#peter maximoff reader insert

[violet-harmon2011]

Can we get some Peter maximoff hcs pls? :3🩶🩶🩶

yes omg

would randomly get the zoomies at 3am

in order to cure them, he NEEDS you to come to the local DQ to get blizzards

ofc he carries you there on his back in under 2 seconds

going to grocery stores late at night to push each other around in shopping carts

randomly throws you over his shoulder and dances or runs around

would dress up as whatever you want for halloween

he would be the linguini to your remy, the woody to your bo peep, the romeo to your juliet, the ghostface to your tatum, the jake to your tricky, etc.

long distance doesn't exist for you guys

you're his first serious relationship, so he cares about you a LOT

feels like a lost puppy without you

clingy king

will barely let you go to work/school in the morning and will be on top of you when you get back

secretly loves it when you steal his headphones and listen to his music

he thinks you look adorable bopping your head and dancing around when you think he isn't watching

you're always mad when he forgets to eat and faints bc of it

but you can't stay angry for long bc he's just an overenergetic golden retriever

so you just always make sure to carry protein bars and such with you in case he forgets again

[theshamelesssimp]

Me when I get to the part of a fanfic that has me giggling and kicking my feet

[thatboisus]

yall ever read a fanfic so majestic it completely altered your entire life

[slasherslittlesimp]

Cursed (Avengers X Reader)

PART ONE

Dark circles rest beneath your glazed (E/C) eyes that stare blankly ahead in an unfocused daze. Your hair is greasy and unbrushed, having not been touched in quite some time. Your hands are trapped against your sides as the black leather straight jacket you're forced to wear prevents them from moving- To prevent them from tearing the muzzle from your face.

Due to your rather strong and problematic ability, your captors keep a rather tight muzzle on you at all times. It's controlled by a small handheld device that can unlock it from a distance which allows them to give you access to your ability without putting themselves in harms way. Usually they stick you in a secure room with whoever it is they need you to use your ability on before allowing your muzzle to fall off so you can do as instructed. Once the task is complete, they wait until you place the muzzle back on before retrieving you and returning you to your small room.

The muzzle is high tech not only due to the fact it can be removed remotely, but also because it can cause you immense amounts of pain should it be attempted to be removed in any other way. You learned the hard way that trying to pry it off with your hands will lead to strong volts of electricity coursing through your face, the pain damn near killing you. Since then you've been forced to wear the black straight jacket to keep you from trying again. Not that you would.

You're an extremely useful asset to them- probably the strongest that they have. While they don't particularly care about your comfort or most basic needs, they do care about keeping you alive for as long as possible. Anything that could be a risk to your life is always kept far from you almost as if they think you'd be willing to take your own pathetic life. You wouldn't, but they don't really believe that.

It's why you're almost always strapped and muzzled like a wild beast. The only times your arms and mouth are free is when they need you to do your job or when you're eating. They always send in an agent to undo the straps of your jacket to allow you minimal use of your hands- so you can eat and put your muzzle back on on your own. Once the muzzle is secure on your face once again, the same agent will come back to restrain you once again. You've spent most of your life with your arms folded up in the restricting jacket that it almost feels unnatural to move them in any other way.

You've no idea how long it's been like this, either. Since your capture, you haven't seen the outside world except for handful of times- though that was long ago. Since then not even a passing glance through a window. You've been confined to the same small section of the base only moving between two rooms that are separated by a long hallway. There's dozens of other doors along the walls of the hallway yet you've never once been through any of them. You've also never seen them be opened. It makes you wonder if there's even actually anything in those random rooms.

You're pulled back to reality when you hear voices outside of your room. Their voices are quiet and somewhat muffled but if you focus hard enough you can almost make out what it is that they are saying over the sounds of the alarm. You don't recognize the voices, but then again there's hundreds of agents in this horrendous group and you know that you haven't met more than a few.

"Are you stupid?!" One of the voices sounds almost exasperated as they hiss the words at whoever it is they're talking to.

"She can help!" The other person argues, his voice slightly louder than the others.

"Help who? Because as far as I'm concerned she's more likely to help them." You can tell that he's trying his best to convince the other person without raising his voice. He's likely trying to avoid detection since you know he probably isn't supposed to be in your section. "We wouldn't stand a chance if we released her and she decided to help them."

"We don't stand a chance regardless!" He sounds almost desperate as he practically pleads with the other man. "She's our only chance! We're screwed without her!"

There's a slight noise you can't identify before the other man responds. "Do you honestly think that the asset will help us fight after everything that has been done to her?"

"Maybe we should let her free regardless. I mean, she's a human being and yet she's treated like a damn dog. I think we should let her go with them." His voice is soft as he speaks to the point where you can barely make out what he's saying.

"We'd be killed for that. Are you really willing to throw your life away for some girl you've never even met?"

The question is met with silence, leaving you unaware of what's happening outside of your door. All you know is that apparently the base is under attack and that there's a chance that whoever it is will save you. That is unless you decide to fight against them should you be released from your restraints. If you are released, you're almost certain that you'll remain neutral, not helping either side as you hate using your powers.

The next thing you hear is a commotion outside of your room which sounds a lot like people fighting. You're unsure if the two men from before are still out there or not but if they are then they will likely lose the fight against whoever it is they're facing. If they were scared enough to consider releasing you then their opponents must be quite strong.

The fight outside your room lasts for a few minutes, the grunts and yells being the only sounds until everything suddenly goes silent. The sudden silence is disrupted by doors opening and closing as whoever remains searches through the rooms. You're unsure what they're searching for but whatever it is they're looking for must not be in any of them as they quickly move to the next room.

They grow closer and closer to your room, the sounds of the doors growing louder until they stop right outside of your room. You stare at the large metal door blocking you from whoever it is outside of your room, waiting patiently to see if they're going to open it or not. For some reason they seem to be taking longer to open it compared to all of the other doors. Is there a difference between yours and those ones? Perhaps. You've never noticed it if there is.

You can't help but to flinch slightly as the mechanical lock whirs before clicking loudly. You instinctually hold your breath, fearing that it may be one of your caretakers coming to collect you. The handle slowly turns as if taunting you before the door finally swings open allowing you to fully hear the blaring alarms.

A woman you've never seen before steps into the room, her eyes instantly landing on your figure as you sit on the edge of your bed. You stare at her with dull eyes, sending a shiver down her spine- something that she doesn't normally experience no matter what she's facing. Her brows furrow slightly as she examines you, her mind likely racing.

Her eyes trail from your messy hair to your muzzle, then down to your leather straight jacket and torn baggy pants before landing on your dirty bare feet. Her gaze then flickers quickly around your room, taking in the bare minimum that is inside the concrete cell. All there is in your room is your thin lumpy mattress which sits on a wire frame and a dirty metal toilet in the corner with a sink on the back of it.

"I've found something you might want to see." Her voice is low as she speaks, likely talking into her comms that connect her to the rest of her group. You can't hear whatever the person on the other side says but she nods before informing them of her location.

After that she takes a step further into the room, seeming slightly hesitant to get any closer to you. Despite the fact that you obviously would be unable to effectively fight her, she's still wary since she has no idea what you're capable of. It's quite obvious that you must be at least somewhat powerful if they've gone as far as to both muzzle and restrain you.

"Are you alright?" She questions as she keeps her gaze locked on you. It's a question you haven't heard in a long time- nobody here cares how you're doing. What they care about it whether or not you can do your job. Slowly, you nod, letting her know that you are fine and willing to interact.

She doesn't say anything else to you as somebody else comes down the hall, calling what you assume is her name. She shouts back, letting them know which room she's in. A few seconds later a man comes into the room, his eyes on Natasha before flickering over to you. He seems surprised, his brows raising slightly.

"We weren't informed of there being anyone other than agents and scientists here." The man murmurs as he steps forward to stand next to Natasha. "Any idea who she is?"

Natasha shakes her head as she crosses her arms over her chest. "I haven't found the servers yet to download their files. What should we do, Cap?"

"We take her with us for now. I doubt she'll be able to do anything while wearing all of that." He gestures at you as he looks over your restrictive outfit.

Natasha nods in agreement before moving forward. You try your best to keep from flinching as she gets closer, your eyes warily watching her. She watches your reaction for anything negative as she reaches forward before her small hand wraps around your bicep. You allow her to pull you to your feet, her grip tight to keep you from running. She leads you from the room as the both of you follow after the rather large male as he makes his way down the hall to check the remaining rooms.

You personally have no idea where the server room is so you can't really help them- not like you'd be able to vocally inform them anyways. You're all just blindly wandering from room to room, you watching them both skillfully take out any agents in their way before moving on. Finally, after what felt like hours of walking around, you all stumble into the server room where towers and computers fill the room with a blue glow.

"Let's see what secrets we can find today, shall we?" Natasha smirks as she steps away from your side to plug a drive into one of the towers. You know that the first thing she'll look at will be your file. You can only hope that her and the man she called Cap are better people than the ones you've spent most of your life with.

Part Two

[gingerteafairy]

friends conversations lead to this kind of idea @blueikky

𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 + 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 masterlist

𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐧: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

Tate wouldn’t feel embarrassed to ask you out and immediately establish that you’re the only one who matters to him. He’s certain that you’re his soulmate, and he’d do anything to protect the little world the two of you share. He would go to great lengths to keep it safe. Hobbies would include listening to music together, making fun of new clothes from the mall, playing card/board games and discovering some online game where you both could both play on his computer and your phone simultaneously. He’d also give you a pair of headphones as a gift.

𝐤𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Kit kept vision for the future, getting involved with someone with the goal of building a family, overcoming challenges, and dreaming of growing old together. He makes it a point to be a safe harbor, which can sometimes cause stress due to his constant drive to be the perfect husband, finding in you a reason to fight and lean on during tough times. He knew you were the one from the very first date but wanted to wait a little longer to propose so as not to scare you off. Kit would always surprise you with random gifts, like a pair of earrings he thought would match your eyes perfectly. He’d pay attention to the little details, wanting to make you feel special with thoughtful gestures that show how much he cares.

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭!𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐞: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

Typical boyfriend material. You two would explore life together, with trips to the movies and amusement parks becoming part of your routine. If you ever struggled with a test, he would help you study, even if the subject was completely different from what he knew. He’d definitely fix your computer for free if it broke since he spent a lot of time watching YouTube tutorials as a kid (he even recorded one).

𝐳𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞!𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐞: 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬

Even without knowing it, he would be your anchor. With a lot of patience, you’d help him understand the world, teach him to speak and write, guide him in learning how to be “grown-up.” It would be hard, but in no time, Kyle would become a strong man, protecting you and the mansion with his life.

𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩. 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡: 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫

James' captivated by darkness and the concept of sin, inherited from his father. You, being a sweet-looking girl in a stable relationship, would be a formidable prey. With a carefully controlled tone, accent, and just the right amount of manipulation, he would lead you into adultery and eventually much worse, with you becoming his protégé. Even though James March is quite the tightwad, he’d make sacrifices to give you things depending on the hunt you two had together, from an expensive necklace to your favorite food. He’d only offer these gestures as a way to mark a special moment, something that proves he values the bond you share—even if it’s always under his own twisted terms.

𝐤𝐚𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧: 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭

The relationship with Kai would be intense and complicated. It was too shallow to be just a relationship but too deep to be just a friends-with-benefits situation. It would be a draining relationship, where the question “What are we?” would linger, only to be answered with “We don’t need labels” by Kai. It'd be definitely intense, passionate, and unforgettable. However, the relationship would also be restrictive due to his insecurity and jealousy, at times manipulating you when you wanted to leave, using compromising photos and messages to keep you tied to him.

𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬

Austin Sommers is pretty laid-back. You were a great friend to him, and sometimes he’d stick to the promise of “If we’re both single at 40, we’ll get married and have three cats.” As the person closest to him, he would definitely use some of your shared moments and phrases in his books, even adding you as a character, with a few tweaks here and there.

𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

Like Austin, he’s chill, living in the moment, using you as the muse for many of his art pieces. As a true introvert, it would take him a while to open up, but soon the two of you would be cuddling after hours of oversharing about life. It would be obvious that you both shared deep feelings for each other, but a barrier of professionalism might prevent the relationship from progressing into something more. He'd give you little paintings and handmade fridge magnets.

𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟: 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

Despite being a hero, Peter wouldn’t have the courage to ask you out right away. He’d stew over that strange feeling for a while, until one day he’d stop suddenly during a walk and ask if you wanted to be his girlfriend. If you didn’t hear him, he’d pretend nothing happened and wait for another opportunity, hoping you’d be distracted when he tried again. If you heard, he'd ran to his house and make paper rings for you both.

𝐦𝐚𝐱 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

Max'd be a sweet, goofy boyfriend, always taking pictures of you, keeping a special box just for storing all the memories. He’d let you play with his hair, wear his clothes, and, of course, he’d snap pictures of you wearing every single one of them. For your birthday, he’d give you a Polaroid camera, since you complained that he always takes photos of everyone else, but never has one taken of him.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐤𝐚: 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 (𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲)

Your relationship would be intense from the start to the end. Impulsive as he is, he’d take you to get married in Vegas, not knowing that by doing so, you’d legally be married on paper. Well, he always wanted to be yours in the end, and Vegas was just a bonus from fate.

part two here ♡

[rjunhuang]

song for lovers ✰ peter maximoff

pairing: peter maximoff x reader

summary: headcanons of dating peter.

warnings: lowercase intended. gender neutral reader. mentions of death (jokingly). modern au for like one (1) headcanon.

note: my man my man my man. can't believe i'm posting here again after 2? 4? yrs. my hyperfixation on this man is so intense that i ended up writing a bunch of hcs for him on my notes app.. and where else better than to post here? hope yall fw this

divider by enchanthings | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

• peter slows down time a little just to hear your laughter for a few seconds longer. 

• he also does it at random moments so he can see you smile. just think: those cliché moments in films where the lovers hold eye contact and time seems to slow down. it would be exactly like that but you'd be blissfully unaware of peter admiring you.

• does the peter + lara jean thing where he slides his hand into the back pocket of your jeans when y'all are walking together.

• hates texting people. he'd just rather zip to their room if he knows they're there. also oddly ominous with his texts and soo blunt. texts you 'sos' so much that you stopped believing it's an emergency. also randomly sends a string of emojis and expects you to understand what he's trying to say.

• i might be projecting but he'd be into traits that aren't 'conventionally attractive': glasses, short hair, not skinny, big noses. and he loves a person with a quirky style.

• "my partner didn't laugh at my joke i hope i die"

• peter would be so obsessed with you. not in a concerning way but every thought resolves around you. with his adhd brain, you're his hyperfixaction. so damn obsessed that the thought of being with anyone else is near impossible.

• that's why him cheating on you would NEVER happen. he worships you. down freaking bad. brings you up in every conversation. would wear those 'i love my partner' tees.

• i know i'm really skipping ahead here but marrying peter maximoff would be far from traditional. the music would be bomb, his suit would be formal enough.. but he'd most definitely add his own quicksilver touch to it! he would walk down the aisle WITH you. his face so smug and probably dancing to whatever catchy (yet secretly meaningful) song you two picked with your arm in his. it's two best friends in love, a partnership.

[lizzie-harper]

Avengers (MCU) Incorrect Quotes with Y/n!

Tony: Tell them to eat shit, Natasha.

Natasha: Tell them yourself.

Tony: Eat shit, asshole. Fall of your horse.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Vision: Here are two pictures. one of them is your room, and the other is the garbage dump.

Thor: *points at a picture* That one is the dump.

Vision: THEY'RE BOTH YOUR ROOM!

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Bucky: I scare people a lot because I walk very softly and they don't hear me enter rooms. So when they turn around, I'm just kind of there and their fear fuels me.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Clint: Do you guys ever have a civilized conversation that doesn't require insulting each other every time you get a chance?

Peter: No.

Sam: No.

Clint: Didn't think so.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Y/n: Do you have a self-care routine?

Peter: "Keep going bitch" said to myself in different accents.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Thor: How many children do you have?

Tony: Biologically, legally, or emotionally? Because there is a difference.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Y/n: How do ethical philosophers feel about murder?

Steve: Well, it’s frowned upon.

Y/n: Okay, but what if the reason you want to murder someone is to make your life easier?

Y/n: That’s okay, right?

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Wanda: New year, new me.

Dr. Strange: Bitch, it’s August.

Wanda: Time is an illusion.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Vision: Why do you think I don’t like you? I do. I would kill for you.

Vision: Ask me to kill for you.

Y/n: ...First of all, calm down-

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Peter: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk.

Y/n: Go the fuck to sleep Peter.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Tony: Have I ever told you that you cook well?

Y/n: Awww, no, you haven't!

Tony: So why do you keep cooking?

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Peter: Yeah, we’re free thinkers.

Y/n: *starts playing Sneakernight by Vanessa Hudgens.*

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Clint: I feel so burnt out.

Bucky: Don’t worry, it'll be over soon.

Clint: Are you gonna... assassinate me?

Bucky: Well not if you’re expecting it.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Natasha, at the slightest provocation: I came into this earth screaming and covered in someone else's blood and and I'm not afraid to leave the same way.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Peter: I was going to suggest we do Marilyn Monroe and JFK roleplay, but I’d get way too into it.

Y/n: What- how?

Peter: You’d be like “come to bed … Mr. President” and I’d be like, “I need to increase the amount of American military advisors in South Vietnam by a factor of 18.”

[k-nayee]

Liability....ASSEMBLE!! MARVEL

wc: 2.5k a/n: not me getting inspired by a 'If Avengers were real' meme/trend. Hope this make ya giggle a lil bit lol

Traveler M.List

��⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The warm glow from the ceiling lights bathed the common room of the Avengers compound in a cozy amber hue.

 A large screen took up one side with couches and recliners strewn with blankets and cushions taking the other—the rustle of popcorn bags, gentle clatter of soda cans on tables.

Vision had meticulously set everything up for the bi-monthly movie night; and it seems his insistence (in the name of strengthening team camaraderie) on these was paying off.

Sounds of muted conversations filled the area as the group decompressed from the chaos that often defined their lives.

Peter bounced in place as he settled himself onto the couch, his eyes gleaming with excitement. 

 “Aunt May actually let me come this time since I’ve been doing great in school,” he declared, his grin wide and unabashed.

Tony, lounging back with a glass of something suspiciously amber in color, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Kid if great means a C in physics, we need to talk.”

Peter’s face flushed slightly as he stammered, “H-hey! It’s an A-minus actually.”

Sam, lounging comfortably with a bowl of pretzels balanced on one knee, snorted and added, “Don’t worry Parker. We’ll make sure to remind you of that every time you pause the movie to point out what they got wrong.”

Peter looked even more embarrassed. “I only did that twice....” He weakly tried to defend himself causing the two men to laugh.

Sitting on another separate furniture was Thor.

“Enough of this school talk! Let me tell you of the time I faced the mighty frost giant of Jotunheim!” The God of Thunder waves a drink in the air as his booming voice echoes.

His unoccupied arm was draped across Loki’s shoulders, a silent reminder to the trickster god that mischief had its limits tonight.

Loki rolled his eyes with a scoff and folds his arms. “Must you always tell that story brother?” 

Vision, oblivious to the banter, hovered near the screen, adjusting the settings for optimal viewing quality.

Wanda sat near him, her fingers idly flicking through the air making small shapes out of glowing red energy, her expression relaxed.

Bucky, quiet as ever, had hesitantly settled into an armchair next to Steve. Though the wounds of the past had scarred them all, a fragile truce held in place.

Steve’s blue eyes softened as he caught Bucky’s glance, offering a subtle nod of reassurance.

Bruce approaches the ex-Winter Soldier and hands over a can of soda with a small smile of understanding as he sits next to Clint.

Bucky timidly accepts and nod in thanks, his shoulders slowly relaxing as he took in the scene—it felt almost normal.

Almost.

“I can’t BELIEVE THIS!” A rageful yell pierces the air causing all conversations to hush mid-sentence.

Eyes turn towards the source of interruption. And there, before them, stood a seething Natasha.

The color of her red locks were no match for the fire that were blazing within her eyes. 

Steve, ever the voice of security, gaze search hers. “What’s wrong Nat?”

Natasha crossed her arms. “Have any of you guys noticed anything weird happening lately?”

“Uh...” Peter awkwardly raised his hand almost as if for asking permission to speak. “Actually now that you mention it...people have been asking for pictures with me more than usual.”

Her lips press tightly together. “Exactly.”

Tension crackled in the room as the rest exchanged looks of confusion.

Tony groaned, leaning his head back with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “PR issues? What’s new?”

Natasha doesn’t spare him a glance. Instead she turned to face the ceiling.  “FRIDAY. Pull up the video.”

“Right away Agent Romanoff”the AI responded as the room’s lighting dimmed.

The movie setup on the large screen disappeared, replaced by a polished brightly colored advertisement.

Serene music played as heroic shots of the Avengers in action appeared: Tony soaring through the sky in his Iron Man suit, Steve deflecting a hail of bullets with his shield, Thor summoning thunder and the others saving civilians—all framed with flawless cinematic glory.

A voiceover, warm and honeyed, filled room. “The Avengers: Earth’s mightiest heroes, defenders of humanity.”

Tony leaned back and sighed in a mix of irritation and smugness. “A fan-made promo? Really Nat?”

The corners of Steve’s mouth quirked up in polite agreement, his eyes soft with an almost paternal pride. “It looks positive so far. Is there something we’re missing?”

“Just watch.” Natasha hisses, her expression still tense.

“But what happens when the protectors become the cause of destruction?”

The serene music cuts off abruptly—replaced by a hollow somber chord. The visuals were no longer heroic, no longer triumphant.

Instead footage showed of crumbling buildings, shattered streets, smoke billowing into a gray sky as civilians looked on in shock and despair.

A ripple of unease went through the team, some recognizing a few scenes from their latest mission.

Tony sat up straighter. “What the hell is this?!” he snarls, clearly unamused.

The montage continued; the aftermath of battles, people sifting through debris, the sound of distant sirens before the camera cut to a series of sidewalk interviews.

A man in a dark suit appeared—his expression stoic. “I watched the Hulk throw my car at a villain...and miss.”

Bruce shoulders hunched as a grimace flickered across his face.

Another clip showed a driver next to a half-destroyed Sedan, gesturing to it wildly “Captain America used my door as a shield. Now how da HELL am I supposed to drive this to work?!” 

Another shot showed an older woman wearing a pink fuzzy robe with slippers to match. “Five times...FIVE TIMES that lanky ass spider boy done come and tore up the block. This week alone! I finally paid off my car and now look at it!” Her lips curled as she took another sip from her glass of red wine.

Peter pales recognizing that exact neighborhood.

“Uh...is this the kind of press we usually get?” Wanda asked quietly, half-joking. Vision tilted his head. “Based on the tone I would say no.”

Loki’s delighted laughter erupted from the corner of the room. He tossed his head back, savoring their discomfort.

“Mortals and their misplaced faith,” he began, but his glee was cut short as the screen suddenly shifted to a familiar face: his.

The headline Special Edition: Loki Lawlessness Insurance Package appeared under a clip of him cackling maniacally mid-chaos.

His smile faltered into an offended scowl. “That’s not even my best angle,” he muttered.

A final gut-punching clip played out on the screen: a little girl—no more than six—standing amongst rubble as she clutched a half-burnt teddy bear.

Tears streaked her soot-covered face as she spoke into a reporter’s microphone. “The heroes who saved us...killed our home and puppy.”

The words echoed leaving a gaping silence in the room. But before anyone could break the quiet the screen flickered back to life.

This time there were no chaotic images or bleak interviews.

The camera steadied on a young woman standing outside a modest, unassuming office building.

Braided hair flawlessly styed into an updo, the well-fitted blazer and knee-length skirt that matched in color was simple yet elegant.

And her eyes...a beautiful shade of [eye color] so fierce with determination, yet her features were gentle—a disarming contrast that made the delivery all the more captivating.

Peter Parker’s eyes went wide as he nearly jumped from his seat. “____?!” the shock vibrated his voice.

Tony's eyes darted to the teenager. “Who's ____?”

“Hello my name is ____, founder of Avenge-Yer Life Back Insurance,” Your voice (the same one that narrated the video so far) was voice steady and clear.

The camera panned out a little more revealing the logo of your company posted on the building behind you.

Eyebrows shoot up as heads swivel almost in unison to fix their attention on Peter. The sophomore hero’s face pales and he shrinks under the sudden scrutiny.

 "I too, like so many others, once admired the Avengers." Fortunately for Peter your voice continues, reclaiming focus. "But admiration can turn when reality hits home."

 “Years ago an incident involving the Avengers changed everything for my family. We lost our business, our home, our livelihood—everything that made life stable. But instead of succumbing to that destruction, I decided to do something. To create a solution for others like us—those who were left to pick up the pieces after the Avengers saved the day.”

The scene now changed to you walking confidently through an aisle in the office building as views of smiling employees and distressed citizens signing documents played in the background. “At Avenge-Yer Life Back Insurance, we ensure that those who suffer from collateral damage have the means to rebuild. With proven evidence that a hero was present during the damage to your property or accident, we offer comprehensive coverage. From homes reduced to rubble to livelihoods disrupted overnight, we ensure that you’re not left in the aftermath without hope.”

“People have been exploiting it too,” Natasha said suddenly, her voice breaking through the tension. “They've been using loopholes—taking selfies with heroes and timing accidents to match the incidents. Spider-Man currently has the highest coverage rate.”

Peter’s head snapped up as his eyes widened in realization. “Wait...pictures?!” His voice cracked from a mixture of confusion and panic.

Steve’s voice cuts through. “Isn’t this bordering on defamation? Our honor’s at stake here. We could—”

Tony doesn’t let him finish, scoffing with a sharp laugh. “What do you think this is, the 1940s? Oh wait—my apologies, you probably did for a second there.”

Sam let out a laugh before quickly covering it with a cough in attempt to hide his amusement.

Steve just rolled his eyes but chose not to respond, his focus returning to the screen.

The advertisement ends with you looking directly into the camera.

You lean forward slightly, your eyes locking onto the viewer with compelling intensity.

“The Avengers. You know them as heroes who saved the world and lives of many...but how many have they destroyed?”

The room fell into a suffocating silence as the screen faded to black; the air heavy as everyone processed what they’d just seen.

Every eye shifted toward Peter whose face flushed pink.

He instinctively raise his hands in a gesture of surrender at the weight of their stares bearing down on him.

Bucky, who rarely spoke up unless necessary, was the first to break the silence. His voice was gruff, expression serious as he turned to Peter. “Explain kid.”

Peter’s mouth opened then shut before he took a shaky breath. “I...I think I know her...kind of,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

“She was a junior at Midtown High when I was a freshman. The only person who didn’t ignore me or—” he swallowed hard, “—bully me. Other than Ned. Defended me every chance she got...”

“I might’ve...”He glanced down, cheeks turning a deeper shade of red as he muttered, “...had a massive crush on her.” 

But Natasha’s sharp gaze caught everything. “What was that last part?”

Peter’s eyes widened and quickly rushed to speak over her. “But yeah! You know she disappeared halfway through the year before I ever worked up the courage to talk to her.”

“I didn’t understand why she left. I thought maybe she’d just moved or something. But now...” He lets out an almost wistful, forlorn sigh as his shoulder slightly slumped. “Now I see why.”

There was a pang of something unidentifiable in his voice—regret maybe, or sadness.

The Avengers exchanged looks, some expressions softening, others hardening with simmering frustration. 

Thor shifted on the sofa in displeasure.

“So mortals now speak ill of us for saving them?” his voice tinged with indignation. “Ungrateful wretches—should they not sing songs of our deeds as they did in my time?”

Wanda raises a brow. “Yes Thor, because their top priority is singing songs of your deeds while they fix their plumbing.” She says dryly.

Steve, however, straightened in his seat and interjected before the tension could boil over.

“Thor...they’re not entirely wrong.”

The God of Thunder frowned, his brow furrowing deeply. “Not wrong? Captain we fight for them. We bleed for them!”

“We also bulldoze their coffee shops,” Sam quipped under his breath. Thor shot him a sharp glare.

Ignoring the comment Steve continues. “Think about it: To us it’s a mission—we go into battle, we do what we have to, and then...we leave.”

Tony raised a hand like he was in a classroom. “Uh yeah because that’s what heroes do. You’re welcome civilians.”

Steve exhaled heavily but didn’t look his way. “We leave. But they stay. It’s their homes, their streets, their lives that got caught in the middle. They’re the ones who have to stay and rebuild.”

The room quieted. For a moment, it seemed like the team might actually be absorbing the gravity of the situation.

Clint snorted. “Maybe we should hand out gift cards after every mission.”

Steve couldn’t help the twitch of his lips from that. “My point is they didn’t ask for these battles, yet they got them anyway. It’s not ungrateful to ask why it happens or how it can be prevented.”

Thor looked taken aback, caught somewhere between confusion and frustration. “But we are protectors! Not destroyers.”

Steve gave a small nod but didn’t back down. “I know that, we know that. But to them it’s not that simple. They don’t see us cleaning up the mess—they only see the rubble we leave behind.”

The tension in the room was thick as the unspoken truth settled over them like a heavy weight.

 “Okay!” Tony pushed himself up from the armchair with a flourish, setting down his glass a bit too forcefully. “That was a nice guilt-trip speech n all...but seriously? Accidents happen, it's inevitable. We risk our asses day in and day out—and now they’re trying to cancel me over an insurance company I didn’t even create? I’ll be damned!”

Without waiting for a response Tony makes his way out the room.

Vision, who had been observing quietly, head tilts as he calls out, “What do you plan to do then, Tony?”

“To fix this. First thing in the morning.” The voice of Iron Man echoed back sharp with resolve.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

Anticipation hummed through the common room like a live wire.

The Avengers had gathered once more—some leaning against the walls while others paced or fidgeted with pent-up energy.

One thing for sure, they all were filled with curiosity and mild apprehension as they waited.

The door suddenly swished open and in strolled Tony Stark with a face-splitting grin.

“Well?” Natasha’s voice cut through the buzz. Her eyes narrow, finding the billionaire cat-like smile unassuring. “Did you fix it?”

Tony’s smile grew wider as he clapped his hands together. “Even better. Pull it up!”

At his words, FRIDAY makes a holographic screen appear behind him, displaying a high-resolution image: you were standing next to Tony, a bright smile on your face as you shook his hand.

In the picture Tony was handing over an oversized check boring the Stark Industries logo with a number impossible to miss—$450 million.

The room erupted with a cacophony of reactions—exclamations, groans, and even a low whistle from Sam.

Natasha’s eyes darkened with fury as she whirled towards Tony.

“What happened to fixing it?!” she snapped, venom in her voice.

Tony raised his hands in mock surrender, the grin never faltering. “I know, I know—Tony You’re a genius! How did this go sideways?’ Well turns out she one hell of a talker. That’s for damn sure.”

[supercap2319]

"So, is it always like this?" Y/N asked, watching the kids run around the lawn so carefree and happy. Some of them used their powers.

Scott looks at him. "Yeah. Isn't it like that on your earth?"

"I mean, most people don't have powers. And as far as I know, there's no mutants on my earth."

"Well, here there's a bunch of them, and we like it that way." Jean says, coming towards them.

"Yeah, I mean, look at us. We're adorable. Who could hate us?" Peter asked with a smirk as he suddenly appeared.

[streets-in-paradise]

Fanfiction Masterlists

My old mega masterlist for all fandoms is broken due to the amount of links it contained. I'm in the process of rebuilding it and the situation got so complicated I had to create a new one because the original post wasn't saving any modifications.

You can revisit the old one here, but from now on I will update in the following separated masterlists:

Troy (2004) Masterlist

Prince of Persia (2010) Masterlist

Lord of the Rings Masterlist

Gladiator Masterlist

Cutthroat Island Masterlist

Horror Masterlist ( Includes Chucky, Stranger Things, Halloween and Friday 13th)

Marvel Masterlist ( Includes Netflix's Daredevil, X-Men and Thor)

[yandereunsolved]

⍣ ೋ Yandere Peter Maximoff ⍣ ೋ

"You can run but you can't hide, babe. They call me Quicksilver for a reason."

[themanedwolfbr]

Imagine:

The rain softly drummed against the window, and you nestled deeper into your blanket, holding a cup of hot chocolate in your hands. The clock read 8:37 PM. Pietro had promised to meet you precisely at 8:00, but as always, saving the world came first.

You didn’t really mind—not truly. You loved him, and you knew that being an Avenger meant he was always on the move. Yet, that fact did little to stop the pang of longing each time the world needed him more than you.

With a sigh, you reached for your phone to send a message, but before your fingers could touch the screen, a warm breeze tousled your hair, and in the blink of an eye, he was there. His rain-damp hair fell over his forehead, and that crooked smile always made your heart race.

"Before you get mad at me..." he said, retrieving something from behind his back. It was a red rose, its petals still glistening with droplets of rain.

"I picked this up along the way," he added.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning seriousness, but your expression softened when you saw the guilty look in his eyes.

"Where exactly did you pick it up?" you asked.

Pietro scratched his neck.

"Paris."

You blinked several times.

"Paris… in France?"

"Yes?" he replied with a mischievous smile, waiting for your reaction.

You took the rose and shook your head, smiling.

"Alright... this time you get off the hook."

Before you could say another word, he vanished in a blur and, in less than two seconds, reappeared holding a paper bag with the logo of a famous French bakery.

"I brought croissants as well," he announced.

You laughed, pulling him onto the sofa next to you.

"A boyfriend who crosses the world for me? I think I could get used to that."

He smiled, intertwining his fingers with yours, his eyes shining with tenderness.

"I would traverse the universe for you."

Your heart melted. You leaned in, feeling the warmth of his presence, and he didn't hesitate. With a gentle motion, he cupped your face and pressed his lips against yours in a sweet kiss full of promises.

And in that moment, time finally seemed to slow down.

• I'm sorry if there are any mistakes in the writing, English is not my language.

[slasherslittlesimp]

Cursed (Avengers X Reader)

Series Masterlist

Part Five

You sit in the lab on a table as your eyes flicker between armor man and nervous man- whose names you were told are Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. The two men stand on the other side of the room as they quietly discuss how to go about removing your muzzle without causing you any harm. You're quite glad that the files apparently mentioned what happens when you try to carelessly remove the device. It saves you unnecessary pain as the two know what not to do.

It feels like hours pass by before the two finally turn towards you. Tony strides off to the other side of the room while Bruce moves a bit closer to you while still keeping a good amount of distance. "We're going to do some scans on the mask to see what components it's made of. Hopefully then we can figure out how to remove it." Bruce rubs his hands together as he gives you a tight smile that looks more like a grimace.

You nod in understanding before turning your attention towards Tony who comes towards you with a device in hand. He moves to stand directly in front of you- roughly a foot away- as he lifts the device to your face. A strange blue light emits from it as it scans over the mask resting over the lower portion of your face. It does this for a few moments before stopping, a screen nearby beeping as it pulls up the information gathered.

Tony and Bruce both move to examine the results, once again quietly discussing things with each other. You pull your gaze from them since you have no clue what they're talking about and instead focus on your still bare feet. They had offered you shoes but you had shaken your head, denying the offer. After so many years without wearing anything on your feet you've grown used to it. The idea of stuffing them into such restricting things seems unpleasant.

All you really want is to get your muzzle off so you can finally shower. Hydra was quite stingy with letting you cleanse yourself, only allowing it if you had been particularly well behaved that week. Any time you failed a task, training, or even started to show signs of remembering anything, they'd take away your shower privileges. It's been a few weeks since you last stood under the cold stream of water and washed away the dirt that seems to always stain your skin. You've grown used to the way you smell but certainly you smell horrendous to the people around you even if they haven't mentioned it.

You also want a nice hot meal. When you were fed, it was often small meals that were enough to keep you alive and to keep you from growing too weak but they were always cold or bland. Applesauce, plain jelly sandwiches, slices of thin cut ham, and water. That was all you were ever really fed. At this point, you're curious if your body will even be able to handle other food or if it will simply reject it. Maybe you should start with something light and work your way up to fuller meals. Not like you really know what options there even are out there.

The longer you sit there on the table lost in thought, the more pathetic you feel. You know you were with Hydra your entire life- it's all you can remember. What you can't remember is if it's always been like that. Small meals, scrappy clothes, rare showers. You know it's at least been like that for a few years now but what about in the beginning? Were you treated better? Worse? Not knowing the answers makes you uncomfortable, especially since the two strangers in the room seem to know more about you than you do.

You want to ask to see your files but you also are terrified at what you might remember as you read through them. Natasha had stated that there were multiple pages worth of files on you- on... what was the name? (Y/N)? You believe that's what she had said. It's a bit hard to think of it when so many different thoughts have been racing through your mind lately. Perhaps you should just ask for simple answers like your name and age. Start slow with it and then progressively try to remember more on your own.

"Ready Hannibal?" Tony's voice forcefully drags you from your thoughts as he suddenly stands in front of you. You had zoned out so much that you failed to realize the two of them had finished with whatever they were doing and that Tony moved back to his previous position of standing just a foot away from you. He holds up another small device, this one a bit smaller than the other one. "This is kinda like a jammer. We're hoping it'll block the signals in your mask which will make it unlock and pop off."

You sit up a bit straighter, feeling a bit nervous. It's been a long time since anyone has seen you without the mask and the last person who had was a target you needed to interrogate and kill. This will be the first time someone is seeing it in a long time without you having the intention to cause them harm. The last time was when the markings first appeared. Since then, you've only been allowed to remove it when alone or with someone you've been ordered to use your ability against.

"Alright, let's see that pretty smile." Tony flashes his own smile as he pushes a button on the jammer. You squeeze your eyes shut, half convinced that something with go wrong and you'll end up being painfully shocked. After a few silent seconds there's the sound of a mechanical click before the mask falls from your face and clatters onto the ground. Tony and Bruce both let out sighs of relief, glad their plan worked.

You keep your face angled towards the ground as you bring your fingers up to brush against the markings. You can't physically feel them but you know they're there, same with the one on your tongue. Neither you nor Hydra knew why the markings appeared along with the ability but you're almost certain that if the markings go away then so will your Cursed Speech.

"How are you feeling?" Bruce questions, watching you as you stare at the ground.

Taking a deep breath, you gather your courage before lifting your head so the two men can fully see your face. You give them a shaky thumbs up, not quite sure how else to let them know you're fine. They don't really seem to pay much attention to that though as their eyes instantly zero in on the circles and lines coming off both sides of your mouth.

Tony subconsciously reaches forward, his hand moving towards your face. You naturally flinch despite the fact that he wasn't moving very fast. He pauses when he sees this, realizing what he was doing. He clears his throat as he drops his hand to his side and continues to simply look at the markings instead.

"Now that the mask is off, why don't we let someone show you to a room where you can shower and rest?" Bruce cuts in, noticing how awkward things have gotten. You nod in agreement, sliding off of the table and side-stepping around Tony. Bruce informs the AI to send down one of the others as he leads you to the door.

Taglist: @desiree-lee @seventeen-x @svtbpbts @that-b-word-lol @keshet2k @cl0u-dy @randoes-world @nynxtea @cinnamoroll-things @emily2003azalga

[gingerteafairy]

a peter maximoff fic where he can't sleep so reader helps tire him out by making out w him.. they're probably like besties w a lot of tension ! aaa thank you in advance if this is possible to write.

hehehe it's possible. trust me, im living for besties making out. and im so sorry for taking so long </3

𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

peter maximoff x fem!reader

tags n warnings: SMUT/MDNI, language, dry humping, mutual masturbation. word count: 1.1k

You only realized how late it was getting when your eyes started losing focus, unable to keep up with the movie’s plot. The dialogue blurred together, the scenes passed without meaning—your brain had already given up on following along. A quick glance at the clock confirmed what you already knew: you really should take better care of yourself, beyond just eating properly.

But still, it was the perfect time for a midnight snack.

With sluggish steps, you got up from the couch and made your way to the kitchen, rubbing your eyes as you searched for something to eat. Your body felt heavy with sleep, your movements slow, and you barely noticed another presence in the room—until you heard the quiet creak of the couch.

Your eyes blinked, waking up a little more when they landed on Peter lying there, legs stretched out, the glow of his phone illuminating his face.

“What are you doing here, Peter?” you murmured, stifling a yawn against the sleeve of your sweater.

“Can’t sleep,” he responded without looking up from the screen, shifting slightly to make space beside him. You didn’t think twice before flopping down, settling onto the couch next to him. “Wanna use matching pfp?” he offered sleepily, lifting one side of it.

“Why? We’re not even dating,” you teased with a small smile, feeling the warmth of the fabric calling to your tired body.

Peter carelessly tossed his phone onto the armrest and, without hesitation, wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Wanna be my girlfriend?” he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep, his touch lazy but full of intent.

“I do,” you played along, feeling the comfort of the moment settle pleasantly into your muscles.

He smiled back, a small, satisfied grin, before burying his face into the curve of your neck. Peter’s embrace was warm, comfortable, as if it was shaped just to hold you there.

“Rough day?” you inquired, running your fingers through his silver hair.

“Not really… just stressful,” he exhaled, his big eyes flicking up to meet yours for a moment. “Had to rescue a bunch of people, and no one even said ‘thanks.’”

“That’s tough. You’re always helping everyone…” You sighed, understanding the weight in his voice.

To soothe him, you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes at the gesture, relaxing a little more.

“It’s… boring.” He sighed deeply before snuggling even closer, burying his face in your neck. His warm breath shivered your skin, causing a small shiver that you tried to ignore. “Is it bad?”

“No…” your voice came out weak, all your effort being used to keep your thoughts away from the heat between your legs as you felt Peter’s nose nuzzling against your neck as he comforted himself on the upholstery.

Peter inhaled against your skin, planting a feather-light kiss on your throat. Your body flinched, pulling him closer as a result.

“Is this bad?”

“No… It’s good…” You mumbled, your nails digging into his back, feeling him press his lips harder, large hands pulling your waist.

“And this?” He asked before sliding his lips over your skin, parting his lips to suck the pressure point, fingers marking your waist.

“Peter…” his name came out slurred, your legs wrapping around his waist, and that was when you felt him pulse on your thigh.

“I don’t wanna do anything you don’t want to do.” He whispered, placing another kiss even more intense than the last.

Your hips thrust towards his pelvis, the wetness now impossible to ignore as it pressed against his hard cock. Peter groaned at the contact, sliding his hands inside your shirt to roll up your back, running his nails lightly on your skin.

Peter thrust his pelvis back against your core, the shorts on your body causing even more friction on your clit, your hips moving in reflex.

You were responding with your body and Peter didn’t want to make you wait. He lifted his head and your lips crashed together hungrily in a desperate kiss. Peter’s hands slipped into your shorts, squeezing the flesh of your bum in his hands, guiding you over your sweatpants.

Your hands pulled his shirt up, scratching his back. You were dripping and he could feel it through the clothing, but he wanted more. Still inside your shorts, he moved one of his hands to your cunt, ghosting one of his fingers into your entrance.

“You’re so wet. So good.” He whispered, inserting a finger and curling it, applying pressure to your spot, watching you tremble and bite your bottom lip. “Do you want me to stop?” He teased, circling his fingertip.

“No—” You moaned, curling your toes as he massaged your nerve point with his thumb. He pulled his finger out, bringing it to his mouth.

“Hmmm…” he hummed, rolling his eyes in delight. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me. You’re even sweeter on the inside.”

Your stomach flipped at his dirty words and Peter brought his fingers back in, thrusting faster. You pulled his pants down with one hand, his rock-hard cock springing out, hanging slightly to the left. Your hand wrapped around it, fist moving to pleasure him too.

“Hmmm, you’re so turned on I didn’t even have to say anything.” He teased, biting the corner of his mouth as you pressed your fingers harder and moved your fist faster. “That’s it. That’s it, really good. You’re talented. You’re gonna make me finish fast in your pretty hands.”

“Yeah?” You smiled proudly, picking up the pace a little more, watching him close his eyes tightly and put another finger inside you, closing the space between the two of you with another clumsy kiss.

“Shit. I’m close, so close.” He warned, grunting with his eyes closed, his body shaking, thrusting his pelvis to fuck your hand.

“Me too, don’t stop.” You begged and he pulled you closer by the hips, penetrating you faster with his fingers.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, gonna cum m on your belly, okay?” He stammered, his breath hitched, smiling as he saw you nod without being able to speak. “Yeah, that’s it. Oh, fuck. It’s coming.”

Peter opened his mouth, trembling in your hand as the jets came steadily on your belly, staining your shirt. You stopped your hand, but he put it back, helping with ultra-fast movements, the other vibrating inside you, making you come undone faster than expected.

When he stopped throbbing, he removed your hand from his cock and took his fingers out of you, giving your clit a little tap that made you shiver.

“Peter, you—” He shut you with a kiss, putting both hands around your waist, mixing your fluids without realizing it.

“Sorry, I was so fucking hard. Didn't realize I was so desperate, but I’m better now. I promise.” He beamed, pulling up his pants with one of his hands and returning to your waist. With an instinctive caress, your fingers slid through his soft hair again, while the warmth of Peter's embrace slowly guided the two of you to sleep.

[rjunhuang]

summer '68 ✰ peter maximoff

featuring: headcanons of peter maximoff.

warnings: lowercase intended. modern au (the timeline's already fucked up, blame it on deadpool 2).

note: this is solely my interpretation of peter! if u don't agree, u can simply just scroll :) sorry there's not many, my hyperfixation is on hp now lol

divider by hyuneskkami | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

he's not actually a kleptomaniac — well, maybe not a typical one. he's just too impatient to wait down a line of cashiers. 

and maybeee he enjoys stealing from the rich.

peter hates googling for answers. he'd rather just grab a book and search for the answer himself. he'd say it's because "he's faster than google"

books > movies. he can complete a book within thirty seconds. a movie on 2x speed is still too slow for him.

has countless of shoes (stolen mostly). he keeps burning the soles off with his speed so he needs a new one very often. 

this is pretty much canon but he's most definitely a converse guy.

peter is the type to spam the shit out of his instagram stories before going m.i.a for the next few weeks. it's a constant back-and-forth cycle

before his mutation kicked in, he had a heelys phase.

that being said, i imagine he'd got his mutation when he was about eight or nine. that's why he'd be so open to showing his powers by the time he was seventeen. he obviously dealt with his fair share of insecurities and prejudice, but he'd grow to accept himself.

surprisingly talented in a lot of things. since he has all the time in the world, he's tried out a lot of hobbies: playing the guitar, solving the rubix cube, etc. once he's got the basics down he's already bored and ditches it.

that being said, he cannot cook or draw for the life of him. he's the type to grip a crayon so hard it tears through the paper.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter One: Tough Terrain

Peter Maximoff x Reader

As Cold As Ice Masterlist | Next Chapter

Summary: After your trial, you're brought to the X-Mansion by the will of a man with hopes of offering you a second chance at life. You don't want this, and aren't so sure you can have whatever redemption this man is offering.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Being Bound, Guns, Law Enforcement, Prejudice, Shame, Guilt, Cursing, Injury, Fear, Political Undertones

A/N: I kind of watched all the X-Men movies recently because of Marvel Rivals, and well.. it drug up a lot of personal experiences, parallels in my life that I thought maybe I could try writing about? Plus, I mean, Evan Peters was super cute in this role! Still, pretty self-indulgent, but thought I'd post it.

You hadn't meant to be there that long; you hadn't meant to be caught. Avoiding capture was only a matter of time, you had to know that... right? After all, all good things come to an end.

Maybe you were just tired of running. Maybe that's why you let them grab you off the corner store that day.

Yet, there's never the consideration of how much dignity the consequences of your own actions would cost. Whether or not you've changed, whether you haven't, doesn't matter.

"Uncuff her," the bald man before the armored van's doors commands.

The soldiers hop down off the back, their arms interlocked with yours, wrists bound in the handcuffs they'd subdued you with upon capture. Your Converse catch on the lip of the truck causing you to trip, only held up by their strong arms, their hands still wielding the guns they'd originally intimidated you with. The gravel beneath your feet only further causes you to stumble in search of a grasp on anything for balance.

"I'm afraid we can't do that, Sir." One of the soldiers--Williams was scrawled across his chest--states in response. Classic cop move, what else would anyone expect? While the man might not be a regular cop, you'd seen enough to know they're all the same when it comes down to it.

"It wasn't a request," the bald man retaliates. While your eyes had been on the sandy gravel beneath your feet, hair hanging in your face and obstructing your view, you finally raise your head to meet the man's face. It looks familiar somehow; eyebrows furrowing, you try to place where you'd seen him before. Yet, that's not what truly catches your attention. Behind him stands the boy you'd spotted during the trial a few days ago, his appearance far too peculiar to forget.

The court room was almost completely empty save strictly for the necessary people involved in your case. That is, it was, right up until just before your sentencing. You'd heard the creaky door let in a breath of fresh breeze from the hallway faintly in the back of your mind, yet you couldn't bother to care when the fate of the rest of your life lie in the hands of the jury and this judge. The school district's defense attorney was brutal, while the one you'd been assigned was surprisingly progressive and kind. He was unlike anything you'd expected. A gift from God? Or a trap disguised by the Devil?

As you braced for the inevitable punishment you deserved, you couldn't help but feel eyes on the side of your head. With a quick glance to your right you'd spotted a group of witnesses simply watching the case unfold. Your life, really, if anyone bothered to think about what this was all really about. And while your heart was stuck in your throat, body practically paralyzed with fear as time seemed to slow to an impossibly agonizing pace, you couldn't help but stop and stare at the boy for a moment, if only just this moment. Everyone seemed to be busy watching the case, except one: him.

Sure, maybe it was the odd hair color, or the way his reflective silver jacket matched his hair, but it didn't really matter. The curious and sympathetic look in his eyes gave you pause. Out of the dozens of people in the courtroom, no one had looked at you that way. His penetrating stare alike his hair in that reflective quality; forcing you to confront yourself for all you are. All you'd done. Gaze refocusing on the old and slightly splintered wooden table in front of you, hair obscuring your face from him, you're too ashamed to truly be seen. While you await the people's decision, await the consequence you rightfully knew you deserved after that day. The one you're tired of hearing about.

"Are you threatening us, Xavier?" The other solider on your left speaks up, the rustling of the strap on his rifle is a sinister reminder that you're trapped. Easily at one's disposal if they care to do so. An undignified transfer from one group of men to another. Rendering you down to nothing but a dangerous possession. It was obvious the fear the men held for you just based off the disgusted looks and lack of eye contact they'd made with you on the ride over.

"That depends on how you look at it," the bald man answers, an unwavering confidence imbued in his demeanor. There's a fire in his eyes that you wish you could place, but you're completely lost in all the heightened emotions and despairing thoughts that sweep up your mind in their monsoon.

'Do Not Be Afraid'

The words ring out as if someone had spoken, but no one seems to react, and no one's mouth had moved. A quiet gasp leaves your lips and you attempt to whip your head around to spot if someone had gotten behind you, the movement jostling you within the soldiers' grasp. Confusion is surely written all over your face as everyone's attention shifts on you. "Nevertheless, the restraints are not helping anything. If she's to be in my custody, you'll have to remove them sooner or later," the man they'd called Xavier posits.

It wasn't that you hadn't heard him, but the back and forth between the men doesn't exactly register in your mind as your eyes flit around your surroundings trying to spot a way out. With all the events in the past four months, you'd learned one of the most important lessons: You're on your own. No one is coming to rescue you. You have to look out for yourself, because if you don't... who will?

Their voices feel like you're hearing them from underwater as you look past the boy with silver hair and spot many faces in the windows of the mansion. Everyone's watching you, everyone's seeing this, everyone knows. And there's nothing you hate more than being a spectacle. It's then that you feel the locks on the handcuffs pop open as the guards are reaching into their pockets for the keys, begrudgingly complying. The piece of metal falls toward the Earth, but you don't waste a second. This is your chance! This is your out.

Before you can think of your next move, you're already committed to the first idea that pops into your mind. Your elbows swing backward with all your strength as you jab both guards in the stomach. While they're doubling over, you run for it. "Peter go!" Grunts of pain and anger ensue, followed by the rustling of fabric and the metallic clicking of rounds being slid into their chambers.

"NO!" You hear the same someone yell as the sound of gunfire follows. Your heart pounds tremendously fast within your chest as your feet carry you further through the grass toward the wall of trees bleeding into a forest from what you can see. The encroaching sound of bullets whizzing by and pitting into the soil by your feet has you jumping in your skin as you momentarily cower and curl in on yourself before the instinct to take off only amplifies tenfold. To stop now would undoubtedly be a death sentence.

You're already three-fourths of the way to the tree line when you feel the Earth skating by much faster than you know you can run. Eyes widening, you look down only to spot that you've unintentionally aided your effort by subconsciously creating tracks of ice beneath your feet. The realization sends you stumbling, feet slipping atop the ice until muscle memory kicks in. You'd done a brief stint of ice skating when you were younger. Able to balance yourself, you continue onward, praying you can create enough distance between where you were and wherever you're going. Anywhere safe, ideally.

Wind races across your face as you soar past the terrain far faster than your feet could naturally take you. If ever there was a time or reason to be glad for your powers, it was now! Weight forward on your thighs and knees, you propel yourself in ways you'd only seen on television during the Winter Olympics. Just as you hear the gunfire stop and think you're finally far enough way to stop, you're met with a silver blur and a figure directly in front of your path. Swerving into a Hockey Stop, your body is launched up into the air, spiraling and spinning with the momentum you'd gained.

There's a series of 'oof's that tumble past multiple lips before you're able to open your eyes and take in your surroundings properly. Suddenly you're in someone's arms, eyes wide as you don't know how or when you'd even gotten there. He doesn't look surprised, yet he also doesn't look comfortable either.

"Ah!" The scream automatically rips itself from your throat as you scramble to your feet and out of his hold. The only thought you have is to get him away from you; going for a shove to his chest, your eyes widen as it feels like time suddenly slows down as you watch your hands change color before your very eyes. Hands hitting his chest with a thud, there's a crisp tink to it as your hands go white and ice spreads across his chest just where you'd touched him. That's all you see in the split second it'd taken before he's being launched backward into the air several feet away, ultimately falling into the shrubbery.

The shrill shriek that leaves the boy's body isn't anything you can bother to laugh at in the moment, your lips parted as shock completely covers your face. Stuck in the same position you'd been in, you can't fathom how or what you just did to him! Is he...? He can't be! Absolutely not! He can't be... can he? You definitely didn't just...

"Ughh..." the groan comes from the indented shrubs and while you can't see him from where you're standing, a relieved sigh escapes your body, every part of you sagging with the tension dissipating.

"Oh, thank God!" You praise the universe this time. With a moment to catch your breath, your attention falls back to your hands. They're skin color now. Did you only imagine it? It felt so real, though? So how did...?

It's then that the crunching branches and rising appearance of the boy elicits your attention. He doesn't look pleased... like, at all. With a drop of his neck from side to side in an attempt to crack it, he follows suit by crunching one fist's knuckles before the other. Stepping over the shrubs he'd been blasted into, he storms right your way. "Oh, I don't think so, Sweet Cheeks," he taunts.

Within a blink you're being set down on crunchy gravel, yet dizziness and nausea cause you to stumble. Somewhere in the back of your mind you register the hand around your shoulder, but can't question it at the moment. All you see before you is the van you'd been contained in, the guards at the ready with their guns pointed at you before you feel like you're falling, your world going black.

You wake with a start, body surging forward to sit up. "Ow!" You go from gasping for breath to groaning in pain in mere seconds as your eyes snap open in search of what you'd hit.

"Really?!" Someone yells before moaning. Pain emanates from your forehead, and a look to your right shows you the other person is also clutching theirs.

"Told you not to stand that close," a man with glasses teases from across the room behind an ornate writing desk.

"I know, Hank! I just didn't think she'd-" the boy complains, rubbing at his forehead. It's obvious you'd bumped heads, yet your mind is still spinning with questions. Where are you? How long had you been out?! Who are all these people? "You've gotta heck of a lot of fire there, babe. Or should I say-"

"Peter," You hear another voice say in a warning tone. Eyes flitting to the direction it'd come from, you can't help the way your face drops as you gawk at the person.

"Holy shit," you curse under your breath, the whole room going quiet.

"What?" The boy asks, looking at you with confusion until you guess it clicks for him as his eyes fall down over himself.

"Y-you're blue?" The words leave your lips before you can stop them, and while you can't look away, the others in the room apparently take the moment to redirect things.

The call of your name garners your attention. "Do you know who I am?" As your eyes slowly peel over the three people standing by the ornate wooden desk, you find that the blonde woman looks eerily familiar to you. Wasn't she at the trial too? All the events of today make you feel like your mind is turning to Jello.

"Should I?" Attention ultimately falling back onto the bald man addressing you, you're unsure how to approach this situation. Manners might already be thrown out the window with the way you can't really bother to care anymore. Everything that's happened the past four months has taken more of a toll on you than you'd realize.

"I would assume not, no," he responds, an indifferent look on his face. "My name is Charles Xavier, I'm the Headmaster of this school," he explains.

"You've never heard of the X-Men?" The silver-haired boy sat on the coffee table before you finally stops rubbing his forehead as he turns to you, a questioning and judgmental look on his face.

It feels like a lightbulb goes off in your brain as a look of bewilderment crosses your expression. "Oh, fuck!" Without thinking you hop up onto the couch you'd been lying on, pointing to the blue boy you'd questioned earlier. "That's why I know you! You're one of them, right?" An excited grin overtakes your features before you turn to the adults at the desk expectantly, as if for confirmation.

"Yeah," the silver-haired boy lets out a puff of air. "Cause he's the only X-Men here," he says sarcastically.

"If you'd refrain from standing on the furniture-" Charles Xavier begins.

"Oh! Sorry," you apologize, quickly hopping off onto the floor before the couch. "You're the guy who... what? Leads the X-Men? I saw something on TV-"

"Actually, that'd be me," the silver-haired boy says, to which everyone gives a disapproving look.

"You could say that, I suppose," Charles replies without a thought, ignoring the boy's response. "Peter, if you're going to be a problem, you'll have to go." By the silver-haired boy's frown, you can tell he's Peter. With that, Xavier's attention shifts back to you. "As you're probably aware, I testified on your behalf during the trial. Hence, your sentencing lessened and your arrival here."

"I'm not... this isn't..." you shake your head as you try to gather your thoughts into the question you're actually trying to ask. "That's not a part of it, right? I don't have to be an X-Men?"

"You don't want to?" The man standing to the right of the blonde woman asks, you finally take in the way he looks like a scientist with his white lab coat, glasses, and clipboard.

"Why would I? Glory? Fighting on behalf of the government and giving up my life for what, exactly?" You question.

"To save people's lives," the blonde woman responds, her figure shifting and changing into something... someone... blue. You recognize her. She's... Mystique, right? One of the most recognizable X-Men, the one a lot of people supposedly look up to in their community.

"Woah," you whisper under your breath.

"It's not an easy decision, I wouldn't expect just anyone to do it." While her response comes off passive-aggressive, you can't deny that saving people is probably one of the best things Mutants could do with their powers.

"Raven's right, however it is not a stipulation of your rehabilitation," Charles explains, "You are here in the hopes that you can learn to control your powers and show the government you are not all that they've been claiming you to be."

This gives you pause. You know what they've surely been saying about you while you'd been on the run. Though, while you haven't directly seen much of the news, you can only imagine the worst. Even during the trial they'd made it a point to call you a 'terrorist', 'monster', and a whole lot of other awful names. Yet, as someone who's never been considered a freak, you do not want to admit it, nor own up to it.

"What you did out there was remarkable," Charles compliments, "I do believe we would not have been able to save you if it weren't for someone with Peter's expertise," the man smiles at the boy. "Did you mean to do what you did out there? Quite a smart attempt to remove yourself from the situation."

It's then that you decide you hate this Peter guy. He's the reason you're here, why you're trapped right now, and have to endure whatever dull stipulations they'd dolled onto your sentence.

"This is a whole lot better than prison," Raven, or as you'd known her, Mystique, taunts. "I'd be thanking Charles right about now if I were you." Hand lightly drug along the man's shoulders in passing as she rounds the desk and heads toward the door, you can't help but feel embarrassed. Do they all know what you'd done? Why you're here? Shame and guilt begin to gnaw at your stomach again.

"This is a second chance for you," Charles repeats your name again, his tone encouraging and softer this time. "It's not a punishment to be here, I assure you. If anything, I hope it will help you grow to your fullest potential. Now, if you boys wouldn't help her with a tour, we've arranged a room for her up with the girls," he waves toward the door and it opens. "The boys will help acquaint you with the premise, and once you're done I'm sure Hank will be ready to meet you downstairs for preliminary testing."

While you sit on the couch unmoving your heart beating in your chest feels all too slow for the way fear takes hold of you. Paranoia, hatred, anger, resentment, grief, and guilt all dig their claws into you and you're left weighed down with no words. Nodding is the only thing you can do. There's no way out of this one. They'd just get this Peter kid to bring you back again.

Sullen, you slowly rise from the brown olefin couch and walk toward the doorway. You're unsure whether it was more ominous in the office, or if the utter silence within the empty foyer is more daunting. "It is not usually this empty," the blue boy speaks.

"Everyone's in class," Peter adds on, holding the door open for you kindly, even if he's frowning as you pass.

"Welcome to the X-Manor," blue boy announces with a smile you can only interpret as genuine.

~~~~~~~~

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