#[ALSO HI NEW MUTUAL ILY I WILL BOTHER YOU SOON]

[kkkindered]

[these two pass weeks have been long, and I've been pushing myself to socialize, and it's finally hitting me I think. so today and probably a bit of next week will be pretty quiet from me. I'll just try to do the asks I have and probably post some dialogue posts at least]

[sergeanttpoliteness]

➹types of kisses➹(peter parker x reader)

A colorful collection of your many types of kisses, because a kiss can have more than just one meaning.

a/n: i know i’m three days late, but this is my christmas present :) (sorry for the shitty title) it’s kinda different to what i usually write because there’s really no... plot? it’s just one big but short compilation of fluff and tropes that will give you real bad diabetes. i was gonna include a break-up kiss but bc i’m nice, i decided against it lmaoooo. also !! i wrote this for ps4 peter, but i honestly can imagine it with mcu peter as well-- just choose whatever you prefer ! anyway, i hope whoever is reading this has a wonderful new year, ily.

warnings: making out, a lil bit of grinding but nothing more than that, cursing.

——-

FIRST KISS - KISS ME IN THE PARK, WE’LL MEET UP AFTER DARK

It wasn’t exactly how you wanted it to be.

Not that you thought about kissing Peter Parker too much, anyway. He was one of your best friends, and who thinks about kissing friends? Definitely not you.

Alright, that was a lie— you used to think about it. A lot. And unbeknownst to you, he did as well. However, contrary to your lack of knowledge about his urges, you did know that, for a while now, his feelings towards you changed. And, similarly, he was aware that your own feelings for him, too, transformed into something more. Further than friendly embraces or innocent sleepovers when you were little kids. Bigger than platonic emotion. More than a simple friendship.

It lingered in your minds and was evident in everyone’s eyes, yet neither of you had the courage to move past friendship.

One night at eleven-thirteen, as the two of you— two grown-ups— were in a playground, doing the spider on a swing together and laughing enough that your stomachs ached, that craving to meet his lips resurfaced with such vigor, it spilled out of your mouth.

“Can I say something?!” You laughed as you swayed higher into the air, a yelp involuntarily fleeting past your lips and your legs tightening around Peter’s waist since you feared you were close to falling off the swing and on your back. “Thank you for picking up— shit!— the phone! I really missed you, you know— ow, okay, this really hurts!”

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough,” Peter’s feet immediately skidded against the ground to put your swinging to a halt, sand flying everywhere. Once you were still, you both remained giggling and with youthful smiles that reached your eyes. “Of course I was gonna pick up the phone. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?” He said, and you had to hold yourself back from making a face at the word ‘friend’. You couldn’t complain— that’s that you were, after all. Except that this didn’t feel like merely hanging out, rather it appeared like a date.

“It’s pretty late, though.”

Peter shrugged. “Even if it were three AM, I’d still answer any of your calls.”

Your face softened and you bit the inside of your cheek, staring down at your lap. “That’s cute. But if you called me at three AM, I’d tell you to fuck off and then go back to sleep.” Peter opened his mouth in disbelief at your honesty, shaking his head.

“Wow, thanks. I’m glad our love is mutual.”

“It is mutual,” And it was indeed. “I just express it differently. For example, I tell you to stop working yourself to the bone so you can hang out with me and do adult stuff.” You placed one hand on his shoulder and gestured with the other to the empty playground you were in.

Peter chuckled, quirking a brow whilst he unconsciously began to move the two of you back and forth a little. “Adult stuff, huh?” You nodded solemnly.

“This is very mature.” You raised your nose in a not-so-mature way. Peter copied your previous gesture, humming.

“You’re right. Playgrounds were made for twenty-three-year-olds, after all.”

You giggled, but then changed your expression into a more stern one. “For real, you gotta give yourself a break.” You warned him, shaking your finger at him to add more of an emphasis, however, instead you amused him more than anything in the process.

He raised his hands. “Hey, it’s the city that never sleeps.” He defended, but you narrowed your eyes, giving him a look that was enough to communicate you were not accepting any humor. He dropped his hands and hung his head dramatically, sighing. “All right, I’ll try. But I can’t promise anything.”

You smiled sadly. “I know you can’t.” You quickly exchanged your frown for a smirk. “But if you don’t listen to me, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to make it up to me.” You joked, and Peter cocked his head to one side, wearing a crooked smile.

“How, exactly?”

All playfulness vanished and the warmth within your stomach took the spotlight yet again. Kiss me, a thought popped into your head, threatening to control your tongue. But you couldn’t. Even if your eyes accidentally flickered down to his mouth, and he undoubtedly noticed, for he gripped the swing’s chains tightly. You really wanted to say it.

So you chose to do it.

“Maybe you could…” You trailed off as soon as you caught onto some movement in the background, your sight shifting from Peter’s face to it. Suddenly, your eyes grew wide. “Oh, fuck.”

“W-What?” Peter turned to look behind his back, but before he could observe anything, he felt your legs unwrap from his body followed by a heavy object hitting the ground. His head whipped back to stare at you, and now his eyes were the ones about to pop out of his sockets when he saw you on the ground. “Y/N! Jeez, are you okay—”

You jumped to your feet, not bothering to dust off the sand off your clothes before you yanked Peter away from the swing, shushing unnecessarily louder and completely opposing your intention. “Shut up! We have to hide!” You hissed at him, peeking behind his body.

Peter tried following your gaze a second time, but you pulled at his arm harshly. “Why?!”

“Just— just follow me!” Was your explanation as you dragged him to hide behind a tree. You put your hand against the wood, slowly leaning to your side until the tree trunk uncovered your eye. Pointing at a woman standing up from a bench and a guy walking up to her, you glanced back at Peter. “You see her?”

Peter furrowed his brows, momentarily looking down at you. “...Y-Yeah? Isn’t that the teacher you told me about? The one who teaches at your cousin’s school?”

“Yes! And look at her!”

Peter’s attention returned to the woman who hugged her jacket close to her body and now spoke to the man, not discerning anything suspicious at the moment. “She’s talking to someone.” He pointed out the obvious, unimpressed. You groaned, rubbing your eyes.

“That someone is one of her students.”

Peter blinked and eyed the man who turned out to be a teenager. “Oh, he looks much older—”

“Because he’s a fucking drug addict! And I bet she’s his dealer!” You scream-whispered at him, flailing your arm towards the pair.

“I thought you were just joking when you first said that.”

You rolled your eyes, and continued watching them. Whatever the conversation was, it had all of a sudden turned into an argument as the woman poked the kid’s chest with her finger. “Why are they just talking, though?” You asked quietly, as if Peter somehow would have the answer. The volume of their voices increased, but you couldn’t make out any of the words. Scoffing, you shuffled away from Peter. “I gotta hear what they’re saying—”

Before you could tip-toe away from the tree, Peter gripped your arm and pulled you into him. “No. She has a gun.” He motioned to an object peeking out of her pants’ back pocket, and upon further squinting your eyes, you realized it was, in fact, a weapon. Peter gently pushed you towards the tree and he took a step back. “I’ll go make sure nothing bad happens while you stay here, okay?”

You stuttered, your brows snapping together. “No, this is my fucking case, you dickhead.” You began to speed walk past him, but you couldn’t get too far— he grabbed your arm and tugged you back once again. “Peter!”

“Y/N, you’re not a goddamn private investigator—”

“Well, tonight I am!” You broke free from his grasp; however, he quickly had you back in his hold.

“No, what are you doing?!” He embraced you tighter when you squirmed wildly.

“Peter, the kid could be in danger!”

“You don’t even know how to fight!”

“Oh, and you do?” You retorted without thinking. When he processed the absurdity you’d just uttered, he let go of you and stared at you dumbfounded, struggling to speak. Finally, he pointed at himself, his forehead creased.

“I’m Spider-Man!”

You scrunched up your nose, nodding. “Yeah, I don’t know why I said that.”

You totally did. As he remained puzzled, you took the chance and started a race to a tree standing near the woman and the kid. Completely forgetting about Peter’s super-speed, you thought you had succeeded until halfway there, he quickly caught up to you. Without a warning, he tackled you to the ground, falling on top of you whilst you cried out in pain.

“Ow! What the fuck, dude?!” You groaned loudly, but then you slapped your mouth when you recognized how noisy you’d been. Their conversation stopped abruptly, crickets singing whole-heartedly as you and Peter stared at each other wide-eyed.

“Did you hear that? Did you bring someone with you?” You both heard the woman ask. To your horror, footsteps approaching you were the next sound to reach your ears. “Hey, who’s there?!”

“Great, look at what you did—”

“You fucking tackled me to the ground!”

Peter surveyed the area promptly, and his gaze fixated on the tree you initially sprinted towards. He didn’t hesitate before he lifted his hand and aimed his wrist to shoot a web to get both of you out of there. But you had other plans.

You gripped the collar of his shirt, distracting him. “I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do, but just— just trust me and follow me, okay?” You breathed out, eyeing him. Peter opened his mouth, about to ask for you to elaborate.

“Wh—” You pulled him down and crashed your lips into his, muffling his exclamation of surprise. Stunned, his eyes stayed open, and when he didn’t react, yours fluttered open to signal at him to play the part. As soon as the hairs of his arms stuck up, he shut his eyelids closed and kissed you back, cupping your face and fully getting into it.

The woman jumped from behind the tree, confident she’d found the culprits of the noise, and— well— yes, she had. However, she didn’t expect to walk upon two people on the grass, in the middle of a make-out session. She grimaced the moment she saw your legs around Peter’s waist and your hands running all over his back as you fucking moaned to a point that it was forthright pornographic.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, her cheeks reddening perhaps more than your face and Peter’s, and she instantly turned around, leaving you two alone.

You two continued, waiting until the woman made an excuse and abandoned the teen. Ten seconds passed and you finally broke the kiss, panting heavily as Peter unknowingly searched for your lips again. “That worked like a charm, huh?” You laughed, dazed and the speed of your heartbeat only incrementing when you saw Peter’s swollen lips.

“Yeah, yeah… a better warning would’ve been nice.”

“Shut up.”

“And was the moaning really… necessary?”

“I saw it on a show. It makes people more uncomfortable.” You explained, out of breath, and he nodded. You both stared at each other, not bothering to move yet. “For the record, you’re a good kisser.” You blurted out and grinned sheepishly. Peter returned the expression, chuckling and unbelieving of your existence.

“S-So are you. But my plan was better.” He smiled bashfully, holding himself up with his hands next to your head. You doubted his statement, narrowing your eyes.

“Did it involve kissing?”

“No.”

“Then it wasn’t.”

You might have forgotten about your drug deal case and continued making out.

HELLO AND GOODBYE KISSES - TOOTHPASTE KISSES

Two months into dating, neither of you thought much about them anymore. Once they became part of your routine, it’s an absent-minded action, not much different from brushing your teeth, or Peter entering your apartment through your window instead of the door like everyone else. But then again, Peter wasn’t merely everyone else. And your unconscious routine kisses weren’t exactly just another bullet point in your ‘to-do’ list, either. If one of you forgot, or simply did not have enough time to spare, you’d both find yourselves missing it.

Which was why you tried your best to follow through with them, despite what situations either of you found yourselves in.

The alarm did not go off that morning (or perhaps you both passed out before you could set it in the first place— you couldn’t remember precisely), reason why you nearly choked on the lather of toothpaste while you brushed your teeth as if your life depended on it. In a way, however, it did, especially your job: you were now running outrageously late, and you could already imagine your boss’ blank expression as he told you he needed to ‘have a talk’ with you since this was the third time it occurred. You whined. You were doomed.

Peter joined you in the bathroom, jumping on one foot as he slid his other leg into his Spider-Man suit. He made a noise and caught your attention— finally, you noticed he had an entire piece of toast in his mouth. He tried to say something with the bread in between his teeth, but it was incomprehensible. You raised your brows, attempting to communicate with him without taking out your toothbrush. You both went on like that for thirty seconds: doing hand gestures and mumbling without getting any idea across until Peter finally put on his suit and bit off a chunk of his breakfast.

“Have you seen my phone?” He asked, his mouth full. You spat out the toothpaste and he couldn’t help the smitten smile that his heart painted onto his face when he saw the froth around your mouth.

“I put it right next to my keys.” You said as you washed your brush. Peter hummed and swallowed before he walked up to you.

“Alright, thanks. I really gotta run now, though.” He planted a kiss on your temple and you groaned in disgust when you felt the crumbles of his toast on your skin.

“Gross,” You wiped your forehead and Peter rolled his eyes, shoving you playfully and about to leave until you grabbed his arm. “Wait!” You encircled his neck with your arms and pecked his cheek for longer than usual, purposefully smearing his face with toothpaste.

“Ugh, gross!” He mimicked you and leaned away from you, laughing. You puckered your white lips, still trying to reach him but his arms pushed you back. “Nuh-uh, I gotta run.”

“No toothpaste kiss from your love?”

“No.”

“Toast kiss?”

“You’re gonna get fired.”

You let him go.

Later that night, Peter entered your living room, his search for you coming to an end once he saw you asleep on the couch. He laughed quietly, in the back of his head wishing he was sleeping, too, with you, and he kneeled down in front of you. He kissed the tip of your nose— the way he liked to greet you in spite of what state you were in. When he stood up, you blinked your eyes open and you lazily grinned up at him. “Peter-Man is back.”

His gaze moved down to you, guilt appearing after he saw you let out a long yawn. “Ah, man, I didn’t want to wake you.”

You had to return his hello kiss, and so you clutched his hand and pressed your mouth against his gloved knuckles. “C’mere. Join me in my slumber.” You said with an overdone accent.

He didn’t even consider telling you to move to your bed. He plopped down on the small space left and snuggled into you, his own yawn overpowering him. You hugged him tightly from behind, and within minutes, you were both deep into your sleep.

The next morning, you woke up late yet again.

HEATED KISSES - WE’VE GOT ONE THING IN COMMON, IT’S THIS TONGUE OF MINE

It’d been your first date in four months, and you swore your sex drive had never been higher. 

Peter noticed, of course, and took the decision to ditch the dinner you had originally planned once you finished the movie you were watching— or tried to watch, since you couldn’t take your hands nor lips off him during its entirety. As the credits rolled, you straddled his hips, sucking on the flesh of his jaw. You itched to see his face when he groaned— and my God, that sound did not help your case at all.

You began to trail your mouth down his neck, decorating it with a whole masterpiece of bruises, and Peter wondered how he was going to cover those up; but at the moment, it did not matter a single bit. The two of you were too into it to pull away—

“Ugh, wait—” Or not. Peter stopped you and you blinked at him as he sat straight, taking out the TV’s control remote from under him. “That was really bothering me.” He immediately pulled you back into a kiss, tugging your hair and provoking a small moan out of you.

He broke away from you, his smirk transforming into the fuel feeding your lust. “You really like that, huh?”

“Shut up.” You mumbled and your lips continued to mold into each other with desperation, the sexual desire which had build-up since your last encounter brimming as your tongues met. Peter slowly began to lift the hem of your shirt, and your excitement erupted in the pit of your stomach at the fact that you finally wouldn’t have to wait anymore—

Your phone began to ring. You tried to ignore it, but your ringtone made it impossible. “Hold on,” You sighed, disappointed, and turned your phone off, your jaw set in annoyance. Yet again, you resumed where you left off, more urgent than before. Your hand moved his own back up to your hair whilst the other ran up his thigh. He failed in holding back the jerk of his hips as he pulled at your hair yet again, your moans synchronized. You couldn’t have been more elated you both wore your pajama bottoms as you began to grind down onto his crotch. 

Peter dug his fingers into your hips and he threw his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he gulped to keep his noises down lest your neighbors heard you. “No, no, I wanna hear you—” You breathed out, speeding up your pace, whining yourself. He collided his mouth against yours, grunting into your kiss.

You didn’t know what had gotten into you, but you really, really, really did not wish to stop. And you weren’t going to this time, no matter what—

“Tonight’s our last party as high school people!” A voice and music blasted from the TV and you both jolted away from each other, startled. The credits had gone on long enough that the streaming service began to play a trailer for another movie, the volume at its fullest from where you’d left it earlier. You let out the most exasperated groan in your lifetime and furiously moved off of Peter to go and unplug the TV; however, he slipped his hands under your butt and picked you up.

“The bedroom—” He panted and stopped neglecting your lips as he carried you and ran towards your room, the two of you giggling maniacally when he stumbled through the door and then slammed it shut.

The trailer played all night long.

EMOTIONAL KISSES - STOP YOUR CRYING, IT’S ALRIGHT— SHUT UP, KISS ME, HOLD ME TIGHT

Peter had lost the fight.

Although you were useless, you tried getting there in time, hoping you could cause any distraction that would give him an advantage. But you heard the explosion, the walls and the ground rattling, and you dreaded you were too late.

You fell through the double doors, nearly losing your full balance and dropping to the floor. However, you maintained your composure, and tried to scan the room. The smoke hit your eyes and they stung, tears forming in your eyes which grew redder as the seconds passed.

Fire blazed throughout most of the room. You went down on all fours and shrugged your jacket off before you rapidly fastened it around your lower face. Your trembling hand grasped the pipe you’d kept with you in case you came upon someone, and you began to crawl into a cloud of smoke, praying Peter was still alive and breathing.

You fought hard to hold in the sobs that clawed at your throat. You couldn’t break down. Not right now, when Peter needed you.

“Peter!” You called out, coughing as a trace of fumes managed to sneak into your system. You went on with your search, nevertheless, even after your hand accidentally touched a scorching piece of metal and left your flesh screaming. Keep going, you told yourself when you cried out in pain, shaking yourself out of it. “Peter, it’s me! I-I’m here!”

A minute went by at most, but it seemed like an eternity. A minute and ten seconds, until you caught a glimpse of Peter’s body surrounded by flourishing flames. “Pete!” You stood up and ran to him, uncaring of your knees as you collapsed next to him. “O-Oh God…” You saw his burnt suit and whimpered, not knowing anymore if the tears pouring down your face were due to the smoke or the appalling despair poisoning your veins. You didn’t waste a single moment dwelling on the sight in front of you, though— right away, you grabbed him under his armpits and took in a restricted breath before you dragged him with you. You only moved him a few inches before you fell to your knees, heaving.

“Why are you so fucking heavy,” You sobbed, the terrifying realization that you might not make it out of there hitting you at full force. “N-No, you’re coming with me. We’re getting out of here, okay, baby?”

You didn’t know why you were speaking to his unconscious body. Perhaps it was the faint desire that he wasn’t gone yet, and he could somehow hear you. You could sense a coughing fit coming, but you stood back up and started hauling Peter across the floor again, this time mustering every last shred of strength your body possessed.

You had no answer to how you made it. But soon, you had gotten Peter as far away from the room as you could, and your arms gave out. You ripped his mask off, cupping his face with your dirty hands. He barely breathed. “Don’t leave me. Don’t you fucking dare. I’m gonna be so mad if you do.” You wiped your nose with your forearm and shook your hands, coughing. “Okay, okay, CPR.”

You placed the heel of your hand on his chest and put the other on top to push down hard. Push, push, push. You carried on begging him to stay with you as you did the compressions, your arms already too weak from having to carry him, but you continued pushing. Push, push, push. When you realized he still wasn’t breathing, you cursed loudly and began to blow into his mouth. You went back to doing compressions.

At the third rescue breath, he began to cough.

“Peter!” You bit back another sob as you watched consciousness slowly return to him, and when he blinked his red eyes up at you, you grabbed his face and pecked his mouth countless times, your shoulders shuddering.

Not too long after, he finally understood what was happening, and he held your shoulders, viewing you up and down. “Oh, thank God you’re okay—”

“No, thank God you’re okay—”

“I was so worried about you.”

“I was worried about you!”

“I tried getting to you as soon as I could—” He pecked you back, his voice raspy. “—but more guys just kept coming at me—”

“A bomb fucking exploded, Peter. I thought you were gone.” You were now weeping. Peter kissed you one last time before he embraced you close, against his wounds’ wishes. As you both tried to calm down, he glanced down at your hands and saw your open knuckles.

His eyes widened. “What happened to you?!” You looked down at your hands, the pain only just setting in once you became aware of your cuts.

“I had to get up here somehow,” You laughed weakly, and pointed at the abandoned pipe a few feet away from you. “I also had that. I’ve got a mean swing you’d be surprised. And a taser.” You took out the taser from your pocket wiggling it. Peter stared at you, his eyes moving back and forth between the taser and the pipe.

“That’s kinda hot.”

“Almost as much as that explosion?”

He had to give you a high five before you finally took him to the hospital.

‘YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL’ KISSES - YOU’RE JUST TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE, CAN’T TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU

A comedian’s podcast played in the background as you knelt beside Peter on your bed, using a brush to spread a skincare product evenly on his face. Peter watched you, adoring eyes inspecting you closely while you caught your lower lip in between your teeth and giggled after you heard a joke which you found too amusing. 

He drew patterns on your knee with his thumb and he squinted at you with curiosity, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards. “Since when are you a fan of this skincare stuff?” 

You squeezed a dab of product onto the brush before you grasped his chin gently, leaning closer to his face. “This coworker of mine, his skin is, like, so damn soft and flawless. I asked him what kind of black magic he used and he gifted me this,” You motioned to the bottle next to you, “and so I thought: ‘Well, might as well try it with my poor boyfriend who fucking sweats into a mask most of the time’. Seriously, I feel so bad for your pores—”

“Hey, my skin isn’t that bad, though. It’s beautiful.” He joked. You smiled at his comment, agreeing with your head.

“You’re right. But it doesn’t mean it can’t be better. You also deserve to sit back and relax after that job interview you had today.”

Peter frowned when he saw your excitement at the mention of the interview, self-doubt sabotaging his attempt at relaxing. “I probably didn’t get the job.” He muttered. 

Your brows knitted together and you pulled the brush away from his face to run your hand through his hair. “Shut up, you totally did. You’re the smartest guy I know.” You winked at him teasingly and he rolled his eyes, although his mouth twitched nonetheless. “Okay, you’re done! Now, look— let’s see my new glorious skin.” You gestured to your dried face, patting it to make sure it was ready.

“If our skin isn’t softer than a baby’s butt, I’m gonna sue.”

You snorted at him before you started scratching the product off your jaw. You hissed as it peeled off, pulling at your skin. You attempted to go on, but your pain tolerance was a joke at the moment. “Fuck, I think this now officially gonna be my face for the rest of my life.” You groaned. Peter gently pulled your hands away from your face.

“Lemme try.”

“No!” You playfully slapped his hands off you. “You’re probably gonna rip my face off.” And so he simply stared as you resumed your torture and voiced your complaints, until you gave up once you’d managed to free half of your face. 

Needless to say, you looked like an absolute clown.

In the midst of your battle against the face mask, Peter himself struggled to keep a serious face as he watched you and the product hardened, limiting the range of his expressions. You heard him laugh strangely, and you glanced up at him only to see him with his mouth half-open, his shoulders bouncing up and down with his chuckles, but he remained with a straight-face. 

You quirked a brow when his laughter increased, his eyes tearing up. “What is wrong with you?” 

“I-I can’t laugh.” He gasped, his face starting to twist. You began to laugh at him then, spreading the hilarity further like a virus. “N-No, don’t laugh! You’ll make laugh and I can’t laugh!” He shook his head frantically, his face mask starting to crack.

“You look like an idiot,” You wheezed, and all he could do was admire you as you cracked up and held your stomach, your beam making his chest swell. 

Your appearance was ridiculous at the moment, yet you mesmerized him nevertheless.

When you noticed he’d stopped laughing, you wiped your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, and saw his small smile. “What?” You questioned him, wondering if perhaps he gasped so much he was now dizzy. His grin grew. He didn’t care about the mask anymore. 

“You’re so beautiful.”

You pretended to gag, although your face heated up and your mouth curved into a smile. “Shut up, you’re so lame, God.”

“But you are!”

“Stop!”

“You’re so beautiful!” He yelled out dramatically to tease you. All of a sudden, he pulled you closer to him and grabbed your face, determined on peppering all the visible skin of your face with kisses. Your giggles were out of control as you tried squirming out of his grasp, but he continued pecking you over, and over, and over again. 

“I’m gonna throw up!” You laughed, and he smooched your cheek. “You’re a loser, I swear.”

He was your loser.

HOLIDAY KISSES - BABY, I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, AND IF YOU SAY YOU LOVE ME TOO, IT WOULD BE CHRISTMAS EVERY DAY

It’d been eight months since you started dating, and neither of you had said ‘I love you’ yet.

It’s not that there existed no love. Just like you had said the night you first kissed, the love was mutual, but— again— you preferred to show it differently other than verbally. Or at least other than being straight-forward. It was expressed loud and clear whenever Peter squeezed in time in the morning to make you breakfast, every time you both teased each other or you told him to ‘shut up’, and, of course, in the most simple and obvious way: with every single kiss you shared. But you couldn’t have cried it out louder when you told Peter you’d take care of planning the Christmas Eve celebration at F.E.A.S.T.

You knew everything about Peter. You saved a special place in your brain with every detail about him: his fears, his wishes, his regrets, his shoe size— everything. It’s a perk from knowing him since middle school, and now that you were together, you’d only uncovered the remaining information buried deep within. Therefore, after he got a new job that made him as content as working with Otto Octavius did before everything went downhill, you were aware that if you hadn’t intervened, Peter would have overloaded with stress from trying to juggle every aspect of his life plus dealing with the Christmas Eve party.

However, that meant you transferred the restlessness from him to yourself.

Two months of relentless planning, and at last, it was Christmas Eve. At the back of the room, you watched your friend’s band play a Christmas song from afar, anxiously supervising that everyone enjoyed the night. Suddenly, you felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind and a chin atop your head. 

“Hey,” You heard Peter say and you smiled, leaning back into his embrace. “I haven’t been able to hang out with you at all during the night.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure everything was going well.” Your voice, distant and distraught, deepened Peter’s frown. He turned you around and held your face, brushing your cheek with his knuckles. 

“I’m proud of you. You did a great job.”

Although his words made your chest glow, you glanced back at the performance. “Thanks. I was able to add in a few things since I convinced Harry’s dad to donate some money. I guess being his favorite out of you, Mary Jane, and I helped after all, huh?” 

“Well, you can relax now,” He rubbed your shoulders, and you just then realized how tense they were. “The night’s almost over.” Peter reassured you and you sighed, closing your heavy eyes.

“Anything could happen, though.” You forced out a laugh, worry forming a crease in between your eyebrows. “What if something catches on fire? Actually, did you know that people can randomly combust? There’s this one case—”

“Y/N.” For once, he was the one stopping you from rambling. 

“There’s still five songs left of the set.” You pouted at him, trying to convince him to let you off the hook, but he simply stared at you, concerned.

“I talked to Miles, he’s going to take your place while you take a break.”

“I don’t need a break, I just have to watch—”

“Remember the night when we first kissed, and you told me that I needed to stop overworking myself?” He recalled, raising his brows. You pressed your lips together, recognizing how hypocritical you appeared at the moment.

 “This is different, though. I need this to be perfect.” You mumbled. Peter’s brows drew together in confusion. 

“Why?”

“Because of May!” You said, raising your voice a little. The floor now seemed more interesting than Peter or your surroundings. “She deserves it. She really cared about F.E.A.S.T., so I know how important this is for you, too.” You admitted, all of a sudden quiet. 

The corners of his mouth turned downwards. He grabbed your chin and kissed your forehead before his soft gaze interlocked with yours. “Y/N, I bet she’d be so proud right now that she wouldn’t shut up about it, like, ever.” You both laughed, but you smiled weakly, hugging him strongly. “And spending time with you is really important for me, too.” He whispered.

Peter took in a sharp breath and dug his hand into his pocket. “I know it’s Christmas Eve, but I wanted to give you one present today.” 

You tilted your head, your heart falling as remembrance dawned upon you. “But I left my gifts back home.” 

“It’s alright, I-I just…” He took out a tiny box and your eyes widened in panic. “Before you freak out, it’s not… it’s not what you think.” He chuckled nervously and opened it, revealing a silver band ring.

You covered your mouth with your fist while your other hand grasped the ring carefully, inspecting the diamond cut running through the middle. “Pete… it’s so pretty, oh my God. I can’t even imagine how much you spent on it.” You said, guilt etched onto your face.

Peter tried to shrug nonchalantly, but he had to admit the expense stung a bit. “Don’t think about the price tag,” He joked, and then pointed down at the ring. “Look inside it, though.”

You followed his orders and spotted something engraved inside. You lifted it closer to your face to read it properly, squinting your eyes, and once you did, you looked up at Peter’s nervous face with a grin growing on yours. “You… love me?”

It was about damn time.

“Y-You… you like it?” He asked rapidly, his own heart mirroring the speed of his words. 

In the blink of an eye, you met his lips with a deep kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling into it. “You’re so fucking dramatic, you could’ve just told me but you had to buy a whole ass ring to tell me you loved me.” You nudged him playfully.

“I wanted to be cute!”

“You’re automatically cute, you don’t even have to try.” Peter proved your point as the color of cotton candy painted his cheeks. “But I love it. And I love you, God, I love you so much, Peter, you have no clue.” 

He did. And he loved you back just as much.

[koganphrancis]

(gif credit: jackorowan)

Ian Dips His Toe Into A Redemption Arc

(Or: My thoughts on S10 Episode 3)

First thing first-I am guessing that the scene this gif is from was cut-Wells probably said it looked too much like men having sex with each other ;P  I bet this fight led to the-by the time the episode starts-established divided cell that Ian has to be a little bitch to Mickey about not seeing the clock since he can’t go to “Mickey’s side” of the cell.  WTF is this, The Brady Bunch?  Pretty sure the boys pulled that about their bedroom in one of the episodes, but I digress.  I would have liked to see Mickey jumping Ian, sigh.

On to what they did show-I have to say, I’m okay with it in the sense that I think almost everything they had Mickey and Ian say and do was very much in character.  However, since the show has had these characters for 10 seasons, I would’ve really liked to see evidence of more growth and evolution for Ian.  Mickey did two major acts of wonderful, selfless love for Ian, whereas Ian blurted out one thing towards the end when everything was pretty much set in stone anyway.  

But it was very in character for Mickey to be the one to give, and Ian to receive, so let me go back to the beginning under the 

The episode starts and obviously they’re still bickering/not getting along.  (Noel’s reading of Mickey’s annoyed “What” packed more meaning and emotion into a single syllable-this show does not deserve him.)  Ian gets the news that he’s got a parole hearing date, and Mickey immediately has a dark cloud of cold, cold rain descend over him-Ian’s pretty oblivious to that, and probably thinks Mickey’s just continuing their arguing since Mickey walks out of the cell as soon as the lock’s released.  Gotta give Ian a little credit-he forgets they’re arguing and is asking Mickey questions about his thoughts about what the letter means and didn’t Mickey think, like Ian, he’d be in longer...but those questions were all about “me, me, me” not “us”.  Which, in character, but, grow a little, Ian, damn it!

Ian goes and talks to two inmates that we’re not quite clear if both of them are gay or just “prison gay” (one has a boyfriend on the outside, but they have an arrangement to screw other people while they’re apart as long as there’s no mouth kissing).  They tell Ian he and “his boy” need a clear understanding, or feelings will be hurt.  Ian looks across the room to Mickey, and maybe for the first time is thinking about Mickey hurting because of him.

Or maybe he’s not-because the next scene is obviously taking place at 8:15, and Mickey is sitting on the toilet.  This scene, again, was in character for Ian, but it pissed me off because he’s bringing up something major-something that could easily blow up into a fight-when Mickey is literally at his most open and vulnerable-pants down and his body in no position to choose either fight or flight.  Plus, Ian doesn’t broach the subject with, “Even if I get out, I will wait for you, I’ll be faithful.”  No, he’s still 17 year old Ian saying, “Will we bang other people?”  Plus he throws in “kids?  Retirement?” so Mickey truly doesn’t have the first clue what Ian’s asking.  (And, btw, Shameless, they HAD a kid that you’ve oh so conveniently made disappear.)  

Ian states it as clearly as he can (I guess, for him): “Do you or do you not want to be in a long distance relationship when I’m out?”  This is so not fair to put on Mickey.  Mickey plainly told Ian what he wanted way back when he was first put into prison and, yes, Ian was on his meds and so low and whatever, but Mickey  knew the answer he gave then was a lie and probably would’ve been the same even if Ian was 100% adjusted to his meds.  Also, Mickey knows for a fact: Ian cheats.  He’s cheated on Mickey and he’s cheated with Mickey, and Ian’s certainly not saying here he’ll even try to be true.  From Mickey’s point of view he could easily take it as Ian wanting him to give him the loophole to not be faithful.   

Mickey, again, is the realist-”You’re out there you’re going to be fucking other people, so will I.”  (Plus, just last week, Ian was requesting a “new roommate”-pretty sure Mickey feels like Ian would be fucking other people inside, given the chance.)  Ian belatedly (far too late) says, “Can’t we just like, wait for each other?”  Then Mickey says something very true indeed.  “Look, it would be one thing if you felt differently about leaving, but you don’t.”  Ian asks what that means and Mickey reluctantly tells him that maybe if there was a part of Ian that wanted to throw his parole hearing so he could stay in there with Mickey since Mickey threw his life away to be with Ian then at least they’d be having a different conversation.  Ian immediately gets defensive with “I didn’t ask you to.”  No, you didn’t Ian, but you’ve never seemed to appreciate that Mickey did it either-or any of the many other sacrifices and acts of love Mickey’s done for you over the years.  Ian incredulously asks if Mickey’s asking him to tank his hearing to "be stuck” in prison with him.  Again it seems like Ian is 100% missing the point that Mickey chose to be with him because he wanted to be, and Ian’s acting like being with Mickey is part of-maybe the worst part of-his prison sentence.  Mickey says, “I ain’t asking you for shit, Gallagher.”  Ian cranks up the defensiveness, “You want me to choose to do it without you asking.”  YES, that’s exactly what he wants, Ian.  For you to choose him, for once in your life!  Mickey says his already famous, “I want you to want to do what you want.”  Ian gets extremely whiny and says, “Buuuut, if I choose it, you would be happy.”  Well, not anymore-you’ve ruined it.  He keeps getting in Mickey’s face, “I just want to know, yes or no, would you be fucking happy!?!?”  You honestly don’t know, Ian?  You’re the one that’s been having all the problems being locked up-Mickey, in the little bit we saw last week, was resigned and ready to serve out his sentence till you kept after him, putting a lot of blame on him for prison not being “fun” anymore.  Mickey finally says, “Yes” and Ian’s all, “Then I’ll fucking do it-I’ll fuck up my hearing so that I stay with you.”  He’s totally yelling by this point.   Mickey says, “If that’s what you want, fine.”  But you can tell he doesn’t think it’s what Ian wants.  Ian retreats back up to the top bunk after they exchange “fines” and “goods”.  Neither one of them is happy.  

And Ian’s not all that committed to his supposed decision-the next scene he’s in, he’s on the prison phone trying to get a hold of Lip-he needs some advice-which is a crock of shit to begin with-when has Lip ever told him that Mickey is the right choice?  Ian already knows what Lip would tell him to do.  

Mickey gets back to the cell after Ian learns from Debbie that Lip and Tami had the baby, and Mickey right away knows something’s bothering Ian.  Hey, Ian, when would any member of your family notice something like that?

Next Mickey scene-he goes to visit one of Terry’s old buddies for gay life advice.  Um, sure, Shameless.  I’m sorry that they felt the need to shortcut Mickey finding out what he already knows in his heart by stretching suspension of disbelief far beyond its breaking point.  (Not to mention it completely undercuts any danger we were supposed to believe in when Mickey came out-apparently Terry and his generation of incarcerated neo-nazis are completely tolerant of alternative lifestyles-who knew?)  Anyway-one great Noel moment in this scene is the beat he takes to look momentarily surprised that he’s not going to be curb stomped for asking about his partner for pleasure.  

Points lost to Shameless tho, for not making it very clear if, just like the Nazi buddy says to Mickey that Ian will come to resent him for wanting him to stay in prison for him, does Mickey resent Ian for going back in to be with him?  Are we supposed to think there’s a difference just because Ian didn’t ask/encourage Mickey to do it?  I also don’t like the implication that Mickey’s somehow in the wrong for wanting to be with Ian-it’s not like Ian has had a great life when Mickey’s not there for him.  

Mickey, as always, is keeping a close eye on Ian, and thwarts his plan to shiv an inmate (and, hey, Shameless, way to work in another fat slur in that scene-you couldn’t have Ian just say, “The big guy?”), and in a scene that I hope was very gratifying to film, Noel, uh, Mickey covers Ian’s entire mouth with his hand and keeps telling him to STFU ;)  Mickey has his cohorts drag Ian back to their cell, and here he makes his first huge sacrifice/love offering: he tells Ian he’s not throwing his fucking parole for him, they need to get him out of this shithole.  So it’s only then, when it’s obvious Mickey’s not going to hold him to anything he’s said and not going to try to make him say, that Ian finally says what he should’ve been saying from the start: “I wanna be with you.”  Mickey says, “You don’t get to be.”  And Cameron finally gives us a good line reading and says with an actual hitch in his voice and some real emotion, “I wanna be where you are, Mickey.”  And Mickey has to be all Rick Blane from Casablanca and say, “You don’t belong in here” and “go get a job and be an uncle to Lip’s kid” and “I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.”  Yeah, you should’ve!  You have the right to ask him to, Mickey-and especially to want him to want to!  You shouldn’t force him to stay, but asking him is okay!   

And then we finally get what we’ve been hoping for for years-the mutual ilys, but, still, it wasn’t quite right.  Ian says it, then Mickey says, “I know.”  (Does he though?  All I could see was, “Not really though” right after he said I know.  And maybe for once Shameless is laying out some foreshadowing and Mickey truly still DOESN’T know-there’s going to be a major bump in their future if that guy on the Vespa from the 2nd Chicago week is anything to go by-but even if we are supposed to have that tickle of doubt from that “I know”, that still fucks up them finally saying I love you to each other-why can’t we ever just have them say it?)  Anyway, Mickey does his, “I love you too” and they kiss and it’s a lovely kiss-but that’s all we get.  They finally say ILY to each other and it doesn’t lead to more?  Even Noel live tweeting it indicated it DID lead to what it should have-an actual love scene (although we could do without the “mayonaise”).  But this is Shameless and they’re just never gonna have sex, I guess.  

Their final scene is Ian sleeping blissfully and Mickey in his own bunk, counting money (he also had money to give the guard to be let in to see Terry’s buddy-all that cash and he can’t buy some lube?) and a guard comes to the door and gives Mickey and envelope for the cash, and a now-awake Ian is half sitting up and Mickey gives him the envelope and tells him to “facetime your brother, see the baby” and gives Ian the sweetest look along with this second-of-the-episode love offering, like Mickey’s the one making up for something.  What?  The whole episode he’s been putting Ian’s needs and issues first.  But it is very in character for Mickey to be doing whatever it takes to make Ian happy.  I just want to see it starting to get reciprocated.  I don’t think Ian did a hell of a lot in this episode to show much redemption.  He really only did anything (truly mean it when he said he wanted to stay) once he was getting what he wanted at the start.  

And they never did hammer it out that they’d wait for each other...But with the way they’re being under-utilized this season I’m not too worried about that.  They don’t seem to be in the next episode at all, and it makes me so sad to think about how much better their story would be if the show would just let them have the number of scenes they deserve and the time to let things play out, instead of everything needing to be brought up, flailed over, and resolved all in the span of a few too short scenes.