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Wanda: Hey Pietro...
Pietro:
Wanda: [takes a deep breath]
Wanda: I'm sorry for calling you an idiot.
Wanda: But when Billy asked how to spell "orange," you asked if he was talking about the fruit or the color.
Wanda: And you caught me out off guard.
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sunny-reys · 2 days ago
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Speeding Up
Two people: Pietro Maximoff, with the ability to go faster than time, and you, with the power to slow it down. One person: Wanda Maximoff, doing her best to push the two of you together.
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You love missions with the Avengers. You’ve never felt the same pure rush of adrenaline anywhere else as when you’re fighting for your life. All the same, for some reason during this battle in particular you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something you ought to be doing, someone you ought to be finding. It’s a little distracting, but you can’t pay it any mind. What matters most now is surviving and winning the fight. 
After things cool down again, you realize you know the source of your intrusive thoughts. It’s not a what but a who, and that who is currently walking towards you: Wanda Maximoff. You raise an eyebrow when she finally catches up to you. 
“I thought the mind reading policy was that you weren’t supposed to distract us during missions.” Wanda rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t that bad. Anyways, it was for an important reason. You’re supposed to be meeting my brother, remember?”
Oh, right. Her brother, Pietro Maximoff. 
You do your best to casually look around for an escape opportunity, but it’s too late- the white-haired speedster has already appeared out of nowhere at your side. He glances between you and Wanda, then flashes you a grin. 
“You must be Y/N. I hear Wanda’s been dying for us to meet.” You can’t help a quiet laugh at that. “I’ve heard the same thing.” Wanda makes a face at you, but she can’t stay mad for long. “If we’re good friends, then you’ll be good friends. Sue me for wanting you to be happy.”
Pietro laughs in earnest now. “Oh come on, Wanda, don’t be upset. We’re only teasing, right?” He cuts you a quick glance under raised brows, and his lips curl victoriously when you nod in agreement. “See, we’re doing great already. What’s your power again? Just so I can keep things straight.” Pietro changes the subject almost as quickly as he runs. You open your mouth to respond, but Wanda interrupts you hastily. 
“Actually, I think it’s best if we have a demonstration, you know what I mean?” She says the last part with a wink directed your way, and you smile along with her. Pietro seems suspicious, but seems fine when you ask him to run a few yards as fast as he can. Either he trusts you or he’s either to show off; both work for you. 
The second you see Pietro start to run, you hold up your hands and concentrate. Instantly, time seems to slow down around Pietro- no matter how hard he tries, he’s moving at a snail’s pace. You easily walk and catch up to him, pulling a small knife from his belt. You hold it up triumphantly when you let Pietro return to normal time. 
He’s at your side in an instant, grinning ear to ear. “That was fantastic. I was actually slow.” He shudders for dramatic effect. “Is that what it’s like to be you guys? I don’t know how you stand it.” Wanda swats him on the shoulder, but they’re both laughing. 
“See? Told you she was cool.” Wanda says. When Pietro looks back at you, you’re almost startled by the intensity of his gaze. “You were right.” For some reason, it almost makes you shiver. Wanda looks at you as if she knows what you’re thinking, but that can’t be right, because you’re not sure that you know what you’re feeling at all.
And, to be honest, this doesn’t go away after a while. You end up seeing Pietro Maximoff a lot more as the days go on, especially after you receive higher clearance to go on more Avengers missions. This means plenty of time to hang with him and Wanda in the jet after different fights, or sometimes just Pietro. You’ve grown accustomed to running through battles with Pietro because he never has to worry about speaking too fast; you can just speed up time for yourself and keep up.
This starts a habit of finding Pietro in dark corners of the jet, of pretending you get annoyed whenever he slings your legs into his lap, and listening to the thrum of the engines underneath his every word. Sometimes, the two of you talk until your voice is hoarse, and sometimes, Pietro’s sentences dry up mid phrase and he just sits there looking at you until he remembers himself and keeps going, usually with a wink or stupid joke to deflect the fact that he’d been feeling anything at all.
Wanda teases you about it sometimes, how much time you spend with Pietro, but you find you don’t really mind it. After all, the two of you are actually really good partners. With his speed and your ability to control time, you’re one of the only people who can actually keep up with him. The Avengers get more and more used to assigning the two of you to work together, and you’ve never minded it once.
In fact, you welcome it, even though you know you shouldn’t. Here is the problem of leaning too far into Pietro’s stolen glances and witty jokes told around open drinks: you’re not entirely sure that any of it is real. You’ve seen him smile the same way around Nat and the other female S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who have the luck or misfortune to cross his path, so you know it’s not just because of you.
All the same, you kind of wish it was. That’s why you find yourself standing at the edge of one of Stark’s parties later that month, pretending you can’t see Pietro leaning closer and closer to a woman in a red dress across the room. 
After a little while, Wanda comes up to you. She doesn’t even bother with the pleasantries, just goes straight into what’s on your mind. “So, I see that you and Pietro are getting along well?” You laugh a little, somehow not surprised, and raise your glass as if to agree with her. “You could say that. I feel like I work with him on some mission at least once a week.”
Wanda smirks. “I’m not talking about that kind of getting along.” You give her a suspicious look. “What other kind could there be?” Wanda folds her arms across her chest. “Do I have to spell it out for you? I see the way you look at each other, practically everyone does. Someone’s going to have to confess at some point, you know.”
You do your best not to choke on the drink you’ve just raised to your lips. “A little abrupt, Wanda?” Your friend just shakes her head. “Not at all, I think. Besides, you’re changing the subject.” You stare mournfully at your drink. “Maybe I want to. It’s not like admitting anything would do me any good. This little feelings thing isn’t going to go anywhere.”
Wanda frowns. “Why do you think that?” You gesture uselessly with your hands. “You know your brother, he’s like that with everyone. No matter how many times he tells me I look pretty, he’s said the exact same compliment to a dozen other people. What’s the point of letting myself fall for someone if I know it isn’t going anywhere?”
Wanda sighs, stepping closer to make sure no one can overhear your conversation. “Who said it wasn’t going anywhere?” You sigh, feeling your throat threaten to close up on you. “I’m not an idiot, Wanda. If he’s got anyone he wants, why go for me? Because I have special powers? Wait a week and a new intern comes in with something cooler than that. If I thought he meant anything when it came to me, I wouldn’t be doing my best to pretend I don’t see him talking to that other girl over there.”
Wanda glances over at her brother and shakes her head slightly when she realizes what you mean. “All the same, I do think there’s something. If neither of you can see it, well, I hope you do at some point.” Before you can ask her what she means by that, Wanda slips away to go talk to Vision, who’s just freed himself from a conversation with Bruce Banner. You stare at the room around you, contemplating which of your coworkers would be the least bad to talk to at a time like this, then give up and slip quietly from the room.
Like it or not, Wanda’s gotten to you. You can’t shake the image of Pietro smiling at the other girl from your mind, or escape the feeling that you should be doing something about it. At the end of the day, though, you’re just you, and Pietro’s just playing around to see what happens. You both want different things, and no amount of wishing will change that.
You drift into an empty room near the end of the hall, and stand before a wall made entirely of windows. Your eyes trace over the city far below you, the relentless night and the lights beginning to prick out against it. It’s beautiful, but it all feels so far away.
A voice from the doorway behind you makes you jump. “Everything alright? I saw you leave.” You turn around to see Pietro leaning against the door. You’re not sure when he left, but you could have sworn that he was still deeply engrossed in that girl from before. He seems like he’s deliberating over the threshold, so you extend a hand to him and he walks inside.
Pietro joins you by the window. “You know, every now and then I still can’t believe that the whole city is real. I spent enough time watching Sokovia destroy itself that sometimes the thought that New York could exist, undamaged, doesn’t even make sense.” A half smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “Not for lack of trying. I swear some new villain tries to destroy half the city every month.”
Pietro laughs quietly. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing it’s got you to watch over everything. It certainly brings me some peace of mind.” You raise an eyebrow. “Because I’m on missions all the time?” Pietro tilts his head to the side, considering this. “Because you never let something go if you think it’s wrong. I’ve never seen you turn down a chance to do good, even when you’re exhausted. That’s worth something.”
You glance over at him. At some point in the last few minutes, Pietro turned away from the window to look fully at you. The lights of the window below you reflect in his eyes, painting a thousand pictures of the city he never seems to belong to. His fingers tap at his sides, the only sign that he’s still moving too fast for anyone other than you to understand.
Pietro glances down at his hands, as if he can read your mind like his sister, and grins abashedly. “Bad habit. I can’t stay still when it feels like everything’s moving so slowly.” You smile. “You don’t have to be the only one.” Your eyes flicker shut for a second as you focus, then you speed up time around yourself so that you’re living on the same frequency as Pietro. When you open your eyes, the cars below you seem to be moving a thousand times faster. It’s almost dizzying, but Pietro’s grinning at you so you can’t seem to think about much else.
“It’s fun, isn’t it? Being faster than anyone.” You laugh at that. “Exhausting, maybe. How do you keep up with it all?” Pietro smirks. “You get used to it after a while. Stick around with me, maybe I can teach you a few tricks about it.” You shake your head slightly, smiling. “Bold of you to assume I’d be going anywhere without you.” Pietro’s smile grows at that, and he reaches over to take your hand. “Bold of you to assume I’d let you go.”
There’s a certain truth in that sentence that makes your heart stutter, like it’s the truest thing he’s ever said to you. And, when you look up at him, you’re fairly sure that it is. Not many people know the real Pietro, the one outside of the fast movements and the snarky comebacks. This, though? This is him. This is the boy HYDRA couldn’t change away, the one who grew up to fall in love with girls who sped up time to make him feel normal again. And, when he leans forward and kisses you, slowly because he doesn’t have to feel like he’s rushing anymore, you know it to be a fact.
marvel tag list: missing pietro maximoff hours @rogueanschel​,  @mycosmicparadise​, @ellobruv-blog​, @caswinchester2000​
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lauriel816 · 2 days ago
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Peter: If I eat chocolate while I'm a dog do you think I'll get sick?
Erik: ...I'll never turn down a science experiment.
Charles, two rooms over: DON’T!
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egc2002 · a day ago
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I'm here for my family too
Peter is a walking chaos.
He is a person who has serious trouble coming to terms even with himself, because his mind goes faster than he can sometimes process himself.
He sometimes thinks of one thing and in less than a second he has analyzed a hundred things around him and changed his mind about it.
And despite the speed he has to process information, or his ability to run to the speed of sound, he is a very slow person. Because when his mouth speaks, he says something that he had thought at the beginning even though at that moment his brain was already thinking something completely different.
That weird contradiction has led him to have serious problems throughout his life, but the time in which he regrets most of having had that problem was the day in which he had promised himself to tell the truth .
Telling his father that he was his son.
But when he had him close, when he had the opportunity to do it, when he could end all the suffering of that man who believed he had lost everything ... he could not do it.
Because by the time he wanted to do it a thought came to his head.
And what if he doesn't care?
That thought caused a chill that ran through his body, because if Erik did not care that Peter was his son, then that would mean that he would be rejected by the person he longed to have the most in his life.
And when the look of anger and suffering of his father fell on Peter another thought came to his head.
And what if he does?
Then he could end all the suffering of that lonely man, and he could have what he never could get in all the robberies, a father.
They might not be able to make up for lost years, but they could enjoy the ones they saw ahead.
Maybe you could celebrate Hanukkah together, celebrate birthdays, enjoy a rainy day, find common ground, or just talk.
And when he had decided that he would pluck up the courage and reveal the secret to Erik, his mouth reacted too late.
"I'm here for my family too."
Here's my contribution to the quicksilver fanwork exchange, and my giftee is @digested-human I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, I LOVE YOUR ART AND IS A PLEASURE TO ME GIVING THIS TO YOU!!!!
(English isn't my first languaje, sorry if I have a mistake)
@quicksilver-events
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pietrodjangos · a day ago
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Due to ToM bringing up HoM it’s time for a little rant in defence of the Maximoff Twins;
when will people realise that the x-men & avengers are the main villains of HoM and not wanda or pietro?
pietro 100% manipulated wanda into changing reality. no question about it. BUT he did it because she was going to be killed for having a mental health crisis when she could of gotten support; consistent mental health support, not demonise the vulnerable woman. blaming M-Day on pietro or wanda is a weird conclusion to come to considering wanda did not actually choose to get rid of mutants on her own accord (as far as latest retcons are considered it was doom, a weird retcon but still) nor did pietro tell her to get rid of mutants or anything actually harmful.
The way that book was written to make the group that wanted to kill a woman for having a mental health crisis the good guys and those opposed to it the ‘bad’ ones… the ableist undertones are prevalent. im just sick of people blaming wanda & pietro when the worst (and one if not the most questionable thing his character has done) pietro did was manipulate his sister (though with good intentions in his mind; many stans seems to forget HE has very heavy mental health issues throughout the decades of his character which would skew with his perception, an awful one at times, but the fandom just choose to demonise it which is just another conversation for another day…) and Wanda made a perfect world?? obviously she can’t claim liability as she was IN A MENTAL HEALTH CRISIS
I’m just so tired of seeing crap like ‘blame Pietro for HoM’ or ‘Wanda is a bitch for what she did to the mutants’
Maybe instead assess the ableist high key undertones of the comic and how it presented two character with mental health issues within it and beyond since 2005 e.g., Son of M, Scarlet Witch (2016) minus issue #9 (which is just…really ooc writing for both characters), & QS; No Surrender.
I’m sure there are many resources just on this hellsite alone which would inform anybody about both characters mistreatment from HoM (even before that) onwards.
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jotypes · a day ago
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Gingerbread Jail
Desc: You and Peter Maximoff, both sarcastic jokers who never take anything seriously, are always in this "will they, won't they" kind of dynamic, and it's coming to a head. This Christmas Eve, though, the gift situation has gone wrong for the Maximoff family, and it's up to you two to fix it. Basically entirely fluff, very inspired by Christmas romcoms I've watched growing up.
Word Count: 7.7k
This fic is for a contest that @no-mercy-bby is running!
And, I've used these prompts:
"Does someone need a hug?” From Elf
“You sit on a throne of lies.” From Elf
"I don’t know what to say except it’s Christmas and we’re all in misery.” From National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (I've mostly used this one in theme of the fic, but overall, it's not really entirely based on these prompts :D)
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It was Christmas Eve.
In the living room, the Christmas tree was teetering, wobbling back and forth, as Billy levitated Tommy towards the top, practicing his magic. Tommy eagerly pushed towards the tree, as Billy paled, focusing as his blue magic sparkled.
“Go faster, Billy, I can’t even reach the top of the tree yet.” Tommy whined, the star in his hand just brushing some of the pine needles.
“I can’t!” Billy shook his head, the veins in his hands popping with the intensity of his levitation spell.
“Boys!” Vision yelled, but it was too late.
Billy lost his hold on Tommy, falling backwards into Vision, and Tommy began to fall rapidly towards the ground, breaking his fall on you.
You had just woken up, choosing to sleep in late since decorating the tree was more of a kids’ activity. You figured that Billy and Tommy would want to do it entirely on their own, and you weren’t someone to take away that privilege from them. You had only come downstairs to check on all the commotion.
“...Ow.” You swore silently in your head, feeling as if you had cracked a rib or something, and Tommy pulled himself up.
“Sorry, Y/n. Thanks for catching me.” He sheepishly replied, before giving you his hand and helping you up.
“No worries, Tommy. Bit of a rude awakening, though…” You side eyed him, watching him gulp until you ruffled his hair. “I’m just kidding.”
Vision groaned, before apologizing to you profusely. “This is why we should have just done it the normal way.”
He picked up Tommy and Billy, flying up to the top of the tree, and let them place the star normally. “There we go.”
------------
You limped to the kitchen, smelling fresh gingerbread cookies that Wanda and Peter were definitely in the middle of making. The Maximoff twins had a special Sokovian tradition around the holidays, which involved making a gingerbread person of someone you really cared about and giving it to them.
That’s what Peter was working on, all by himself for once, instead of using Wanda’s artistic talents to amp up the wow factor. He wanted this to be special, entirely made by him, even though it was cheesy.
He felt like your features had come out appropriately cute, just like you, although his frosting skills needed some work. He was just working on your clothes, opting for a red, Christmassy dress, when you decided to enter in.
“Hey guys.” You yawned, and somehow you still looked absolutely breathtaking after sleeping thirteen hours. Your hair was completely tangled and messed up, but you made it work, and even though your under eyes were puffy, it somehow made you look even cuter.
Peter wondered, not for the first time, if he was just hopelessly fond of you.
“Afternoon, Y/n.” Wanda smiled at you, picking up a fresh tray of gingerbread cookies. “Are you going to participate?”
“Uh, if I could pick a person from this perfect family to recreate in biscuit form, then yeah.” You giggled, and she waved her hand at that. “Seriously, though, I might just have to not do it.”
“Oh, please, Y/n. You’re like family to us at this point.” She admitted, while handing a mostly empty bowl of icing to you, which you immediately began to devour. “I promise I won’t get mad if it’s not me.”
At that, you snorted, and then looked at Peter. “Will all of the Maximoffs stay neutral, though?”
Peter didn’t seem to hear you, and you began to walk over to see whatever he was working on.
It wasn’t like him to be so focused on something, let alone completely fail to notice all the itty bitty other details of whatever else was going on. You leaned over his shoulder, and he nearly flinched, before pushing his artwork under some parchment paper.
He was adorable when he was so engrossed in something, the tip of his tongue just making its way out of his mouth as he worked away at the thing on the counter.
“Hey, Pea.” That was your stupid little nickname for him, that you had come up with when you first met the Maximoffs.
At the time, you had just met Wanda and Peter at the local community center, which was actually where you worked. You were running the auction for antiques a few years ago, and you were quick to comment on how alike these two looked.
Upon finding out that Wanda and Peter were twins, you had casually called them two peas in a pod, and then finding out Peter’s name was Pea-ter had made you so, so gleeful.
Yeah, you were a little bit of a jerk, but after that you quickly became one of their closest friends, and if Peter was honest, he actually didn’t mind that nickname at all.
Even though his nephews would screech “Uncle Pee!”, it was worth it when you were there.
“Whatcha working on?” You said, sucking icing from your fingers, not noticing how that seemed kind of a lot for Peter to deal with this early in the day.
He pushed any suggestive thoughts out of his mind.
“Uh, nothing important.” He was quick to say, before realizing what you were talking about, and turning to you. “What do you mean, you can’t pick between me and Wanda?”
“Well, to be fair, you two are practically the same, Pea.” You snickered as he crossed his arms. “Same faces, same weird-head-tilt-thing, freaky powers-”
“Hey, that’s totally discriminatory.” He retorted.
“That is a way bigger word than I ever thought you’d use.” You grinned, and then he leapt forward, painting some icing on your face.
“Ack- stop that, Peter- Why?!” You spluttered, as he began to cackle.
“I gotta practice my icing abilities somehow, right?” He laughed as you wiped the icing off your cheek in mock annoyance.
Wanda was watchful in the background, having witnessed many of these weirdly competitive moments between the two of you. As a twin, it kind of screamed twin behaviour to her, but weirdly enough, sometimes she noticed Peter’s face turning a bit pinker as he looked at you.
Your dynamic was like two class clowns who had finally got on equal footing, and now they were grown up and being all touchy, flirty, with just a hint of humor, and yet there wasn’t really a word for it, outside of “good friends.”
“You two…” She murmured quietly, wondering how much more fun holidays would be if you were always here. Maybe as Peter’s girlfriend, maybe his wife in the future, if he was lucky enough.
“Us two? What do you mean by that?” You called back, and Wanda turned, senses heightened at how Peter was clearly panicking.
Maybe she could give it a little shove. “Well, you two are always so, um, together-”
Peter ran forward, in a silver-blue shiny blur, cramming a freshly out of the oven shortbread cookie into his mouth. He immediately coughed it out and swore from how hot it was, and Wanda began fanning his mouth.
“Oh!- You burned your tongue, Peter.” She noted worriedly, and he shook his head, feeling utterly embarrassed that he had done such an idiotic thing in front of you. Why was it always whenever you were in front of your crush?
He was in a lot of pain, physically and emotionally.
“Here, Peter.” You handed him a glass of milk, which he instantly dunked his tongue into.
“Ohhh mhy ghod.” He moaned gratefully, and you raised your eyebrows.
“Don’t cream your pants on account of me, Pea.” You giggled as Peter immediately mockingly moaned louder, and Wanda made a grossed out face. “Sorry.”
“Whatever, Y/n. Say what you want.” She replied, before remembering something. “...By the way, where have you placed the Christmas presents? I’d like to put them under the tree.”
You looked at her, a quizzical expression on your face. “To be honest, Wanda, I have no idea what you mean by that.”
“What?” She turned abruptly, and began to inhale. “But… Billy and Tommy said that you wrapped the gifts.”
“Uh…” You shook your head. “Classic prank, I guess?”
Wanda clenched her fist, and the red glow emanating from her palm caused a glass of water on the counter to shatter. You and Peter looked at each other, and then her, alarmed.
She sighed loudly. “They’re so dead.”
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“Explain yourselves!” Wanda was marching around the twins’ room, as they sat in their beds, sheer terror flowing between the both of them. “How- why would you even- explain!”
“U-Uh…” Billy spoke first, having a bigger connection to his mother, even though he was completely stressed out at the sight of her. Glowing red eyes, and everything, entirely the Scarlet Witch at this moment.
He swallowed. “Agatha said that if we give her the presents she could duplicate them so we have even more presents and me and Tommy thought that would be a great idea because then we could give them out to other less fortunate people…?”
It all came out in a rush, and Wanda took a second to recollect herself.
You and Peter were both listening through the door, and he began to grin.
“Stupid kids, but they meant well.” He whispered, and you nodded, totally agreeing.
“I mean, I would’ve done that at that age, we can’t blame them.” You whispered back. “We should go check on Agatha.”
Peter nodded, but before you could take your ears off the door, Wanda yanked it open, causing you and Peter to fall to the floor.
He grunted as you fell on top of him, and you turned warm, feeling his skin against yours, and his hands on your back, essentially catching you. In the year that you had known Peter, you had never been this close to him, and the position you were in was very compromising. Leading to some… thoughts.
Not that this was your first time of thinking of him like that.
Billy and Tommy began to wheeze in laughter.
“Uncle Pee! Uncle Pee!” They ran around him, before pulling you two up off the hardwood floor.
“Careful, Y/n. You might have some pee on you.” Billy cackled, and you rolled your eyes.
“Aren’t you guys the ones who still wet your beds?” You retaliated, raising your eyebrows, and Billy and Tommy immediately stopped, turning red.
“She’s right, boys.” Wanda crossed her arms, as Peter gratefully scratched the back of his head.
“Thanks.” He whispered, as Wanda started going on about a plan to go to Agatha’s and take the presents back.
“No prob, Pea.” You winked, and he turned, pretending that he didn’t notice how his hand was still on the small of your back. Of course, to Quicksilver, every minute interaction was always noticeable to him.
It wasn’t lost on him how you absentmindedly pushed yourself more into his grasp, instead of pulling yourself away.
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Agatha was so out of it.
She figured, it’s Christmas Eve, so what was wrong with a bit of Baileys Irish Cream? Yes, it was alcoholic, but Agatha was a grown woman, and she could totally handle it. And it was only seventeen percent alcohol content for the whole bottle!
But Baileys was always delicious, especially around Christmas, and she found herself sipping more and more as she watched Hallmark movies, inevitably starting to cry a little, and now she was entirely drunk.
“Can anybody find me somebody to love?” She wailed, unaware that she had just quoted Queen.
The doorbell rang, and she stood up, suddenly squeamish, wondering if this was a sign or something.
Agatha yanked open the door to see: Peter Maximoff, one of her neighbours, dressed in a winter jacket and toque, looking as hunky as ever. She was pretty sure he was her Christmas saviour.
“Hiya, babes!” She jumped forward, wrapping her arms around him tightly, and kissing his cheek, as he spluttered.
“Yeah… no.” He pushed her aside gently, as you and Wanda began to look at each other in barely contained laughter, and you made your way in.
Until, of course, after awkwardly standing around for a bit, Wanda remembered why you were here. “Ags… I’m here to ask about the presents? You know, the ones that Billy and Tommy left here?”
“Oh, Wan-wan. Those sweet boys asked me to donate… the giftss… so I did…” She started slurring her words, as she hugged Wanda. “They’re at local community center now…”
“We can’t take them back. It’d be totally wrong.” You uttered softly, and Peter wondered what the hell you were going to do now.
“Look! Look! S’all I want…” Agatha sat on the couch, dragging Wanda with her. On TV, the Hallmark movie finally caught up to the point where the male love interest was confessing his love to the main character, in a big-box store like Walmart, no less.
It was one of those epic chase scenes, where the man runs after the woman and tells her desperately how much she means to him. Agatha sighed wistfully, murmuring something about it, and Wanda wrapped a blanket around her as she lay down, letting her sleep off the drunkenness.
Peter stared at the screen, realizing something important. “Y/n, we should do that.”
“Huh? You want to do a huge, romantic gesture where everyone else in the store feels super uncomfortable?” You teased, and he shook his head.
“No, no. We should go and buy presents.” He clarified, even though Peter totally would do a huge romantic gesture like that. But he knew it was more important to get the presents, since Billy and Tommy were sure to be disappointed.
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Wanda had taken it to herself to distract her kids, and you and Peter were on your way now to pick up whatever the local store would even have on Christmas Eve. You knew it couldn’t hurt to look, but you were kind of a pessimist and didn’t think there would be anything left.
“Seriously, dude, I’m guaranteeing all they have now is Valentine’s Day stuff. Not even New Years, because that stuff was here like last week.” You bemoaned, shivering, as you and Peter waited in line, with many other customers who also needed last minute gifts.
On Christmas Eve, the store only opened at about 2 PM, and then closed at 7. It was 5:55, and you had a feeling you’d be out of there by 6:03.
“All I’m hearing is that you have Valentine’s on the brain, Y/n. Are you that lonely?” He grinned, as you scoffed.
Peter could not help but stare a little bit right now, even if it was obvious. Your momentary, half-joking ticked off expression happened to be adorable, and with the snow falling on to your hat and framing your face, you looked like an extra elf at Santa’s Workshop.
Maybe he could work your shivering into his gingerbread cookie, somehow.
“Not at all. I have plenty of stuffed animals to keep me company.” You shrugged, and he shook his head, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.
“So sad. It sounds like we don’t need to buy a present for you, then.” He joked, and you rolled your eyes, smacking his arm, knowing that you both liked it. You both were so far gone, into this strange half-serious flirting kind of dynamic, that it was difficult to stop.
You stared at the doors, wondering if you were truly going to have to wait this long just to enter a store that also sold groceries and regular items, like a no name Walmart, feeling tired just looking at all the other parents.
Other… parents? You mentally smacked yourself, before realizing that that was kind of cute. You and Peter, buying presents for your pseudo-nephew-kids. It was a charming thing to imagine for a bit, buying groceries for a little silver haired baby in the future, or maybe just a dog, but the important thing was that you were together, as a couple, even now as you stood together in the line. Until you remembered that you still didn’t know how Peter felt yet.
Either way, it was harmless for now.
“Listen up, folks!” The manager of the store stepped outside, shivering at the onslaught of cold winds and snow, and took a long, exhausted gander at the length of the line. “Store’s opening now.”
As the manager took his time opening the door, Peter grabbed your arm. “Hold on to me.”
He placed his hand onto the back of your neck, and you shivered from the sudden contact, as you gripped his other hand, and then he ran, faster than anyone in the line would notice, dragging you inside the store in the blink of an eye.
“Wow.” You blinked, suddenly in an aisle of greeting cards with Peter. “And you did this, why?”
“Now we get first pick, silly.” He smirked, and you opened your mouth, before realizing he was completely right.
“Okay. Let’s go for it.” You nodded, thinking about what to get for a pair of overly precocious twin boys.
Unfortunately, this was actually a majorly poor decision on Peter’s part, because the manager who was in charge of this store definitely remembered him. From previous, small kleptomaniac activities.
“Hey, I know you! You can’t just… push your way in here!” The manager shook his fist at you two. “How’d you run so fast? Is that how you stole my other products?!”
“...Stole?” You tilted your head in confusion. “Peter, what is he talking about-”
“Uh, long, dumb story that mostly involves the strong impulses that come with being fast.” He whispered back, and you nearly snorted at how candid his reply was. “Anyways. Sir, I returned all that stuff a while ago.”
You were less than sure how true that was, but taking a glance at Peter, and seeing his expression all stony and hard-set, convinced you. And if Peter was being honest, he had really only returned the stuff after he had gained more of a conscience, after realizing that he didn’t want to be such a bad guy around you.
The manager was not convinced, and despite looking towards another employee, who nodded her approval of Peter’s story, he shook his head.
“You sit on a throne of lies, you pompous, silver-haired bastard. And you, you good for nothing woman, are you his accomplice? Planning to distract me so he can steal presents?” The manager inhaled with anger. “I can at least refuse my services. This is your last warning. Out.”
“But-” You and Peter both said, and the manager stamped his foot on the ground.
“You’ve stayed well past your welcome, you’re trespassing, and I’m calling the damn police.” He held his finger to you, as he began to call on his cellphone.
“What?!” You nervously shook Peter’s shoulder. “What do we do? We need at least one gift, and we can’t even buy it-”
Peter panicked, and grabbed you by the waist, running forward just to get out of this particular store. You wheezed in surprise, feeling the environment blur around you, just briefly hearing a slowed down “H e l l o, o f f i c e r,” from the manager.
Usually, this would have been a really smart idea, but Peter ran right into the aforementioned police, their car’s door already open as the officer was getting out.
He dodged you and Peter, somehow, and you both landed with a thud inside the back of the cop car.
Peter groaned, loudly, as the officer in the front of the car was on the phone, talking to now wildly gesticulating and laughing manager, pointing at you two, and it was too late now.
“I’m sorry, Y/n. I fucked things up pretty bad.” He admitted, and you sighed.
“Let’s just see if we can get out of this before all the stores close.” You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling exhausted already, as the cop began to drive away.
------------
It was 11 PM.
Peter was pacing around the little holding cell that you two were in, inside Westview’s local police station. He absolutely thrown off on how quickly this night had derailed.
The cops, in a typical, power-abusive move, decided to not even give you a chance to talk, instead locking you up without any real evidence that anything had been wrong.
“Making a ruckus on Christmas! For shame. You’ll be out in the morning.” One of the officers had spat at you two, to your dismay.
You were lying on the little bench of the cell, feeling fairly depressed. “Peter… don’t cry.”
Even in the worst moment, you somehow knew what to say, and he burst out laughing from your overly somber tone.
“I’m not gonna cry, but I do feel like a massive moron.” Peter sighed, slumping on to the ground. “There was at least three other stores we could’ve gone to.”
He was really more upset about the fact that he was looking forward to spending time with you, and now things seemed ruined. There was nothing particularly romantic about a jail cell, and even worse, how was he supposed to confess now, or give you the gingerbread cookie?
“Ah, that’s spilt milk now, Pea. Don’t cry.” You said, again, this time kidding, and he snorted. “We’re criminals, kid. In it for the long haul.”
“I… didn’t realize the time we’ve done already made you so hardened, Y/n.” Peter stared outside the glass wall of the cell. “I wonder if Wanda and Billy and Vision and Tommy are worried. Do you think Wanda could magic us out of here?- Oh, wait.”
He stood up suddenly, and you were pretty used to Peter’s quick rambles that seemed to go from point to point with no clarity. “I feel like I could probably shatter this glass wall if I just vibrate my fingers.”
“Wow, that’s weirdly specific.” You raised your eyebrows.
“Ugh, I’ve done something similar before, at a place that rhymes with the Shmentagon. It’s a long story.” Peter shrugged, before looking at you with a strangely intense gaze. “I would need you to actually be my ‘accomplice’, though. Is that okay?”
For some reason, hearing Peter say “my” made your heart rush suddenly, as if you were still a pre-adolescent child with a schoolgirl crush. It was silly, and dumb, and you cherished it anyways.
You inhaled, and then nodded, deciding that you could think about that later. Think about how this whole entire day, you had basically been attached at the hip, and it was something that you felt like you wanted to do for your entire life.
You kind of knew, right then and there, in jail, that you wouldn’t mind if you had been stuck in here forever with him.
“Okay. I’m gonna keep my eye out for when these douchebags go out on their cigarette break.” You affirmed with him, and Peter agreed. “Then we can do this. Just… don’t cut yourself.”
“Aw, you care about me?” Peter grinned sheepishly. “No, you’re right. I’ll be careful.”
Peter thought you looked a little shy, as if maybe there was a chance that you really did care for him romantically, maybe even half as much as he cared for you, and he knew he was going to be stupidly sappy and have to tell you.
That he made his gingerbread cookie for you, that he wanted you to stay with him, not just for the holidays, but for the rest of your life, that he really felt love with you. Just out of a sheer chance, from the expression on your face.
“I do care about you.” You said, unironically, not a hint of a joke in your tone, and it nearly killed Peter not to just turn and hug you, right then and there, while he peppered kisses on your face.
It just wasn’t exactly clear what you meant, but now he had a slightly more sure belief in the idea that you would respond well to his eventual confession. Peter wasn’t even sure why he had been so reluctant to say it in the first place.
Oh, right, heartbreak and gorging on Twinkies to forget about you.
“They’re getting up-” You shook him, but to your mutual dismay, just one officer stayed behind, meaning that you could not enact the plan yet.
The other officers were crowding around an older gentleman, bringing him up by his arms and walking towards your cell.
The elderly man seemed too nice to be putting up with this, not even trying to tell them that this was a mistake, instead cheerfully saying “Merry Christmas!” as they tossed him into the cell, next to you and Peter.
It only took a second for it to dawn on the both of you. The white beard, the red suit, and the jolly, twinkling eyes.
“Santa Claus?” Peter uttered in disbelief.
“No, Pea, this is clearly a mall Santa. Not to say you don’t look the part, sir…” You smiled cautiously at him, and he waved his hand at you, completely unbothered.
“Not everyone has the belief anymore, child. That’s quite alright.” He responded kindly, in such a Santa like fashion that you beamed despite yourself.
“No, this is Santa.” Peter reiterated, and you looked at him incredulously. “Listen, I know how it sounds. How is this Santa, how would I know Santa, blah blah blah.”
“Get to the point.”
“Santa is a mutant.” He finished, and you started giggling, and then stopped when you realized Peter wasn’t also laughing.
“What.” You looked at the man again, who waved at you. “So… you went to Charles’ school together, or something?”
“No, man, do we look the same age? No offense, Santa.” Peter quickly added, and Santa shook his head.
“I tell you, you live for thirty thousand years, and suddenly everyone calls you ‘old.’” Santa shook his head, looking a little crestfallen.
“...Well, you aged well.” You tried, and he looked a little happier.
“Santa was one of the professors at the school, at least when he had time.” Peter supplied, as you gestured at him for more answers. “He can just create toys with a snap of his fingers. And no, before you ask why he doesn’t just do that instead of making elves make toys, Santa can’t summon a billion toys at once.”
You looked from Peter, to Santa, who was also staring at you, as if he was recognizing you.
“Sorry, it took me a moment, but you’re little Y/n. Aren’t you?” Santa beamed as you nodded, completely starstruck, and Peter snorted. “Does someone need a hug?”
You, to your own surprise, nodded, and leaned in for a hug. Somehow, it was as if you were basking in an oven full of shortbread cookies, the warmth wrapping around you, and his beard smelt of peppermint and chocolate, which you sniffed appreciatively, and you were almost sad to let go.
“I totally buy it now. Only Father Christmas could be so fatherly.” You said, somewhat reverently, and Peter closed his eyes, trying his hardest not to laugh at you.
“Thank you, my dear.” Santa winked at you, before turning to Peter. “Sorry, my lad. I did not intend to “steal your girl”, as they say nowadays, right? Ho ho ho!”
Peter smacked his forehead, wondering why his former professor would torment him in such a way, as you bit your lip and wondered if Peter hated hearing that.
By the way he turned pink, you would guess it was okay.
“Santa, she’s not my-” Peter cut himself off, looking at how you were looking at him with a wonderful, wistful expression, as if you really did want it to be true, and he instantly wished he could take back the first part of his sentence.
“Yet, my boy! Trust me on this.” Santa clapped his back, and Peter winced. “You two remind me of Mrs. Claus and I.”
There was a weird silence, where you looked at Peter and he looked back at you, and just for maybe half a second, maybe a millisecond, his eyes flickered towards your mouth, as if he was waiting to just lean in, and you knew you weren’t imagining that.
“So, children.” Santa interjected, and you and Peter turned abruptly. “How are we to leave this place?”
“Peter is going to break the glass open.” You answered, but then motioned towards the outside, where the officers were sitting and laughing, as they watched something on their computer. “We just need a distraction.”
Santa rolled up his sleeves. “Move out of the way.”
And, in a Wanda-like movement, his hands glowed with a deep red and gold sparkle. Santa motioned towards the officers, and in front of them, a large reindeer appeared, who immediately neighed and started prancing about.
“Hey, what the hell?!” The officers began to try and corral the reindeer, who was clearly messing with them, being magical and all, and she knocked over their desk and computer.
She waited for them to place their arms around her, and then took off through the door, all three officers still attached to her back.
You and Peter were standing in shock.
“Damn, Santa. You really did that.” You nodded your approval, and then pointed at Peter. “Go for it, Pea.”
“Pea?” Santa furrowed his brows. “And you two say you’re not together.”
You both ignored that, feeling embarrassed that even Santa of all people was calling you out. Peter placed his fingertips to the glass, and began to vibrate them so hard, you could no long make them out individually.
“Stand back!” He yelled, and you and Santa took to the far wall.
The glass shattered across the floor, and you were free.
-------------
Peter had insisted on lifting you through the glass shards, even though you were wearing shoes, because he insisted that you couldn’t get hurt, and it had made you all tingly and stupid and smiley. He definitely noticed, as he kept smiling back at you, and you wanted to hug him all silly, as if this was a Christmas romcom.
It basically was, you considered, as Santa clambered into his sleigh, on the outskirts of Westview.
“Santa… I hate to ask you for this, but… my nephews. They have no gifts this Christmas, and-” Peter was silenced as Santa placed his finger to his lips.
“Do not worry, Peter. I’ve given your nephews all the presents they deserve already.” Santa winked, and you and Peter looked at each other in surprise. “Plus some things for you two, and your sister Wanda, and her husband Vision. Open them when they arrive in the morning, and get a good rest!”
“Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas, Peter and Y/n!” He waved at you, and you waved back excitedly. Santa whipped the reins, and he and the reindeer flew off into the distance.
“Peter. If Santa can make gifts, why do people buy presents?” You whispered, and he rolled his eyes.
“Oi, you really think you’re the first person to ask that? It’s so people have extra gifts. You just never realize which one is from Santa, and which is from us.” He retorted, and you giggled.
“This year, we’re gonna know, though…”
------------
Billy and Tommy were refusing to sleep. Maybe out of annoyance that they had no presents, or maybe out of concern that their precious Uncle and (fingers crossed) future Aunt had not shown up in several hours.
Wanda nearly tore her hair out, as she was incredibly concerned as well, but she needed to keep things somewhat normal. “Boys. I know how you feel, okay? When me and Peter were younger, we really struggled on not sleeping during Christmas. But you still need to go to bed.”
“Aren’t you worried, Mom?” Billy shook his head at her, as he sat at the couch. “It’s been hours!”
“Yeah, Mom!” Tommy began to run around in anticipation. “They should’ve been back by now. ”
Right at that moment, Peter and you opened the door, walking in with nothing in your hands.
“You’re back! You’re back!” Tommy ran forward, hugging both of you as much as his tiny little hands could muster. “Wait… where are the presents?”
Billy looked at you as well, and began to frown. “What were you guys doing this whole time? We were worried sick!”
“Damn. Hit with the disappointment speech.” Peter looked at you, a teasing smirk dancing on his features.
“Yeah Billy, what are you, our mother? Damn, indeed.” You snickered, and you and Peter just had to take one more glance at each other. You both began to guffaw with laughter, the hilarity of the entire day finally dawning on you.
Tommy raised his eyebrows. “What the hell?”
“Tommy! Language.” Wanda crossed her arms, and he apologized. “Um… Boys, go to your room.”
They began to protest. “But we wanna know what happened-”
“Now.” Wanda ushered them off, and they knew better than to complain, especially when their mother was being so fair.
When she heard them shut their bedroom door, she turned to you and Peter, who were still laughing about God knows what. Wanda watched as you sat down with Peter on the couch, and then gestured something, speaking incoherently as you were nearly crying with laughter, and he laughed so hard he began to wheeze.
His face was turning red by the time Wanda sat down next to you two.
She inhaled. “Where the fuck were you two?”
You both turned, and then grinned, looking at each other and then her, as if there was a whole evening’s worth of inside jokes to talk about.
“Oh, stop that. You’re acting like-” Wanda swallowed. “Well, I can’t say I wouldn’t be pleased about this, but you’re acting like a couple! Is that what happened? Did you fall in love, and then forget about Christmas? Did you forget why I sent you out in the first place? About, well, your priorities?!”
Peter raised his eyebrows, and there was a large, hollow silence, as Wanda waited for an answer, her mother skills making it easy to wait.
“First off… we’re not a couple.” Peter stated, although it definitely sounded like he was apologetic about that, and you both internally finished the sentence with “yet.”
“Second of all, it’s a long, long story.” You added.
------------
By the time you had finished explaining everything, Wanda had gone into a state of shock, that her brother and best friend had been in a superstore, and then in jail, and then met Santa.
“Okay. All I can say is that you have to sell this story to Hollywood, because maybe they’ll buy it.” Wanda said pointedly, and you gasped.
“Oh, that was cold, Wanda. You really don’t believe us?” You tried, and she shrugged.
“I half believe it. Some things are definitely true, like Peter stealing from that store and then giving it back, and probably that you went to the station, but I have doubts about… Santa.”
“Oh, please.” Peter waved away whatever she was saying. “You just don’t know because you didn’t go to Charles’ school.”
“That very well might be true, but there’s still a lack of presents, regardless of if you met Santa.” Wanda sighed. “I guess we’ll just have to see in the morning.”
She began to walk up the stairs, no longer caring about Christmas, just wanting a good night’s sleep.
“Well. I guess we should go to bed.” You murmured, until Peter began grinning again, and you caught yourself. “Ugh, you know what I meant.”
“Do I?” He shrugged, and you shoved him as he laughed again. “Okay, seriously, though. Thank you for today.”
“For what?”
“You came with me, even though these aren’t your nephews, and we went to jail, and-”
“We met Santa!” You supplied, so Peter didn’t feel too bad. “It’s okay, Peter. I get it. We went through a lot.”
“Yeah. I’m really sorry about that.” He admitted softly, and you touched his shoulder.
“We went through a lot, together. And that’s what made it worth it, Pea. Even though I never want to go through all that again, I would if it was with you.” You said, being way more honest at this moment than Peter had ever heard you be before.
You knew you would blame this half-confession on sleep deprivation, but it was incredibly satisfying to watch Peter, as he tried to utter something in response.
“Thank you.” He whispered, again, and you bid him goodbye on your way to bed.
------------
It was Christmas morning, finally, and as the snow fell from the heavens above, every family in Westview was gathering around their tree to celebrate.
Billy and Tommy, and Vision, however, had ran downstairs early to see:
No presents.
It was 5 AM when they checked, but they didn’t know about Santa’s morning rule, and they were all vastly disappointed.
Wanda and you came downstairs second, around 6 AM.
You noticed a little red and gold sparkle near the bottom of the tree, and you elbowed Wanda, who immediately grinned in relief. The presents appeared fairly quickly, wrapped in a champagne gold gift paper, and there were possibly more than Wanda had initially bought for them in the first place.
“Boys?” Wanda called, and they didn’t respond, instead choosing to stare at the TV.
“Billy, Tommy, even you, Vision, I think you’ll wanna see this.” You said, in a sing-songy tone.
Tommy sighed in disbelief, not sure why the two of you kept dragging out the fact that you had no presents, and turned to his brother and father. “I don't know what to say except it's Christmas and we're all in misery.”
You snapped your fingers, sick of his depressed tone. “Turn around, damn it!”
Wanda wheezed at your impatience, but the boys and Vision turned around, and gasped.
“What- How did you- What?!” Billy spat out, in complete awe of how many presents were sitting under the tree.
“You didn’t happen to steal these, did you, Y/n?” Vision asked, and you shook your head. He contemplatively touched one of the presents. “Ah, it’s real.”
“Did you think it was an illusion?” Wanda said teasingly, and he nodded. “Well, Y/n and Peter can tell you the whole story- oh, Peter!”
The silver haired man hadn’t come downstairs yet, and you took the initiative to wake him up. You ran upstairs, and saw Peter snoozing peacefully in his bed, obviously exhausted from yesterday’s trials.
It was a miracle that you had even woken up this morning.
You jumped on to the bed, making sure that your weight wasn’t on him, and whisper-yelled, “Wake up! It’s Christmas!”
“Nnngh, five more minutes, Mom.”
“I’m not your mother, dumbass.” You laughed, and his eyes opened, as he groaned, suddenly awake.
Peter rubbed his eyes. “Oh. Sorry, Y/n. Hey, funny story. This is just like the dream I was having.”
He knew what he was doing, as he smirked at you, carefully balanced above him, your face and hair just brushing his own, on his bed, and you jumped off, like a cat.
“Anyways. Did the presents show up?”
“You know it, Pea.” You winked, and he fist pumped in jubilation.
“Awesome, I’m coming downstairs.”
-------------
As you came downstairs together, both Wanda and Vision looked at you, and then each other.
“They’re nearly there, I swear.” Vision whispered. “Any second now, they’ll admit their feelings.”
“Or it’ll carry on for the entire day.” Wanda bemoaned, and Vision chided her.
“It’s up to them.”
You were pretty hungry for breakfast, even though Billy and Tommy were excitedly trying to ask you to play their new video games with them, and you told them you’d do it in a bit.
In the kitchen, Peter was holding his cookie, his little caricature of you. A silly, cheesy Sokovian tradition seemed like the best way to do this, and he knew, he could feel it in him, like some sitcom script, that he had to confess.
You leaned on the dining table, as you chewed down some cereal. “Isn’t crazy how just yesterday, in this kitchen, things seemed so different?”
Peter nodded, thinking more about how he hadn’t been so close to telling you, like he was right now.
You were thinking more about how everything made more sense after the events of yesterday, that yes, you really did like Peter, and you wouldn’t trade the crazy moments for all of the presents in the world.
“Y/n.” Peter sat in front of you, and simply just gave you the gingerbread cookie, unable to speak for some silly reason.
“Peter. Thanks.” You looked at it fondly. “Is this me? Oh, is this what you were working on yesterday?”
He smiled. “Yeah, you nearly figured it out then, idiot.”
“Sorry.” You swallowed, feeling almost too emotional about how charming this cookie was. Your face, although a bit unclear with all the icing, was aptly drawn by Peter to have your features, and that was what counted.
“You made me look so…” You started, and Peter hesitated. “Cute.”
“Well, there was an cute model to work off of. So.” He motioned at your general visage, as you giggled. “Okay, I’m gonna take the plunge.”
“Go for it, Pea.” You said, sitting back in your chair, and he nodded, breathing in.
“This cookie… isn’t just a symbol of our friendship, Y/n.” He started, and you raised your eyebrows.
“Oh? What is it then, a sisterly-brotherly relationship?”
“No-”
“Am I really like your mom?” You said, completely deadpan. “Is that what our conversation this morning was about? Were you having weird mommy dreams about me, Pea?”
You were evidently taking the piss out of him, and he knew why: you wanted to hear this, as clearly as possible, with no filler. Especially because you both already knew.
“No, Y/n. I had a very lovely dream in which you were sleeping next to me, in our house, and our dog barked to wake us up, and you laughed, in the way you always laugh, like everything around us is genuinely funny, and that’s what keeps me thinking about you, okay?”
He had spat that out too quickly, in the way that Peter always got carried away, but that was okay. Peter was glad to see that his words had had a real impact on you, as you sat there, unable to answer, a huge, cheesy grin on your face.
“Just to keep that stupid, idiotic look on your face. I’m in love with you.” Peter admitted, and you started beaming even harder. “This dream, where we’re married? I’ve had so, so many like that. I gave you this cookie because I’m showing you my admiration of my future wife, who somehow always looks incredibly gracious while she’s giggling, or if she’s just woken up.”
“So there.” He finished, under his breath, staring at you, daring you to take it somehow even farther.
This was what happened when you let two jokesters fall in love with each other, after all. Everything became a game of stakes. Who could take it the farthest?
You wordlessly walked to the cupboard, and reached inside, only to lift out what appeared to be a gingerbread house. As you brought it closer to Peter, however, he could see that it was actually a jail cell.
Inside some candy cane bars, there was a little silver headed gingerbread man, with goggles, and he quite literally gasped.
“When did you have the time to do this?” He asked, and you grinned.
“I just pretended to go to sleep, and then did this, and then stayed up the whole night basically.” You confided in him, and Peter sighed.
“You’re probably exhausted, Y/n.” He groaned. “I keep doing this to you.”
“Hey, hey. Totally worth it. No complaints from yours truly.” You leaned in. “I knew I really liked you a while ago, Pea. But yesterday… well something about yesterday was so magical, what with Santa and the Christmas shopping gone wrong, and in the jail cell, I knew you had to like me too. I don’t know how I knew, but it was cemented right then.”
He nodded, eagerly, glad that you had felt the same way.
“Well, you can figure out my intention from the cookie.” You tried, but Peter yanked your arm, and you shook your head. “Just kidding. Obviously this cookie shows how much I care about you, but really, I’m in love with you too. I’d let myself be trapped in jail for you. That’s what this all symbolizes, and it’s special.”
“So there.” You finished, grinning at him, as he put your cookie-caricature into the gingerbread jail cell. “Oh, right, just to make it fair: I actually did fantasize about the same thing yesterday. About marriage and us being married because it kind of felt that way, you know, when we went shopping?”
“Oh, right. With all the other parents.”
“Exactl-” You cut yourself off with a loud yawn, and Peter snickered.
“Time for sleep, Y/n. You’re clearly tired.” Peter tried, but you leaned forward again.
“I’m not too tired to do this, Pea.” You pulled his face forward, your hands gently caressing his cheeks, and you kissed him, with all the genuine softness that the morning could bring, and Peter didn’t even have to think as he kissed you back, wondering why he didn’t just do this yesterday, even though it was absurdly satisfying now.
When you were finished, though, Peter picked you up, over his shoulder, running up the stairs to his bedroom, which probably seemed suggestive to the rest of the family. But really, all he wanted to do was to sleep next to you, your head nestled into the curve of his neck, as he had seen in many dreams before.
And that was what you did.
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redwiccanrobin · a day ago
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Can people who try to portray Pietro as an abusive brother just... Fuck off?
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esteicy-blog · 16 hours ago
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Me trying to find Pietro in a comic HE IS SUPPOSED TO BE IN
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imperiuswrecked · 14 hours ago
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pietro is that squidward meme where he sunbathes, occasionally lifts his glasses as he glares to the side, before resuming on the sunbathing again
You're right
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lauriel816 · a day ago
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Charles: Why are you two here?
Erik: I'm here to help.
Charles: With your help things would be even worse.
Charles: Peter, why are you here?
Peter: To get straight to the point? — I'm here to make things worse.
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can-of-pringles · 2 days ago
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Peter trying to hype himself up before telling Erik he's his son:
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bugboyandtomatoman · a day ago
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So you know how everyone blames Clint for Pietro’s death? 
It had been a minute since I watched age of ultron so I made sure to pay close attention this time. Clint is holding an innocent child and he shields him from the bullets. Pietro runs past them at the same time Clint turns to use his body as a shield to protect the kid... I see absolutely nothing wrong with that. 
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sirmagicstein · 2 days ago
Peter: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I'll wait.
Kurt: You and me!!!
Peter, tearing up: Okay.
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bucky-barnes-flag · 2 days ago
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we all know Peter would be doing stuff like this 24/7
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Charles: you called Raven to help break into the department of defense but you didn’t call me?
Peter: no offense Charles, but when you have a crazy plan, you don’t call the voice of reason if you want to execute said plan.
Erik: it’s cute you think he’s the voice of reason.
Peter: if he’s not, who is?
*Hank walking by*
Hank: …don’t look at me, I experimented on myself with mutant dna and ended up with blue fur. Everywhere.
Peter: well okay then-
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