ian hearding

Honey Works Just As Well

@lynnialljohnson asked: Loved the latest Ian and Jenny. I think its about time Claire learned something naughty from Jenny! Maybe using a bit of honey to make things sweeter? ;)

Weel! I loved this. So so much. This is a canon divergence where Wentworth didn’t happen and Jamie’s pardon came through. Hope you like it darling!

I walked around the garden, observing the growth of my herbs. They were doing well, I thought. Wiping the dirt off my hands onto my skirts, I turned to the house. I stopped when I heard voices.

“Ian, Come and sit a while. I can see from here how much yer leg pains ye.”

“Ach, dinna fash, Jenny. I’ll be fine.”

“Sit. Down.”

I heard him groan and ease himself onto something. I felt like an intruder, listening to them this way, but these tender moments with Jenny were rare. And I had it on good authority that Jenny herself had observed some of my own interactions with Jamie. Turnabout was fair play, after all.

“Mo maise,” Ian whispered. “Mo ghaol.”

I wandered around the corner, careful to keep out of sight. Ian sat on a wooden bench, his peg leg stretched out to one side. Jenny stood in front of him, looking down at him with a fondness that brought tears to my eyes. No matter how prickly she might be toward me, she loved Ian as deeply as I loved Jamie.

“I wish ye wouldna work so hard, mo luaidh.”

“Aye, I ken that. It’ll be easier now wi’ Jamie and his wife here.”

Jenny’s eyes rolled.

“That wee trollop hasne run a house afore.”


“Aye, Jamie loves her, only God kens why.”

“Janet Murray, that is no way to speak of your good sister.”

Ian’s arms wove around Jenny’s waist, pulling her closer to him. The fondness and adoration in his own eyes was just as deep as hers.

“Ian, ye’ve gone soft. Why the hell would he marry an Englishwoman? After how they’ve treated us?”

“Oh ye just dinna like another woman having power o’er him. And ye can see clear as day that he’d lay down his life for her.”

“Aye… He would.”

“He’s happy, mo nighean dubh. Try and be happy too?”

Jenny’s lips pursed, but she nodded.

“I say again, ye’ve gone soft, Ian Murray.”

“Not all soft,” he said, his mouth pulling into a wolfish smile.

“Oh? Aye, ye’ve a head as hard as Jamie’s.”

I felt my own cheeks flush when Ian’s hands slid down to squeeze Jenny’s backside.

“Ian! What are ye doing?!”

“Fondling my wife’s sweet arse, what does it look like?”

“Here?! Wi’ yer leg hurtin’ ye?”

Ian’s smile grew.

“Ye’ve always taken such great care of me, Jenny. Making me walk again because ye’re so damned stubborn. And look at all the bairns ye’ve given me. I have loved ye all my life, Janet. Coming home to ye takes the pain out of my leg every time.”

“Weel,” she said, brushing hastily at the moisture on her cheeks. “When ye put it like that.”

“Come here, my love,” Ian said, his hands drifting even lower.

I ducked away quickly, not needing to witness what came after such declarations. Without thinking, I went in search of my own husband. 

I’d only told him that I loved him the night before, something I hadn’t expected to say to him. Words of affection weren’t things that came naturally to me, but I could make an effort.

The first place I looked for him was the stable. I found Rabbie putting fresh feed in the stalls.

“Rabbie, have you seen Jamie?”

“Aye, he’s out at the miss, mistress.”

“Has the wheel stopped working again?”

“Aye, mistress. The laird said he’d get it working in no time.”

“Thank you.”

The lad smiled at me and I picked up my skirts to hike out to the mill.

His coat, sporran, and sword belt hung on a peg by the door. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, his broad shoulders flexing as he worked on the wheel. I watched how his kilt swung around his legs, perfectly pleated as always.

He turned around after a moment, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Sassenach! I didna expect to see ye out here.”

“I finished with my planting a little early.”

“Aye? Did Jenny leave ye enough space?”

“Oh plenty. Thank you. It feels good to be working with plants again.”

His smile radiated at me from the darkness of the mill.

“Good! I kent ye’d feel at home here. I’m glad Jenny hasne scart ye off yet.”

“This isn’t my home,” I said, walking toward him.

His face fell and he looked at the ground nodding.

“I ken it isna an easy life, here; that ye’ve things ye miss from your own time. I just thought… Maybe… If I loved ye enough, ye might not miss it s’much.”

I put my hand on his chest, just over his steadily beating heart.

“This place isn’t my home because you are my home, mo ghaol.”

His eyes narrowed for a moment before his smile returned.

“Was that the Gàidhlig?”

“An attempt at it, at least.”

“And where did ye learn that one?”

“Well… You’ve said it. But I heard Ian say it to Jenny.”

He looked happier now.

“We really need to work on your Gàidhlig.”

I took his hands, which had wound around my waist, and placed them on my stomach.

“Perhaps you can teach us.”

He frowned down at me.


“Well me and… our baby.

His eyes went wide as he looked between my face and my stomach.

“A… A… A bairn?”

“Yes. Jamie, I’m pregnant.”

“But ye said…”

“I thought, but…”

“A bairn!”

“We’re going to have a baby!”


“I can’t believe how happy I am!”

He picked me up and swung me around in circles. When he set me back on my feet, he crushed me against the wall with a heated kiss.

“Wait,” he said, pulling back so suddenly I nearly fell.


“Is it… Is it safe? Wi’ the bairn?”

“Is what safe?”

“If we… Ah… Ye ken.”

His hips nudged mine, unconsciously I thought, and I felt the stiffness beneath his kilt.

“Oh yes. It’s hardly bigger than the head of a nail right now.”

“But it’s growing? You’re sure?”

“Yes, I am. My cycle is very regular and I should have bled a few days ago. It’s really happening.”

My bodice sprang open and his hands moved up my torso.

“I thought these were a wee bit larger than usual.”


“More sensitive too.”

His mouth found mine while his hands continued to play with my breasts. I was pressed hard against the wall of the mill, his body nearly trembling beneath my hands.

“Jamie,” I very nearly moaned.

“Aye?” he asked, breathing hard.

I held his face between my hands and looked in straight in the eye.

“I love you.”

“I canna tell you how long I’ve wanted to hear ye say that.”

“I said it just last night, didn’t I?”

“Oh aye, ye did. And it sounds just as good today as it did then.”

He fumbled for a minute with his kilt and my dress until we connected. Both of his eyes closed slowly, his mouth slightly open. I couldn’t resist my urge to kiss him, smiling a little at the sound he made.

“Did you fix the mill?” I asked.

“Why do ye care about the mill just now?” he asked, grinding against me roughly.

“I just don’t want someone walking in on us.”

“Sometimes I think ye talk too much, Sassenach.”

Just as I opened my mouth to complain, he stole it. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d been quite so excited. His body was practically vibrating while he took me, his breath hot on my neck. I surrendered to it, to him.

We hit a soft conclusion together, neither of us needing more than that. He held me to the wall still, both of us breathing heavily from our exertions. But he was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes glittering with joy.

“I can scarcely believe it, Sassenach. A bairn of our own.”

“I can’t believe it either. I think you’re going to be a brilliant father.”

If it was possible, his smile got wider.

“Aye. And I ken the sort of mother you’ll be, my own. You’ll be brilliant as well.”

“Laird? Laird, I’ve the man who can fix the mill here. Are ye still here, laird?”

Jamie groaned and stepped back, helping me shake my skirts back into place. He eyed my open bodice and hastily rushed to the door while I tied myself back up.

“Aye, I’m here. I havena got it working just yet. Something’s still stuck, I think.”

“Aye, I’ll just take a look inside and-”

“No, I think something’s stuck in the wheel again. I’ve just checked inside. Verra weel, I assure ye.”

I bit back my giggle and waited for Jamie to come back. While the other men inspected the mill on the outside, he ducked back in.

“Ye best go now, Sassenach, or I’m like to take ye again. Just thinking of ye breeding wi’ my child… Christ I can hardly take it.”

“Well I’ll leave you to your work then. Perhaps we can talk about this again later?”

“Oh aye. We’ll have to tell Jenny and Ian. They’ll be verra pleased.”

“I’m sure. I’ll see you at dinner then.”

Ian locked his arm around Tana’s neck, crushing the life out of her. She struggled, but as she felt the cold point of a knife against her neck, she knew it was a matter of life and death. Ian’s grip grew tighter as he stuck his thumb brutally up into the air. Tana’s mind was racing. She wished she could scream, but it would not be heard. Ian drew in a deep breath, Tana’s soul quaking with fear. Ian stopped, withdrew the knife, and shrieked “SAY NIGGER”. He drew a pistol from his pink sweater and fired it in the air. Her fans were panicking as gunshots rang throughout the building. One fan, a black girl, tried to run, but Ian aimed his gun and shot her in the back of the knee. She tried to crawl to safety screaming with her final breaths, but Ian aimed another shot directly at her head. Blood gushed forth from the girl, and Ian laughed maniacally, flecks of red dotting his face. Tana could only watch in horror as Ian shot down countless fans and security guards, shouting “NIGGER” with each deadly blow. He began to flee the building, leaving blood and entrails in his wake. At the last moment, he looked back at Tana, who was paralyzed with terror. She could see the insanity in his eyes beneath glasses stained with blood. His nasal voice chilled her to the core of her being as he whispered these horrifying words: “What are you, fucking gay?”

Fic-a-Day in May - Day 4

Based on a prompt: Can you please write a really fun and happy and sappy Ian and Mickey PDA heavy story?

Based on a prompt: Ian doesn’t like how much Mickey swears, so they make up a little rule. Every time Mickey swears he has to give Ian a cute little kiss.

It was no secret that Mickey had somewhat of a potty-mouth.

Ian could appreciate that he had something to swear about, and obviously sometimes the situation called for it, but Mickey used the word ‘fuck’ like a verb. It made up nearly fifty per-cent of his vocabulary. Or at least it seemed that way.

The more Ian heard it, the more he wondered if Mickey even knew he was doing it.

On one afternoon, where Mickey had something to fucking say about every-fucking-thing, Ian proposed a challenge. Every time Mickey cursed, he had to give Ian a kiss, no matter where they were.

Of course, Mickey’s first reaction was to tell him to ‘fuck off’, but after some convincing (and the promise of sexual extra-curricular activities) Mickey agreed to the ‘stupid fucking thing’.

Ian smirked as Mickey got up on his toes to peck Ian’s bottom lip.

At first he struggled with it, Ian counting the number of swears in a sentence and Mickey would roll his eyes, cupping Ian’s face with his hands and kissing him the exact amount required and not once more.

Ian thoroughly enjoyed it, the feel of Mickey’s lips against his own and the adorable little face Mickey made when Ian pointed out to him that he owed him a large sum of kisses. It was a mix of exasperation and annoyance, with a twinkle in his eye that made Ian think that maybe he was enjoying it too.

One afternoon they were out at the Gallagher’s place. It was summer, the pool was open for business and they were all in great need of some stress relief.

Ian sat on the back porch steps as Mickey fetched them both a beer, coming back not long after.

“Nice day, huh?” Ian said as he took the beer from Mickey’s hand.

“Who knew Chicago had fuckin’ heat waves?” Mickey said and Ian just gave him a smile. “Oh come on, enough with that bullshit.”

“That’s twice Mick, you better watch your language if you’re getting tired of this,” he grinned and Mickey rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up,” he said, sitting down with him and leaning in to kiss him.

He sat in the gap between Ian’s legs, the hand without the beer clinging gently to his neck as his parted lips closed the gap between them. They lingered, not long enough to sink into, but long enough that Ian began to think that he really was enjoying it. He pulled them away once, and then again, delivering his three kisses with a fond smile and an affectionate brush of their noses.

“Hey, PG thirteen please?” Lip said from inside the pool and Mickey held up his middle finger.

“This is PG, ain’t like I’m mounting him on the fucking steps,” he said.

“Never know with the two of you, could be getting there,” Lip said.

“I counted one more,” Ian said softly and Mickey shook his head.

“Oh you heard one more did you?” he muttered, kissing him again, only this time he parted his lips and closed his eyes.

Ian did the same, letting Mickey’s lips lead as their mouths opened up and their tongues danced for barely a moment before Mickey was pulling away with red blushing cheeks.

“What have you fucking done to me?” Mickey asked.

“Oh come on, admit it, you like this,” Ian said, wrapping an arm around him to hold him closer.

Mickey squirmed a little, “You’re really fucking enjoying this aren’t you?”

“You’re not?”

Mickey narrowed his eyes, leaning in to give Ian the two more kisses he owed him.

“Jesus, are you two ever not doing that?” Kev asked as he wandered into the backyard with some more beer. “V’s right, we’re gonna have to get the hose on the two of you.”

“Oh let ‘em be, they’re young and in love,” V said, coming in close behind him. “I just said that when they were all ready to jump one another in the bar.”

Mickey’s cheeks flushed hot and he put a hand to his head as he tried to hide it.

“Alright well maybe tell ‘em to stop being so annoyingly happy,” Kev said and Fiona let out a snort of laughter.

“Oh come on, it’s adorable,” she said and Ian just squeezed Mickey a little tighter, placing a soft kiss to his temple.

“You’re all assholes, you know that,” Mickey said and they all either grinned or, in Lip’s case, flipped him off.

“You owe me so many kisses, you suck at keeping it clean,” Ian whispered in his ear.

“I can save ‘em up if you want,” he said with a smirk. “Give ‘em to you all in one go, might make you forget about keepin’ it clean.”

“Oh you’re that good at it are you?” Ian mumbled against his ear.

“Did I say they’d all be on your fucking mouth?”

“That was one more.”

“Shut up and come here,” Mickey said, pulling Ian in and kissing him again, finally having to admit that maybe he did like it after all.

Stolen Kisses

A/N: Hey lovelies! I know I’ve been gone forever, but the fact that I’ve reached 500+ followers in my absence made me realize that I owe you guys so much! Thank you for continuing to like/reblog/comment on my works. My ask box is always open so please don’t hesitate to send me your awesome prompts/requests/ideas. My muse feeds off of your energy so send away. Hope you like this one! xoxo

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ian gallagher had long since given up keeping an eye on his timer. just when it got down to a few days, or even a few short hours, it would jump up to a few weeks, or even several months. he didnt know why it did that, he had never really heard of it happening often. usually fate knew when you were going to meet your soul mate. he was taking a moment to sip his coffee, breakfast bar in his hand, having just arrived to work, when his name was being called. apparently an inmate had gotten in a bit of a fight over… jello? ian couldnt have heard that right. he set down his coffee and breakfast bar, heading to the infirmary. only when he reached up to take the chart the guard was handing him, did he see his timer had gone down from a whopping two years, to three seconds. in a panic, green eyes flickered up to catch a blue hair, twinkling with danger, and self-delight.

“mikhailo milkovich?” ian read off the name. it was his first week here, and spent the first few days in training about how to deal with inmates. the guard looked at ian, confused. he had the inmates chart in front of him, why was he asking? “uh-over here.” ian walked over to  one of the beds so he could check the criminal out for any injuries. the gallagher looked at the other’s arm, seeing the 00:00:00 as well. oh fuck.


Drunk giggly Mickey booping Ian’s nose for grumpyvich. That is all.

Ian enjoyed getting Mickey drunk. It wasn’t because it was easier to take advantage of him or something gross like that (like some people seemed to think… coughLipcough), but because Mickey was so goddamn cute when he drunk. Downright adorable, actually. Of course, Ian valued his head where it was, placed safely on top of his shoulders, so he never said anything about it.

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Ok so I’ve had a nice long six hours of sleep and I’ve thought about it, and I still don’t understand how the writers could fuck up so badly.

First of all, Monica had just told Ian to go out and find someone who loves him. Ian comes home, and Mickey comes r  u n n i n g to him. Mickey tells Ian that he loves him (assuming Ian never heard the voicemail, this is the first time Ian’s heard it.) Mickey tells Ian that he loves him and literally recites marriage vows to him, and as much as I loved Ian saying that he’s not broken and doesn’t need to be fixed, Mickey has never once tried to fix him. All Mickey’s done this season is care for Ian even after his diagnosis.

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A Day with Grace

For @youmeanwheniwasdoingmyjob & @thepriceoffreedomishigh

Gracelynn and Steve were having their share of problems since she’d opened by accident in her drunken pain about her jealousy of Sharon. She knew Steve would never understand that despite them being so close once he knew them both, there had been a rift there for a while until the mess with her ex and losing the baby. That had started the beginning of fixing their relationship, but the jealousy wasn’t something that could actually be tossed aside once it had happened. Grace had been able to suppress it though, always happy her cousin had found happiness with Steve even if it had been short lived.

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“It’s been two days.” Mickey thought. The past few days were blurry for him, mainly because he was sleeping throughout. His appetite went down, his heart sank on the floor, thinking about how Ian is. Svetlana understood him, because she knew that he loved him. Heck, when she heard the ‘L’ word for the first time, her heart ached. She tried to occupy him with baby Yev, but he’s still not nudging. Well, at the very least, he got a call from him last night. It was good to hear his voice.

“So, how are you holding up?” He asked. 

“I’ve been better.” Ian replied. His shaky voice hints Mickey that he wasn’t okay.

“You sure?” He asked for assurance.

“Yeah.” Mickey’s tears started racing down his pale cheeks.

“I can’t wait to see you.” Ian heard Mickey’s voice crack.

“Me too.” Mickey can hear a smile on Ian’s voice.

“Hope you’re not fucking anyone in there.” He tried to joke so that Ian could feel better.

“Well, I’m not.” Ian said in a sarcastic tone.



And that was it. A very short call. Mickey wondered how the Gallaghers are so damn calm. They told him that he’ll be alright because they have seen Monica do worse things. But he couldn’t just cope up with everything. He hasn’t seen anything like this before. It’s like, everything was perfect; he came out, Ian and him are living together. And then these bad things started to happen. He was scared, not because he was worried that Ian would leave him, but because he loved him, and he didn’t want anything except Ian, forever.

Ian, on the other hand was confused. His emotions are strong enough that he could hear everyone’s voices at night as the lights turn out. He could hear Lip and Fiona arguing, Debbie’s whining while Carl’s making fun of her, and Liam’s clueless laugh. He could hear Frank’s annoying voice, but he certainly speaks the truth. He could hear Kev and Vi, Mandy, and most especially, Mickey.

He can hear him. His soft, but strong, raspy, tired voice before they go to bed. He can feel him too. His tender hug as they spend the night together. He could feel Mickey’s warm breath against the back of his neck while he’s sleeping, and the smell of the air coming out from his nose that turns him on. Ian started to cry. “Any day now.” He closed his eyes and held the pillow closer to his face.

 "I’m sorry.“ He tried not to cry but he just can’t hold it in. He was stupid, he was being stupid. Then he heard Monica’s voice, "It’s okay. We’re gonna get through this. I assure you.” Even though he hated Monica, he somehow loved her. “But… I don’t want to run away from anybody.” He tried to reply. “That’s why you’re here. Because you want to be better. Because you are better than me. Because you want what’s best for everybody. Because you are not selfish.” She replied as her voice faded away. “I love you, mom.” He murmured and fell asleep.

I just realized

Wanna now what I just realized? I never heard Ian and Anthony say that they weren’t dating or that Ianthony isn’t real, I mean Anthony says like “You can’t force someone to be gay” and blah blah blah but I never heard they say those exact same words like “We’re not dating” or “Ianthony isn’t real”…


Mark Strong has described how honoured he was when he heard Sir Ian McKellen called him “the greatest living actor in England right now”.

“That is an unbelievable compliment and I hope he wasn’t being mischievous when he said it,” said Mark, who worked with Sir Ian in theatre in the 1990s.

He went on: “He is one of my great inspirations because he is such a consummate actor and I would definitely say some of the reason I’ve got any idea what to do in this business is because of him.”