can you do like an enemies to lovers with peter maximoff? thanks!
Silver Lining | Peter Maximoff
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: peter maximoff x gn! reader
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): uhhhh swearing and kind of implying reader has dad issues but also not in a way?? it’s also mostly fluff, I hope that’s okay
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: all peter wanted was a little bit of your undivided attention, even if you were annoyed with him. this time, he goes a bit too far.
𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓(𝐒): as per the request above, enemies to lovers
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.3k
It wasn’t that you hated him. Well, maybe you did- but it was more the inconvenient annoyance of incessant chatter, music cranked up to ear splitting volumes, and the mystery of how all your decent records happened to go missing as soon as Peter had found out you owned them.
Peter Maximoff was frustrating to say the least, and it was even more infuriating that he didn’t seem to see anything wrong with his behaviour.
“Lighten up, Y/N.” He’d say, fidgeting with his jacket, pinning a button- that most certainly was not his- on the collar.
Sure he was annoying, and sure you wanted to pull your hair out every time he spoke, but you didn’t really hate him- at least, not till now.
It wasn’t uncommon for Peter to pull pranks on people around the institute, and you knew you were one of his biggest targets for that, for what reason- you could never tell.
They had always been harmless though, like sticking a sticky note to your back that had some mildly crude word written on it, or replacing all your pens with glitter pens right before a class- so you’d be forced to hand in a paper that was pink and sparkly.
Before this point, all his little pranks on you, short remarks, and things he’d ‘borrowed’ had only been a minor inconvenience. This, however, was a whole new level of low.
Now, you were standing in the centre of the school’s student population, listening to people laugh at you as you trued to pull a grotesque, thick, sparkly purple liquid off your person.
It was all over you. Everywhere. You were almost certain it’d take days to get these stains out of your clothes, and for that matter, out of your skin.
That wasn’t even what bothered you most. It was the way everyone could see you. Everyone could point and laugh and whisper.
It was embarrassing, you looked ridiculous and this substance smelled awful. You had one person to blame.
“You’re so infuriating, Peter!” You shouted, instantly washing the smug and amused smile off the speedster’s face. “Why do you insist on being such a bully!”
You feel the disgusting liquid travelling down your arms, down the back of your shirt, and down your forehead, but you wipe it before it can get in your eyes.
You could only stand, red faced and helpless and covered in sludge, stuck in the middle of a crowd while you stared down the silver haired cause of this whole event.
“I’m not a bully, Y/N, god- why can’t you take a joke!” Peter responded, matching your tone- though immediately regretting it.
He didn’t mean for the prank to be as theatrical as it had been- and by the humiliated and uncomfortable look etched into your features, he knew he was in the wrong. He felt guilty, but was too stubborn to say so.
“I hate you.” You snap, making Peter feel even worse.
Instead of apologizing, like he knew he should have, Peter only went further.
“Oh, you hate me? You’re not ten years old, I’m not your dad!” He retaliated. That. That was too far.
Apparently someone had informed the headmaster of what had happened, as Xavier’s was the next voice heard among all the whispers.
“Peter, that’s enough.” He spoke, clearly trying to keep his reaction to the situation restrained.
Hank McCoy appeared out from behind some students, side stepping Xavier’s wheelchair as he made his way over to you- kindly laying a towel over your shoulders.
You muttered a thank you, appreciating the gesture greatly, as it felt like you had some layer of protection now- especially as Hank continued to try and hide you behind him as he lead you out of the crowd.
Taking a last glance over your shoulder, you see Peter being escorted by Xavier in the opposite direction, no doubt towards the headmaster’s study to discuss some sort of punishment for the prank Peter had pulled.
That was the last you really saw of him for a few days. You began to avoid him like the plague, not wanting to deal with another argument- knowing that as soon as you saw that fluff of silver hair, you’d return to your anger.
If it was any other scenario, you would have laughed it off and forgave him- but not this time. This time, his prank left bits of your skin dyed a certain hue of bright, electric purple, with glitter to match.
You’d been getting comments on it every time you left your room- mostly mocking comments from people who had seen the cause, they joked about it, or even made rude remarks about how you needed to chill out about the whole situation.
You were thankful for those friends of yours that still stayed by your side- and didn’t make fun of you in the way that others had been. Even Scott had tried to make you feel better about the situation- and Kurt had made you laugh with a joke about how you both had funky coloured skin for now.
Your friend’s comforted you, sure, but the whispers in the halls from others that couldn’t keep their opinions to themselves still got to you, and it left you wanting to get away from other students a while.
Unfortunately, even despite how large the property really was, there was never anywhere you could hide.
You’d tried spending time in your room, but Jean always coaxed you out with her telepathic conversations.
Hank’s lab wasn’t much better. While he meant well, Hank always bothered you to go outside and get some sun, or even make amends with Peter- who Hank was aware felt awful for what happened.
So you tried hiding under a towering tree on the outskirts of the property, just as the sun was beginning to set and students packed away their outdoor activities and went inside.
Apparently this was the last place you should have gone.
“Hey.” A familiar voice calls out, a shine of silver catching the corner of your eye as you sit up from leaning against the trunk of the tree and glare at the newcomer.
“What do you want?” You ask, picking at the grass beneath you.
Peter raises his hands in defence, “You just looked kinda lonely, are you okay?” He looked genuinely sad that you were so secluded from everyone, that you had pulled yourself away after what he’d done.
You scoff, “What’s it to you, Roadrunner?”
Peter sat cross legged on the ground just a couple feet away before addressing you, “Look,” he sighs, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pranked you like that, and I definitely shouldn’t have handled it the way I did. It was totally uncalled for- and I just-… I’m really sorry.”
You pause for a moment before nodding, which Peter takes as a signal to relax a little. At the very least, you’ve heard his apology, and he sees the look in your eyes.
The look thats telling him you’re mulling over the thought of early forgiveness. It’s enough for him, for now.
Instead, he tried to lighten the mood a little bit.
“Hey, I mean, every cloud has a-….” He trailed off, realizing what that saying implied. “I shouldn’t finish that.”
“No, you really shouldn’t.” You chuckle, relaxing a bit as well and leaning back against the tree again.
“It’d make me sound self centred.” He joked.
“What, in a way that’s different from the usual?” You ask, twisting the somewhat lighthearted air into one of complete awkwardness.
Peter laughed nervously, watching you return to picking at grass “Am I really that much of an asshole?”
You shrug, a teasing smile fighting to take over your lips, “Sometimes.”
The speedster fell silent for a moment, seemingly contemplating your answer before suddenly jumping up to stand.
“Y’know what, no,” Peter spoke. “I’ll say it, every cloud has a silver lining, and I’m gonna be that silver lining.” He holds a hand to his chest.
“What the hell are you talking about, Sonic.”
“Sonic?”
“Like the hedgehog.”
“I deserve that.”
“Yes, yes you do.”
Peter shakes off the comment and holds out a hand to help you up, “That’s not the point- do you trust me?”
You laugh, “Absolutely not.”
You still take his hand and pull yourself to stand, shaking out the leaves and dirt on your clothes.
“Okay- I’m gonna take you somewhere and you can just pretend you trust me for a few hours and if you still hate me by the end of the night, you can use your powers on me or something.” Peter bargains, pulling his goggles over his eyes. “Hell, I will stand still and take abuse, feel free to get your gloves and give it all you got.” He pretended to hit an invisible punching bag before holding out his hands in a sort of offering gesture, waiting for your response.
“The powers thing sounds fun.” You agree and suddenly Peter isn’t in front of you, and instead you feel a hand come around the back of your neck, supporting your head.
“Good.” Peter huffs, standing just inches behind you. “You might wanna prepare yourself a bit.”
You don’t respond, and instead close your eyes, knowing what’s about to come next. The feeling of movement is unbelievably nauseating, but it only lasts a few seconds at the very least, and when you open your eyes you’re…
At a McDonalds?
“Peter.” You go to look at him, but he’s already dragging you inside.
“C’mon, let’s get some drinks.” He pleads.
You sigh and allow him to take your hand, pulling you along to the counter of the establishment.
The cashier instantly spots the odd neon purple, glittery blemishes of your skin, and makes no attempt to stop staring as he greets you. You shift uncomfortably, wishing the weather were cooler and you could get away with wearing something to cover all the purple flaws.
Peter takes notice and carefully throws an arm around your shoulder, glaring at the man in an attempt to get him to stop. When he doesn’t, Peter raises his eyebrows and instead chooses to say something, “You got a problem, man?”
The cashier seems a bit embarrassed, and pulls his gaze away from you, “Not at all! What can I get you?”
Peter allows you to choose first, following up with a Sprite and upgrading both drinks to a large.
Soon, you’re stepping back out into the parking lot, now holding sodas the size of your head, and Peter uses the arm still around your shoulder to bring you over to the corner area of the parking lot- where no cars could park.
“I can’t believe that guy.” Peter muttered, referring to how the cashier had been staring at your purple and glittery skin.
You shrug as well as you can from under his arm, taking a sip of your drink, “At least he didn’t say anything.”
Peter paused, frozen for a moment as he looked at you, “Have people been saying things?”
You bite the inside of your cheek a bit, “Yeah, just stuff about the prank, and the fight, and… comments about my dad and how I can’t take a joke.” You try to play it off as nonchalantly as you can, but remembering the rude remarks from people you saw every day kinda stung.
Peter sighs, “I’m really sorry.”
“You said that already.” You dismiss, “It’s whatever.”
“No, it’s really not.” Peter faced you as well as he could with his arm still over your shoulder, “I should know better than anyone to not make comments on people’s dads, especially when I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with your dad. It was a really shitty thing of me to do- on top of the thing I’d already done.”
Peter shifts his glances around the parking lot, suddenly looking a bit nervous, “I shouldn’t have pulled that ‘prank’ in the first place. I was really just trying to get your attention- and I should have used a method that didn’t royally piss you off.” Peter laughs, and surprising him, you laugh too.
“Alright, Speedy, I get it, you’re sorry. Just shut up and drink your sprite and sit on the curb with me for a while.” You laugh, “Be the silver lining to this clusterfuck of a cloud.”
Peter grins, knowing you forgave him, and knowing that he had a chance to get your attention the way he should have tried in the beginning.
You begin walking towards the curb again, as the sky starts to turn into purples in blues, with stars dotted against the beautiful ocean colours.
“Y’know what,” He sipped his drink through the plastic straw and hummed as you both reached the curb. “I’m actually kind of hungry, are you hungry?”
He didn’t even wait for a response before uttering a quick ‘hold this’ and in the span of six seconds you felt Peter’s arm disappear from your shoulder, another drink being put into your unoccupied hand- and then Peter was in front of you, holding a McDonalds box.
“That’s stealing.” You state as Peter took his drink back and sat down.
“That’s…” It seemed like Peter was about to defend himself, but instead nodded, “It’s stealing, yeah, it’s stealing- do you want me to return them or do you wanna sit here and eat these chicken nuggets with me.”
You thought for a second, before joining him on the curb, arm to arm, shoulder to shoulder, “You better have at least stolen sauce too.”
Peter set down the box of nuggets on the pavement between your feet and sipped his drink as he emptied his pockets, “Of course, I’m not a monster. I even got the good stuff.”
He held up a ketchup packet.
“Peter, if you eat a chicken nugget with ketchup on it, I’m gonna remove you from this planet” You gently punched him in the arm to emphasize your statement.
“Okay, geez, ‘twas a joke- I won’t actually eat ketchup nuggets.”
Omg this one was difficult to post if only because it’s 2.3k words- aNYWAY, thank you to anonymous for being our first request, I hope you like it (: -♠️
Summary: AU where a bookstore owner is enchanted with a man who regularly frequents her shop. She guesses he’s taken as he brings in two kids constantly but litle does she know that he is pining after her just the same - requested by the ever lovely @steve-chandler
A/N: Wow, what’s this? Another long overdue request? It couldn’t be, but it is!! I’m so sorry about that wait, but if you haven’t already completely lost interest in wee Peter here you go. (p.s your other one is still in the works) xx
I hope you all enjoy!
A bell’s chime fills the small room you occupy, your favourite sound of the day. Shortly after the initial sound, two sets of small but loud footsteps thump out as they race across the dark ochre floorboards of your shop.
“Girls, calm down!” Your smile only grows as the voice you had been anticipating follows the girls. You giggle lightly to yourself, propping your upper body up on your elbows to peer out your office window. Standing directly in your line of sight was your favourite customer, despite the fact he was one of your more recent regulars. A smile stretches across his face as he watches them run down into the children’s section, reaching up and mussing the shaggy silver mop that sat atop his head. You let your eyes linger on the movement, watching the sun filtering in from the long front window and glistening in his locks.
You realise that you’d let your eyes rest on him too long, as he turned around at the feeling of being watched to see your eyes on him. The longing of your stare was obviously lost on him as his smile remained and he lifted his hand in a cheery wave. Your cheeks instantly flush as you extend a much smaller wave than his own before putting your attention back down to your inventory logs where it should have been all along. Best not to dream about things you can’t have.
You loved your wee office. It was situated directly behind your counter by the front door, which meant with its window, it allowed you to simultaneously work and keep an eye on your shop, Cito Books, all at once. The room had a door, but you opted to never shut it, instead a wedge kept it permanently open to allow you to hear customers calling out to you. Today was no exception.
“Y/N!” The younger of the twos voice rang out from the back corner clear as day. You promptly leave your chair and make the short journey to where all three patrons now sat on the matt in the children’s nook.
“Yes Lorna?” You ask, your eyes occasionally flicking towards the silver haired man who had an easy smile resting on his lips. You can’t help but let your eyes briefly look at his hand splayed out on the rug. No wedding ring still.
“Do you have the next Rainbow Magic book?”
“Well what one are you up to?”
“Izzy the Indigo Fairy!” She exclaims excitedly, her sister still intently staring at the shelves in search of the book her sister so desperately wanted.
“I think we just got it in actually, give me one second,” you say, even though you know full well it had come in with your most recent stock. You fetch it from one of several boxes in your office before nonchalantly presenting it to the ecstatic girl.
“Wait, I thought you didn’t have this one last week?” The still seated man asks with a quirked eyebrow.
“Well Mr- ” You go to answer him before you are interrupted as he stands and speaks.
“How many times do I gotta tell you? It’s Peter.” The smile he gives you as he absent-mindedly swipes his hands on his jeans makes your cheeks flush again. You hated that you loved the impact he had on you. You wordlessly asked Lorna with a gesture if you could take the book back. She passes it to you and you lead the three to the counter to process the purchase, replying as you do.
“Well Peter we actually just happened to get it in so…” You let your feeble reply fade off as you ring up the book and place it into one of your paper bags, refusing to meet the eyes you knew were on you.
“If I didn’t know any better Y/N I’d say that you got it in especially for us.” Just as you suspected, when you dared to briefly meet his gaze he had a cheeky smirk on his lips and mischief in his eyes. You involuntarily gulp before passing the book to eager outstretched hands.
“That’ll be $14.99.” You fail to find anything to say that would dispel his absolutely correct assumption. He shakes his head slightly at his verbal victory before pulling out his wallet and handing you a twenty dollar note, telling you to keep the change. You immediately protest this, as he supports your little store plenty without needing to not take his change but he was having none of it, firmly placing his wallet back in his pocket where his hand remained. You give him what was supposed to be a disapproving look as you put the money into the till with a ‘thank you’, him merely giving a jovial shrug of the shoulders in return.
“Isn’t that the last one in the series?” The other little girl, Wanda, finally pipes up. You reply with a smile.
“It is actually, but don’t worry there’s a whole other series that comes right after.”
“Do you have it?” Lorna asks, quick as a snap.
“No not just at the moment.” You reply with a slight frown. Peter places a hand on both the girls’ shoulders, gently starting to lead them out the door.
“Don’t worry though, if we’re really lucky it might just be here next week,” he says with that signature cheeky smirk and a wink. Even though he had assumed correctly, you weren’t about to admit he’d been right. “We’ll see you next week Y/N,” he yells over his shoulder, turning his head once they are out of the shop to wave at you through the window as they leave your sight down the street.
“See you next week,” you say with a smile to an empty shop. You rest your head on your hands as you stare at the space that they once occupied. The family had probably only been coming in for a month, yet you could confidently say they were your favourite customers. There’s just something about him that never failed to put a smile on your face, even from the first moment you saw him.
You shrug yourself out of your thoughts, settling on sorting your new stock. Even if he wasn’t married, which he still could be for all you knew, he had two kids. There was more than likely someone in the picture, so you needed to rid your thoughts of the cheeky silver haired man. Even if you didn’t want to.
*
Over the next few months you saw Peter more often alone than with the girls. He had taken to coming in sometimes as often as twice a week, just browsing rack after rack that hadn’t changed since the last time he was in. Some days you’d engage in idle conversation, some days you were too busy with customers to chat with him, but that would not deter him in visiting. You thought occasionally that he was looking your way, yet every time you turned to face him his eyes were firmly on the shelves. Just wishful thinking you supposed.
You had felt a lot of strange gusts of wind in the shop recently, and you had no idea where they were coming from. Sometimes pages in books would rustle when nothing had happened, and gusts of air had taken to flying past your face, catching loose strands of hair in its motion. You had investigated your store thoroughly and came up flat, no holes or crevices that so much draft could be coming through. The events puzzled you when it happened, but for the most part you left it be. If only you knew the source.
You see, Peter was taken with you. From the first moment he had stepped foot in your store and was greeted by your smiling mouth that bid him welcome he’d been under your spell. He usually took the girls to a different book store but as soon as he had found out you owned the quaint bookshop, he had yet to take his business anywhere else.
He wanted to see more of you, he couldn’t help himself. He found himself through that front door more often than he’d like to admit. He’d walked the shelves so many times that you’d probably never have to do another stock take again, he could just recite your inventory to you.
He couldn’t help but watch you. How you gleamed when recommending books to customers. How you chirped up when your doorbell chimed. How you tidied your shelves and store daily, making sure your shop was always pristine. The pride you took in your work was evident, and Peter loved your passion, sometimes whizzing by in super speed just to see the glint in your eyes for a fraction longer. He was lost in thought when a voice rang out.
“Something I can help with?” He jolted slightly, dropping a book out of his hands in shock. Somehow he had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed you approaching, and didn’t manage to catch the book before it hit the ground.
“I’m so sorry,” you say with a joking lilt to your voice as you retrieve the fallen book and place it back on the shelf, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He lets out a breathy laugh, scratching the back of his neck out of embarrassment.
“You must be too quick for me.” You laugh at his joke, despite not knowing it was much more for himself than for you.
“So, anything in particular you were looking at Mr- ,” the quirk in his eyebrow stops your sentence dead in its tracks, “Peter.” A smile springs to his lips at his name leaving your lips.
“No you’re okay,” his eyes involuntarily flick between your rose tinted lips and your eyes before looking back at the shelf, the motion making a shiver dance down your spine, “I was just browsing.” You nod at him, not wanting to call out the fact that he’s browsed everything there is to be browsed, because frankly you didn’t mind his constant company.
“Well, I’ll be just over in the kids’ corner,” you motion to the brightly coloured area, “let me know if there’s any other books your daughters might want.” You smile at him intending to make your way there but the puzzled look on his face stops you in your tracks, your expression mirroring his. “Did I say something?” You question quietly.
“Daughters?” He says incredulously, you simply nod your head. “Y/N, Lorna and Wanda are my half-sisters, I just look after them when I can.” Your eyebrows furrow before they raise in surprise.
“Oh!” You exclaim, nodding your head at the new revelation and what that might mean. “Well, that’s great!” Shaking your head you go to the kids’ corner to sit on the matt and tidy the shelf, cheeks flushed with your last statement.
“Yea it’s pretty great,” Peter says following you, sitting in the much too small pink chair directly behind you, “they’re great girls.” You hum in acknowledgement, smiling over your shoulder to show your agreeance. You were dying to ask him if he was single but didn’t know how to approach the topic.
“So you’ve got no kids of your own then?” You ask instead, trying to make yourself seem busy enough to offset how much you wanted to know his answer.
“No.” He replies simply, making you think he was not going to divulge any more. “No partner to have kids with either, so none for a while.” You can’t help the giddy sensation that fills your chest. He was single. You felt like you had to act upon this new found information but once again the silvery man had you at a loss.
“So you’re single?” You pluck up the courage to ask, standing from your spot and walking to your counter, avoiding eye contact as you do so. Peter follows and leans on the opposite side of the counter to you, keeping his eyes on your face.
“Free as a bird.” You grin at him, finally having the courage to meet his expectant gaze. Something in them said that you weren’t alone in your feelings, that maybe you made him feel the same as he did you. You can do this. Just ask him.
“How free are you at 5:30 tonight?” Your sentence that you hoped would come out smooth and collected came out rushed and jumbled, making him let a soft breath out.
“Free enough that I could get dinner. If I had someone to go with.”
“I could do dinner.” You can feel the giddiness radiating on your face leaching into your voice, completely nullifying the indefinite you spoke in.
“Alright, 5:30 then. It’s a date.” With that, he reaches over and gives your nearest hand a gentle squeeze before parting with a wink and the dinging of the bell.
You let out a contented sigh, finally allowing yourself to not feel guilty about your pining, knowing clearly he was feeling the same. No more staring and imagining, you had a date with him. Tonight.
Title: Better Off Beautiful
Fandom: X-Men
Characters: Peter Maximoff x Reader
Warnings: Self-hatred
Word Count: 1,090
Notes: Request from anon for “Helloooooooooo! I love your blog! I was wondering if you could write a Peter Maximoff fic based off 'Better Off Dead' by Sleeping With Sirens where the reader seriously (COMPLETELY) hates herslef and one day Peter just finds a notebook in her room where she has a long-ass list of things to hate about herself? Its a bit weird but could you maybe write this? Tysm!!😙😙” // Always remember that you should work towards loving yourself entirely on your own, rather than wishing for someone to come along and make it so. Everyone is beautiful and perfect in their own way, regardless of the opinions of others. I really hope this fic made you feel a bit better, but please remember that you must love yourself first and foremost. ♥
Peter always knew when you began falling to a low point. In fact, he might have known before you even realized what was going on. He kept asking you if you were alright, if you wanted to go out and do something with him, but all you really wanted to do was stay inside and be alone. You wanted to distance yourself from him, because he was so beautiful and perfect, there wasn’t a doubt he’d leave you eventually, anyway.
“Let’s go see a movie. I heard that new comedy is pretty good,” Peter suggested, walking beside you after your last class let out. “Or we could go try that new restaurant on main street. Oh, we could go there, then go see a movie. Or we could –”
“I’m really sorry, Peter, but I’d rather just be alone tonight,” you stated, cutting him off. His smile faded immediately, and it made you feel even worse than you already did. “Maybe another night.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Peter said, attempting to be cheerful, but you could still hear the disappointment in his voice. He began to walk off, then stopped and added, “I left something on your bed while you were in class. See you later, Y/N.”
You raised a brow at him despite the fact that he had already turned back around and resumed walking. Assuming it was probably the notes he had borrowed, or some form of practical joke, you shrugged it off.
When you reached your bedroom, you let your shoulders drop, tossing your backpack onto the floor and kicking off your shoes, before flopping down on the bed. You exhaled slowly, allowing yourself to relax after a long day of putting on a fake smile and acting as if everything was fine. However, you were far from fine. You had been somewhat okay for a little while, able to trick yourself into believing that you were likeable, both physically and personality-wise. But recently, you had begun to sink back into self-hatred. Despite your efforts to crawl your way back out of it, it had settled in, and didn’t appear to be going away any time soon.
You laid there for a bit before you remembered what Peter had said. Sighing and sitting up, you peered around your messy bed until you found an old, battered, black and white composition notebook, with Peter’s name on the front cover. Upon inspection, you found that several of the first few pages were ripped out or scribbled all over, a further indication that he had used this notebook a few times before. When you reached the first of the decipherable pages, containing his scarcely-readable handwriting, you felt your stomach drop.
Y/N, I know you’ll be pissed at me for this, but I accidentally read your journal thing. I was trying to find your notes from biology, and picked up the wrong notebook. I know that list of all the shit you hate about yourself wasn’t something I was meant to see. I’m sorry for that. But I’m not sorry that I know about it now. You shouldn’t feel that way, you shouldn’t hate yourself like that. No one sees you in that way except yourself. I was just sitting with Jean ten minutes ago, and she was talking about how pretty you are. And I know she wasn’t lying or just being nice or anything like that – because she’s right. You’re beautiful, Y/N. You’re not ‘not good enough.’ You’re so much more than that, I don’t even deserve to know you. So, I’m making a list to oppose your bullshit one.
You’re really hot
You’re smart
Honestly ridiculously smart, I don’t understand how you know half the shit that you do
Your hair is really shiny and soft
It looks awesome in the sunlight
You laugh at my jokes, even when they’re stupid
You go see the dumb comedy movies I like, even though I think you secretly don’t like them very much
You’re so fucking nice oh my god
Seriously, I saw you helping that younger kid yesterday, that was so cute
Your eyes are so pretty
Literally the prettiest color I’ve ever fucking seen
You dress really cute every day
Even when you say you just rolled out of bed, you still look cute, and I don’t really understand how you manage that
It might be a mutation?? Who knows
Your ass is great
Seriously, 10/10 would stare at every day
(I do)
The list filled up ten full pages, and the very last bullet point was “I love you.” By the time you reached the end, you could barely read the pages from the tears in your eyes.
Just as you tossed another tissue into the bin, there was a faint knock at the door. Wiping your eyes quickly, you made your way over and opened it, revealing a somewhat sheepish-looking Peter. His expression immediately turned to one of mild panic.
“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Are you crying because you’re mad at me or because you liked it? Oh god, please tell me those are happy tears.”
“Definitely happy tears,” you choked out, and Peter exhaled slowly before pulling you into a tight hug.
“Like I said, I’m sorry for reading your journal. But I hate that you’ve been feeling like that and didn’t tell me. I don’t want you to ever feel like that again. So, the next time you start feeling shitty, you tell me, alright? No more confessing to a stupid notebook, but not your best friend.”
“Alright,” you agreed, sniffling as you rested your head on his shoulder.
“Alright,” Peter echoed, then you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “Now, turn on your laptop and go lay down. I stole a movie from the store that we need to watch. It’s gonna be hilarious, and it’ll definitely make you feel better.”
“Okay,” you replied, laughing a bit as you unwillingly exited his embrace and headed for your laptop, and you realized you had nearly forgotten something. “Hey, Pete.”
Peter stopped in his tracks, likely about to make a popcorn run, and stared at you expectantly.
“I love you, too.”
The goofy, delighted grin that formed on his lips damn near reached ear-to-ear, and he shot you a wink before speeding off. You laughed quietly to yourself, and in the short time between his departure and return, wondered what you had ever done to deserve someone so incredible.
Summary/Request: Work colleagues and mutual crushes at X Mansion, Peter and you both manage to skip out of chaperoning for prom. You get to talking and discover Peter never went to prom, so you do your best to make it up to him. - by @evanpeters-petermaximoff
A/N: Once again big thanks to my darling for sending me another BOMB request. This was just such a cute request and I swear I had just like the goofiest grin on my face the whole time I was writing it. I don’t think I’m the best at writing dialogue, so sorry this one is pretty much just that P.S. Sorry it took me a gazillion years to get it up. Hope y’all enjoy!
The room is quiet, the halls empty. The only sound filling the room is you rustling around in the pantry, scavenging what you can while no one’s around to catch you in the act. You smile at your find, a box of chocolate covered Oreos, tucking them under your arm as you continue your search.
A little part of you wishes that X Mansion could be like this more often, quiet and serene to match the buildings grand exterior. You shake your head slightly at yourself, knowing that you don’t really wish that at all. You love the usually loud halls, the roaring voices and constant murmur reminding you that you’re privileged enough to work somewhere that provides a safe place where mutant teens feel free and happy.
In a regular school the mutants would be the solemn and removed ones, too scared of causing a scene or being discovered to do anything but keep their heads down. Not here. Here those same kids laugh, a laughter free of care and worry. Being a teacher at such a place fills you with immeasurable pride, knowing you’re making a positive impact on their lives.
Goodies carefully nestled under your arm and feeling triumphant you head down the hallway to your room. You’d barely sat down on your bed and opened the box when a loud gust of air immediately followed by rapid knocks at your door signifies the arrival of your favourite co-worker.
“Hello Peter” you greet in synchronisation with you opening the door, the silver haired boy leaning against the bannister opposite your room.
“That’s not fair, how’d you guess?” He says as he enters your room and plonks himself in the dead centre of your bed, brushing past you and increasing your heart rate unknowingly in the process. No matter how many times Peter has come into your room, the sight of him on your bed always makes you feel like a school girl with her first crush. Absolutely ridiculous, you’d scolded yourself more times than you can count, you’re a teacher, he’s a teacher. You’re too old for sillly crushes.
“What is this?” Peter asks with a gasp, holding up the open but uneaten box of Oreos accusatorily. “A whole box and you weren’t even going to share.” You raise an eyebrow at him, prompting him to swiftly grab several chocolate coated biscuits from within.
“Hey!” You rush to your bedside, leaning to grab your prized box as he holds it out of reach, “I found those fair and square!” Try as you might you can’t reach the cookies, Peter having longer limbs than you.
“Oh doesn’t feel nice when someone doesn’t share does it?” He asks teasingly. Throwing your hands up in defeat you sit on your mattress directly beside him, resting your back on the wall behind. His amusement ending with your defeat, he reluctantly places the now half finished box between the both of you.
Neither of you speak as you enjoy your chocolate treat and the increased beating of your heart. You’d have assumed your veins would be accustomed to Peter’s presence by now, but every time their increasing speed of moving blood around your body proves you wrong.
If you’d known each other when you were teenagers you’re sure things would have already played out differently, when you were more flirty and confident, unafraid to make a move and make your intentions known. Things are different now, you’re older and less inclined to take frivolous risks. In favour of keeping the work place as free from awkward encounters as possible you had chosen not to act on your school girl crush for now. No matter how much you wanted to.
“So”, you begin after you’d helped demolish the box, “what’d you do to weasel your way out of chaperoning?” As you spoke the entire student body were at the large hall that had been hired to host prom. This was the first year you and Peter were working together that one was held. Having been made to attend the previous ones, you wondered how he managed to evade attending his very first one.
“You really think Professor X would trust me at a glorified party without joining in?” He queries with a quirked brow, eliciting a laugh in agreeance from you. “What about you? Would’ve thought prom would’ve been your thing.” You tilt your head and furrow your brows in confusion.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question light-heartedly, earning a disbelieving look from him.
“Oh c’mon, a girl like you? I’m sure you were prom queen five years running.” You let out a hearty laugh while you try to disguise the blush that crept its way on your cheeks with his words.
“You couldn’t be more wrong actually,” you disagree, “I was pretty forgettable in high school.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Just like the blush that had almost dissipated came flooding back brighter than before at his kind words and eyes that rested on your face.
“Okay then Mr. Class Clown”, you change the subject to bring some normalcy to your features, “what were you doing at prom? Spiking the punch bowl I bet.” Oh how wrong your joke was.
“I was never even at one.” You couldn’t keep the shock off your face which made Peter laugh lightly at you.
“Not a single one?” Your shock even more evident in your voice than it is on your face. He shakes his head, a smile at your surprise still present. “Why not?”
“I don’t know really. I didn’t get on with a lot of the kids at school and I guess I didn’t think it was important”, ending his sentence with a dismissive shrug.
“Do you regret it?” He thought on your question for a minute before answering.
“Yea… I think I do.” While you weren’t the prom queen Peter had predicted, you had always gone with a group of your friends. The photos and memories you have of those nights you cherish, the fact Peter couldn’t share in that saddened you for him indescribably. You’re sure he would have loved it. Laughing, clowning around, slow dancing… Slow dancing. That gave you an idea. You perk up instantly, tucking your feet excitedly under your body as you turn to face him.
“Peter, where’s your Walkman?” He seems confused, but like a puppy with other puppies he latches on to your excitement.
“In my room.” He ends with an upwards inflection as if it was a question.
“Go grab it.” Your hair flies around your face as you blink, seeing a seemingly unmoved Peter, but now his portable cassette player was firmly in hand. This time you all but leap from the bed, grasping Peter’s free hand in your own as you tug him out of your room.
“Where are we going?” He struggles to get his sentence out amidst his excited laughter.
“To the lake now c’mon.” You tug his hand even tighter with your last word. Unexpectedly he yanks back, briefly making you collide with his chest, effectively stilling your movement.
“I know how we can get there quicker.” You remind yourself to breathe as he quickly and firmly wraps his arms around your middle. “Hold on tight”, he speaks in your hair. You’re pretty sure you know what’s coming so you close your eyes as a precaution. One minute you were in the halls in the X-Mansion, the next you’re at the aforementioned lake separating yourself from Peter and gasping for air. Your empty lungs, while still to do with Peter, were not merely down to his presence or words alone this time.
“Sorry, it’s a bit jarring the first few times.” Eventually you settle yourself enough that you can stand up straight once more. You finally allow yourself to take in your surroundings as Peter was already doing. The lake usually shrouded with students was completely void of anyone barring you and Peter. The water rippled occasionally in the light breeze and the moon cast its beams upon it. Looking at the picturesque view before you it was almost like being in a Van Gogh painting, although you preferred your reality that included the speedster beside you.
“Set it up to start at the next song.” You motion with your head at the Walkman. He obliges, taking only a second before a genuinely innocent smile crosses his face. He hands you the right earbud, the left already taken by him.
“Haven’t worn through these ones just yet huh?” You ask, still smiling from his previous gesture which had made you notice he was using the headphones you’d gifted him. It was his birthday not all that long ago, you’d wanted to get him something so he knew you were thinking of him but you’d struggled finding an item that fit. Eventually you’d chosen the white headphones before you now, as the packet had guaranteed the buds would stay put while exercising. Perfect for a man that never stops doing just that.
“I think they’re the best ones I’ve ever had.” The music was quiet, probably due to the fact you were both restricted to one earbud. You reach over and increase the volume a couple of notches, the melody to one of your favourite songs filling your ears. It was slow too, perfect to dance to. You start swaying, but only just so it was noticeable. Peter gazes at you, watching you shift your weight from foot to foot in time with the song. Tentatively you take one of his hands in yours, holding it out to the side.
“Usually when music’s playing people dance.” Your joking probe breaks him of his momentary trance. Clipping the Walkman to his belt his places a delicate hand upon your waist, your free one laying upon his shoulder. You both sway like awkward teens making you realise you were giving him much more of an authentic prom experience than what you had thought you could. In Peter’s soft gaze your nerves dissolve more and more with every word sung in your ear. You get the courage to release his hand in favour of wrapping your arms around his neck, him following suit and encircling your waist.
If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
Jim Croce’s voice is melodic, it fills the moonlit air around you with a magic only the two of you could feel.
The box would be empty
Except for the memory
If you had a choice you’d stay in this moment forever, just you, Peter, the moon and his Walkman.
Of how they were answered by you
As answered by the very song you were listening to you just couldn’t, time would always slip away from you, no matter how much you wanted to cling to it in the hopes of eternalising this precious moment.
“Y/N?” He takes your unflinching eye contact as a response, and with a sudden confidence he leans in, capturing your waiting lips in a chaste kiss.
But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
You thought Peter was done stealing the air from your lungs but his lips moving away from yours proves you wrong. He rests his forehead on yours, close enough that the breath he stole could dance against your face.
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with
The final notes of the song float through your ears. When it finishes neither of you can move, almost glued to one another. Maybe it was the moon, or the music that put magic in the air. Whatever it was you never wanted it to relinquish its hold on the both of you.
“Everything in my life is fast Y/N, I have trouble slowing down”, he announces seemingly out of the blue. You reluctantly move your forehead away from his to get a better look in his eyes, gently playing with the hair at the back of his neck. “No matter how fast, you’re the one I want to go through time with.”
If anybody else on planet Earth had spoken those words to you you’d have rolled your eyes, maybe even laughed right at them. The man in front of you was the only exception to that rule. He could make dirty words sound pretty, and he could turn cliché ones into poetry handwritten for your ears only.
The smile on your face is contagious, his lips mirroring your own while you search for the right words to say. How do you even tell him how you feel? He summed it up so perfectly that any words you could think to use seem feeble in comparison.
“Really?” is the only word that manages to make it past your teeth, leaving Peter to smile at you and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
“I had no idea how to tell you, I’ve been too nervous.” You’re surprised at his words, you’d never have pegged Peter as one for nerves. “Apparently all I needed was prom.” Peter reaches down long enough to restart Time in a Bottle.
“Just once more” was the biggest lie told all night. That song played over and over, leaving you both in that magic moment you wanted to hold on to.
This was no prom. You had no chaperones, no curfew, no rules you had to follow. You’re both adults, making your own rules as you go. You had to silently disagree with Peter on one point though.
He didn’t need prom, neither did you. Prom paled in comparison to tonight.
Summary: You are the first person Peter tells about his ability. Distance apart and years later Peter gives you the same comfort you once gave him
************
“Hurry up Y/N, I have to show you something important.” You were on your way to your year 10 math class when someone had grabbed your hand and yanked you the opposite direction to your class. It was your friend Peter, and while it wasn’t unusual for him to try and persuade you to abandon class in favour of wreaking havoc somewhere, this time was different. He seemed panicked and worried, completely unlike the carefree and cheeky demeanour he had daily.
“Peter, we can’t skip class. If you get caught again you’ll get suspended.” Peter’s hand was sweaty against yours as he pulled you out of the school building and towards the large area of trees at the back of the school field. This was somewhat of a hideaway for you and Peter, both of you opting to go there during lunches to get away from the masses.
“This is different Y/N, just trust me.” You nodded at him and tried to keep pace with him so he wasn’t dragging you along. You reached the trees and Peter waited until he was sure you both were completely hidden within their cover before releasing your hand.
He didn’t even look at you for what felt like forever, he simply paced back and forth muttering under his breath. Finally his movements halted and he stared at your form, which was now sitting on a log.
“We’re best friends, right Y/N?” His question had perplexed you. Of course you were, you had been for the last several years and never before had either of you felt the need to question your bond.
“Of course we are”, you stated matter-of-factly.
“And that means that nothing leaves us right?” You and Peter shared everything without question. The way he was questioning everything in this moment made you nervous, but you nodded at his question, your eyes as reassuring as you could possibly make them. Peter let out a long breath before frantically checking his surroundings.
“Promise you won’t freak out?” You furrowed your brows at his persistent questions.
“Peter what is going on?”
“Just promise me.” Hiss words were barely a whisper, spoken in such vulnerability that it left you no choice but to simply nod. With another shaky breath he closed his eyes and reopened them, locking eyes with you.
A blink was all it took. In the fraction of a second it took for your eyelids to involuntarily close and open there was a gust of wind and Peter was gone. You gasped out of impulse and shock, having no idea what just happened. Where is your friend, what kind of ridiculous prank is he playing on you and how in the hell is he pulling it off? You call out his name into the now empty space in front of you, and almost instantly your call is responded to.
“Behind you.” It’s only a whisper, but it’s one that is so close to your ear that you yelp and leap out of your seat, whipping around to see the very person who had moments ago disappeared. You have no words to say, but the confusion on your face speaks volumes.
“You don’t get it, huh?” He speaks, the tone of his voice suggesting whatever just happened should be as obvious as the nose on your face. “Okay, pay attention this time.” And just like that and accompanied by more wind he had shifted, this time to your left so that he was still in sight. Peter huffed when he saw no lightbulbs within your eyes so he attempted one more time to demonstrate what he was trying to tell you.
Once more he was gone from in front of you. Suddenly it was like you were in the middle of a hurricane, with wind whipping around you so fast it was hard for you to catch your breath. When it stopped Peter was standing in front of you, in a slightly different spot, and that along with his dishevelled hair was enough to piece everything together. It was the boy you’d befriended that was the cause of the wind.
“What the fuck”, you deadpanned, disbelief not allowing any more emotion to enter your voice.
“I don’t know Y/N, I started to be able to do it a couple of weeks ago and I am freaking out.” He said, nervously pacing back and forth.
“Okay, it’s gonna be alright, everything’s fine”, you say as calmly as you can before continuing, “but just so we’re on the same page, what exactly have you been able to do?” You ask, still really having no idea what you were witnessing.
“I can run fast. Like, insanely fast.” His answers make more sense than your conclusion that he can produce wind but also pop to different spots on command, but only slightly.
You had heard rumours and whispers of people with extraordinary abilities, mutants as they had been called. You’d never dreamed you’d meet one, let alone that your lovable trouble maker Peter Maximoff would turn out to be one. You wanted to freak out, every fibre of you wanted to let out every thought of confusion, fright and excitement, but the look on your friends face let you know you couldn’t. Not right now at least.
“I’m so scared Y/N.” You understood his uneasiness in telling you now. The whispers and rumours about mutants were never positive, always shrouded in fear and distrust, as if they were an alien race landing on earth. He looks at you in a silent debate on whether you were going to stay or run and report him to someone, which broke your heart.
You approach him slowly until you are standing right before him. “Don’t be”, you say with such conviction that his eyes snap to your face, his eyebrows furrow in puzzlement. “You’re amazing. I mean, you were before, but what you can do is incredible.”
“What I can do is going to get me in trouble”, he quips at you. “I already have enough of that.” He bashfully adds.
He was right of course. There was a certain irony to the fact that the boy who radiates trouble was at risk of drawing more his way by no fault of his own. This wouldn’t be the kind that warranted a slap on the wrist and a couple of detentions. No, this was the kind of trouble that had real world consequences. What they might be, neither of you truly knew, which made the totally unexpected scenario unfolding in front of you all the more frightening.
“Listen carefully Maximoff.” Saying his last name like you were his mother caused a flicker of a smile to twitch on his lips. “Nothing is going to happen to you, at all.” You say, emphasising the last two words when you could see he wasn’t believing you. “Not everyone is afraid of… people with abilities”, you continue trying to word things delicately so as not to offend him, “and if they are, screw ‘em.” You say throwing your hands up. “We still have each other greased lightning”, you call him cheekily, “and we always will. We’re going to make sure nothing happens to you.”
You could tell that he knew you meant every word you’d said, and you were glad to see that he looked a little eased of his burden at your passionate speech. “You know, there’s a lot of things that I let you away with”, he starts slowly, “but calling me greased lightning is not going to be one of them.” You laugh at his attempt to brush away dealing with all of the emotions you had laid before him, knowing it was not one of his strong suits.
“Well there’s plenty more nicknames to come Roadrunner.” Peter laughed at the ridiculousness you were projecting at him. “Not my best I know”, you admit before telling him that he better prepare for the masses of names that will be coming his way.
“So… How fast can you actually go?” You tentatively ask, curious about his answer. Something crosses his face that tells you he doesn’t know the answer.
“I’ve been so nervous I haven’t even tested it.” He mutters in utter disbelief at himself. You got your watch at the ready and told him to run to the dairy you frequented blocks away from the school. You looked up to tell him to go when wind flew around and suddenly he had a box of twinkies in his hands. He was about to open it when you yelled at him for stealing. He rolled his eyes at you and then as if they were never there they were gone, him grinning at your disbelief.
To say either of you wanted to go back to class would have been a lie, so neither of you felt any guilt at bunking the entire day. You entertained yourselves at Peter’s apparently boundless speed. He went to the beach, he got you a flower from the town over, and he made your sides split when you had tried to play tag with him.
Eventually though the day had to end, and it did with you walking the same direction home as you usually did. You reiterated, much to his displeasure, that however fun his power was he would have to be careful. He mumbled a ‘whatever mum’ at you, but nodded along regardless.
“Hey Y/N,” he speaks as you are parting ways. You turn your head to look at him finish his sentence. “Thanks… for everything.”
“Of course,” you start. Peter smiles and begins to retreat down the road thinking you were done speaking. “Catch ya later, speedy Gonzales.” You yell at his back, causing his shoulders to shake.
“Not unless I catch you first.”
******
The car is completely silent. Having driven out of radio service long ago the three of you sit listening to the gentle hum of the motor and the occasional tap of your finger against the door handle.
“We’ve heard really good things about this place”, your mum says for what feels like the hundredth time in an attempt to reassure all of you. You’re sure what has become her mantra at this point serves your father and her more than it ever did you, proven by the fact that your father nods along behind the steering wheel.
“It has lots of students enrolled, regular circular classes like any school plus you’ll get to be around other kids”, he pauses struggling to finish his sentence, “like you.” You roll your eyes in the back seat and continue your sporadic tapping while gazing out of the window. You’re not sure exactly where you are. You would have guessed the countryside if it weren’t for the large manors located on grand estates you kept passing. If it weren’t for your current predicament you’re sure you’d never have had occasion to be in such a stately place, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
After what felt like forever, and in reality was not far off, you pull into a gated estate that has a sign reading ‘Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters’ at its entrance. You feel your heart rate quicken at the realisation that what you’d hoped to avoid as long as possible is now laying out before you. As much as you wanted to be hopeful like your parents that this would all work out to be the best thing for you, you had an overwhelming feeling of apprehension about the whole thing.
Your parents care about you, you know they do. As you exit the car with them, the niggling thought that said they were only sending you here so they wouldn’t have to deal with you played in your mind once more like a broken record. You know that it’s not been easy for any of you, your very Christian parents struggling to come to terms with… the new you. They loved you no matter what and they were always wanting the best for you, even though right now it was the last thing you wanted.
“The headmaster is going to meet us to show us around”, says your father as you walk through the giant double doors. You take in your surroundings as you all wait, not quite believing the enormity of the place of what would be your new home.
“Sorry I’m late”, a man says that you had been too preoccupied too notice coming down the stairs, “I’m Professor Xavier.” The headmaster walked the three of you around the school and it’s grounds. He showed you some classes that were already underway while explaining how students here got a normal education while also being taught how to develop and control their powers, your parents making hums and nods of approval the entire time.
“Well if you’re satisfied with everything I can get someone to settle her into her room.” The statement was your parent’s ticket out of the mansion. Now that they had given the place a once over (and seen how many pupils it had) they were in quite the hurry to leave. Your father had your suitcases in the hallway in the blink of an eye, and even quicker they were placing kisses on your head and closing the car doors.
The Professor organised a spare teacher whose name you didn’t catch to escort you to your room. It was a single, even though you had seen plenty of shared quarters. Due to the fact your powers were new and your control of them under developed, it was standard protocol to give you your own room. By the time you were unpacked classes were finished for the day and the teacher found a pupil to buddy up with you, like you were back in kindergarten.
His name was Kurt Wagner, and despite knowing you were entering a school of mutants his blue appearance still caught you off guard. After your initial shock you found him to be quite lovely, if not rather shy. Kurt told you he would escort you down to the common room where he could introduce you to some of the other students.
On your way down the hallway a sudden whoosh of air flew by you faster than you could imagine possible. Whatever it was caused you to wind up on the ground, knocked over by what you thought was the wind but felt like someone had barged into your shoulder.
“Oh lord, are you alright Y/N?” Kurt asked in his thick accent while helping you onto your feet. You shrug it off as nothing and continue down the hallway with him, thinking that you’d have to get used to weird stuff like this happening.
In the commons you are introduced to Jean, Scott, Ozoro and a few others whose names you couldn’t remember in the jumble of it all.
“So what’s your power Y/N?” Scott questions innocently, unaware how uncomfortable it had made you. As if she could sense it, and for all you knew she could, Jean steers the conversation away from your power with simple redirection, something you were infinitely grateful for.
You all engage in small talk for a moment before a huge whoosh of air came through the room again. You look in its direction to see the back of a silver haired boy rummaging through the fridge.
“This is Peter, and he owes you an apology actually”, Kurt says to you before turning his attention to the new addition of the room, “for something in the hallway earlier?” Kurt’s pointed comment doesn’t go unnoticed by the boy as you see his shoulders move in a silent laugh.
“Your fault for not telling new girl to leave a bit of space in the corridor. That should’ve been rule number one.” He says while rummaging through the fridge the entire time. At the sound of his voice the cogs in your mind start to turn. What are the chances of there being two Peter’s that both have super speed? It couldn’t be, you hadn’t seen him in four years.
“Peter.” This time it is Jean that speaks and this is what causes Peter to slowly turn around while speaking.
“Okay, I’m sorry…. Sorry that they chose the wrong person to guide you around.” At the end of his sentence he finishes spinning around, giving Kurt a cheeky grin before it completely falls off his face at seeing you.
“Peter?” You squeak out, excitement otherwise restricting your vocal cords. Neither of you speak out of pure shock, the rest of the room following suit out of curiosity.
“You know each other?” Scott’s question breaks you both out of your stupor.
“Oh my god!” Peter yells, before appearing in front of you and wrapping his arms tightly around you, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around in a circle. You laugh like you haven’t done since you found out about your mutation, full and from deep within your stomach.
“Know each other?” Peter repeats as he sets you down without removing his arms from around you. “This girl is the reason behind every passing grade I got in high school.” You chuckle at his accurate yet concise summary.
“And he’s the reason behind every detention I ended up in”, you add making him laugh. God how you’d missed that sound.
“Someone had to make you live a little.” The others simply watch on at your little reunion.
You spend the next couple of hours catching up on your lives since you had shifted away. Your dad had gotten an unexpected promotion not long after Peter had told you about his mutation that shifted you to the other side of the country with very little warning. You’d both had the best intentions, saying you’d write and keep in touch, but neither of you did. Peter lacked the patience for it and you got too caught up in settling in somewhere new.
Lights out was announced and students began clearing out of the common area. Peter says he’ll walk you to your room and you oblige, wanting to be around him as much as possible.
Tomorrow was Saturday, so as you said goodnight you and Peter made plans for the next day, you say goodnight and as he leaves your door he yells over his shoulder.
“I can’t wait for you to show me your power!” Your heart plummets as you close your door. You knew that was coming, how could he not be curious? You’d been the first one he’d trusted to show you his ability, naturally it should go the same way for you. True, there was no one else you’d rather show than Peter, even after all those absent years. You were still nervous though. Your power was so new to you, you barely know how to control it and sometimes it just happens without you wanting it to. You had scared your family with it, you didn’t want to scare him off too.
Your sleep had passed quickly and you and Peter were out walking the grounds the next day before you knew it. It was huge, bigger than what you had initially thought. You find a large old oak and sit under it while Peter tells you stories of him and a group he called the X-Men.
He was the same Peter, his cheeky attitude and temperament for trouble made it impossible to deny that. He had also matured, something you’d never thought you’d be able to say about him.
“So what’s with the hair Maximoff?” You say, leaning over and mussing it with your hand. “You trying to coin a new nickname with that silver mop or something?” Despite himself he smiles at your teasing.
“No, I don’t need a new nickname, I have a perfectly good one.” He states, puffing his chest out as you wait for him to tell you. “You’re looking at”, he raises his hands and points both his thumbs at his face, “Quiksilver.”
“Quiksilver?” You say incredulously, to which he nods enthusiastically. “C’mon Peter! I could’ve come up with better.” You say making him playfully shove you. It’s actually a pretty cool name, but you can’t let on to him.
You both fall into comfortable silence as you soak in the day. The sun was shining out over the expanse before you and birds overhear chirp their songs loudly to one another.
“So”, he begins, “care to give me a demo yet?” His nonchalant tone doesn’t erase the worrying content of his question.
“I don’t know Peter... I’m not very good at it.” You hope that will be enough to dissuade him, but as he shakes his head you know you’re going to have to give in.
“I was pinging all over the place when I showed you. Think I knew what I was doing?” Although he spoke no words of comfort they still calm you slightly. You take in a deep breath as you place your palms flat against the ground. You’re about to start when you realise how close Peter is. You ask him to take a few steps back just in case, and with him at a safe distance you close your eyes and focus.
You open your eyes and see that your concentration paid off. Roots from the surrounding trees and plants are emerging from the ground. You try to make them twist together to form some kind of shape, but as you’re attempting it Peter starts clapping and yelling in encouragement. Your concentration broken the roots movements halt, leaving them sticking out of the ground like sticks in sand.
You stand while wiping your hands on your jeans and making your way to the still applauding speedster.
“That was amazing”, he exclaims while throwing his arms around you, “I should’ve known sweet wee Y/N’s power would be something like that.” You wriggle out of his arms and look off to the distance, feeling uncomfortable with the praise.
“My parents didn’t think it was too wonderful when roots and branches filled our lounge”, you speak quietly. You look back to Peter to see a soft look in his eyes.
“Y/N look-”
“I’m a freak Peter”, you interrupt, “I got these powers that I don’t know how to use and I can barely control.” You start pacing to air out some of your nervous energy. “It’s not even useful! I can’t make anything grow, I can only manipulate what’s there. When would that ever be useful.”
Peter was in front you before you’d seen him move. He grabbed you by your shoulders to still your movements and looked at you in the eyes. “You are not a freak”, he says with such conviction that you almost believe it.
“My parents dropped me here so they wouldn’t have to deal with me”, you divulge, “they didn’t even know what to do with me when they found out.” You don’t cry. You’re not sad at this information anymore, you’d had time to accept it. You were merely relaying what you considered to be facts.
“Who cares?” His question confuses you and you open your mouth to yell at him as he continues. “Your parents don’t get you because they’re ordinary. You’re special Y/N, just like me. You’re amazing.” He echoes words you had spoken years ago, making it impossible to keep a smile off of your face.
“You remember that huh?”
“You’re the reason I got through it all”, he speaks with a sincerity you’d only heard from him once before. “Think about this, if you didn’t have a mutation then we may have never met again.” His logic was infallible. As much as you had been struggling with everything, connecting with Peter was a blessing you couldn’t ignore. “Plenty of people have been through what you’re going through”, he starts softer this time, “you can do it too.” You smile at him which he gladly returns.
He lets out a loud sigh while moving an arm around your shoulders and turning you to face the oak you had been sitting under earlier. “That’s enough sappiness for one day”, he says earning a playful elbow to his side, “do you know what this tree could do with?” He asks rhetorically to which you roll your eyes as an answer. “A treehouse.” He concludes causing you to laugh out loud at him.
“I can’t make a treehouse Peter, that’s too hard!”
“Well there’s only one way to find out.” You spend the rest of the day testing your powers at Peter’s request. You failed a lot, but your successes were celebrated with whoops and cheers and laps of the grounds from Peter.
You weren’t through the woods yet. You had a long way to go and a rocky path to face. But for the first time in years you had Peter with you, and you’d help each other through whatever came your way. No number of years could change that.
Request: Hi Darling! I just wanted to say I really really LOVE your last fic of Peter M that I read at least once everyday. Thank you so much again for accepting my request! My mood for Peter is still ongoing and I just had this idea for quite some time and it might be related to the last fic as well. So it's after Dark Phoenix and by that time Peter and the reader are married for like 7 years or so. When they married, they agreed to not have kids bc Peter was not sure/confident/ready to be a dad. Reader loved kids but she was okay with that and just happy being with Peter. Somehow Dadneto issue was resolved. One day Peter says he's kinda ready and wants to have kids with her only if she wants. They try and it's a long process so they decide to be patient. She loves coffee and Peter always brings coffee from her favorite cafe when she asks. One day Peter comes back with coffee and she says she might need hot chocolate or smt and Peter is confused. She reveals she's pregnant. I'm so sorry it's very long. You can change the idea as you wish. Always thank you for your time! - by @evanpeters-petermaximoff
A/N: Thank you again lovely for your amazing mind sending ideas to little ole me. I appreciate you so much 💖
Masterlist Requests Open
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“One Americano, as requested.” Your husband places your order down in front of you, presenting you with his cheek and only sitting with his own coffee after you’d placed a peck upon it. A small smile rests upon his lips, as it always does after receiving a kiss from you, as he takes the first sip of his caramel latté. This is how you loved to spend your Saturday mornings, sitting side by side on the couch you had all but claimed at your favourite coffee shop down the road, sipping your drinks in relaxed silence.
When you had first moved in with your now husband Peter you had gone on a quest to find the best coffee in town. He liked his sweet whereas you preferred your coffee dark, so you’d had to find a place that did both well. You’d wanted to try as many of the cafés around as possible, however you’d stopped two cafés in as you’d tried ‘Brew’, your now weekly coffee stop. Being only two blocks away it was close enough that you could walk there, strolling down the footpath hand in hand to remind him to keep pace with you, lest he jetted off as he’s known for doing. You only ever really both had the time to go together on Saturday mornings, so throughout the week Peter would bring you a takeaway cup with your piping hot Americano. Sometimes he wouldn’t even get one for himself, going out of his way to bring one for you, making you wonder how you were lucky enough to have a husband that was still so thoughtful seven years into marriage.
You rest your head on Peter’s shoulder, waiting for your cup to cool down before taking a sip, when a family comes through the door. The two excited little girls burst through the door first, followed by their parents instructing them to slow down so they wouldn’t crash into anything. The girls slowed down by a fraction but did not cease in their game of tag. You look over at the mother to see that she was wearing a front pack which had the smallest little face staring at you from it. You had to supress a squeal. His face was scrunched and wrinkled, his small hands balled into fists against his mothers chest. You watched as the miniscule boy opened his mouth in what was proportionately a large yawn before closing his tired eyes.
The smile on your face speaks for itself and as you take your head off Peter’s shoulder to reach forward and grab your cooling mug. You peer at him, noting he must have been watching you looking at the family.
“Sorry, I was staring wasn’t I? They’re just so sweet”, you say, blowing on your coffee and tentatively taking your first sip. The fact you loved kids was no secret, you adored them, taking every babysitting opportunity that you could growing up. When you’d imagined your life as a little girl it had always been with children scampering around. You hadn’t accounted for meeting Peter then though.
He was a big kid himself, so when you’d first started getting serious with him you’d thought it went without saying that he’d want them too. Surprised was an understatement when you found out that wasn’t the case. At first he’d been guarded about it, laughing it off or changing the subject when you’d asked, but eventually you pieced together the truth. He was afraid he’d be like his father.
You had known fairly well immediately after meeting Peter that he didn’t have a father growing up, being raised by a single mother. You’d been shocked to say the least when he’d confided in you that the Magneto was his father. You saw the way this man was feared, how he’d put people’s lives in danger again and again. You saw how this affected Peter, how he wished his father was someone he could look up, someone to be a role model for him. He’d never found that in Erik, and while all of that was behind him now and he and Erik had sorted things out between them, those memories still wreaked havoc on his disposition towards kids.
You understood that if you stayed with Peter that he didn’t want kids for the foreseeable future, and that he very well might never want them, but you’d been surprised when you realised you were okay with that. Your friends had been concerned you were sacrificing too much when you’d married, having mentioned to them about him not wanting kids, but you didn’t see it as a sacrifice. You weren’t giving up your dream, simply realising a new one. As long as you were with Peter you were happy, kids or not.
“Pretty sure you’d have to have a screw loose to not look at that baby”, he says with a smile, trying to get a glance at the hardly a few weeks old baby himself. It’s now your turn to watch Peter, seeing how he poked his tongue out and bulged his eyes in an attempt to get the baby to smile. “I think he’s a bit young for that Peter”, you say while supressing a laugh at his antics. He shrugs at you, claiming no one is too young to find him funny before you settle down to finish your coffees, your eyes never truly straying from the happy family of five.
“So they were the cutest huh?” Peter asks you as you’re walking home, talking about the family he’d noticed you couldn’t stop smiling at. “Oh Peter, those wee girls were so cute! Did you see how the one with the pigtails kissed her baby brother on the forehead? I could’ve dropped dead right then.” You say it all with no agenda. You’d never try to change Peter’s mind, but you can’t help gushing.
He falls silent as you reach home after the short walk, him unlocking the door and letting you step inside first. He watches as he take your scarf off and hang in on the coat rack at the door, seeing how your hair falls daintily around your face and how your cheeks are a little flushed from the walk. He could never stop looking at you, sometimes he was so enraptured in watching you that you had to snap your fingers at him to pull him out of his trance.
It’s true, he hadn’t wanted kids. In the years since he’d worked things out with Erik though he’d felt a change. Something shifted, as if the worry he’d turn out removed like his own father had started to fade when he’d finally gotten to talk to him. Lately he’d noticed he was looking at kids just as much as you, thinking how great it would be to have a little Maximoff running around.
“Hey Y/N?” You stop on your way to the kitchen, turning around to look at Peter while humming to indicate you’d heard him. “You know I love you, don’t you?” You scrunch your eyebrows at the way he was speaking rather awkwardly, walking over to him and putting your arms around his neck. “Of course I do, I love you too.” Nows the time, looking into your eyes he couldn’t be more sure of it.
“I’m ready”, he speaks, having to continue when he only sees confusion on your face, “for a family. I want to have a kid.” You don’t speak for a while making Peter wonder if he’d said something wrong or if he’d chosen the wrong time. “Are you serious?” You whisper, a wide grin spreading larger across your face with every word you speak. He nods his head at you, his signature grin coming out at your happiness.
“Do you mean that?” You ask, still unable to shake your utter shock at his announcement. He nods eagerly once more, eliciting an excited squeak from you as you tighten your arms around his neck, him reciprocating by wrapping his around your waist. You stay there for a while, too excited to release him.
When you do, you quickly squeeze his shoulders before sliding your hands down his arms to connect your hands with his. Simultaneously you start stepping backwards with him in tow, leading him towards your bedroom. “C’mon Mr. Maximoff, put a baby in me”, you say with a mischievous glint in your eyes. He laughs full and excited, “I don’t know that it happens that fast.” He says, even though he continues to follow you. “Well we won’t know unless we try.”
“Whatever you say Mrs. Maximoff.”
********
You sit on the closed toilet seat, absent-mindedly scrolling through your phone as you wait for three minutes to tick past.
It’s been eight months. Eight months of trying, false alarms, and looking for symptoms that weren’t there. The both of you knew going into this that people don’t get pregnant immediately, a lot of the time it takes a fair bit of trying. You just couldn’t help how impatient you were. You’d gotten used to the fact that you might never have kids, now that you were trying for one you had been impatient.
The time on your phone rolls over to 5:48pm, marking three minutes passed. You sigh and pick up the little white stick, expecting another negative. When you look at first you only see one strong red line but then beside it a very faint second line stares back at you. You don’t believe it, pulling out the instructions and reading that no matter how faint, two lines indicated a positive result. You grab another from the box and repeat the process over. 5:53pm you check again, seeing the same thing, one strong line and a fainter second one. You clap your hands over your mouth out of excitement. You were pregnant. You and Peter’s child was in your womb as you stood there gobsmacked. It was probably only the size of a bean or grape, but you look down at your still flat stomach anyway, a comically large smile on your face.
The door slams announcing Peter’s arrival home, followed by him calling out your name down the hall. You grab both tests and shove them into your pocket, opening the door and walking out to see Peter at your dining table with a takeaway cup in his hands and another in the seat opposite him. You kiss him on the cheek before taking your seat across from him, cupping the warm vessel in both hands.
You idly chat very briefly as Peter sips at his drink. You raise your cup to your lips as you intend to take a sip before you stop dead and put the cup back down. Aren’t pregnant people not supposed to have coffee?
“What’s wrong with your coffee?” Peter asks, noticing you haven’t drunk any, “Don’t tell me you’ve gone off Brew, I think I’d cry if we had to find a new favourite spot”, he says dramatically, adding “ugly crying too.” You giggle at him, reaching across the table presenting your palm to him. He reaches back and clasps your waiting hand, smiling as your thumb rubs back and forth.
“First of all we’re never leaving Brew”, you say with a cheeky quick squeeze of your hand, “but I think I need to start laying off the coffee, maybe switch to hot chocolates or something.” He furrows his brows as he takes another sip. “Why?”
“Well”, you start, your excitement now bubbling to the surface, “I hear you’ve gotta be careful how much caffeine you drink while pregnant.” “Pshh, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it babe, don’t torture your-”, he stops himself mid sentence as he realises what you said, eyes snapping to your grinning face. “Are you, are you...” He fades off when you produce the two sticks from your pocket and place them in front of him. “We did it. I’m pregnant.”
His reaction is far more immediate than yours. He holds up your hand in his, kissing the back of it before quickly shooting up and hugging you tightly in a flash. You laugh at his eagerness and your own excitement, hugging him back just as tightly.
He pulls back, placing a hand on either side of your face and kissing your forehead. “We have to tell everyone!” He exclaims, you laughing at him. “We’re not supposed to until three months.” He agrees to keep quiet for the mean time, although he did try to convince you to let him tell one person which you absolutely declined despite how much you wanted to tell people too.
“Look,” he says motioning out to the lounge with his arm around the back of your chair, “soon we’re going to have a little Peter and Y/N running around here.” You smile, being able to picture Peter playing on the floor with your child.
“You do realise this means you’re going to have to deal with me not being able to have an Americano for nine months right?” You say teasingly. “Yesh, it’s going to be rough,” he says, you doing nothing to disagree. You look up into the face of the man you love and the man who has made you the happiest you’ve ever been.
“It’s going to be worth it though”, he says with sincerity. You smile with him in agreeance.
Request: I just found your blog and read for stories in a row, you are so good xxx Can I please request a Peter Maximoff x fem!reader super fluff in which they have been going steady for years but they still behave like cute couples in the honeymoon phase and everybody else around is annoyed and ask for advices at the same time? xxx - by Anon
A/N: I hope this is fluffy enough for you Anon! Thank you for your request! (also I kinda loved writing squad convo’s with the X gang)
On a seperate note - it’s been brought to my attention that a lot of my works (mainly my Peter M. ones, but most of the work I’ve posted) do not show up under their tags. I would usually never ask, but on the off chance you read my work and happen to like it, a way you could help me out would be by reblogging my work. Otherwise there’s not really a way for my writing to reach other people. Obviously this is completely optional and you are absolutely not obligated to do so, but if you enjoyed it enough it would been a lot to little ole’ me. Hugs and kisses xxx
Masterlist Requests Open
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The quiet hum of the television. The dim light of the fire. Peter’s strong arms snaked around your waist as you lean your head on his shoulder from your spot on his lap. This is how you wish you could spend all of your time, engulfed by the boy that makes everyday a new adventure. The boy who brightens up your life just by being at your side. When you were with Peter it felt like nobody else existed, it was just you and him and everything was perfect.
Without warning Peter starts tickling your waist. You are helpless to do anything but squirm and laugh as you’re totally trapped within his grip. You writhe and laugh, pleading with your boyfriend to stop.
“You guys, do you mind?” Scott’s voice prompted Peter to stop but not before giving your waist a final squeeze. You had almost forgotten Scott was even in the room. In fact, all of the young X-Men were. It was movie night which brought all of you down into the shared living space. Kurt was seated beside you on the couch, and although he was too polite to say anything, he had a clearly irritated look on his face from being kicked by your flailing feet.
“Sorry Scott, sorry Kurt.”
“You’re such a party pooper man.” You and Peter spoke in unison, showcasing your different dispositions. “They’re just jealous that they don’t have what we have babe.” He says into your ear, causing another giggle to bubble from your throat.
“Not deaf Peter.” Scott grumbles from his spot on the sofa neighbouring the two seater you and Peter were on. “I also have a girlfriend”, he says raising the hand joined with a less than interested Jean’s, “in case you forgot.”
You and Peter weren’t listening, having already retreated into your bubble again. Scott rolled his eyes at you both, not that you could tell through his glasses. Despite the teasing and the annoyance, Scott couldn’t help but admire what you two have. Looking at you no one would guess you’d been together for years. In fact, when you’d first gotten together your peers in the mansion had speculated amongst themselves that it would be a fling and nothing more.
“I dunno Ororo, it just feels like we’re always going to be like this” you remember musing to your friend. “That’s what they all say Y/N.” Despite all their doubt and bets on when you’d end you had proved them all wrong. You never stopped holding hands down the hallway. You never stopped placing kisses on the others cheeks whenever you could. Most importantly, you’d never left your honeymoon phase, every week passing feeling as though you were reliving your first week together over and over. Your friends were outwardly sarcastic and snide about your ‘too good to be true’ relationship, but inwardly they were happy for you, if not puzzled. How did you two do it?
“Am I sneaking in tonight?” You whisper to Peter as you make your way upstairs, the movie you had paid no attention to now over. “Of course. Give it an hour, Scott should be snoring by then.” You kiss his cheek closest to you, his cheeky grin making the apples of his cheek prominent. This has been your little habit of late. You’d wait until Scott was fast asleep, slink into bed to cuddle with Peter, and there you’d stay until the gentle morning rays awoke you with the reminder you’d have to return to your own room, lest you should be caught in the act.
You were smiling at yourself in the mirror as you brushed your teeth in the communal girl’s bathroom, already counting down the minutes until you’d be in Peter’s arms again. His head resting atop yours and his lips pressing light kisses on anywhere he could reach; the memories and anticipation causing butterflies to take flight in your stomach like a school girl with a crush. You guess in some ways you were. Was it lame to say you had a crush on your boyfriend? Maybe. But who cares? Certainly not you.
“Hey Y/N?” Jean’s voice pulls you out of your daydream. “Can I ask you something?” She queries as she washes her hands. Your nod prompts her to continue, “You and Peter... How do you do it?”
“What do you mean?” Your words barely make a coherent sentence past the toothbrush and toothpaste still in your mouth. “You know what I mean”, she’s reluctant to say what she’s thinking, the confused look on your face forcing her to, “how are you guys still so happy after so long?” She’s embarrassed, her eyes darting all around the bathroom. You spit out your toothpaste before answering, deeming a clear voice was probably necessary for this unexpected conversation.
“Are you and Scott-” “No no, we’re fine it’s not that”, she interrupts, “it’s just we’re still new. I want what you guys have when me and Scott have been together for that long.” The two were still a relatively fresh couple of the mansion, only having been dating five months by this stage. Honestly, you don’t know how to answer her question. You didn’t think you did anything, you were just happy. “I mean, there’s no magic rule we follow or anything...” you don’t know what to tell her without making her want to vomit in her mouth. “Just don’t take him for granted. Appreciate the other person for who they are and let yourself be happy. Don’t let little things get between you, that’s all we do”, you surmise with a shrug of your shoulders. The flush of a toilet and opening of a stall makes you realise that Ororo was in the room the whole time.
“Good thing I’m not lactose intolerant”, she says washing her hands, “otherwise I’d be even sicker than I already feel.” Despite her words there was a smile plastered on her face, making Jean snigger and you shrug. “Well consider yourself lucky”, you say as you exit, toothbrush in hand, “that was me going light on the cheese.”
Time tics by slowly as you wait, minutes seemingly taking hours as you wait for the small digital clock to flick it’s digits over to 11:00pm, the time that would ensure Scott and your roommate Ororo were both asleep. The soft breathing coming from the other side of the room indicates you were safe on your end, and when the clock finally ticked over you were gone, stepping softly and silently down the hallway to Peter’s room. You stealthily open and close the door without making a sound. The dark proves no obstacle as you make your way to his bed, having done it so many times now you’re sure you could make the journey blindfolded.
“What took you so long?” He’s made that joke enough times that you really shouldn’t laugh, yet you just can’t help yourself as you slide into his waiting arms. “Traffic was crazy”, you say as you snuggle down, his arms securing their permanent position around your waist as he kisses your shoulder blade. You and Peter loved to spoon. While sometimes Peter enjoyed being the little spoon, most of the time you happily took that position, just like tonight. You take a moment to enjoy the mere feeling of being snuggled next Peter, as you usually do, the butterflies still in flight within your stomach now mixed with the little exhilaration at the idea you could get caught.
“So Jean asked me an interesting question on the bathroom today.” You have your whispering down to a fine art. While you were sure that a bomb could go off and Scott’s snoring would still continue, it wasn’t a chance you overly wanted to take. You move your face to see his hovering over your shoulder, his eyebrow arched suggestively, earning a small flick upon his nose. “Nothing like that you pervert”, he rolls his eyes at your name calling, “she was asking how we were so happy”, you regale.
“That’s funny”, you widen your eyes a little in intrigue to prompt him on, “Kurt asked me the same thing in the guy’s bathroom.” You look at each other in the eyes, flicking back and forth between each pupil. You both crack at the same time, letting your shared giggles fill the air around you. You both encouraged the other to stop, but nothing quelled your laughs except time to let yourselves calm down. “What’d you tell him?” Your curiosity almost too much to bear. “Uh-uh”, he tsks, “ladies first.” You roll your eyes playfully yet oblige his request regardless, recounting every sentiment you had passed on to the girls. “Your turn.” You wriggle around in his arms to face him, eager to hear what he’d said.
“Nothing.” You furrow your brow in confusion. “Nothing”, you repeat in disbelief, “you had no advice for the poor guy?” He shakes his head at your misunderstanding. “I told him that when you find someone who makes you this happy”, he brushes his nose against yours briefly, “that there wasn’t anything you had to do. I do nothing every day and I reckon I’m the happiest guy under this roof.” You laugh, his words vacuous to some made your heart swell. He was right, you’d spent many a day doing nothing at all, yet you felt like you could have been a top the Eiffel Tower or in a gondola down the canals in Venice for how full and happy you felt.
“How did we become that couple?” You ponder out loud. Peter shrugs, his bottom lip slightly sticking out in wonder. “You like it don’t you?” The glint in his eyes tells you the answer before he even says it.
“Is it bad that I kind of love it?” His questions almost rhetorically.
“Not at all”, you bury yourself into his chest, ready to nod off in the secure hold he has around you before continuing, “I hope we’re always that couple.”
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Tagging:
@evanpeters-petermaximoff (cause I know you’re still feigning mister Maximoff 😘)
