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I really hope I’m not overwhelming you but I think it’s got a cute opportunity. “Can I do your hair?” with Peter?
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: peter maximoff x reader 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓: “can i do your hair?” 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 940 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+, fluff, peter and reader are early to mid twenties, british reader 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: y/n is known by the mutant name “scribe” and is charles xavier’s niece.
Sometimes, you think it’d be easier if you were bald. Like Charles.
Your hair is a great source of irritation when it doesn’t go the way you plan. Truthfully, you know very little about hair: you know how to make sleeping in rollers somewhat bearable and you know how to Dutch braid it, but that’s about it. You thought it would be fun to try something new today, something glamorous like the models in the magazines, but it’s not going well at all. Is it the hairdryer? Is it the brush you’re using? Is it the way you’re twisting your hand? You don’t know, and it’s driving you insane.
“Bloody hell,” you grumble, one hand wrapped around the handle of the round brush while you position the hairdryer at the right spot again. “How hard is it to make a curl?”
Peter, laid back on your bed in his leathers and band tee, asks, “Why don’t you—”
The hairdryer whirrs to life again, a loud, obnoxious sound that’s getting on your nerves by now. You can’t hear him over the noise of it. “Huh?”
You squint at him across the room; all that lies between your full length mirror and your bed, pressed against the wall, is the trunk you brought with you to school. Peter has been watching you try to do this for a while now, your frustrations rising, and you’ve only got fifteen minutes left until you’re due to hang out with Jean, Scott, Kurt and Jubilee.
The speedster shakes his head dismissively. He turns to the side and watches you twist the brush in your hand, leave the hairdryer to heat it up, and then when you pull it away—
Limp. It’s flat and downright awful, and your face is going red at the sight of it.
Your fingers clench in irritation as you set the brush down. Peter’s laugh rings out across the room to you. It’s a sound that usually sparks amusement, but right now it sparks vexation.
“It’s not funny!” You fire back at him, frustration evident in your tone.
Peter, however, thinks otherwise. “It’s pretty funny. You’ll laugh about it in a few days’ time.”
You growl in frustration. “Not if I can’t do this bloody hairstyle,” you respond. You throw your hands in the air and bring one to tug at your hair, as if to prove your point. “I might say to hell with it and get a perm.”
Peter’s laugh is filled with amusement, louder than before, as he stands from the bed. “Wanda did that and she came out looking like a grandma. Wouldn’t recommend it.”
You jut your chin upwards defensively. “It’s in fashion right now. It’s the 80’s.”
“It definitely didn’t look in fashion on my sister. I teased her about it for weeks.”
You shake your head. You turn to look back at yourself in the mirror, sighing. “What would you recommend, huh? Hair Stylist Maximoff?”
Peter’s brows rise as he takes a few slow steps across the room towards you. “Can I do your hair?”
You frown at him. Your mother used to try to help you when you got like this, except she’d never be able to do it either and you’d just both end up frustrated. You turn back to him, suddenly feeling a little defeated, and sigh at your reflection in the mirror. “What do you know about hair?”
Peter appears behind you at superspeed and places his hands on your shoulders. “You think I go to the little old lady salon and walk in and ask for silver hair? Please. I do this crap myself.”
Peter reaches up to run his fingers through your hair, and you close your eyes at the feeling. His touch is comforting. Teasingly, you ask, “Do you curl it too?”
You open your eyes to see Peter shrug. “Nah,” he answers softly. His gaze follows his fingers as they rake gently through your hair. “But Wanda asks me to get the back for her sometimes.”
You raise your brows. “Really?”
Peter nods. “Dinner on me if I screw it up?”
Your lips quirk up in a small smile. “Deal.”
Peter grins at you, and then in a flash, he’s speeding around the room. You can’t see what he grabs, but you know the rough location of everything he might be grabbing—hairspray, the brush, the hairdryer…
And when he’s done, you’re choking from the amount of hairspray lingering around you. Genuinely choking. Your throat feels like it might give up from the fumes, but when you’ve finally stopped, when your eyes stop watering enough to see—
“Oh my god.”
You look good. Exactly like the models in the magazines. Your curls are voluminous, bouncy, and it compliments the natural makeup on your face almost as if you woke up looking like this. You can’t help but gape at the sight of yourself in the mirror, and you catch the sight of Peter’s grinning mouth as he watches the recognition flash in your eyes.
“Peter,” you breathe, “never mind the X-Men. You need to get a job in a salon.”
Peter laughs. “Personal stylist for the X-Men? I’ve got some good ideas for what I’d like to do to Scott.”
You let out a laugh, your fingers twisting through the ends of your hair. Oh, it’s perfect. “Personal stylist for me, at the very least.”
Peter grins, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek. “Glad you like it, Y/N.”
“Like it? I love it.”
“Good. Now can we please get going?” Peter begs, giving your shoulders a squeeze. “If I don’t get food soon I think I’ll combust.”
I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what exactly are Scribe’s powers? How did you come up with her name?
i absolutely don't mind! i love questions like this, and it's a valid one since her powers haven't been fully fleshed out yet. i hope you guys don't mind that the reader in my fics has a fleshed out backstory, personality and powers either.
a scribe is defined as follows:
a writer or journalist.
a public clerk or secretary, especially in ancient times.
a professional copyist of manuscripts and documents.
in verb form:
to write or inscribe.
to mark with a scriber.
scribe's name comes from her ability to change her body and abilities through writing. i'll list all her powers below:
atomic manipulation: scribe can change herself in any way she wants i.e give herself another mutant’s powers, but she has done this through writing for so long that she struggles to do it with a mere thought. if she does this for extended periods of time she won’t be able to use her energy powers. little spoiler for the future: when she becomes one of the x-men, hank will make her something to help with this in the same way that he made scott summers his glasses.
energy manipulation: she can lift things with her energy and can fire energy blasts. while you might think this is similar to wanda's powers, they're less ball-shaped and more raw in shape and form. her mind always knows how much force to use and how powerful to make these blasts. they scorch the skin on impact.
portals: she can open portals to other dimensions. all she needs to do is think of what and where she wants and she can summon a portal to it. smaller ones are easier; larger ones drain her power very quickly.
shielding: this power stems from charles xavier & her father since they're twins (i took this from the og movies where he magically has a brain-dead twin brother haha). nobody can hear her thoughts. she can extend this shield to a person or group of people i.e. the x-men she's fighting with, but doing this for other people drains her energy. if she truly focused then she could access telepathy, but that's not something she wants to do.
i hope that answered your question and if you have any more then please do ask and i'll be happy to answer!
One-Shot request: Part 2 to Feelings. Pietro followed you into the room and heard everything Steve had said. Announcements: Sorry this took so long, I hope you like it though! Warnings: None<br> Word Count: 966 You stood there, staring at Steve for what seemed like an eternity. He loved you? Since when? I mean, you loved him too, but as family, never as something more, why would you? Memories came flooding back to you, of holidays and birthdays and other parties that Tony threw, suddenly recognizing the signs were there all along, the awkward conversations, avoiding eye contact, for months this was all happening and you never noticed. Why? Why did this ever have to happen? Things were going to get so complicated now, after this nothing would be the same, missions, movie nights, and the works. You furrowed your eyebrows in thought. “Y/N? Y/N?” “Huh!” You said quickly, coming out of your wide eyed stare. “Well, are you going to say anything?” Steve asked quietly. “I, well I-” Well I what, you thought, what should you say? What are you supposed to say? Your thoughts were cut off by an angry voice coming from behind you. “Yes, Y/N. What do you say to the great Captain America?” The color went out from your cheeks as you turned to face Pietro who stood looming in the doorway. He must have followed you, but how much did he hear? “I, Pietro, I wouldn’t-” “Wouldn’t what? Huh? Have you been sneaking behind my back with him?” He asked quietly. You looked him in the eye, “Of course not, Pietro. I love you,” but that didn’t seem to calm him down. He pushed past you and faced up against Steve, his chest puffing out with anger as Steve stood up straight. Pietro looked him in the eye so harshly you thought that Steve’s head would catch fire. “Listen, Pietro, I don’t want to start any trouble,” Steve said firmly. “Oh yeah?” Pietro hissed, “If you didn’t want to start any trouble then why did you say anything? Huh? Did you forget that I was in the picture? I would have never thought that you, Captain America, would do this to one of his own team members. I thought that I could call you a friend, but apparently not.” Steve looked like he wanted to say something else, but held it in. you were thankful for that. You looked at Pietro, he looked hurt. Maybe not to anyone else but you knew him. He really did feel betrayed by one of his friends, you thought. Stepping up in between the two other Avengers you laid a hand of Pietro’s chest. He quickly glanced at you and back to Steve, somehow managing to frown even harder. He huffed loudly and sped out of the room, leaving your hand to fall to your side. You went to follow him when Steve stopped you. “Y/N? I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to start anything.” You looked down, “Yeah, I know,” You sighed heavily and looked back up at him, “Just, just give us some time, at least until things calm down.” And with that, you left the room. —- It took some time to find Pietro, seeing as how he could go basically anywhere within seconds. Eventually you found him in a little restaurant that you both liked to frequent sitting at a table looking out the window with a now cold cup of coffee sitting in front of him. If he notice you come in and sit down he didn’t show it. A waitress came up and asked what you wanted to drink, after she brought you a coffee she left the both of you alone. The two of you sat there, not talking or looking at each other, for a long time. Eventually you sighed, “Pietro, I’m sorry.” There was a pause, then he looked over at you with sad eyes, “Tell me the truth, please. Do you love him? Do you feel the same way?” You looked back at him, “No. No I don’t. Ok, Pietro? I love you and I mean it with all of my heart,” You placed your hand softly over his. “I could never love Steve in the same way that I love you, alright? I thought of him as family, a friend.” “And now?” “And now I really don’t know.” You looked at each other for another few moments, “I’m sorry too,” Pietro eventually said, “I freaked out and I shouldn’t have accused you.” “No, you shouldn’t have,” You agreed, “But I can get over it. Let’s go home” You and Pietro got up and paid for the coffees. You both walked back toward the tower without saying anything else. Kissing you on the cheek he asked, “Are you coming to bed?” “In a minute,” You answered He yawned and zipped off to the room, which left you alone in the living room of the tower. You walked over to the large windows that lined the entire wall and watched the city. After a while you saw Steve’s reflection in the glass. You opened your mouth to say something but Steve beat you to the punch, “Please, just don’t say anything,” You closed your mouth and listened, still facing the windows, “I’m sorry, ok? I really am. I know it was stupid to say anything because now things are going to be different and more complicated than I ever wanted them to be. I had a moment of weakness and I realize I should have never let it slip out. I’m just letting you know that I will back off and leave the two of you be.” You looked out of the window, thinking, and then finally giving a short nod in acceptance. He nodded back and left the room. Soon you did the same and crawled into bed with Pietro snuggling up to his warm form. Things may get complicated, you thought, but for now you can just sleep.