Peter Maximoff X Reader Fluff - Blog Posts

ꜱᴛᴏʟᴇɴ 'ʙᴏʀʀᴏᴡᴇᴅ' ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ

Synopsis: Peter Maximoff has a habit of borrowing little things—your scarf, your hoodie, even your headphones—and you’re finally fed up with his carelessness. But when you confront him, his explanation catches you completely off guard: he isn’t just borrowing, he’s keeping pieces of you close. As you unravel the truth behind his impulsive actions, you discover that sometimes, even speedsters need someone to anchor them—and maybe, just maybe, you don’t mind being the one he keeps running back to. Warnings: None! <3

It starts small. A scarf you draped over the back of your chair one evening vanishes without a trace. Days later, you spot it wound loosely around Peter’s neck as he lounges on the couch, the ends fluttering whenever he shifts.

Then it’s your favorite hoodie—a soft, worn thing that feels like a hug in fabric form. You find it carelessly tossed across the rec room sofa, smelling faintly of cool air and his cologne.

You tell yourself it’s harmless, even charming. Peter is Peter: the kind of person who moves too fast to consider boundaries. But when your headphones disappear and reappear in his room—one earbud dangling by a precarious wire—you decide you’ve had enough.

The next time he zips into the room, you plant yourself in front of him, hands on your hips.

"Peter Maximoff," you say, your tone sharper than usual. "We need to talk."

He skids to a stop, blinking at you with wide, guileless eyes. "Uh, okay? What’s up?"

"Stop stealing my stuff."

His expression morphs into mock offense, a hand flying to his chest. "Stealing? That’s a harsh word. I’m merely borrowing. Temporarily."

"Temporarily?" You arch an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "My scarf, my hoodie, my headphones? Borrowing means you return them intact."

"Fine," he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "You caught me. But I swear, I’ve got a good reason."

"Let’s hear it."

He hesitates, shifting his weight from foot to foot. For once, Peter looks out of place, like he’d rather be anywhere but here. His usual smirk falters, and something softer flickers across his face—something vulnerable.

"I—" He stops, sighing again, before finally meeting your eyes. "They smell like you, okay?"

You blink, unsure you heard him right. "What?"

"They smell like you," he repeats, quieter this time. His cheeks flush pink, and he looks down, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "The scarf, the hoodie… even your stupid headphones. They smell like your shampoo, or your perfume, or just… you."

He swallows, his voice almost too low to hear. "When I’m not around you, it makes me feel like you’re still close. Like I’m not..." His words trail off, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "I don’t know. Alone, I guess."

For a moment, you’re stunned. This is Peter—confident, reckless, always in motion. But now he’s standing here, red-faced and vulnerable, avoiding your gaze like he’s afraid of what you might say.

When you step closer, his head snaps up, his gray eyes searching your face.

"Peter," you say softly, your tone gentle now. "You could’ve just told me."

"Yeah, well." He shrugs, forcing a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Talking about feelings isn’t really my thing, you know? Speeding away from them? Way more my style."

You can’t help but laugh, your chest tightening in a way that feels both warm and bittersweet. "You’re ridiculous."

"Ridiculously charming, right?" He tries to smirk, but his voice still holds that edge of hesitation, like he’s testing the waters.

Shaking your head, you smile. "Next time, just ask. You don’t need to steal my stuff to feel close to me."

His grin widens, but there’s a softness to it now, his usual cocky mask slipping just enough for you to see the relief beneath.

"Really?"

"Really," you say, your smile growing. "But if you touch my headphones again, I’m going to kill you."

Peter’s laughter rings out as he zips away, scarf trailing behind him like a silver banner. But later, when you find the hoodie neatly folded on your bed—your favorite scent lingering faintly on the fabric—you can’t help but smile. As much as Peter runs from his emotions, he always finds a way back to you.

Secret Hideout, Secret Kiss

Synopsis: You discover a hidden spot in the mansion where Quicksilver goes to think. He shows it to you, and as you share secrets, the tension builds, leading to a soft, stolen kiss.

Warnings: Maybe some cursing, besides that, just fluff! ☁️🩷

You wandered through the surprisingly quiet halls of the X-Mansion, trying to find something to do on this slow day. You were about to walk past a small hallway but stopped, seeing a light under a door. Peter's door. It's not unusual for him to be up at this time, but something was off. You pressed your ear to the door, hearing some light curses and shuffling.

"Peter?" You knocked on the door, it creaking open. You saw Peter half-way out of his window with the all-too familiar silver jacket basically glowing in the moonlight. "Hey, baby- What do you need?" Peter cocked a smile on his face, now sitting on his windowsill. "What are you doing? Are you trying to kill yourself or something?" You walked in and shut the door, crossing your arms. "Just uh- looking at the moon. Mhm. Yep." Peter didn't even believe his own lie. How could he lie when you were standing right in front of him in your cute pajamas and the sleepy look on your face. "Mhm. Tell me the truth, Peter." He sighed and stood up, taking your hand. "Why use words when I can show you?" You were about to respond before he held the back of your head and speed through the house.

Before you knew it, you were outside.

"Peter, what are you-" He sped you into a small clubhouse. It was a cozy room filled with music players and dirty clothes. "I'd hope no one would find this place, but since I'm showing it to you, you're not finding it." Peter laid down into the beanbag chair, you sitting in the small chair in front of him. "Why keep this place hidden? Too small for anyone else?" You smiled, leaning back a bit. "That and I come here to be alone sometimes. I like having a big-mutant family and all but... It's a bit much with everyone. Sometimes a guy just needs-"

"A place too think."

"Mm... Yeah. You get it?" Peter cocked his neck to the side, his silver hair moving and settling into place. Damn, why did it take you this long to realize he was cute? Well- You've had thoughts before. But never so... vivid. "Yeah, sometimes it's a bit much. The talking, the fighting, the crowed hallways. Why do you think my headphones are basically attached to me?"

You chuckled, the tension easing as you exchanged glances, both of you sharing that unspoken understanding. Peter’s presence was oddly comforting in this hidden sanctuary, a stark contrast to the chaos of the mansion.

“Right?” he replied, a smirk playing on his lips. “It’s nice to have a little escape now and then. Like our own little secret.” He leaned forward slightly, eyes sparkling with mischief. “And now you’re in on it.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “I guess that makes me special, huh?”

“Special indeed,” he said, his tone shifting to something softer. The playful air around him faded, replaced by a sincerity that made your heart race. “I don’t show this place to just anyone.”

The moment hung between you like a delicate thread, pulling you closer together. You watched as he shifted in the beanbag, looking slightly vulnerable but still that charming, cocky guy you knew. “So, what else do you do in your secret hideout?” you asked, trying to keep the mood light, even as the tension crackled in the air.

“Sometimes I think about life, or I just play music and pretend I’m a rockstar,” he said with a chuckle, but his eyes were serious. “But mostly, I just think about… stuff.”

“Stuff?” You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward, intrigued. “What kind of stuff?”

He hesitated for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “You know, like… what it all means. Being a mutant, having powers, all that. But lately, I’ve been thinking about people too.” His gaze locked onto yours, and you felt your breath hitch slightly.

“People?” you echoed, heart pounding. “Like…?”

“I dunno. Maybe people like... you.” The words hung in the air, heavy and electric. His expression was earnest, searching yours for a reaction.

You felt a rush of warmth spread across your cheeks. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice low. “You’ve always been there for me. And I’ve been wanting to tell you… well, I think you’re incredible.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your pulse quicken. It was that moment—the one that seemed to stretch and expand, where everything else faded away. You could hear your heart beating in your ears. “Peter, I—”

Before you could finish, he closed the distance between you, his hand brushing against your cheek. “Can I show you? How incredible I think you are.” he asked softly, and you nodded, breathless as your throat felt dry.

In an instant, his lips were on yours, tentative at first but quickly growing more confident, as if he were testing the waters of this uncharted territory. You melted into the kiss, feeling the warmth radiate between you, a rush of electricity that made everything else fade away. You reached up and felt his silver strands go through your fingers. This felt like a dream. He was kissing you, and not out of pity or a dare- Because he liked you. He really liked you...

When he pulled back, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other. “Wow,” he whispered, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “So, do you think I could ever be a rockstar?”

You laughed, the moment lightening but the intensity still there. “You definitely have the charm for it,” you replied, heart still racing. “But let’s focus on this secret hideout first.” He chuckled, that easy, familiar laugh you loved. “Deal.” The night stretched out before you, filled with possibilities, the quiet of the clubhouse now brimming with newfound connection.

Do not copy or translate plz! -CallMe_Bunni