Even If You Are Trouble

callmehopeless:

Quicksilver (Post X-Men Apocalypse) x Reader

Word Count: 1438

Plot: Super fluffy fluff feat. Kurt being Kurt, an apple, and a cute silver-haired hero we all know and love.

A/N: If you like this, please subscribe! I’ll happily take requests or prompts, especially if it’s Quicksilver stuff, and if you’re keen on this, I’m definitely keen to write more fluffy Quicksilver fic.

The rain had finally slowed, allowing the sun to warm the spring glass around the mansion. Students flocked outside to study in the midday light; wanting to make the most of the day while it lasted.

Peter flipped on his walkman, ruffling his silver hair to remove the spatters of rain that had fallen into it. Leaning against the tree, he took a bite out of his apple, sitting back and letting the music wash over him. It’d been a long few months; his leg had mostly healed, and he had finally gotten his cast removed so he could return to his usual mischief – he’d spent the best part of the morning speeding through the school haphazardly, drawing unsightly pictures on the blackboards and, unfortunately for Scott, taking him on a wild goose chase to find his shirts around the school. Payback for Scott and Kurt deciding to teleport off with his walkman last week – it never tasted sweeter.

Kurt jogged up to him, books clutched to his chest. Kurt’s mouth was moving, but Peter couldn’t hear any words – he’d become so lost in the music, he’d completely forgotten he had his headphones on.
“…I told her she was being a little dramatic. Your thoughts, Peter?”
“Bro” Peter began “For the last time. Head. Phones.” he pointed unceremoniously at the headphones now dangling from his neck “I’m in my zone. Getting my grove on. Relaxing.” he hissed the x for emphasis.
Kurt threw his books onto the grass and sat facing him “sorry Peter. I often forget you have those on your head. Could it be the hair?”
Peter narrowed his eyes at the attempt at humour “you need to stop spending so much time with Scott. He’s rubbing off on you – and I thought it was Jean he was supposed to be rubbing off on”
Kurt looked abhorrently at him “Peter, are you sure you are not the bad influence?”
Peter blew air from his bottom lip “I give up, you got me.”
Kurt picked up his biology textbook, skipping through the pages as he did so “I asked for your opinion earlier. Now that we have verbally sparred, can I ask you-”
“Morning!” (y/n) appeared from behind the tree, scarring Peter almost half to death. “What’s up?”
Kurt smiled politely. “Peter and I were just discussing our most recent assignment. Or at least, I was discussing it to him.”
Peter shuffled awkwardly, his heart stuttering slightly. “Sup. I hear X gave you a permanent jacket.”
(y/n) grinned. “Turns out I’m useful for something after all. Who knew? I guess now I get to punch Gods with the rest of you.” Taking a seat next to Kurt, she pulled her hair back from her shoulders and set down her backpack. “Although I have no idea when I’ll catch up on my readings if we’re too busy saving the world.”
Peter shrugged, his silver jacket suddenly feeling heavy and warm on his shoulders “You’ve got a permanent get out of jail free card now. If you run up and give X a kiss on the cheek, he’ll give you a free pass on the homework.” Peter leaned in, his breath cooling her cheek “that’s what I’ve been doing, anyway.”
(y/n) laughed. “How’s that been working out for you?”
Peter took off his jacket in a flash, readjusting his black shirt. “Not so good. I think he likes brunettes. We should get Scott to woo him and see how we go.”

(y/n) leaned into her bag, pulling out her notebook and stretching her arms above her head. Peter felt the warmth flood to his face. The spring air was getting to his head, no doubt.
Kurt was awkwardly shuffling. “I should go – I have…Jean said…she needed someone to help her with her biology homework, and I am…yes, I am going to go and find Jean. To help her.”
Peter saw his chance and took it.
“Helping Jean with her biology homework?” he whistled “Kurt, is there something you want to tell us, bro?” Peter could see what was happening here; Kurt was looking for an exit to leave Peter alone with her.
Peter had no idea how Kurt knew. He thought he’d been careful. He’d been avoiding Jean for weeks so that she couldn’t stumble into his mind and see what was going on in there.
For someone so fast; there was a lot he couldn’t run away from.
Kurt didn’t respond, and Peter gave him a desperate look. Don’t leave me here alone with her.

Kurt apologetically shrugged. Sorry.

“You’re leaving, Kurt?” (y/n) asked casually “but I haven’t even shown you my doodle collection I told you about yet.”
Kurt smiled “I’ll be free later this afternoon; maybe I’ll drop by after class and take a look.” He bowed at them both in a way that made Peter habitually roll his eyes. “Later, dude.”
Once Kurt had left, the air suddenly felt different. Peter heard his heartbeat in his ears, and suddenly, the apple core he was holding became the most important apple core he’d ever held. He twirled it in his fingertips, swallowing hard.
“Does the apple have some sort of secret information that needs extracting?” (y/n) asked, her hand scrawling at the inside of her journal, keeping her eyes lowered on her project as she spoke.
Peter looked over at her, his eyes drifting to her lips unintentionally. He shifted, using his palms to support himself as he leaned back. The sun was drifting through the leaves of the trees; his hair was glowingly white in the dappled light. He always hated that.
“Apples are all treacherous. I need to see to it I protect you all from their whisperings” Peter twiddled his fingers in the air, emphasising the evil nature of the fruit. “Eeeeevil.”
(y/n) laughed, and the sound suddenly shot like lightning beneath his skin. “Of course, Peter. The fruit is going to start an uprising against us.”
Peter grinned. “Fruitpocalypse.”
(y/n) furrowed her brow, scribbling at her notebook furiously. Peter was curious, and in a daring move, rushed over to her side.
“Sketching my godlike figure? If you’d told me, I would have taken my shirt off and struck a pose for you.” Peter crossed his legs, and as he sat beside her, he noticed her shoulder bumped against his. Butterflies felt as though they were fluttering beneath his skin, and as he leant in to see her work, he noticed her hair smelled of strawberry shampoo and long walks in the woods. He savoured the thought for a second, before snapping back to reality. If he convinced himself he wasn’t thinking of her; was he really thinking of her at all?

(y/n) turned her journal towards him, and on the page was scrawled a variety of drawings; all of them of leaves and trees. “I’m not what you’d call an artist” she said, flicking her pencil in the air with an exaggerated flourish “but I feel like with practice I could become the Picasso of our generation.” she said in an overdone, mockedly-posh accent.
Peter chuckled “You are the best artist I’ve seen in the past five minutes, bar none”.
(y/n) gave him a mocking shove, and her eyes lingered on his, making his whole body shiver with anticipation. He saw the blush flood to her cheeks, and he realised that the silence had lasted several seconds too long. He was almost about to break it with some light humour, when she interjected.
“You do make me laugh, Peter” (y/n) said, quietly. “Even if you are trouble.”
Peter felt his centre of gravity shift; he felt as though stars were moving in front of his eyes. “Moi?” he jokingly whispered in her ear “Trouble?” he placed his hand on his chest in mock offense “I have never been so insulted.”
He knew what he wanted to do. He knew what he needed to do. But every time he looked at her; he felt as though his blood was burning through his chest. He couldn’t think straight.
“I…” Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair “I need to go. But I have to give you something first.”
“Oh?” (y/n) smiled, clicking the top of her pen and attempting to act nonchalant.
Peter leaned in, and in a split second, gave her the lightest kiss on the cheek. His whole body burned with the motion, with desire and embarrassment and pain, and then grabbing his jacket, he was gone in the blink of an eye.

Peter, you moron.