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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

Note

ian + mickeys neck (was thinking of the drunk ian fic and wondered if you would be interested in pursuing this idea further?) <3

anon i am CRYING thank u so much for this!!!! i have been feeling like i need to make my contribution to the “mickey’s neck” discourse for a while lmao and this is my opportunity (esp bc ian holding mickey in the 11x12 stills wrecked me)

in the spirit of following up 11x10 i decided to write this based on an amazing post @mickey-millagher made/a prompt that @pombby sent me about ian teaching mickey to swim at a public pool during lockdown at some point early s11- i hope u enjoy<3

(this is the tiniest notch steamier than what i usually write but it isn’t smutty fyi- tw for descriptions of choking😌)

There was no one at the park— the air hung heavy and humid over the empty picnic tables and wooden benches that punctuated the fields of dying grass. As much as people on the Southside were definitely not taking any part of this lockdown shit seriously, it didn’t surprise Ian how silent the public park was— there was still a scarcer number of people out on their stoops or lounging on street corners this summer. Ian guessed that the few people who didn’t think that this was a hoax realized that this COVID shit was serious enough that they couldn’t afford healthcare if they got it, or whatever— but regardless, that meant that this Southside summer was weirdly stagnant somehow, and felt different from the noisy and crowded rhythms of summers past.

It was the late morning, just as the air started heat like a convection oven as the sun rose over the skyline— and Ian had his heart set on teaching Mickey to swim today. The conversation had come up last night at dinnertime, when Debbie was complaining about the heat wave— and they had all started reminiscing about the rickety, tin-sided pool they used to put up in the backyard years ago until Carl had taken a hatchet to it when he was 11 when he was trying to tear it down. Sitting next to Mickey at the kitchen table, thighs pressed where their chairs were scooted close together, Ian had suddenly remembered his words from their road trip to the border, years ago now:

“You could try swimming across the border.”

“I never learned how, man.”

And he’d immediately opened his mouth, not catching the words before they moved from his brain to his mouth, and asked Mickey in the middle of the dinnertime chatter: “Hey Mick, did you ever actually learn to swim?”

It was funny, and arbitrary, and stupid; they were married now, but for some reason this small fact about Mickey, the fact that he used to not know how to swim and by now he might have learned without Ian’s knowledge, made something warm pool in Ian’s stomach. He’d known Mickey, and had been itching to be closer and closer to him, for a full decade—and there were still so many things that he didn’t know. And this was proof, this question that Ian still didn’t have the answer to about some weirdly fundamental aspect of Mickey’s identity— he was always going to want to keep asking things about Mickey. And he was always going to get to.

Mickey had looked him with daggers in his eyes, then flickered a defensive glance at all the smirks growing on Ian’s siblings’ faces. “Fuck you. I was doing plenty of other shit in Mexico, didn’t really get the chance to lounge on the fucking beach.”

Ian had reached under the table and placed a hand on Mickey’s knee—a peace offering, an apology for whatever Mickey-can’t-swim quips Carl and Lip would inevitably think up as a low blow the next time they all butted heads at breakfast time— but as the chatter about backyard pools and heat waves continued at the dinner table, Ian felt an idea stirring.

Which is why the next morning he’d woken his husband up by pressing a tender kiss to his jawbone, both of their skin damp and clammy from the heat in the stuffy bedroom, and whispered into his neck:

“I wanna try something today.”

Mickey’s mind had immediately veered in… other directions, his eyebrows raising in vaguely disappointed disbelief when Ian had explained his idea to go to the public pool and teach Mickey to swim with an exuberant grin on his face; but after some very enticing morning persuasion that had a lot to do with the fact that Mickey was still half asleep while Ian had pressed kisses down his spine and dragged him out of bed and handed him a pair of swim trunks, now they were at the public pool in the nearest park at midday, with Ian leading the way and Mickey dubiously and sleepily straggling behind him.

Ian slid open the lock on the chain-link fence that surrounded the pool, the same pool that was usually crawling with groups of teenagers smoking weed and toddlers in floaties who were sticky with melted ice cream on a summer day like today. And maybe he was just all hopped up on nostalgia, but Ian was feeling cheerful— there was a lightness to the blinding summer sunshine, radiating through him as it pooled on his skin, that made him feel weirdly exhilarated and giddy about teaching Mickey to swim in this grimy Southside pool, just because he could.

“I still can’t believe you never learned how to swim.” Ian said it over his shoulder as he strode through the gate, holding it open for Mickey.

Mickey just flipped him off, following behind him and setting down two towels and the 6-pack of beers he’d grabbed from the fridge as they’d shuffled out the door minutes before. Ian grinned. He knew the beers would be warm and syrupy in minutes—the air was muggy and humid, without any hint of a breeze for relief. Ian could already feel the sweat dripping down the back of his t-shirt; he peeled it off as he walked over the sunwarmed concrete towards the pool’s edge, crumpling the shirt and throwing it on top of the pile with the beers and the towels. Mickey was hesitant, not following Ian to the border of the water just yet.

“Seriously. I can’t count the number of times I was shoved into our bacteria-infested backyard pool when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure that Frank tried to drown me in there at one point.”

Mickey just shrugged noncommittally, his fingers slack around the bottom hem of his shirt and his eyes zeroing in on the pool of water. Ian thought Mickey would say something in reply— but the only sound in the air was the faint shouting of kids playing a basketball game the street over.

Holy shit. Ian had been so buoyant and excited about his nostalgia-fueled idea of going to the public pool on a summer day and teaching his husband to swim, dragging Mickey out of the house without a second thought, that he hadn’t realized it until now— Mickey was scared.

Ian swallowed down the grin that was threatening to overtake his face— one he knew that Mickey would immediately notice and hate, because he it drove him crazy when people gave him shit in vulnerable moments like this, when Mickey couldn’t do something. So instead Ian kept talking, hoping his chatter would loosen some of Mickey’s nerves.

“Didn’t you and your brothers ever go down to the other pool over on Trumbull?”

Mickey met Ian’s eyes then, raising an annoyed eyebrow. “Clearly not.”

And, okay. This was understandably bringing up some childhood shit. Ian tried to snap Mickey out of his head— he strode over to where Mickey was standing, a good six feet from the poolside, and snaked a hand onto the back of his neck, squeezing gently in what he hoped was a grounding and comforting touch that would drain the trepidation from Mickey’s defensive stance.

“One summer Debbie was so afraid of getting drowned at the public pool that she learned how to hold her breath for 4 minutes.” Ian grinned at the memory of Debbie dunking her head in a tub of water in the kitchen, making him and Lip time her. “Honestly, it was probably for the best you never went to the public pool. It was a shit show.”

Mickey scoffed, but the lightness was back in his eyes. “If I knew how to swim back in the day I probably woulda been the one doing the drowning.”

Ian barked out a laugh— and why did he immediately turn back into his 15-year-old self, with a god-awful crush on Mickey Milkovich, whenever Mick said shit like that? He pressed his lips into a smile, squeezing Mickey’s shoulder once more for good measure.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, king of the Southside. You ready to get in the water?” Ian’s hand trailed down from its grasp on Mickey’s shoulderblades, dropping to encircle Mickey’s wrist and guide him towards the water.

Mickey immediately recoiled, yanking his hand from Ian’s hold and taking a step back, squinting and holding up a hand to block the bright rays of sun out of his eyes now that he wasn’t standing in Ian’s shadow.

“Fuck d’you mean? I’m not just gonna fucking hop in there and drown. You gotta show me what to do.”

Ian grinned again, without being able to hold it back. He knew what Mickey was like when he was afraid of something— defensive and grumbly and avoidant to touch. He rolled his eyes. “Can’t really teach you to swim when we’re not in the water, Mick. C’mon.”

Ian walked over to sit on the edge, then slid his torso down into the pool. The water was lukewarm and tepid, barely providing any relief from the sticky air— but it felt nice. Ian let out a little breath of relief from the heat as he waded over to the shallow end. Mickey was still standing by the mound of the towels the ground, watching him warily. Ian raised his eyebrows.

“You coming?”

Rolling his eyes, Mickey aggravatedly pulled off his shirt, tossing it behind him— sunrays bounced off of Mickey’s pale skin, owing mostly to the fact that Mickey had barely left the house in the last few weeks because of their prolonged “honeymoon.” He slowly walked to the very edge of the pool and, in a movement that made Ian’s heart grow ten sizes, hesitantly dipped a toe into the water like a cat trying to paw at something. A corner of Mickey’s mouth flickered downwards almost imperceptibly, a worry line sprouting on his forehead.

“I don’t know, man.”

Ian breathed out a laugh. Leave it to Mickey Milkovich, shit-talking king of the Southside, to be afraid of the shallow end of a public pool. Ian reached out a hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, still smiling like a sappy motherfucker at his painfully endearing husband.

“C’mon Mick, just stand here with me first.” Ian was waist-deep in the shallow end, the water pressing against his upper thighs— he knew that at this height the water would be at Mickey’s waist, right where his swim trunks met his hipbones.

Mickey’s brows furrowed from where he was still perched on the concrete lip of the pool ledge, his two feet firmly rooted. “Explain what I gotta do first. To swim, or whatever.”

Ian blew out a breath, still grinning like an idiot. “It’s not that hard, Mick. You just gotta circle your arms and circle your legs. But you have to get in the water first.”

Ian treaded over, pushing through the water to where he could rest his upper arms on the edge of the pool beside where Mickey was standing, staring up at him with what he hoped was a convincingly pleading face. Mickey’s eyes were still fixated on the water, lapping at the pool’s edge from where Ian had rippled through it. And suddenly Ian had an idea.

With a teasing grin, he reached a wet hand out from the water and encircled it around Mickey’s ankle, splattering the concrete with drops of water. Mickey immediately jerked like an electric shock had jolted through his body.

“You gonna come in, or do I have to make you?”

Mickey tried to shake his ankle out of Ian’s grasp, but Ian had hold of him with an iron fist. Mickey leaned over and tried to swat at Ian’s arm without losing his balance on the pool’s edge.

“Cut that shit out right now, Gallagher.”

Ian just grinned, squeezing Mickey’s ankle like he was about to tug him in. “Come on, Mick.”

Mickey’s eyes widened and, just as Ian had imagined he would— he started to freak the fuck out.

“Ian stop that shit right now, I swear to god I will fucking murder you if you—”

They were at the 6-foot marker in the pool, right where it was deep enough for Mickey to stand on the very tips of his toes; and with this knowledge, Ian tugged at Mickey’s calf— causing him to falter, his arms circling like a cartoon character before he lost his balance and crashed into the water on his side.

Ian immediately placed his hands on Mickey’s hips, standing him upright before his head even fell under the water— but Mickey was still sputtering and splashing, like the drama queen that he was. Once Mickey regained his composure and realized he was easily standing on the bottom of the pool, his head bobbing just above the water, he swiftly splashed healthy burst of water into Ian’s face, the chlorine stinging his eyes and nose.

“Fuck you, Gallagher!”

Ian coughed at the water that had shot up his nose, but immediately splashed Mickey back—and then, because there wasn’t any way this whole pool situation was going to go anyways, he and Mickey were immediately engaged in a life-and-death splash battle, circling each other in the middle section of the pool.

Ian was laughing so hard he felt a stitch in his side— and Mickey was finally grinning again, water dripping down his cheeks and clinging to his hair. After a few minutes Ian threw his hands in the air in surrender, the water cresting at his shoulders.

“Truce!”

Mickey splashed one more surge of water at Ian’s chest for good measure, grinning like a kid in a candy store— then he took a step closer to Ian, eyebrows raised.

“Truce.”

Ian beamed down at him, pressing a quick peck to the top of his damp hair. “Sorry for throwing you in the pool.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“But in my defense, it had to happen eventually.”

Mickey shoved him squarely in the chest, taking a step back. “You ruined the fucking truce.”

Ian gave a smug smirk. “Do you wanna learn how to swim, or not?”

Mickey flicked another burst of water at him, just enough to cast a slew of droplets onto Ian’s cheeks. “Alright. Get coaching, Michael Phelps.”

Ian hadn’t really considered how he was actually going to teach Mickey to swim— but it couldn’t be that hard, right? He tried to think back to when Lip had taught him how to tread water, on an equally as sweltering day in the backyard pool, when the yard was packed with lawn chairs and drunk neighbors and smelled of ashy barbeque smoke.

“Okay. So you’ve gotta move your arms in circles, kinda, to stay floating. And your legs too.”

Ian swam over to the deeper end of the pool, just an arm’s length away from where he and Mickey’s feet could touch, and tried to demonstrate how to tread water. “I feel like the easiest way for you to learn is just by doing it. C’mere.”

Mickey looked at him reluctantly, brows furrowed again in an outward display of his bundled nerves. “No fucking way.”

Ian sighed in exasperation. “C’mon, Mick. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you drown, you can hold on to me the whole time.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow— but then hesitantly took a step towards Ian, the water reaching up to the bottom of his chin.

“Alright, good. Now step where you can’t reach and try to tread water like I did.”

Mickey stepped forward again, then started to circle his arms under the water— and he was doing great, for a second, before he seemed to get too in his head about the mechanics and started to grit his teeth.

“Little help here, Gallagher?”

Ian grinned and stepped forward. “Here, you can hang onto me.” He stood where Mickey could reach and grab onto his shoulders if he needed to— but Mickey seemed to regain his confidence, and was starting to steadily, if a little bit clumsily, tread water.

He kept it up for a while, until Ian could see that he was overexerting himself— waving his arms under the water with a little too much gusto, brows furrowed and his teeth digging into his lower lip in concentration.

“Mick, you’ve got it. Chill out for a sec.”

Ian reached an arm out, a branch for Mickey to grab on to— because he had been joking before, yes, but he really didn’t want Mickey to fucking drown— and when Mickey grasped onto it, Ian pulled Mickey towards him in the water, kicking backwards so they were suspended in the deeper end of the pool with Mickey clinging to Ian’s neck.

Mickey looked nervous as Ian veered them towards deeper waters, his eyes darting from side to side where they were floating, his fingers digging into the back of Ian’s neck— and Ian smirked at how freaked out he seemed, standing only a few feet from where they could both confidently stand on the tiled pool bottom. But Mickey didn’t resist, or try to propel himself back into the shallower waters— he let himself cling on to Ian, fingers interlaced behind the tops of Ian’s shoulders, as he kept them afloat. Ian laughed softly in a warm, wet gust across Mickey’s cheek. “You okay?”

He could feel the heat radiating off of Mickey’s body, squeezing up close against him— and Ian couldn’t help it, the wave of fondness that came over him as he looked down at where Mickey was pressed against his chest; trusting Ian to keep them above the water, trusting Ian enough to go along with his stupid plan to teach him to swim in a public pool on a random morning just because Ian wanted to. Ian couldn’t help but feel warmth in his stomach at this simple moment, at the two of them bobbing in the pool— at teaching his husband to swim, something Mickey’d never gotten to do as a kid but something that they had the rest of their lives to do together.

“Maybe we could teach Franny to swim next summer. If we have our own place.”

As he said it, Ian hoped that Mickey could see the flood of hopes that he had for them in his eyes— that he wanted a place with a pool, and a balcony, maybe a backyard, and maybe even a fucking garden—he’d always wanted to grow tomatoes. More than anything he wanted to build something sturdy, that could stand up to whatever ground would inevitably shift beneath them in the years to come— he’d been thinking about that a lot these days, especially with all of the pandemic shit that had pulled a rug out from under this entire neighborhood.

Mickey’s gaze flickered up from where it had been boring a panicky hole in Ian’s sternum, meeting Ian’s eyes at the phrase “our own place”— and Ian instantly knew that he got it, that he could see the dreams that Ian was building for the two of them right in front of their eyes. That after months and years of obstacles and chaos and other voices infiltrating their heads, now it was just them— now it was just Ian and Mickey, clinging to each other and drifting through the calm, chlorinated waters.

And maybe it was their proximity, or the intensity Ian knew he was pouring out in his gaze, but instantly the air between them shifted as Mickey looked up— starting to hang heavy like the press of the humidity in the air. Their faces were centimeters apart— and Mickey’s lips parted slightly, his eyes now cast downward at Ian’s lips. Ian could smell the sweet, warm beer on Mickey’s breath, mingling with his own; he looked at Mickey, whose arms were still wrapped around his neck, water dripping down his face from the hair that was fanning over his forehead—and Ian just had to pull him in, had to place a hand in the damp hair at the nape of Mickey’s neck and tug him closer, backing them against the tiled wall of the pool.

Ian could taste the faintest bitterness of chlorine on Mickey’s lips, from the water droplets lingering there, as he took Mickey’s bottom lip between his teeth. Mickey’s hands were still limply wrapped around Ian’s neck, keeping himself afloat— even though Ian had backed them against a wall in the shallow end of the pool again, and Mickey could probably touch his toes to the ground if he wanted to.

Ian raised his hand from under the water, wanting Mickey closer— he pressed a hand to the side of Mickey’s neck, slick with water, and slid a thumb over Mickey’s collarbone, pressing down with the pad of his fingers.

And Mickey gave a little involuntary noise from the back of his throat, sending a jolt down Ian’s spine.

Ian’s hands circling Mickey’s neck was definitely not a foreign concept while they were kissing— it was something they did a lot these days, especially as their hours in bed had taken a turn from the crazed, I-missed-your-body-so-fucking-much sex they were having in the beginning days of being in prison together and those early months after Mickey had gotten released— but both in prison and during this fucking quarantine, they’d gotten a bit more experimental, and a bit more reckless—especially before Ian had gotten his warehouse job and they were still on their structureless “honeymoon,” spending entire days lounging in bed.

It was those days of lazy, languid kisses, after years and years of already knowing each other, that Ian realized that he was maybe a little bit obsessed with Mickey’s neck. He’d always joked about liking Mickey’s legs, and that was true too (if he was being honest, there wasn’t a part of Mickey’s body that didn’t make his blood run hotter)— but the first time Mickey had grabbed Ian’s hand and put it up to his neck while they were tangled together, pressing down until Ian’s hand covered most of his throat, Ian knew that they’d opened Pandora’s fucking box.

By this point, Ian’s hand was pretty much always on Mickey’s neck at some point while they were fucking or even just making out— if he was being totally honest, Ian’s hand was on Mickey’s neck more often than not in lots of contexts these days, once they realized how much they both loved it. But there was something about this current moment, of Mickey wantonly desiring a point of contact there, right now, while they were very randomly and decidedly making out while floating in a public pool on a lazy weekday afternoon, that made Ian’s blood run hotter than usual, and rush quicker through his veins.

Ian let the pads of his fingers creep up the velvet skin of the side of Mickey’s neck, pressing a little deeper, a prelude— he could feel the vibration of Mickey’s heartbeat starting to flutter from where Mickey was still pressed against his chest, still clinging to his neck in the water.

They’d already extensively discussed limits and everything, Mickey would tap his wrist twice if shit got too intense— but even with that in mind, Ian pulled apart from Mickey for a second, trailing ghosts of kisses up the side of his neck and nipping at the underside of Mickey’s jaw. Mickey stretched his neck back and gave a little involuntary sputter of a moan, bubbling out of his mouth before he could stop it. He fisted a hand in Ian’s hair, at the nape of his neck, and leaned forward again to press their lips together with more fervor.

Ian pulled back again, his upper back resting against the concrete lip of the pool. Mickey looked disheveled and wrecked, half-dry chlorine-crusted hair sticking up from where Ian’s other hand had been cradling the back of his head, his blue eyes gleaming and catching the over-bright summer light. Mickey was still clinging his arms around Ian’s neck, holding on— they were in a fucking pool, and Mickey still couldn’t really fucking swim yet— and even though they were standing in a place where Mickey’s toes could certainly touch the ground, the whole thing felt weirdly insular and intimate, like they had to cling to each other.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian, like he was daring him to keep going.

Ian leaned forward, breathing heavily into Mickey’s mouth, but not pressing their lips together yet—and he reached a hand up again, against Mickey’s tender skin. Mickey’s legs were wrapped around Ian’s hips now, locked like a vice to keep himself upright in the water— and he pressed a little harder, gently pulsing at the sides of Mickey’s neck, in tandem with their lips pressing together over and over again as the warm waters surrounded them—the whole thing, the whole combination, made Ian feel indescribably floaty and weird and warm and blissed out; his skin stinging like ice and fire at every point of contact, electricity zapping his nerve endings wherever his fingertips met Mickey’s skin. Mickey fisted his hand harder at the back of Ian’s hair, nodding slightly—and they were definitely not going to fuck here, in the filth of a Southside public pool, but this insular closeness, the knowing what they both wanted to right now, was equally as thrilling and fulfilling to Ian in the moment. He could almost feel his own heart beating, reverberating as it pressed against Mickey’s chest, vibrating straight through Mickey and back to him as they clung to each other in the water.

Mickey’s body was thrumming, letting out little gasps of breath between kisses and touches—and Ian pulled back and dragged his lips down the side of Mickey’s neck, inhaling the sunwarmed skin. Fuck. He was never, never going to get enough of this.

Later, they’d dragged their water-heavy limbs back through the still summer streets to the Gallagher house, their skin pink and their bodies exhausted from soaking up the sun— and they’d collapsed into bed, feeling the dried chlorine coating their skin.

Ian reached a hand up, rubbing a thumb over Mickey’s cheek, their bodies pliant and fatigued— and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Thanks for letting me teach you how to swim.”

Mickey had smirked. “Yup, that was definitely the only highlight of today. Swimming.”

#a fluffy premise AND ian being obsessed with mickey’s neck??#what more could u want #*blows kiss to elias and stella* for u #also yes i did have a word document on my computer titled ‘neck fic’#what about it #ty for the prompt anon this was truly an experience to write #ily<3 #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless imagine #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #ian x mickey #ixm #gallavich fanfiction #cw choking

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inkstainedfanfics · 6 years

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End of the Year Fic Rec!

I started this blog in like March or April of this year, and since then, I’ve written plenty, but I’ve also read tons of work by others. So I decided to take a moment and just list some of my favorite fics/drabbles/one-shots I’ve read this year from the lovely people that take time to write stories for everyone.

I sorted them by fandom, and listed the author only once. So if there’s a few fics that follow an author, then they are written by that author until you see a different username! I hope you all check out and enjoy these stories as much as I do, and send comments to them if you do!

If you’re on this list, thank you so much for taking the time to write your stories. They’ve helped make my days better and have made me smile countless times. Thank you so much, I hope you have a lovely 2018 :)

And if anyone has any other recs, feel free to reblog and add them on. Authors deserve some love, and starting the new year off by giving them some appreciation can’t hurt!

FANTASTIC BEASTS

White Lace - @fantasticnewtimagines: A Prince!Newt AU. Need I say more? Probably not but I will bc this series is wonderful. 2 parts are out, and I’m already shipping Newt x Reader. He’s so sweet but impatient with his role in the world and I just adore him and his interactions with Theseus so much.

Breakfast in Bed: Newt x Reader fluff. Pure fluff that is beautifully described with an adorable guest appearance by the disgusted Pickett.

Come Back: Newt x Reader. 3 recs in and I’m already recommending angst. Fitting. But honestly this fic will break your heart. Mentions of blood so don’t read if you’re squeamish about that I guess but otherwise, I promise you will not regret reading this fic. It’s heart wrenching and gorgeous.

Magical Office - @drdanwrites: The Office crosses Fbawtft. This series is hilarious and moving and a lovely combination of the popular show and the popular movie. I love the characterizations within this, and plenty of the jokes have legit made me laugh. It’s the right balance of goofy with dramatic and I’m hanging on every update.

Too Late - @scamanderson: Newt Angst. Shoot man I’m a sucker for the ‘tries to return to find out the other has moved on, awkward reunion’ trope (v. specific Ik lol) and this fic perfectly captures that idea. It’s sad, depicting the emotions of lost love and anger and regret as well as I think is possible.

HARRY POTTER

Well, Hello There - @losers-witch: Remus Lupin x Reader. Sassy Reader gives me life tbh. “What’s a pretty young thing like you, doing in a bar like this?” “Ignoring you” I love it. + Protective, Confident Remus, something I miss in fics. + it mentions his scars in no way in a negative light, something I really like. + it’s a super cute story that has a chance meeting oooo. Go read it, seriously. You won’t regret it.

Mine: Draco x Reader. Tbh I normally don’t read Draco fics bc they don’t always characterize him like I expect, but this one is different (along with all the other ones she writes about him). He’s sweet in his own, Draco specific way. I like how it tracks the relationship growth in separate times and how we watch them grow together and apart as we read. and it has another confident Reader ahhhhh. I’ve reread it multiple times, also something I rarely do.

Welcome Back - @drdanwrites: Cedric Diggory x Reader. I honestly cannot read this around other people. I flail and can’t stop smiling it’s so dang cute. I love it more than anything. My boy Cedric is horribly underrepresented, and this is a wonderful cure to that. He’s so sweet about how much he loves his S/O and how he misses her when she’s gone and when he’s in the taxi on the way to pick her up??????? You should totally read this if you want your heart to grow like the Grinch’s.

The Climb: Cedric Diggory x Reader. I can’t even with this. It’s beautiful. He’s sweet and cute and you watch the relationship unfold and then there’s a kiss that I will never be over it’s so well written and honestly if you love Cedric and haven’t read this fic, you’re missing out.

You Are My Happiness: Seamus Finnegan Soulmate AU. Another boy that’s totally underrepresented. I haven’t read any other fics for him, so finding this was a miracle. The friendship between the two is adorable and seeing the two’s thoughts about each other is flipping adorable idk. You should 100% read this to make your day better.

CRIMINAL MINDS

Gingerbread - @bookofreid: Spencer Reid x Reader. Soooooooo sweet. The final sentence gets me. Spencer’s so adorable and I love him and this drabble only fuels that love further and further. I still swoon and “awwwww” even after reading it at least six times. Short and sweet and worth your time 1000 times over.

Christmas Cheer: Spencer Reid x Reader. For some reason the line “Christmas with the Reids” gets me. This one involves Derek. Another short and sweet story that I love. The author has tons of shorter ones like this and Gingerbread, and I’m slowly but surely making my way through the list. The author has a wonderful grasp on the voice of the characters, and not once have I felt they said something ooc. Definitely check out and (I recommend) follow bookofreid bc the blog’s pretty great too.

The Ramblings of an Introvert: Spencer Reid x Reader. Okay, I’m a few parts into this 7 part series, but it’s gorgeous. It captures Reid’s voice really well, and I like the idea of him writing letters since that’s actually addressed in the show as something he would do. It’s an interesting way to relay his feelings, and I think the author executes it really well. The language use is exactly how I think Spencer would write, and the expression of his emotions is well done. Really lovely story that I’m certain I’ll be rereading in a while.

We All Fall Down - @criminal-minds-fanfiction: Spencer Reid angst. Another series that I’m only a few parts into. Honestly, I don’t read long series often, and I believe this one is over 20, but I read the 1st part and I had to continue on. The writing is descriptive enough that you get the scene but aren’t overloaded with details. It’s extremely engaging and sets up a story with a hook better than almost any other fic I’ve read. It also involves an intriguing relationship between Spencer and Reader, one that keeps you guessing and reading. Plus Will makes an appearance and I live for his accent and sweet attitude.

MARVEL

Night Out - @wolflhards: Clint Barton x Reader. All right, this is my only Marvel entry bc I don’t really read for the characters EXCEPT Clint and I’ve found very, very few Clint stories *sobs*. I like this one though for how mischievous Clint is in the beginning. I think it really captures him. Then he’s sweet and goofy and ahhh so many emotions bc I love Clint so much. + a Corvette is involved, an undeniable plus. + THE END if you love Clint you’ll die. It’s such a wonderful last couple of paragraphs there to tie up a beautiful story.

SUPERNATURAL

Dean Checking In - @supernaturalfreewill: Dean x Reader. Super short, a drabble, but still super cute. We get to see how Dean and Reader text, and then Dean smiles and I love that and Idk man I don’t have super in depth ideas for this, it just made me smile and swoon and I figure everyone should have the chance to read it and have that reaction.

Protective Dean: Dean x Reader. Another super short drabble but I have a thing for Protective!Boy fics, so this one is a favorite of mine. Dean’s so dang swoonworthy help.

Dean Sees You in a Towel: Dean x Reader. Dean’s so startled and he starts stammering and he’s showing his dorky, embarrassed side. Such a cute glimpse into a small situation.

Shut Up and Dance: Dean x Reader. They meet at a wedding Dean crashes, and the chemistry is amazing. I adore the dialogue in this, and could only ever wish to write Dean this well. Perfectly captures him and how he acts, and sets up a beautiful meeting that I just want to continue to read. Plus the ending is so gosh dang cute you’ll never get over it. Dean’s met his match :D

Impact - @kaz2y5-imagines: Dean x Reader. I will never be over this fic. I think about it all the time. It’s haunting, and Dean’s reaction to the crash has me swooning. He cares SO MUCH for the Reader, evident in his begging for Reader to return. And the end. Ugh. I love this fic so much. One of my favorite Dean fics I’ve read ever.

DRAGON AGE

What You Did was Stupid - @jawsandbones: FenHawke. Okay, jaw is my go-to Fenhawke/ZevxWarden author bc all the works are beautiful. The author’s writing style is like the opposite of mine with short sentences and concise descriptions, but I’m jealous bc it’s so wonderfully done. A master of writing, I read everything that’s posted. This drabble in particular broke my heart. I requested it, and didn’t expect to literally tear up, but I did and now I’m here, recommending it to you all so you can have your heart shattered into millions of tiny pieces. It’s worth it, though, for the beauty of the tale and the tenderness of the emotions.

I Care About You: FenHawke. I don’t normally like fics that include mage!Hawke bc I always play as a rogue, which is fine, obv, authors can write what they want, I just usually scroll past it. But I didn’t scroll past this one, and thankfully so. It depicts a moment, one that is held out, one of terror meeting calm, need meeting warmth, worry finding a hand to help. I just love it. It’s short like the one above, but still rich with emotions and tentative, uncertain feelings that plague the beginning stages of a relationship. Idk I just love it. Highly recommend checking out her other works.

All in a Name - @kierarutherford: Cullen Rutherford x Inquisitor Baseball!AU on AO3. I don’t like baseball, but I’m partway into this series and I love it. I really enjoy how various characters have been included and written while Cullen’s still the focal point. Diana is independent and tough, but not obnoxiously so. I haven’t finished it yet, but the pieces I’ve read are interesting, the details really well described. I can always hear/see the scene vividly. The author’s super talented and wrote tons of stories this year, and I think y’all should check her works out bc they’re awesome.

#fic rec #not mine #happy new year everyone!!!!!!#Hope you're all staying safe and having a nice time!#I highly recommend checking out these fics and talking to the authors #they're all super kind!#and talented lol

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runningwitches · 7 years

Text

The Girl Who Cried Fanfic (Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: When your family is desensitized to your screams, because they usually just meant you were reading a fluffy fanfiction, the hero you’ve been reading about is the one who saves you in a time of actual danger.

Word Count: 3228

Requested: Nope

A/N: Second fic on tumblr ever, first ever Peter Parker. I had this idea when my friend told me that she screamed at the fluff in one of my other fics, but that nobody in her house came to check on her. Jokingly, I called her “the girl who cried fanfic” and well, the rest is history.

You lay in your bed late at night, the only one awake in your small New York apartment. As you scrolled through your Tumblr, you saw a new post from your favorite account, a superhero fan account that loved hearing about the shenanigans the Avengers got into. Clicking on it, you saw this one was about Spider-Man.

Weird, you thought. Spider-Man isn’t really well known outside of Queens. Maybe you knew the owner of this account.

Pushing your thoughts of confusion aside, you began to read the authors note. “Hey guys! Normally I don’t write about this kind of stuff, but there’s this cool new hero in my neighborhood called Spider-Man, and I thought I’d try to write something about him, instead of the usual Avengers stuff.”

You began to think of who it could be. A fellow super-fan in your very neighborhood. Maybe even in attendance of your school. Well, no use worrying about it right now, is there? I’ll see if I can find out more about her later. For now, I’ll visit my my favorite hero.

As you read the story, you noticed a lot of familiarities. I mean, obviously the author is going to write in generic terms, they never know who’s going to end up reading it, but it seemed more familiar than most of the fics you read. The way the school description fit yours, and the neighborhood seemed eerily similar to your own. You really must’ve at least seen this girl around.

But you swept the awkwardness of the familiarity aside and continued to enjoy the story, allowing the odd details to make it more believable for yourself. When it got to a cute part, you couldn’t help but let out a yelp of joy. Spider-Man just took his mask off because he loved you! It was so exciting that even though it was simply a story on your phone, you let out a scream. An. Actual. Scream.

Your parents came running in, thinking you were hurt or that someone had broken in, but that wasn’t the case. When they saw your sheepish smile, and the apologetic look in your eyes, they sighed and closed your door, walking away, annoyed.

Returning to your story you made a mental note to not do that again. You typically could hold your fangirling inside, whisper-screaming into your pillow, or kicking your legs around to hide the fact that you were dying inside, but for some reason the thought of Spider-Man, your local hero, and your personal crush, revealing himself to you made you lose all control of your reasoning, and you screamed anyways.

After finishing the story, you debated messaging the girl behind the account to see if you knew her, or if she had seen Spider-Man in person before. You sure had.

I mean, you didn’t mean to, I don’t think anybody really does when they first meet him. You were just lucky, I suppose.

You were sat on the roof of your building, trying to get away from it all. The stress of school eating at you day in and day out. Yeah, you went to a school for science and technology, Midtown School of Science and Technology to be exact, but you weren’t gifted in these subjects. STEM just wasn’t your thing. You were a history, English, art, and dance kinda girl, and those classes seemed almost completely neglected at this school for geniuses (because for some reason you’re only a genius if you’re smart in a STEM field). Anyways, the stress of the world was coming down around you, school and personal life issues keeping you constantly on edge. As you sat on the edge, hoping for a relaxing escape, you heard a thud behind you.

Turning around you saw a man, nay, a boy in a red and blue spandex suit. An instant blush spread across your face as you realized that you were in the presence of a real life superhero, one of the people you had been longing to meet since you knew he existed. Staying sat where you were, you stared at the hero as he made his way over to you.

“Are you alright miss?” he asked, his voice full of concern, but with a certain familiarity to it.

“Yeah, I’m okay, but why are you here?” you asked, wondering what brought you two together.

“I saw someone sitting at the edge of the building, and I had to make sure you’re okay. I wouldn’t want anything happening to a beautiful girl like you, would I?” he told you, walking on eggshells, still unsure if you were truly alright. The real reason is because he was scared you were going to jump. He’s stopped multiple people from jumping recently, it seemed that a lot of people have been losing hope as of late.

“No, no,” you said, shaking your head, “I’m quite alright. Nothing to worry about here.”

“Okay, but can I ask you to step away from the edge there? It’s a bit concerning to see someone without amazing spider abilities that close to a long drop,” he confessed, with a little wiggle of his fingers when he said ‘amazing’.

“Yeah! Yeah, sorry to worry you Spider-Man, I know you’re busy. Didn’t mean to waste your time,” you told him, mumbling the last part.

“Hey now, you’re not wasting my time here! If anything, I’m wasting your time. You were just trying to enjoy the view, and I’m the one that interrupted you.”

“You? Wasting my time? That’s insane! You’re the hero here, I’m just some girl stressing about high school. You’re out here saving people’s lives everyday.”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m just a kid under this mask too. Schools not everything, don’t work yourself up so much over it. And hey, if you really need help, maybe I could tutor you.” Despite the mask covering his face, you knew he was smirking.

That was two weeks ago, and now your crush on the superhero was even worse than before. I’m just a kid under this mask. The words kept repeating in your mind as you decided to send a message to the author.

“Hey! I’m a huge fan of your writing and I just read your story about Spider-Man! It’s so good! I’m actually from Queens too, so it’s pretty cool to see someone writing something about the guy. I’ve only run into him once, but I thought the way he was portrayed was perfect! I mean, really, spot-on, so great job! Hope to see more about him in the future!” You sent it, not expecting a response. That’s what usually happened when you messaged one of your favorite writers anyways.

You set your phone down, and prepared to fall asleep, but as you were laying there, you got a notification. She had messaged you back!

“hey! omg, im so glad u liked it, i was really proud of that one but i thought nobody would like it bc it’s not an avenger one. but you’ve met him! that’s insane! like so cool. i mean, im from queens but he probably doesn’t know i exist. o well haha”

As you figured out what to respond, you found yourself getting sleepier, so you put down your phone, resolving to respond tomorrow.

The next morning, you woke up late, rushing to get ready, and heading out of the house and off to school within 10 minutes. A new record, you were sure. As you got to chemistry, your first period class, you opened up your school issued laptop, and pulled up Tumblr. You really didn’t know why they hadn’t blocked it yet, but you weren’t complaining. You opened up your messages and started typing out your response.

“Oh boy, sorry I didn’t respond last night, I fell asleep. School stressing me out, you know? Anyways, here I am in my chemistry class, messaging you instead of doing my work. It’s really not a smart idea, but whatever.”

When you sent the message, you weren’t expecting an immediate response, but you got one.

“what?! no way! im in chem right now too! what a coincidence!”

Your first thought was, wow, this girl uses a lot of exclamation points, immediately followed by the thought that if this girl attended your school, which there was a high likelihood, she would be in the same class as you right now. You looked around for people either on their phone or laptop and only found two. Peter Parker, and (Y/F/N). There was no way it was Peter, that kid was an interesting guy, but you were positive that it was a girl on the other side of the screen. Then you looked at (Y/F/N), scrolling through tumblr, with a little box in the corner, probably your conversation. You smiled, and turned back to your computer, noticing that Peter was watching a video of Spider-Man fighting with the Avengers. Stifling a giggle, you went back to the chat box.

“Do you happen to go to Midtown? I know that’s a random question, but I’m sitting in my chemistry class and, well if you go here, then you’re probably sitting in the same room as me lol.”

As soon as you sent it, you saw (Y/F/N) looking around the room. You made eye contact and both smiled, before turning back to your laptops.

“(Y/N)! i didn’t know you were a hero fan! i mean, ik we don’t talk all that much, but that’s super cool! wait up for me after class i have to hear about your meeting with Spider-Man!!”

“Okay, sounds good!”

You both simultaneously closed your laptops, leaving the only one open Peter’s, still watching the video of Spider-Man. As the bell rang, you walked up to (Y/F/N) and started talking.

“Okay, (Y/N)!” She said, her cheery voice matching all of the exclamation points she used in text, “Tell me all about this spider guy, I need it for my writing!” As she said that, you saw Peter look at you guys, but thought nothing of it, he was a fan too, after all.

As you told her the story of how you met Spider-Man, Peter was behind you the whole time. The three of you shared the next class as well, so it wasn’t weird that he was walking in your same direction, it was weird, however, that he was significantly closer in proximity to the two of you, and clearly listening to you conversation. Once again you wrote it off as not being a big deal.

That night you returned home to a new post from your favorite account. Knowing that it was following the storyline you had come up with in English today, instead of reading, had you anticipating what was to come.

The author’s note read “Hey guys! So today I’m writing another Spider-Man one. I know those of you not from Queens (so most of you) probably don’t want to be reading these, so I’ll get back to my regular scheduled programming as soon as possible, but today I met @(your url) and we had some amazing ideas! Anyways, enjoy!”

You told yourself you were only allowed to read it once you had finished your homework, so you finished your homework as fast as you could, finishing by 11pm, another record, and set to reading. By that time, everybody else in your apartment had gone to sleep, so when you began to read and saw another fluffy part coming up, you resolved to not scream.

That didn’t happen.

Spider-Man had just saved you from yourself, and the demons in your head, sealing the deal with a kiss through the mask and people expected you not to scream? Impossible. So when your parents came running into your room again to make sure you were okay, and were once again met with a sheepish smile, they sighed at you and returned to bed.

As the days went on, you and (Y/F/N) became even closer, coming up with more ideas for stories and working together to find clues as to who your masked hero really was. As the days went on, you also noticed Peter getting more antsy, especially around you. The two of you weren’t friends per se, but you had talked before, and typically said the usual hellos and goodbyes, so when ‘hello’s were traded for shady glances, and ‘have a good day’s were swapped with concerned yet prying eyes, you became concerned too.

Two weeks later you went home and saw (Y/F/N)’s newest post. The fluffiest shit you have ever seen. I mean really. You couldn’t help but scream. After the incidents two weeks prior, your parents decided that your screams weren’t important, and laid there in bed, wondering what the fuck they did wrong (I’m just kidding that’s so mean omg).

One week after that you had resolved that Peter was Spider-Man. You hadn’t told (Y/F/N) the theory yet, because you wanted to gather more evidence, and if it really was Peter, he probably wouldn’t appreciate you going around and telling his secret.

You didn’t realize that that day was the second time you were to meet Spider-Man. You were laying in bed, no new fic today, and ready to sleep when you heard a rustling. Not thinking much of it, you laid there, until you heard someone climb in your opened window. You lived on the 5th floor of the building, nobody would really put that much effort into climbing the fire escape just to rob your shitty apartment, would they?

And then you realized that they weren’t there for money. They wanted something else. Something much worse, and so you let out a scream.

Of course, your parents didn’t come. They had been trained that your screams were a product of joy and not fear, so when they heard it, the both returned to sleep, not thinking of what could possibly be going on. Not thinking that someone unwanted was in the room with their daughter.

The man walked up to you and placed his hand over your mouth, preventing you from screaming again. “I’ve been watching you for a while now,” he said, his voice raspy and his breath vile, “wondering what a pretty girl like you was doing living in this part of the neighborhood. I guess I’ll have to find out.” Before you could even react (and you were going to react, you weren’t someone to just sit there and comply), you heard a familiar voice from right inside the window.

“Well, that’s no way to treat a lady, is it?” It was Spider-Man, your imaginary hero coming to save you in real life, again.

“Who the fuck are you?” the guy asked.

“You’re clearly not the brightest,” quipped Spider-Man, before he shot a web at the guy and pulled him towards the window, and away from you. Quickly tying him up in webs, he looked at you, “I’ll be right back, I promise,” and swung out the window. Coming back, his hands now free of the man he asked you “Are you alright, miss?” in the same way he did the first day you met.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Thank you though. If I had gone with my plan, it would have been a lot messier honestly. He probably would have ended up being shoved out the window,” you admitted with a laugh, still shaken from the events.

“Well hey, it still would have gotten the job done,” he offered, and you could hear the smile in his voice, even if you couldn’t see it.

“So how’d you know he’d be here?” you asked, curious. “I mean, I screamed and all, but I do that a lot, that’s why my parents didn’t come.”

“Wait? Your parents are here and they didn’t come running when they heard their daughter scream? That’s crazy!”

“I mean, I did say I scream a lot. Please don’t question it, it’s a long and embarrassing story.”

“Well now I’ve gotta question it. Sorry, but I don’t make the rules.”

“Ugh, fine, you win. I read a lot online. Like fluffy fanfiction and-stop judging me, I can see the judgment-”

“You can’t even see my face.”

“I know, but I can still feel the judgement, so stop.” He let out a chuckle. “Anyways, I read a lot of that, and sometimes it just overcomes my emotions and I scream. The first few times my parents came running in. They don’t anymore, obviously. But you never answered my question.”

“What do you read the fics about?” He sounded slightly mocking, as if he knew what the answer was, and if you were right about Peter being the man under the mask, he would know.

You tried to hide the blush on your face as you changed the subject. “You answer mine first, and I’ll think about telling you.”

“Well, I saw that guy coming out of an alley. He seemed really shady, so I followed him back. I’ve seen a few conflicts with him-nothing I’d ever had to get involved with-and so I knew he was trouble. He started climbing the fire escape and I didn’t do anything because I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. For all I knew he lost the key to his house and this was his only way in. Obviously my instincts were correct though, so when I heard a scream, I came in to save you.”

“Well, thank you. It really means a lot to me that you’d do that for me. Thank you.” The heat rushing to your face caused the redness to become even more prominent, and Spider-Man raised his eyebrow at that. Obviously you couldn’t see it, but it was happening.

When he sat on the edge of your bed, you were surprised. Weren’t heroes suppose to save you and run off. This wasn’t one of your dumb fanfictions, this was real life. What he was doing didn’t make any sense. You shook your head and pulled yourself back to reality, looking up at the spandex clad hero sat in front of you.

“How’re you doing? I know the last time we met, you were stressing out over school. Ever find a tutor?” he asked. He was serious, but ended it with a joke, trying to make sure you were comfortable.

“Oh, I’m doing okay, school is still my number one priority-”

“As it should be.”

“But I’m not overworking myself. I’ve been taking breaks, helping my friend brainstorm and writing some stuff instead of just wallowing in my own self pity.”

“That’s good,” he said, smiling at you from beneath the mask.

“You’re probably busy, you should head out.”

“Not much crime today,” he said with a shrug.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have stuff to do. You said it yourself, there’s just a kid under that mask. Go home, rest, talk with your family, finish your homework, sleep. There’s things to busy yourself with other than crime. You’re still just a kid, go live your life.”

He stood up and pulled you into a hug. “Thank you, (Y/N). For everything.”

As he let go and climbed out the window, swinging away, you didn’t even notice that he had never asked for your name.

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