shit they said to me this time,” you chuckled cynically.

“‘This time?’” He repeated questioningly. “Are they always like that to you?”

“I don’t see them that often. I think the first time I met the middle son was at the wedding, actually,” you said. “They started spending more holidays with their mom instead of Hyukjun when my mom… after her diagnosis.”

“Oh.”

“God, sorry, you don’t need to be hearing all this shit.” You shook your head at yourself. “I mean, I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Jisung.”

“Y/N.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s true. You and your mom are his family, too.”

You messed with the sleeves of your shirt as you stared at the bottom step, gnawing on your bottom lip, ignoring the metallic taste of blood when you broke skin. Finally, once you’d swallowed down the lump in your throat, you replied with a tight, “Thanks. And I mean, I understand why they would be upset. Their dad just died and two people who are essentially strangers to them are now living in their childhood home. Of course they feel weird about it.”

“That’s... gracious.”

“It’s true. And like I said, their dad died, they deserve some grace.” From elsewhere in the house, you could hear your mom calling your name, and immediately jumped to your feet. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.”

“I understand.” Jisung nodded to you. “It was nice talking to you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you too. Thanks for listening, Jisung.” You waved to him over your shoulder as you rushed down the stairs and off in the direction of your mother’s voice.

⤷ masterlist

[beansap]

this is INJUSTICE

[paperwayne]

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.”

[captain-lessship]

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.” 

[dadsbongos]

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

[kurakuradon]

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

[lefarte]

How would they take care of a sick friend?

Characters: Levi, Olivia, Daan, Pav

Some of these could be read as platonic

A/N: This is… entirely self indulgent because I myself am sick….😭 but also hey hii hello. This was very comforting for me. No one requested it, but I actually wrote this a long time ago in my notepad app before I even made this blog. I learned a lot about writing in this time so I’m sorry if the quality is a bit worse.

TWS: sickness (obviously)

Levi

Levi has been through this before. He’s been sick more times in his life than he’s been healthy at this point. He knows what to do. He talks you through it slowly and precisely, he holds you hair back when you throw up, he changes your blankets when they get covered in sweat… he would never make you feel gross or ashamed, no matter how bad it gets.

That said, his personality isn’t going to completely flip on itself just because you’re sick. He wants to help you, but he is naturally timid. It might be awkward for a while. He struggles to carry a conversation at the best of times. Much less when you are in so much pain…

And depending on how feverish you are, it might be scary to fall in and out of sleep and see him staring at you from across the room with his big ass eyes. (It’s not his fault, he’s just worried.)

I also imagine he’s the type of guy who gets sick when he sees other people sick. So he’ll be holding back his own nausea for until you’re asleep, or until you’re back on your feet. Until then he would be on high alert, even more vigilant than usual. If an enemy made it inside while you were vulnerable, he would never forgive himself. So he’d pull out all the stops, barricading the doors, covering the windows… (even if it’s not necessary and you’re in a safe place, like the train.)

Hope you don’t plan on going anywhere once you get up because he’s going to get sick too now 💔

—

Olivia

She’s going to be all over you. Of course she doesn’t want to be overbearing, but she really doesn’t want to see her friend in pain! And she can’t wait to impress you with her knowledge of botany. She has something for every symptom, an oil or lotion or extract. If she doesn’t have it, she will track it down!

She really loves the feeling of you depending on her. This is a rare opportunity for her to prove her skills to you, and to herself. And there is no one better to understand your pain than her! She knows the feeling of being trapped in bed rest, antsy and lonely, better than anyone else.

Olivia is determined not to let you feel that way. She cares about you. She wants you to get better! If you refuse her advice or try to pretend like you’re not sick, she will be dejected.

She will try to take you outside to look at the flowers and get some sunshine, and she explains every flower in detail. (She would be happy to do that anyway.) She even brings you little bugs, and if she’s lucky, a frog or a lizard!

Will share her comfort items with you. She has weighted blankets, lots of medicine, and heat pads!

She reads books to you, and her voice is so beautiful you’ll fall asleep.

—

Daan

He lowkey feels guilty for failing to take care of you

After everything he lost, you’re his treasure! He would give you the best bedside care you’ve ever imagined, you’d never want for anything. All the stops, backrubs, cuddles, cleaning your forehead with rags. He would even pull out some tricks from his old butler days and make you some yummy soup.

If you look at him with big sad eyes or god forbid he sees a single tear, he’s whipping out the Sylvian magic. You’d have to beg him not to.

He absolutely would give you kisses, doesn’t care a bit if he gets sick. “Nothing that an ibuprofen and some cigarettes can’t fix, my darling.”

He would straight up give you opium if you asked, there is literally no better partner if you’re easily sick or chronically ill. Your face would be covered in lipstick kisses by the time it’s over.

Immediately after he’s done, he would go back to being a sarcastic and calm guy. Perhaps a little shy?

—

Pav

“Have a beer, sweetheart.”

This is not… the best person to be stuck with in this scenario. Because of his experience in the war, his pain scale is a little screwy, so it would take a lot for him to be concerned.

He still sticks around you though. He’s loyal to a fault with his partner, I truly believe this, he’s protective and affectionate. He would not abandon you at your weakest, no no no no. That’d be cruel.

He holds your hair up when you throw up. He will draw you a bath or or give you cuddles! He’s definitely a bit more accomadating when you’re sick.

Pav doesn’t mind kissing you when you’re sick. He tells you he’s never been sick before, in his life. You’ve certainly never seen like it in front of you, but if he’s lying, it’s totally debateable. It could be that he does get sick, he’s good at hiding it. But knowing that, he’d still give you hundreds of kisses all over.

You have the honor of sharing snacks with him (greedy hoarding bastard). If you’re good.

[kairiscorner]

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

[themastaralex]

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

[mara-xx217]

Fear and hunger, like I don't mind monster (? If crow or guard or poket cat) and all but what about Pav from Termina??? :3. ;33

With Pav x reader if you don't mind, like I hope you don't mind me blabbing and all but I imagine Pav got curious and got the attention from reader but they(or she I don't mind) didn't notice and all , Pav be like Mine and he thought after the festival am gonna make them mine or something like that lmao

I've been thinking about him for a while and I've been liking him more and more. So here's some headcanons for him and a fem!reader as the Festival takes place!

Warnings for general Pav toxic-ness and shitty behavior

Day One - Day Two

Pav isn't sure why you have caught his eye. Maybe you remind him of someone from his past, from the village that the Kaiser had raised so long ago. Maybe you were just cute to him, maybe you looked like a particularly easy target to him-

He's got some serious shit to do. He can't be flirting with every dame that he crosses... though it's not like there are many left in Prehevil, or at least those that aren't hideously deformed or raving mad.

Fuck it. He's a dead man and he knows it. Might as well have fun while he still can.

Pav is the most obnoxious courter and he fucking knows it. What better way to get a lady's attention other than to be the loudest, most flamboyant man on the battlefield?

He's kind of vile... Leering at you, catcalling you, whistling like the wolf he is. You didn't know what you were hearing at first, so you pretended as though you couldn't hear him at all. For all you know, it was one of the mad villagers losing their minds.

Being ignored isn't in Pav's style, so he will directly confront you and anyone else that might be in your presence and Gods forbid if there's a lad with you, because he will be squaring up for a fight.

Get used to being called 'his good girl', because that's exactly what he'll call you. Over and over again. Maybe it makes you blush a little... Or maybe your face is red from annoyance and anger. All of it is good for Pav.

"You're so pretty when you are furious with me, radiant one~"

He will threaten you with his gun, regardless of the fact that he has little intention to kill you. It's an extension of his person, as a solider, as a survivor...

Becomes unbelievably frustrated with the fact that you do not engage him like Abella or Marina does. No shouting, no 'fuck you's', no attention given to him whatsoever. What, do you think you're too good for him?!

Maybe you're right-

He can't stick around for long... He'd like to chase your skirt all damn day but he can't. There's... unfinished business he needs to attend to. He can't afford to fuck it up, even for a pretty little woman such as yourself...

Day Two - Day Three

He... failed...?

Waking up on the train, Pav is... disappointed that he is still alive. The shame of failure burns worse than the wound across his chest. He's nearly forgotten you, your face, your nice, nice ass in your pretty little skirt...

He's... surprised that you were on the train with him.

Pav isn't the cocky bastard that you met earlier in the Festival anymore. He's subdued. Quiet, almost... thoughtful. He avoids your gaze and has an expression equivalent to that of a kicked dog.

"How... do you feel?"

"..."

He rolled over and went back to sleep. Daan might have been the one to initially doctor his wounds but you were the one that continued to keep him alive.

Why? Well...

Pav was rather pathetic in your eyes. He was compensating for something, though what you weren't exactly sure of. He was dangerous and worse he was obnoxious.

But he was still human, and learning that he had attempted to assassinate the Kaiser had shifted the feeling of disgust that you had towards him into something more akin to pity.

Pav won't talk to you much. He's a wounded beast and you and him both know that he's due to die at any moment.

But it doesn't really stop you from making the last hours he has left at least bearable... More so than any of his time in the damn Bremen army has ever been.

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather, @horny-3