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daydreaming-en-pointe · 3 months

Text

˗ˏˋ street food date ´ˎ˗

(isn’t that just the most creative title :D)

requested by very a lovely person who wishes to remain anonymous <3

Pairing: Pavitr Prabhakar (Spider-Man India) x Fem!Pakistani!Reader

Type: Oneshot - Fluff

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: terms of endearment, mentions of food & eating, usage of Hindi (translations provided), I don’t speak Urdu so it’s google-translated 😭

A/N: Reader speaks Urdu and Pavi (canonically) speaks Hindi. Since both languages are pretty similar in terms of speaking, at least from what I’ve observed, let’s assume that they can understand each other fairly easily :)

I absolutely LOVED writing this omg it was such a cute request! Sorry it took me so long so do this, I was so busy that I completely forgot abt all my reqs for a while 😅

Btw this was barely proofread so if there are mistakes no there aren’t <3

“Meri jaan, you’re spilling it.��

You turned at the familiar voice, just barely managing to balance a paper plate in your hands with an absurd amount of dahi papadi chaat piled onto it.

“You’re late,” You noted, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling like a lovestruck idiot as Pavitr approached you, flashing that dazzling, slightly crooked grin that had your heart stumbling and falling over your mind trying to make sense of it all. You dropped your gaze to the floor, trying your best to cross your arms without dropping the food on the plate.

“I know. And I’m sorry, I really am. But you know that juggling my… duties and timings are hard,” He dipped his head slightly to make you look at him, brushing a small piece of papdi off your kurta. God, he was so annoying sometimes. His eyes were so soft and irresistible and he knew it.

“Come on, look at me,” He said teasingly, stepping forward slightly and grinning as you glanced up at him, then immediately frowned at your lack of willpower when it came to him. “There she is.”

You felt a smile break through so you set down the paper plate on a nearby ledge, leaning forward to wrap him in a hug and bury your face in his clothes. “Arre, you’re insufferable,” You mumbled, to which he let out a small chuckle and effortlessly picked you up to spin you around despite your little yelp of surprise.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I’m sure that’s why you came out here on a date with me to have street food, right? Let’s go, meri dhoop. No use of you being all sad right now, naa? Look, there’s even pani puri a few stalls down.”

You almost got whiplash from how fast you turned your head to look, your eyes widening in excitement as all previous thoughts were forgotten. “You should’ve mentioned that earlier!”

Pavitr laughed, the easy chuckle - as cliché as it sounded - practically music to your ears as you grabbed his hand and took off, leading him to the pani puri vendor. “I knew that’d cheer you up.”

One shared paper plate of (admittedly quite messy) pani puri and a whole skewer of seekh kebab later, you leaned against a ledge overlooking the Mumbattan bridge right next to a whole row of new vendors. Pavitr wrapped an arm a little too tightly around your shoulders, nervously measuring the distance you would fall if you tripped.

“Pavi, relax, I won’t fall,” You gave him a reassuring smile, and he breathed out slowly before giving you a slightly strained smile in return. “Yeah, sorry. Spider-Man stuff. Lots of, uh… bad things happen. Usually near large drops.”

Your eyes flicked to his hand, gripping the railing so hard his knuckles were starting to lose circulation. Sensing his discomfort, you moved away from the railing back into the middle of the cobblestones.

“I’m going to braid your hair,” You declared suddenly to ease the tension in the air, examining the smooth waves that framed his face, pushed back slightly with his blue headband. His eyes widened in horror at your statement. “Wait, what? No! I said I was sorry for coming late! I’ll do my absolute best to come on time, I promise!”

“I’m not that rough,” You protested, scrunching your eyebrows as he cupped his warm hands over your cheeks. “Of course not, meri jaan. You’re so gentle, my hair definitely doesn’t feel like it’s being sent to an early grave.”

“Aap drama baghair kisi wajah ke bana rahay hain.” (You are making drama for no reason) You frowned at him and he chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“Kabhi nahin! Mei achcha vajeh se drama karta hoon. …Uff, thik hai, tum mere baalon ko tod sakte hain. Lekin… pehle ise kha leh.” (Never! I do drama for good reasons. ..Okay, fine, you can tear my hair out. But first… eat this.)

He held up a plate of vada pav, his smile growing as your eyes lit up again, the familiar scent bringing back memories of sitting in your grandparents’ house and watching them cook, masala-infused aromas wafting through the kitchen from the large utensils.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You wondered aloud as you started stuffing your face with the nostalgic dish. Your tone was lighthearted and playful, but it had a few traces of the underlying truth. You were so, so lucky to have him, and you knew it.

You could see it every time he dramatically presented you with some knickknack or the other that he picked up along the way, handing it to you with a bashful ‘it made me think of you.’ You could see it every time he adjusted your dupatta, every time you caught him staring at you with round, loving, awestruck eyes as if you were the very centre of the cosmos itself.

And when he smiled at everyone it was usually genuine, sure, but you had a special kind of smile reserved for your eyes alone. One that made the small dimples at the corners of his mouth even more noticeable, one that made him scrunch his nose subconsciously with how wide he was smiling.

The kind of smile he was using right now. And oh, good grief, you were so far gone for him. He was so effortlessly gorgeous it actually hurt - wavy hair swept to one side behind his headband, brown eyes turning gold in the sun, the light dappling his face and flicking tiny spots of shadow onto his skin.

“Tum bohat khobsorat ho,” (You’re so beautiful) You whispered, completely spellbound. Pavitr blinked in surprise, his smile turning slightly shy. “Arrey, tum mujhe bahut zyaada phlait karte ho.” (You flatter me too much)

“No, really!” You insisted, tapping the tip of his nose with your pinky and laughing when he scrunched it instinctively. “You’re very pretty, you know that? Mera khobsorat ladka. Pretty, pretty boy.” (My beautiful boy)

“Aap adhik sundar hai.” (You’re more beautiful) Without warning, he gently grabbed your torso and pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair. You looped your arms around to meet behind his shoulder blades, resting your chin in the crook of his neck.

You were scared to move, to disturb the silent peacefulness of it all, but you wanted to tell him something that would hopefully put his worries to rest.

“You know I won’t leave you, right? I won’t be your… what is it, canon event? Whatever that is.”

At the words ‘canon event’, Pavitr flinched as if he had been burned, his eyes wide and searching as he looked at you. “What? Where did that come from? And how-”

“Okay, listen, so it’s kinda my fault,” You began, choosing your words so as to not agitate him any further. “But you know how you said I could read your journal, because basically every embarrassing thing you’ve written is you being lovesick for me?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” He covered his face with his hands in embarrassment, messing up his hair in the process.

“Anyway, uh… you left it open on your drawer and I maybe kind of accidentally looked through the last entry. But only because I was worried. You’d been acting stressed out the whole day, remember? I’m sorry!”

“I don’t… hmm, actually, that’s pretty sweet that you were worried. I appreciate it.” He lifted his head to meet your eyes, almost smiling before his face crumpled again. “Hang on, what else did you see? Oh, god, did you see the whole page of poems I wrote? No, wait, hear me out! In my defence, I was absolutely whipped for you. I still am, but-”

“Pavi?”

“Yeah?”

“Ai, meri mohabbat. Chup ho jao. Mujhe lagta hai ke yeh dilkash hai,” (My love. Shush. I think it’s adorable) You reassured him, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose before moving in to press a soft kiss to his lips, an attempt at putting his worries and ramblings to rest.

That shut him up pretty well.

Please know that I am not Pakistani! I tried my best to write this, but if there is anything I’ve gotten wrong, please let me know and I’ll be happy to change it. <3

Meri jaan - my life

Meri dhoop - My sunshine/my sun

A kurta is a loose, collarless type of shirt worn by people in South Asia. It usually extends up to or just past the knee.

A dupatta is a length of material worn arranged in two folds over the chest and thrown back around the shoulders, typically with a salwar kameez or a kurta, by women from South Asia.

Papdi chaat (or papri chaat) is crispy fried-dough wafers served with typical chaat ingredients such as chickpeas, boiled potatoes, yogurt sauce, and tamarind and coriander chutneys; it may also contain pomegranate seeds. Dahi papdi chaat is the same thing, but more yoghurt is used (dahi means yoghurt/curd).

Pani puri is a popular Indian snack consisting of fried puff-pastry balls filled with spiced mashed potato (the puri), spiced water, and tamarind juice (the pani).

Seekh kebab is a type of kebab made with Indian spices, spiced, minced or ground meat, usually lamb or chicken, formed into cylinders on skewers and grilled.

Tags: @hobiebrownismygod @l0starl @therealloopylupin2099

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