Plot: Today is the day; she’s coming to spend time with Peter. He’s just hoping he won’t screw it up. Words: 1178 Taglist: @sweetievalencia, @a-girl-who-loves-disney, @mc-winchester-on-a-unicorn A/N: This one is my favourite so far; I just love the dynamic here. Sorry if I didn’t include you in the taglist and you asked - my inbox has been flooded recently and I’ve been frantically trying to get it right, so I’m sorry if I screwed up! Please subscribe if you like this; it’s the third part in a many-part series.
In the dim morning light, the mess of blankets on the bed became apparent. Nested amongst them, one arm draped over the bed frame; Peter Maximoff’s eyelids fluttered. He’d been plagued by a bad sleep; nerves had gotten the best of him, and now his dreams were vivid and colourful to match. His fingers twitched, his breathing uneven and heavy, until he finally was pulled back into the waking world. He groaned, the rolling over to check his alarm clock. 10am. He had overslept. He pulled a hand over his eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them, and yawned. Pushing himself up out of the bed, he looked down at the mess of blankets he’d left as a result of all of his tossing and turning. In a flash he’d fixed them up, and he picked up a comic he’d discarded in his sleep and put it on his beside table for good measure. As he started up the stairs towards the shower, he remembered that it was Friday. And not just any Friday. He groaned, sprinting up the steps to the shower, ripping off his clothes and stepping under the hot water. Showers weren’t something you could really rush; but Peter could try.
It took him just over two minutes to be done with the shower, and after that he was able to throw on a shirt, jeans and some crappy deodorant in the blink of an eye. Taking a bite out of a leftover Twinkie, he darted around his messy basement, trying to hide his incredibly large stash of stolen food and the explosion of comics covering every clean surface. He was driven by nerves; settling in the pit of his stomach like butterflies. (y/n) would be here in less than a few minutes, and the thought of it was daunting. She hadn’t visited their house in some years, with the exception of a brief hello or dropping off parcels that had found their way to the wrong house. He’d wanted to spend time with her for a long time; and now it was really happening. He smiled, but the smile was nervous; daunted. When the doorbell rang, he ran a hand through his silver hair. It was cropped shorter now than it had been in the years before, but it was still as wild as ever. Shit. This is it. He was at the door in the blink of an eye, fiddling at the lock. When he got it open, a cool March breeze whipped passed his face, and there she was. (y/n) was dressed for the cold weather; cream scarf and ankle boots giving way to jeans and a green coat, even if she only lived next door. Her hair was pulled back from her face with clips; and Peter felt as though he couldn’t quite get enough oxygen.
“Hi Pete” she smiled, and the sound of his childhood nickname on her lips took his breath away. “Sup” he grinned, stepping to one side so that she could make her way through the doorway “welcome to my evil lair”. (y/n) chuckled “is this your base of operations for ice-cream related scheming?” He shrugged “ice-cream related scheming is usually located downstairs, in my basement. Good for pong, good for scheming. The ultimate base for evil.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, opening the door that lead down to his basement. She ran one hand across the wall as she made her way down the stairs; Peter could see her nails were delicately painted, and he smiled internally. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, she turned to him, grinning “I see you’ve made an attempt to hide your comic books” Peter chuckled “observant”. “And pointless. Comic books are not at all something you should have to hide”. If only she knew just how much he had to hide. She bounded over to his sofa, pulling one of the nearest comics out from under it. Flipping through it, she crossed her ankles and sighed. “I prefer Green Lantern to Fantastic Four, but I won’t pass judgement on you” she waved her hand, a slight smile playing on her lips.
Peter rolled his eyes mockingly. He went to sprint over; but remembered who he was with. Remembered that there were things about him (y/n) didn’t yet know. And right now? He just wanted to be ordinary. Just wanted one afternoon with her. He strode over, which felt incredibly odd. Taking a seat next to her, he gripped the arm of the chair, his fingers tapping on the leather. “You like old movies? I got a VHS player. It’s like - it’s the best thing.” he grinned, crossing his ankles. She pushed the hair back from her shoulder, and he saw red flush her face as she noticed how close he was. The couch was long, and they were both at opposite ends; but it was closer than they had been in years, and Peter began to feel a nervous energy filling him, pulling him in. “Let’s do it”.
When (y/n) turned to leave late in the afternoon, Peter found himself sad to see her go. They had spent the day watching old films and playing pong; she’d beaten him hands down almost every time, which he had a good chuckle about. She’d also managed to stumble across his stash of stolen Twinkie boxes; he denied all knowledge of them, which was as unbelievable as ever. She made her way through the door, stepping out into the evening light. “It was a pleasure beating you at Pong, Pete” she jested, nudging his shoulder with her fist. He bowed mockingly “it was a pleasure being beaten at Pong by you, (y/n). Although next time, giving me a win out of sympathy would be nice.” She laughed “not a chance. You have to earn it”. They both laughed, and then the air grew nervous in the silence as their eyes met. Peter felt the electricity cracking in the air; felt as though his blood might light on fire if he didn’t hold her.
He took a step towards her, biting his lip softly. Her cheeks flushed red, a slight smile falling across her face. Reaching out with the tips of his fingers, he brushed a thick strand of hair back from her face, gently reaching his thumb to her cheek- “(y/n)?” Peter’s mom called out, slamming the car door. Shit. “Hi Mrs. Maximoff” (y/n) sheepishly waved, pulling away from Peter. The moment was gone, and her eyes lost the spark that he had seen in them before. He wasn’t Pete right now; he was just Peter Maximoff. She smiled quickly at Peter, before making her way down the steps “Goodbye Peter. I’ll see you soon.” He leaned against the doorframe, running a hand through his thick, silver hair, giving her a mock salute. Peter’s mom made her way up the steps, raising her brows “how’d it go, Peter?” Peter shrugged “I’ll let you know when I find out.”
Plot: Peter has vowed to be less of a loser around her. So far, not so good. Words: 635 Taglist: @sweetievalencia, @a-girl-who-loves-disney, @mc-winchester-on-a-unicorn A/N: I love this series right now, this is such fun to write. Peter is really coming to life in these, and I’m finding it really easy to articulate what I feel would be going on in his head. The 2nd part in a many-part series. If you like it, subscribe! Request things! Etc!
Frost covered grass fractured the light of the morning sun as it rose in the sky. Peter Maximoff breathed out heavily; smiling at the way his breath clouded the air around him. It was February, and a colder February than most in the quiet suburban street - the morning was still, and no cars passed by as he walked down the middle of the road. Hands in his jeans pockets, Peter blew his hair out of his eyes, listening to familiar beats on his Walkman.
He reached the end of the street, jumping up to tap the frost off of the street sign. It came away in tiny snowflakes, falling through his fingers as the ice made his hands shiver.
Now came the fun part.
In the flash of a moment, Peter was racing forwards, winding through the streets. The world seemed still to him; the bare branches on the trees were still despite the breeze, and the few cars on the streets seemed stationary on the road as he sprinted so fast. He laughed; when it was just him with no expectations, no motivations - he could just let go. Just be himself for a moment.
He reached the park he sometimes visited on his free days; he liked to lay in the grass and listen to his music, pulling him into another world. He made a b-line for his usual spot under the oak tree, and stopped.
She was dressed in green; dark green coat and a white woolen hat, delicate gloved hands and long boots, sitting on a bench just off of the path. (y/n) was pouring over a book, her breath puffing clouds against the morning sun. Peter felt anxiety rising in his chest; they hadn’t spoken since the ice cream incident a month ago, and Peter was remembering the promise he made to himself.
Don’t be a loser.
He swallowed nervously, taking his hands out of his pockets and breathing on them to warm them. Why was he so pale? God, he was so pale. He shook his head, blood rushing to his face.
Get it together, man. You’ve known this chick for years.
“Hey Peter” she called out, looking up from her book. “Sup” he nodded. Shit. “How’s reading going? Find out anything interesting?” he added, slipping his headphones down onto his neck. She raised her brows, blowing out a puff of air “one guy just speared another guy for disrespecting him. I think he might have anger issues.” Peter grinned “bummer. Did he have it coming?” (y/n) shrugged “he was kind of an asshole, but I’m not sure being an asshole entitles you to being cut in half”. Peter shuffled his feet “if it did, I’d be screwed” he chuckled, dragging his index finger across his throat. “From my knowledge, your biggest crime is that you have a serious addiction to ice cream” she nodded jokingly, furrowing her brows “like, seriously dude. That is excessive”. “What can I say? Growing guy has gotta eat” he smirked, pulling at his sleeves. (y/n) smiled, rubbing her hands together, and the silence suddenly hung between them awkwardly. “Anyway-” she began, but Peter interrupted. “Mom’s out of town next month” he breathed, his hands shaking “want to come over and play pong? I’ve got cable if you like crappy movies, too.” (y/n) smiled, closing her book in her hands “I’d like that. Just like the good old days”. Peter chuckled, looking up at his fringe “still going to tease me about my hair?” “Wouldn’t dream of it, old man.”
Damn, she gives as good as she gets. Peter felt his heart lift, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. “Well, I’ve gotta run. Catcha then?” She waved “seeya, Pete”.
Pete? Peter smiled the whole way home, feeling a lightness in his chest. Nailed it.
Plot: Sometimes, the truth is hard. Words: 664 Taglist: @sweetievalencia, @a-girl-who-loves-disney, @mc-winchester-on-a-unicorn A/N: You’ve had to wait a while for this one. I hope it’s worth it! Please let me know what you think of the series thus far; I definitely have a plan for where this is going, which hopefully you’ll start to see coming together soon.
The night air ruffled Peter’s hair as he made his way through the winding streets in May. Street lights fell away in a blur as he sprinted down the high street; cars passing by would barely notice the flicker in their windscreens, the dancing silver out of the corner of their eye. Or, at the very least; Peter counted on it. Darting through a patch of grass, Peter decided to take a detour through the park on the way home. Dinner was a way off, and he was enjoying the freedom that the sprint through the starlight brought with it. During the day, it was so easy for him to feel as though he were being watched and scrutinised; at night, he’d found the cool air and absence of people a great opportunity to move by unnoticed. Reaching up to grab a leaf from a nearby tree, he slowed down, the world blurring back into clarity around him. He swallowed, taking a deep breath. She was sitting on a bench, the moonlight illuminating her face through the darkness, bouncing off of the white of her t-shirt. They had hardly spoken in just over a month; and Peter felt the familiar butterflies rising in his stomach were coupled with a new, alien emotion: embarrassment. Why had she been avoiding him? Had he done something wrong? Had he misread the situation? Sticking his hands into his jacket pockets, he blew his silver hair out of his face, trying to find the courage to strike up a conversation. “Hello, Peter”. Peter felt his hands trembling in his pockets; he tried to steady them by stroking the inside of the leather, a habit he’d picked up when he was young. “Hey yourself” he added, his voice studded with nerves “long time, no see”. (y/n) took a deep breath, folding her arms across her chest. Her hair was tied back, and Peter could see the way it delicately framed her features. “I’ve been…” she trailed off, blinking rapidly “…a lot has been going on right now.” Concern peaked in Peter’s chest, his lips twitching downwards “something up? Something this old goofball can help with?” (y/n) smiled sadly, her fingers drumming against her arms “I wish you could, but even with your legendary skills, I think this is a bit beyond you”. “Try me”. She looked up, her eyes catching the moonlight, and Peter felt dizzy from the sight of it. She was beautiful. So, so beautiful. “I used to know who I was, and now I’m not so sure. And I think that’s pretty scary.” Peter scuffed his Nikes against the dirt, his eyes on the floor. “I know that feeling, man. I know that too well.” (y/n) was silent for a moment, lost in thought. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, distant. “I didn’t mean to avoid you, Peter. I wish I didn’t have to, but it’s for the best.” Peter suddenly felt cold, his hands fumbling in his pockets as he looked up to meet her eyes. “Why?” “There are things…things you don’t know about me, Peter”. Peter scoffed, raising his brows “we all have secrets, you know.” “Not like this.” she breathed “Not like these-” “I like you” Peter shook, his knees trembling “I like you for who you are, and not for-” “You like me because you don’t know” she whispered, her lip quivering “and I like you. I like you a lot. And that’s…that’s why this can’t happen.” Peter felt as though the ground was moving away from him; as though he was in freefall through the earth, through time itself. “Why?” (y/n) bit her lip, her eyes darting around “I’m sorry, Pete. I don’t…I won’t hurt you.” Peter breathed deeply, closing his eyes to steady himself. He could hear his heart hammering in his ears, blood pumping through his chest. By the time Peter felt ready to respond; she was gone.