good afternoon lovely moots and oomfs!! ^^ peter gif of today for luckiness, i hope this bless your dash hehe:
sorry for seeming so inactive these days, i'm always appearing and disappearing, specially this last week because it was my last week being on vacation! today i'll make it up for u all by posting a peter maximoff fanfic yay!! (if u want to be tagged just comment down here) 💗 let's be kind and hope life be kind with us too!! <3
Post for the third day in a row. Third and final part of the mini-fic, Liars!
I'm happy to say that, with this, it's finished! And I hope those who have read it have enjoyed it!
Enjoy the last part!
(Part 1 and Part 2 here for those who haven't read it)
Pairing: Peter Maximoff×Reader×Logan Howlett
Warning: ANGST, unrequired love, emotional hurt, comfort (sometimes), Peter and his bad timing.
AN: I've given up on whether or not it's okay to include Logan here. This is supposed to be a love triangle with two main characters, but it's still a triangle... XD
ㅤㅤㅤ“Liars ”
Extended ver.—Final Part
“I… I should go…” he said before you could keep talking. This hadn't been the right time or the right way; he had rushed it and made the biggest mistake. Now he just wanted to follow his instincts. Run. Flee. Escape. “You can forget everything I said. I’m sorry.”
For once, he wasn't fast enough. He turned to leave, but your fingers wrapping around his wrist stopped him after only two steps. He didn't have to turn around to look at you; he was sure you were looking at him with those eyes that begged him to stay.
Both of you were terrified of losing each other, and that was exactly what the lack of words was saying at that moment.
With your nerves raw, you both went back to the bed, taking a seat on the mattress. You looked at the abandoned plushie on the floor, now damp from falling into the spilled water; Peter was staring at the ceiling, the tip of his foot bouncing up and down, over and over, restless and anxious.
The room grew darker. A cloud must have covered the moon outside, leaving you hidden in the shadows.
“… You should be mad.”
“I am… but I’m also used to being mad at you.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” The atmosphere lightened slightly, and for a fleeting moment, it was as if everything was fine. As if you weren't processing a rejection, and as if he hadn't revealed his feelings at the absolute worst possible time. “… Earlier, you said he already knew… What did you mean by that?”
“Well… that he already knew about my feelings.” Peter moved his head in a weak nod, tightening his grip on the bedsheets. He chose to bite his tongue and let you speak. “At least he was honest… and he told me I could count on him for whatever. Nothing changes between us.”
“Oh...”
“Yeah, oh…” In your lap, your hands began to move, twiddling your thumbs as you tried to find the right words. Could you, right now, reject Peter? Would you pretend nothing had happened? Or, perhaps…?
“I’m no Jean, and I’m definitely not the Professor, but I think I can read your mind.”
“What?”
“You can just tell me you don’t like me.” Your shoulders tensed, and for a second, something bitter welled up in your throat. You had to force yourself to swallow it back down, turning your head toward him. “What? I’m serious.”
“Peter-”
“Look. I already knew. I shouldn't have even told you. I guess… I don’t know… I’m just jealous, honestly.” And now he looked at you, your eyes locking in the darkness of the room.
“I-” you cut yourself off mid-sentence. No. You shouldn't say what you were about to say; it wasn't a good idea. The night had already been full of bad choices—wasn't it better to give yourself a break? You were sure you were only speaking out of guilt… but also out of realization.
You saw him raise an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish whatever it was you were about to let slip out of your mouth. He had already said all the stupid things; whatever you had to say, he was sure it wouldn't be that big of a deal. Little did he know how wrong he was.
“… You… what? I can only read your mind sometimes, not always. You have to flesh out your answer.”
“God, you suck.” Your fist, though weak, connected with his arm in a punch, making him exaggerate the pain. He rubbed the area, muttering something that sounded distant—probably calling you rude or something along those lines—but you smiled. You always smiled because of him. Sometimes it felt unfair.
«I wish it had been him…» The thought crossed your mind, and unfortunately, you couldn't disagree with it. You wished Peter had been the person you’d fallen in love with.
“I was going to say that… I wish I had fallen in love with you.” That was, by all accounts, the last thing he ever expected to hear, and your voice sounded heavy and disheartened again.
“You can’t tell me that right now…”
“You’re probably right…”
Your gazes remained locked; you could sense a thousand thoughts racing through his mind at the same speed he could run.
Loving Peter should be easy. With him, you never had to pretend, and he had always been there to support you—even now (more or less). A bad day could always be fixed with a dose of Peter Maximoff. It had been that way ever since you met him. So, why? Why did you set your eyes on Logan, and not on the boy who was right now in front of you, looking at you as if you’d grown a second head?
“I’m sorry, I said something stupi-”
“What if you did?” His words stepped over yours, leaving you in a state of confusion that took you a few seconds to snap out of. “What if you fall in love with me?”
“That’s not how things work, Peter. I can’t just choose… That’s not how love goes.”
“Says who?” This had been your fault. The hope in his eyes had been your fault. This could only end one way now, because when he looked at you like that—as if you held the solution to everything—it was impossible to say no. It was that exact look that always dragged you into his trouble; the only difference was that, now, his trouble was yours too. “You can fall in love with me… right? It’s not impossible if you try.”
No. It probably wasn't impossible.
As he leaned in toward you, you felt the impulse to move. You wanted to pull away, to stop this before it even started, but you didn't. This time you stayed perfectly still, sitting by his side.
“This is a bad idea…”
“I am full of bad ideas.” His voice came out in a whisper, and soon you felt the ghost of his breath against your lips. “Can I?”
“We shouldn't…”
“You’re right. As always.” But that didn't stop him, his right hand cupping your face. Peter had always been warm—that’s why you loved his hugs—but right now, his skin burned against yours. That could have been a warning. A scream from your own body to stop this madness, but… but you didn't. “Let me try… please…”
And soon his lips were on yours.
The pressure was soft, almost tentative. He wasn't forcing you to stay close; despite that, you remained right there, letting him make an even bigger mistake than everything that had already happened.
Your lack of resistance gave him the courage to lean into you, and you sighed against his mouth. Where were you supposed to put your hands? You weren't sure. Right now, you weren't sure of anything anymore.
That was the first kiss Peter asked for, and to the sorrow of both, it wouldn't be the last. Not that night, not just today.
You caught a glimpse of his smile in the single second he took to catch his breath, and the second kiss, far from being sweet, turned into something like dark chocolate; pleasant at first, but the aftertaste left that strange flavor that, unfortunately, was addictive.
The greatest lie for both of you began that night, when your hesitant arms tangled around him, giving him the necessary permission to pull you closer.
You didn't know if this was going to work; you only knew for a fact that it was an idea that would hurt you both sooner or later; your friendship could end up ruined. It still wasn't too late to back out, to tell him that all of this was madness… but right now, you didn't want to. What if Peter was right? What if you could actually fall in love with him?
One of your hands caressed his silver hair. You had always liked his hair. It was soft, pleasant to the touch.
If Peter could pretend this was okay, so could you. Maybe, if you both lied to yourselves well enough, this madness would become reality, and you might actually come to love him.
When Peter wouldn't find himself between chaos and saving lives on different spots at almost the same time, he could be found in the garden, lying in the soft, green grass, arms tucked behind his head, humming songs he'd listened days before, mostly with a can of '7 up' soda or a twinkie snack in his hand. Birds were chirping serenades while soft breezes of summer air combed the speedsters silver hair. Suddenly a small squeaky noise could be heard in the distance, catching Peter's attention. With furrowed brows, he scanned the green carpet of grass and daisies next to him; nothing. He sat up straight to look at further spots, to find the cause of that tiny noise. He got up, sweeping further spots with his gaze in the grass; this time with unusual slow and small steps.
"Oh? Wait, what's tha-.."
He muttered to himself, as he leaned down to spot a small, brownish creature with tiny paws moving helpless on top of the grass.
"Ohh...heey little dude..."
Peter cooed, picking up the small mole deliberately, eying him with slight fascination.
"Heeey, how are ya doin?"
His fingers carefully caressed the moles soft silver-brown fur as he seemed pretty calm in Peter's hand.
He walked to a nice and cozy spot to place him back down to a nice little pile of churned-up soil.
"Look little buddy, looks good for ya, huh?"
He asked but he soon realised a mole couldn't see anything at all.
He slowly put him back to the ground, as he saw how happy the little mole got to finally touch soil again. He blindly padded around until he found a nice spot to bury himself back into the ground; disappearing with a small squeak.
"Bye little dude..."
Peter muttered as he waved the mole a little goodbye.
He released a content sigh, yet he got a little sentimental about the small encounter. Animals truly were the most harmless creatures, if you'd handle them with respect.
Well, to be honest, I don't really have much to say. I just hope you enjoy this second part of Liars!
(And for those who haven't read the first part, here it is! Liars—Extended ver. Part 1)
I'll post the third and final part tomorrow! [Part 3!]
Pairing: Peter Maximoff×Reader×Logan Howlett
Warning : ANGST, unrequired love, emotional hurt, comfort (sometimes), Peter and his bad timing.
AN: Is it clickbait to say this is also a Reader×Logan thing when Logan doesn't even appear here and is only mentioned? 😅
“Liars ”
Extended ver.—Part 2
The blue blanket of night covered everything beyond view; darkness had already fallen by the time Peter returned to the mansion. His hand fumbled for the Walkman at his waist, stopping the music, and he slid his headphones down around his shoulders.
Everything was peaceful, free of artificial noises, shouting, or voices—just nature. The hooting of nocturnal birds, the whistling of the wind, the rustling of the trees, slow, heavy sighs, the chirping of crick—
«Wait, sighs?»
His neck stretched slightly as he lifted his head, and his gaze met a figure sitting on a windowsill—your figure, at your window.
Your feet dangled in the air, swinging slowly, letting your heels gently tap the cold wall before kicking them softly forward again. The pendulum-like motion of your legs left him slightly hypnotized.
He didn't understand. What were you doing up there? It was late. Shouldn't you be asleep?
A thousand questions flashed through his mind as he lost the ability to breathe, the air catching in his chest, involuntarily recalling the image from this afternoon. He wanted to focus on how your profile lit up under the silver moonlight, but instead, all he could see was Logan's hand on your face, and the special spark he had caught in your eyes at that moment—the very same spark he had right now while watching you.
“Hey.” Peter snapped out of his thoughts, as if he had stopped zooming in on that mental image, and found you looking down at him with what—in that moment—he could only describe as a sleepy, tired smile.
“Hey, you”, he replied, forcing himself to smile, one side of his mouth tugging upward for a couple of seconds in one of his usual half-smiles.
With an awkward silence stretching between them, he shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting with his fingers and averted his gaze, focusing instead on how the tip of his shoe began tracing imaginary shapes on the ground.
“I haven't seen you around today.”
“Well, you know. I’m here, there, everywhere… I don’t really stay still.” He didn't know how he managed to keep the nerves out of his voice, but somehow, it didn't shake.
“Want to come up?”
He bit his tongue to stop himself from giving a rushed reply; the truth was, unfortunately, he didn't want to go up. But as always, when it came to you, ignoring it was nearly impossible.
His steps led him into the mansion, and with the utmost care, he pushed the door open, wishing it wouldn't make a sound. But the hinges creaked anyway. «I swear I’m going to oil these doors myself… Why does everything have to sound so loud at night?» He winced on the spot, hoping he hadn't woken anyone up—he knew there were people around with way too good of a hearing.
Walking up the stairs, his steps felt heavy and slower than they had ever been. He was trying to delay his arrival at your room, and for once, he wished time would truly stop, even if just for him. Freezing in place right now felt like a wonderful idea.
A stampede of horses was raging in his chest, and he could hear his heartbeat echoing in his ears. Rapid, loud thumps that betrayed the nervousness taking over him.
He rubbed his palms against his pants over and over again, and no matter how much he tried to wipe away the sweat, he was sure they were still clammy.
Why did he keep torturing himself like this? It wasn’t fair. He wished he could just… walk away. Or ignore these feelings. Erase them completely.
His mind was consumed by those thoughts, and the hallway felt endless, even though your bedroom door was one of the first.
Taking a deep breath, searching for the courage to face this moment, he stepped into your room, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible. At least he managed that much this time.
You were sitting on the window frame, your back to him. Seeing you from that angle was almost ethereal; you seemed to have a halo around you, and his heart raced even faster. That was the answer to why he couldn't leave. You.
He crossed his arms, leaning against the window near you, mimicking your action of watching the night scenery.
Fortunately for both, the silence now wasn't heavy or uncomfortable, but it was incredibly noisy inside his head. His mind was too restless, and doubt was eating him alive; he desperately needed to know what had happened.
“You’ve been quieter lately,” you were the brave one to speak first, and even though you weren’t looking at him, Peter knew your attention was no longer on the sky, but on him. “Less annoying.”
A smile broke across his lips, and he lowered his head slightly. “What’s wrong? Miss me?”
“Idiot.” Something like a breathless laugh escaped your nose—or maybe it was a sigh? Whichever it was, it gave way, once again, to a quiet silence. It almost felt like nothing had changed, as if he hadn't witnessed that—to him—intimate moment between you and Logan. Right now, it was just the two of you, and yet…
“How was your day?” He tried to keep the question casual, like it was nothing, but he was dying to know.
“Well… It’s been a weird day.” There was something in the softness of your voice that made him glance at you sideways, catching the way your teeth nibbled on your bottom lip.
«Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t as-»
“Did something happen?” He mentally kicked himself. He just had to ask, didn't he? He hated that his mouth was always faster than the voice in his head.
“I… I told Logan how I feel.” Wish he hadn't asked.
Those words were the hardest thing Peter had heard in a long time, because he could see you smiling, and that glimmer in your eyes revealed more than he ever wanted to know. His heart practically stopped, and if it weren't for the cold night air hitting his face, he would have sworn he’d fainted.
Your words repeated in his head like a broken record, and he didn't even know how to respond. Was there even a way to do it? He doubted it. Right now, he doubted it very much.
With ice in his veins, he had to force a look of surprise onto his face, masking the pain before you could even notice it was there.
He felt his heart in his chest again, but now it hurt. It pounded from the inside as if wanting to claw its way out of his body, and he would have happily agreed to rip it out himself.
“Wow… Wow!” A nervous laugh, which could easily pass for disbelief, escaped his lips. “You really threw yourself into the lion's den… or should I say, the… Wolverine’s den, huh? Huh?” His elbow found your side, nudging you in an attempt to make you laugh, but you stayed silent… and that lack of reaction was what made him realize something he had completely missed. Instead of laughing, instead of looking happy… you stayed silent. It was only then that Peter truly saw.
The passing seconds, which Peter spent simply staring at you, revealed a reality that began to crush his heart. The corners of your lips were trembling, forcing themselves to hold up the smile; your eyes were glassy with tears you were desperately trying to hold back, barely even blinking to keep them from falling; your hands were tense, gripping the window frame as if that alone were keeping you glued together.
«Maximoff, you are the biggest idiot alive…» he told himself. He had been so wrapped up in his own emotions that he completely ignored the biggest lie staring him right in the face, hidden behind the shield he himself had put up to protect his own feelings.
“Logan already knew…” Your voice could barely be heard. It was too weak, almost a broken whisper that completely shattered him inside… or had that cracking sound been your heart? Or maybe it was the sound of both their hearts breaking. Who knew.
“He… What?”
“He rejected me.” And with that admission, all the effort you had put into holding it together crumbled, starting with that fake smile decorating your lips.
As you felt your world fall to pieces, Peter’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, gently pulling you away from the window and bringing you into the safety of the room.
Locked in his embrace, you cried silently, and he could do nothing but hold you tightly, letting you shed every single tear you had bottled up. He wished he had been there for you sooner; he wished he hadn't let himself get carried away by his own feelings.
Your sobs were muffled against his t-shirt, and soon your arms tangled around his torso; you didn't have the strength to stand on your own, and he could feel it.
Deep down, you thought, you had always known Logan wasn't in love with you. You had always known it would end this way, yet you couldn't stop the pain. When no one was watching, it had been easy to keep from breaking down, but with Peter there, you couldn't hold it back anymore. His absence had never hurt you as much as it did this afternoon. You needed him, and even if he had taken his time, he was by your side now, holding you like a shield against your suffering—and truly, that was exactly what he wanted to be.
He guided you to the bed, and before you could even process it, a soft, fuzzy blanket was draped over your shoulders. In your lap was a stuffed animal, the one you’d had since you were little and always held during your worst moments. In front of you, kneeling, was Peter, holding out a glass of water in your direction. He had done all of that in… much less than a couple of seconds. So fast you didn't even notice, but the moment you registered it, the tears stopped, and you squeezed the plushie against your chest.
“Thank you…”
One of your hands reached for the glass of water, and you drank slowly under Peter’s watchful gaze. «Damn it, Logan… Having her love, and still-» No. No. He had to stop his own thoughts. Logan wasn't to blame either; it would have been unyielding and unfair to accept your confession without loving you back, right? He had done the right thing. Above all, Peter knew Logan cared about you… just not the way you wanted him to.
Peter found himself at a crossroads of emotions; he felt terrible for you, knowing how bitter it was to love someone who didn't love you back… and then there was the relief of that rejection. And why? Because maybe now he’d have a chance with you? Ha. It was too selfish of him to think that way.
All kinds of thoughts came and went in his head, and there you were in front of him, with dried tears on your cheeks. You were his best friend, his love in every sense of the word… and it was as if everything inside him disconnected all at once. His body acted on autopilot, and his hand brushed against your cheek to wipe away the trace of your tears. A embarrassed, resigned laugh escaped your nose. It was humiliating. That’s how you felt. Being rejected and letting your best friend comfort you...
You weren't entirely sure what happened next. Peter’s lips moved, and you could swear you spent minutes processing what he had just said. It almost sounded like distant static, as if you had imagined it, and the—to you—pathetic smile on your face vanished. For a moment, you forgot about everything else.
“Sorry, what did you…?”
“I said I love you.” He repeated it. This time you heard it louder, clearer. There was no joking in his voice… he meant it. You wanted to speak, to open your mouth to say something, but he was faster. “And I mean as more than friends.”
The tension that built up in the room couldn't even be cleared by the open window; neither of you could breathe now. Peter didn't know what he was doing. Selfish. Your heart was broken, and out of nowhere, he drops this on you. Of course you didn't know how to react. What had just happened? You weren't sure. The bitterness of the pain mixed with sheer confusion. «Why now? Of all moments, why now?»
The glass slipped from your hands, and you didn't realize how lucky you were because, somehow, it didn't break. It only ended up spilling water all over the floor, but what did it matter if it broke or not, right? You couldn't breathe. You could only stare at Peter, still kneeling in front of you, with the most serious expression you had ever seen on his face. You wanted to throw up. You were panicking, and he noticed.
The movement of your head was slow at first, and then it picked up some speed. You shook your head from side to side, denying it with tightly pressed lips. «No. Not now, please.»
The guilt of his own words began to wash over him, and he realized he couldn't help it. No matter the outcome of the day, even if Logan had returned your feelings, Peter was sure now that he had been holding it in for way too long. It was unfair, wasn't it? For once, he wanted to be the one occupying your thoughts. Was that wrong? Probably. Entirely. Yes. Especially in this situation.
“I know it’s not the time, but-… Look. I’ve been running away from my feelings because I didn't want to screw everything up… and I guess that doesn't matter, because that’s exactly what I’m doing right now.” He smiled, not happily, but bitterly, leaving a bad taste in both your mouths. “I guess… I just needed you to know.”
“Why now?”
“I think… because I’m selfish.” Your forehead furrowed, becoming more and more confused by the situation. “And I’m about to make things even worse.”
You leaned back in a reflex action as he brought his face closer to yours, and the blanket slid from your shoulders onto the bed, leaving your eyes wide open.
“What are you-?”
“I want to kiss you.” A whirlwind of emotions flooded you, and you stood up from the bed, letting the stuffed animal fall to the floor. He mirrored you, standing up from the ground, watching your reactions. Were you angry? Outraged?
“N-No… No. I can’t let you do that.”
Your name left his mouth in a soft, almost pleading tone, and you felt the warmth of his fingers against your hands. At first, it was hesitant, waiting to see your reaction, but your lack of resistance made him take your hands into his. “Just for tonight, please. Forget him. Stop thinking about him. For one night… could you just look at me for one night?”
“This… This isn't fair, Peter.” Slowly, your hands pulled away from his, and your arms crossed over your chest in a self-hug. You were looking for a shield, protecting yourself from the current reality. “You’re asking me for something impossible! My heart is broken, and you-”
“And I’ve had to listen to you talk about Logan every single day! Don’t talk to me about things not being fair!” Ouch. Low blow, Peter.
In his defense, he hadn't thought through the words before they flew out of his mouth, but as soon as he threw them out, he regretted it completely. The shock and distress in the grimace on your face were all he needed to understand that he had put his foot right in it. «What the hell am I doing?»
You didn't answer, letting the weight of that revelation crash down on you. Your shoulders felt heavy, and you didn't know if it was in your chest or your stomach, but something twisted inside; if he was in love with you, you had been hurting him every day without knowing it. He had been there, without complaining, and now those short answers to everything you said finally made sense.
“Hey, I-… I’m sorry, I shouldn't have said that, it’s not-”
“It’s fine. You’re… You’re right… It’s not fair to you…” and it wasn't your fault. Peter wanted to tell you that; you weren't to blame for him being an idiot. But you weren't going to accept it now, not when you were starting to feel guilty.
“You didn't know, it’s not-”
“It doesn't matter. It doesn't change anything.”
You had had enough for one night, and Peter could see how defeated you were. He was being a bad friend—if you even still wanted him as one after today, of course. He wouldn't blame you for hating him; you had every right to.
