It’s no secret that your younger boyfriend Peter Maximoff absolutely reveres you, following his lovely girlfriend around like a lost, overgrown puppy just because he loves you so much. Peter likes noise, he likes being the loudest one in the room, likes being the funniest, the fastest, the most impossible to ignore. It’s easier that way for him, easier to always seem to stay ahead so people never get the chance to look at him too closely and realize he’s just a guy trying very hard to seem effortless.
Then there’s you: you who never rushes, moving through the world with certainty that fascinates him. Papers organized neatly under one arm, sleeves rolled up while grading assignments, calm even when the mansion feels like it’s one bad day away from collapsing in on itself.
You remember important things: where he left his headphones, when he forgets to eat, the fact that he talks faster when he’s nervous and quieter when he’s upset.
Sometimes, Peter feels like a tornado, orbiting someone sturdy enough not to get swept away. And he adores it, dating someone more mature than him feels like standing still for the first time in his life without getting bored.
You steady him without making him feel small for needing it, listening when he rambles too much, even seeing through him when he’s showing off (which is often). It makes him want to impress you anyway, which is how he ends up currently talking too much about a mission that absolutely does not require this much storytelling.
“And then Scott’s yelling, obviously, because apparently ‘don’t touch that’ means I’m actually not supposed to touch that-”
You laugh softly from where you’re sitting beside him on the couch, knees tucked under you. “Hmm, apparently.” you say, feigning initial interest.
Peter points at you like you’re validating years worth of emotional struggle. “Right? So I grab the thing before it explodes-”
“Sooo heroic.” You tell him.
“Extremely heroic, actually.” he says, laughing.
You hum at that, smiling into your mug as you take another sip. And there it is again, that feeling, that awful, fluttery nervousness he gets around you sometimes. Even now, even after months into dating, he still catches himself wanting your approval like it’s sunlight.
That feeling is especially strong when you’re looking at him quietly, like right now. You’re not laughing anymore, just watching him with this soft expression that makes his chest too tight.
“...What?” he asks, suddenly self-conscious.
“Oh, nothing.” you say, pushing it away casually.
“Babe.” he pouts, which makes you set your mug down carefully on the coffee table, turning toward him fully now.
“You know,” you tell him softly, “...you don’t always have to show off for me.”
With how fondly you said it, lacking any bit of exasperation and annoyance, Peter forgets how to breathe normally. Looking down, he rubs the back of his neck with a nervous laugh.
“Yeah, well…” he fakes a cough, gazing away to preserve whatever charm he had left.
“Mm,” you lean a little closer. “I like you when you’re quiet too.”
Peter’s stomach flips embarrassingly hard. He opens his mouth to make a joke, because of course he does, but then you reach out to touch his jaw.
Everything in him short circuits, even when it’s just a thumb brushing against his flushed cheek. But your eyes flick down to his mouth for half a second before returning to his eyes, to which he goes completely still, staring at you with wide, hopeful eyes.
“You’re nervous.” you murmur, almost amused to how already wrecked he looks.
“N-No, I’m not…”
“No?” you say, dragging a finger over the line of his jaw.
“Okaymaybealittle.” he blurts out under his breath, earning him a smile from you that devastates his poor little heart.
You lean in, slower than he’d like but kiss him anyway. This is unlike the stolen kisses in hallways or the breathless ones after missions. Your lips move deliberately, hand sliding into silver locks as you tilt closer, and Peter makes this helpless little sound against your mouth that he’ll absolutely deny later.
Oh God, Peter thinks to himself, you’re initiating. You, his calm, composed girlfriend, kissing him like you’ve thought about it all day. The fact that you actually could’ve made his brain melt instantly.
His hands find your waist on instinct, gripping gently as you climb into his lap without breaking the kiss. Peter's eyes flutter shut, completely overwhelmed by the fact that you’re choosing to take control for once and the fact that he likes it way more than expected.
Peter thinks you know exactly what you’re doing to him when you kiss him deeper and more purposely, running your hands across his shoulders as if to aim for his total ruin.
When you finally pull apart, Peter looks genuinely dazed, lips pink, breathing uneven. It’s the cutest sight you could possibly see, boyfriend dazed like a milk-drunk kitten.
You brush your nose lightly against his. “There,” you whisper. “...You’re all cute when you’re quiet.”
He stares at you for a long moment before blurting: “…I think I'm in love with you.” in a voice both rushed and soft.
You could only laugh before kissing him again anyway.
pairing : peter maximoff x reader info : drabble, domestic fluff word count : 474
the room smelled faintly of acetone and cherry lotion, the kind of scent that clung softly to the air after a lazy afternoon. you sat cross-legged on the couch, brows furrowed in concentration as you carefully applied a coat of pale pink polish to your nails. a record spun quietly in the background, fleetwood mac, something gentle to fill the silence.
peter had been pacing earlier, full of restless energy, but now he stood behind you, oddly still. his head tilted just slightly, eyes following the slow stroke of the brush. he didn’t say anything, didn’t fidget or make a joke, just watched like a curious cat.
“you’re staring,” you said without looking up, voice teasing.
he blinked, caught. “no I’m not.”
“you are.” you capped the bottle shut, smiling faintly. “you’ve been quiet for a whole two minutes, which in your case is equivalent to two whole hours.”
he moved to sit beside you, elbows on his knees. “I just don’t get it,” he admitted finally. “you paint over something that’s already… your nails. they’re fine. why mess with them?”
you arched a brow. “why mess with your hair when you put gel in it? same principle.”
he made a thoughtful noise. “touché.”
you reached for another bottle, bright blue, the same color as his jacket, and twisted it open. “come on, just pick one. I’ll do yours next.”
peter’s eyes widened, and he pointed at himself. “mine? you want me to—no way. no, no, I’m not—”
but you were already holding out your hand expectantly, eyes sparkling. “oh, come on. you’ve done dumber things for fun.”
he hesitated, then grinned. “...yeah, fair point. alright. hit me.”
he stuck out his hand, a little awkwardly, and you gently took it in yours. for once, he didn’t make a joke or try to pull away. he just watched as you carefully brushed a streak of color over his thumbnail.
the blue glistened under the light. you blew on it softly to help it dry, and he found himself watching you this time, the way lashes caught the glow, the little crease of focus between your brows.
“there,” you said finally, holding up his hand with mock pride. “don’t give me that look. It’s kind of stylish... and rebellious.”
he flexed his fingers, pretending to inspect it like a piece of fine art with a pleased smirk plastered on his face. “y’know, I could pull this off.”
“you already are,” you said, smiling. “don’t act surprised.”
peter looked at you, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “you make it sound like I’m actually cool.”
you laughed, leaning back against the couch. “you’ve always been cool. you just needed a punky manicure to prove it.”
and for once, he didn’t argue. he just smiled, letting the blue dry between you like a symbol of connection.
i'm a little scared to ask but would anyone be interest in an evan x reader fic where reader is his old co-star and you reunite during a birthday party in vegas?
i don't know how most of you feel about rpf yet hehe lemme ask first
i nearly got arrested so i will be busier since i'm going to work on paying the person that payed my 1.3k dollar fine. so fic updates will be slow guys, sorry 🙏
hiii so that's crazy because i actually have a fic draft about this !! since he grew up in the 70s he was most likely bullied by classmates that couldn't pronounce his name and found it "weird"
so he chose "peter" as a substitute as most children of immigrants would choose an americanized version of their name
sorry for the late response my dear!! 😞 but oh! UWNDJD that's so fun to see, this fic you writed about this was so good, but i think you already know this bc i commented on there! :]
i commented about this headcanon/but canon indeed, on this post a long while ago!! ✨️✨️
i love thinking headcanons for him all the time, i was looking here and i am since 2024 babbling about peter😭 and nothing changed about that, i'm thankful, i love to see more yapping about his potential 🥹🙏
