Nothing's Gonna Change My World (Pavitr Prabhakar x Reader)

But If I Seem To Act Unkind (it's only me, it's not my mind)

You stand on your fire escape, watching Spider-Man dance across a noontime sky. Every now and then, when the bug bites him, Pavitr likes to bust out the suit and show off for the locals. Today, some children are gathered round a domed building nearby, with your boyfriend (your boyfriend!!) perched at the dome's apex, balanced elegantly on one leg, not unlike a wading bird hunting in a brackish lagoon.

Children of assorted sizes whoop and holler as Spider-Man puts on an impromptu performance atop the glittering dome, flows through an arabesque, a jete, an aerial in place, a handstand on just two fingers. He wheels into a straddle lever, the sunlight striping in thick ribbons across the thick black waves flowing with him atop his head. Your breath hitches as you watch Pavitr's well-toned muscles flex and release, quads tightening, scapula retracting, feet arching. Your eyes are glued to his little show, because in what world would you have expected that you'd get to date this. Not only that, this wants to date you just as much.

A bangle glimmers as it's tossed into the air, becoming a diabolo of sorts that cycles upon a gossamer strand of web, surprisingly strong despite its appearance. Pavitr deftly twists the web into a bridge, does a J-whip, a C-whip, a cat's cradle. Hops, stops, and bounces, everything in between. The gaggle of kids gasp in delight as he launches a second bangle, aces seemingly impossible tricks, impossible for anyone but him. The crowd goes wild as he leaps to catch both bangles on his wrists in the air, and takes a bow with a flourish and wink. And then he's gone, slinking behind the dome of the building.

You need to fan yourself after catching that view. You step back inside to escape the oppressive midday heat, only to be immediately confronted with a sight that nearly gives you heatstroke on the spot: Spider-Man, who is now your boyfriend (dreamy sigh goes here), is standing unmasked in your kitchen, and he's stripping off his suit top. You freeze, rooted to the spot as he flexes his arms in front of him and ahead to cleanly peel off the top. The top rides up along his back, treating you to a reveal of a well-developed, incredibly powerful torso. He's all lats, obliques, traps, deltoids, all the power you'd expect of a gymnast, yet compact and lithe enough to remain nimble and catlike. A fine sheen of sweat clings to a rich expanse of smooth, chestnut toned skin, with only whispers of scars dappled across him thanks to his enhanced healing factor. You can't help but profusely thank whichever past life iteration of you that did whatever it was they needed to do for you to see this today, this is your first time seeing Pavitr shirtless, and damn he doesn't disappoint.

Your boyfriend grabs a sport-top water bottle off the counter (when that got there, you have no idea), upends it to take a huge swig, eyes closed in relief. It's then he notices you, statue-still where you stand, seconds away from spouting a nosebleed. Pavitr's eyes light up in acknowledgement, he spins on his heel to face you, treating you to deliciously sculpted pecs and abs, with a bonus hint of the crest of his hips peeking out of the rest of his suit.

"Enjoying the view, darling?" he slyly asks, his lips pulling off the bottle with a pop.

"I have...a lot of questions for you right now," you stammer, mind still in a blue screen of death. Error 404: sweaty shirtless superhero boyfriend in my house right now. "Like, how did you get in my apartment, and where did that water bottle come from?"

"Bathroom window, and I put it in the fridge before I left," Pavitr answers in order, nonchalantly, as if he were being asked which way to the nearest ATM. "Nobody's paying attention to that side of the building so I can just slide in like it's the DMs."

"...How—and why—in the fuck did you get in and out of my apartment twice without me noticing?" you demand, exasperated and still processing how confusing, surprising, and glorious this all is.

Pavitr chugs the rest of the bottle, a rivulet of water escapes the corner of his mouth and trails along the cut of his jawline and his neck. He plops the bottle down and wipes it off with the back of his hand.

"I'm Spider-Man, I'm sneaky," he pans. He advances towards you, walks you back against the counter, before caging you in with his toned arms. There's nothing aggressive about it, only a little playful banter, you know you'd have your freedom if you so wanted it in an instant.

"And I thought you might appreciate a little surprise, dove," he purrs, nose only inches from yours now. His locks are extra shiny from the sweat, sepia-toned eyes sparkling with mirth, affection, a hint of...want? You can feel yourself flushing, burning up all over again because what you would have given to be looked at like that sooner.

"Oh it's...appreciated," you say, wetly. You could swear a few beads of sweat are popping up on your own brow.