LAST — the most recently written two sentences of my current project. Thank you for the ask!
Project Title: I came in from the wilderness ( a creature void of form)
Fandom: Vanitas no Carte
Characters: Roland Fortis and Olivier
There is a scream building up in his chest and he presses his fist against his mouth, bending forward as if to swallow the sound before it emerges. It does anyway, a high-pitched and nearly silent thing, nothing more than a long exhale that carries with it the faintest trace of his panic.
"Tell me I have nothing to worry about" for the fic thing, Ian x mickey please?
Two jealous Ian’s in these prompts tonight, because I need some jealous Ian. Mickey is a fucking catch and Ian deserves to feel like he could lose him, because he could if he fucks up again. (I’m talking like they’re still together. Fuck.) Anyways, Ian needs to be the one to feel the jealousy now.
~
Fuck, fuck. He’ll be here soon. Why am I acting like this? I pulled this shit. Porno, bare backed porn. I did that to him. What if he’s riding that suited slick Northside fucker into oblivion without a raincoat? He could do it to him, but he wouldn’t. But he’s not Ian’s little puppy. He’s Ian’s partner, his equal. Ian can’t shake the thought of his boyfriend’s perfect ass letting someone else inside. It’s not plausible.
He bites into his nail bed, pacing back and forth. Was he too much? Does Mickey need someone more, something more? Less intense? Around the next ruffling his toes make across the new carpet they laid down in Mickey’s place, Ian hears his keys opening the front door. Ian watches him turn, kick it shut, a pile of food bags tucked into his arms. Ian’s brimming with everything, with self-control losing out, emotions first. It’s how Ian always was, even before he got sick. It’s toppling out of his mouth before Mickey can get a word in edge wise.
“Tell me I have nothing to worry about, Mickey, please,” Ian pleads, disregarding his pathetic state.
He crosses into the kitchen where Mickey dumps the food onto their small dining room table set, his hands tucking into his sweat pockets so Mickey can’t see him pinching his fingernails into his palms, scraping the skin as a coping mechanism. He should’ve known though. Mickey knows him better than anyone ever has or ever will, most likely, so he’s concerned the moment his eyes land on Ian’s twitching wrists, concern seeping out of him like blood from an oozing wound. Ian struggles to maintain eye contact at the careful, panicked look Mickey tries to reign in. He knows what question is coming. He knows how hard it is for anyone to ask, for Mickey especially, given how Ian fucked him over one too many times just for caring. Ian would probably be the same if the roles were reversed.
“I’m gonna ask, and you’re not gonna freak like a bitch on me, you got it? But did you take your meds, Ian?”
“Don’t talk down to me like that! Can’t I just be fucking upset, Mickey, huh? Coming home late,” Ian barks out, seething, hissing. Why did he act like a spoilt child?
Mickey recoils with wide eyes as if he’s been bitten, before striking back.
“So am I supposed to walk on egg shells around your ass or not? You get mad when I do, and pissed when I don’t. Fuckin’ say what you mean, man. Excuse my ass for getting concerned when you pull this out of the blue. God damn.” Mickey’s huffing by the time it’s all out, and Ian immediately chokes on his regret. His voice softens, his posture straightens.
“I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.” Ian struggles to formulate an answer that doesn’t sound stupid, but they all blanch out into the same result.
“I know it bugs you when I ask, but c’mon, alright? Work with me here, Gallagher. Ian.” Mickey’s voice swaps his name around, tone softening considerably.
“You’re late, and I just…. worry that sometimes this is all too much. That everything is gonna come back to you and you’ll want out, or I’ll fuck it up.” Ian says it so fast, yet so slow that Mickey cups his neck, thumb stroking his cheek.
“Tell me I have nothing to worry about?” Ian asks again, doe eyed and vulnerable, nails pinching his skin so hard it almost breaks apart. But someone swoops in and drags his hands out by the wrists, pinning them together and bringing them up to their lips, kissing gently.
“You know you don’t, fuckhead. But you gotta stop having a panic attack if I’m tangled up. My first priority is my first stop, and that’s comin’ home to your freckled ass, you got it?”
They go forehead to forehead, Ian smiling gently. Yeah, he’s beyond lucky.
“i can’t stop picturing you with him/her ” for that jealousy fic meme :)
Ian flicks his fingers over the rim of his glass, nails tapping rapidly. He risks another look across the bar towards where his partner stood, smiling that smile that has Ian by the balls and the heart. Mickey nudges the dude, moving away once he notices Ian staring, sharing a discarded friendly wave with the stranger. Ian goes back to pretending to be interesting in some random game Mickey downloaded on Ian’s phone.
Mickey settles down and isn’t afraid to pat Ian’s knee. He’s long past giving a fuck with most public displays of affection. Ian waits, then waits, waits some fucking more before he can’t stand it, his voice coming out a little harsher than intended.
“Who’s the snazzy upside guy?”
Mickey’s brows throttle near his hairline, he grins mid-drink, looking Ian over.
“I just can’t stop picturing you with him. How at ease you looked with some stranger. Whatever, it’s stupid.”
Ian. Mickey’s using his full name, knowing damn well what it does to him. Though, Ian feels like an asshat, assclown, all other asses in the category for feeling this pathetically jealous and possessive. He’s done much worse to Mickey. Made a living for their family that summer as he continued down at the club. It’s just so foreign to him that he wasn’t able to control himself better this time.
Or not, he thinks, looking his boyfriend over.
Mickey is the biggest catch in the fucking state, hell, the world. He’s rough around the edges but soft in the heart. He’d do anything for anyone he loves, and Ian admires and loves him with everything he’s got. And now, now that Mickey had given Ian a second chance to be a better boyfriend, Ian realizes how much he’s not willing to let his life with Mickey Milkovich go.
He’s indulged in a comfortable smile that makes Mickey look even more confused, muttering about how Ian has PMS too much. But it’s a tease. Vee passes Mickey on the way by their table, thwacking him across the nape of his neck for the sexist comment. Ian can only watch in a daze. Hell fucking yes he’s jealous. Because anyone could be better for Mickey, anyone would want him. But Ian has him.
Soon as Mickey turns back around, Ian is looking at him shyly, but firmly airing confidence, as he says, “I love you.”
“How many fuckin’ suitcases do we need? The fuck you baggin’ all this shit like a girl for?” Mickey groans, lugging yet another battered duffle into the back of his sister Mandy’s jeep he was granted permission to borrow.
“Wait until you see what’s in there,” Ian remarks, leaning in to kiss Mickey’s forehead whilst tossing the final bag into the back without flinching.
“Make me carry the heavy load like a jackass, huh, Gallagher?”
“I’ll make up for it by taking you over that threshold,” Ian says, flashing a way too cheeky wink. But Mickey regards it fondly as his newfound taste. A lot of dorky ass things his boyfriend did appealed to him in ways he still wasn’t expecting.
“Should fuckin’ blue ball you the whole weekend.” Mickey thinks he grumbles it to himself, but Ian swats him on the ass to let him know that he actually hasn’t.
“No fucking in the car. Stains are too hard to get out. It’s like a public toilet seat. Your asses better be clothed when they’re on these seats.” Mandy directs, tossing the keys to her brother, flipping her blond hair behind her shoulders.
“You wouldn’t ever know anyways. Mr. Full fucking House over here can spot a blacklight stain and have it out in like five minutes.” Mickey snorts, flipping his disgruntled sister both birds, not waiting for Ian as he pops himself in the driver’s side of the jeep.
Mandy gives Ian her best seething look, silently warning before the verbal threat comes out in a command.
“Your roadtrip up to that cabin better be rub free, got it?”
I’m having way too much fun. Though is there anything as such when you’re into what you’re writing, and it’s festive Ian and Mickey? I don’t think so! ^_^
~
“Hell no! What the fuck was that?” Mickey hisses, gripping his abused toe from the abrupt stub.
He props himself against the couch, nursing the small fucker. The flashlight tucked into the crook of his arm is wigging the fuck out on him, pissing him off. All he’s got to go on is flickering lights in the piece of shit.
“Don’t forget the ice cream. Wait, what the fuck was that?” Is the momentarily disoriented voice of Ian Gallagher, Mickey’s partner.
Mickey rolls his eyes, shaking the flashlight so hard to battery slams around in the plastic thing. “I just fuckin’ said that, asswipe.”
Ian’s footsteps are heavy, his frame guided by their zippo lighter when he comes into view, clad in navy blue sweat pants, his feet and chest bare. Mickey’s shaken a little by how some other appendage starts to throb. He shakes himself roughly, sassing Ian by a jamming pointer finger to his foot, then to the table behind him.
“Want me to kiss it better, baby?” Ian grins, goading Mickey with the pet name he secretly loves, and parts serious about it. He’s already bent down, fingers stroking across the top of Mickey’s foot, thumbing at his big toe. Mickey laughs, shaking his head.
“Go get your ice cream before it melts, bitch.”
“The power hasn’t been out that long, has it?” Ian quips in a question, sighing as he slides back up into a standing position.
“F’ it fuckin’ rains and isn’t bone dry around this shithole, then yeah, maybe it won't be.” Mickey shrugs, banging the light on his palm, causing Ian to raise a red brow.
“Hmm, I’m all sticky in the meantime. No way to plug in a fan, no light to take a cold shower with. Any suggestions?”
“Don’t jizz all over yourself or eat ice cream in the bed?” Mickey smirks, Ian’s jaw dropping slack a little.
He grips Mickey by the collar of his sleeveless elephant t-shirt, bringing him flush against his sweaty chest.
“Power outage my ass.”
“You’re not gettin’ in mine just because of one,” says Mickey, already biting his bottom lip between his teeth, well aware of the swell building in Ian’s sweats.
“It can eat my ass,” Ian retorts.
“Mhm, maybe I’ll let you do that.” Mickey agrees, Ian diving at him.
there are so many to choose from! omg, i think i'm gonna go with fireworks (:
Ian x Mickey smut. Ahhhh, humor too. I’m feeling quite festive and inspired. Lmao, I hope this’ll do? :)
~
Colors danced behind his closed lids, knuckle deep grips fisted the sheets in his hold. Mickey arches all he’s got into the fuck-back, giving his partner of several years more to go on. With the summer heat, the approaching holiday, Mickey is feeling fucking festive with a fierceness, only one specific cock able to boost his spirits into the whole she-bang. He grumbles, which ends up sounding like a pathetic gargle of jacked off obscenities. Ian’s musing behind him, slapping his ass with a brutal, relentless hand. Fucking bitch ass giant.
He’s pretty sure he hears Ian mumble that he’s taking it like a slut, but he regards the filth spewing from the ginger’s mouth with nothing but sheer pleasure. He is, he admits it. Wantonly arching a little extra, teasing, bearing down on his muscles to milk that nine inches for all it’s worth. Mickey’s geared to go and nothing is gonna stop him. He beckons Ian by jolting back so hard the impact his thighs make slapping Ian’s hips vibrates throughout the room. Ian’s cock is forcefully slammed into that spot inside him that has him seeing stars - power granting mission momentarily halted.
As if he’s cartoon knocked dazed himself, Mickey literally has to shake his head, burying it into the heat of the blanket that keeps catching on his wrists each time Ian drives into him. Ian must’ve been injected with the desired effect, his loud whine, biting slap into Mickey’s overly abused ass cheek the one cue Mickey doesn’t need. He just knows how a fucked out Ian Gallagher operates when he’s loosing it during sex. Mickey is grinning, smirking even, discarding the cocoon of blanket material to press his flushed cheek against it.
“God dammit, Mickey. Fucker,” Ian says, gasping for breath he can’t seem to find.
Mickey knows they both need a several second time out, or their loads will be blown all over the previously freshly made bed - they said they wouldn’t fuck on, going for the floor (but some things don’t work out like that, ergo, Mickey paws too much to get good enough grips on Ian against a wall, Ian struggles to keep still with Mickey talking like he does, clenching his ass around Ian’s cock in that puzzle piece way.) Apparently, Ian’s not giving a fuck, his hips impatiently bumping at Mickey’s backside.
“Go ahead. Give me that cock,” Mickey barks out, the command roughed around with the saliva gathering in his mouth.
He licks his lips right in time to feel Ian propel himself back into their previous rhythm, holding onto Mickey like he’s his lifeline. Mickey reaches back to grip Ian’s left hand, lifting the fingers to his pushing mouth, his neck protesting the bending position, but he ignores it, bringing the freckled digits past his lips, using all that excess moisture on sucking. Ian tastes like that cake flavored lube he’d bought them, like Mickey, like himself. And Mickey god damn loves it.
He moans around the fingers, teeth scraping Ian’s nail bed, biting down on the pad of his thumb. Ian’s groan seems to smack him in the stomach, his abs flexing, Mickey’s lower back getting the action that movement brings. He sighs deeply, so close and ready to tell Ian he wants to come. Needs to get there. He starts to try and talk through his hoarse voice. And that’s the exact moment a loud ass noise erupts right outside the window perched by Ian’s bed. Mickey scrambles across that fucker so fast he winces at his cock’s uncomfortable tightening.
Ian’s just there. On the bed. On his knees. Gaping at the window, he pinches the blind apart, snorting. Mickey is embarrassed, body flushing in an unwelcomed way the second he figures out the loud noise was a too close fire cracker fired off right onto the roof of the Gallagher house. He’s pissed, shaking, annoyed at Ian looking at him, rubbing his dick expectantly. Mickey thumbs his lip, shaking his head.
“That really didn’t piss you off, man?”
“Why you worried about some cheap ass fireworks when I was already giving you the most spectacular fourth of July show in my bed?” Ian all but giggles, all but fucking giggles at his own lame ass pick up line.
Mickey is exasperated, flagging erection making him want to sock Ian in his. He slumps down onto the bed, lighting a cigarette in what he thinks is the most irritated pose he can muster, but Ian’s got that look he gets when Mickey does something that he refers to as ‘puppy cuddling a newborn baby kitten’ cute.
“Can’t a guy fuckin’ have a dick up his ass in peace around here?”
Ian, hard as the grand canyon, is smiling like a fucking dork, descending between Mickey’s legs, taking him into his mouth. The Gallagher’s let off another firework outside, the crackling ashes splattering outside the window, damaging the worn roof shingles, collecting shadows on the messy red hair Mickey pulls on. Okay, yeah, fireworks aren’t so bad.
My typical you-fic is one that is focused on the ship, but with a lot of plot and world building. I don’t care about how many tropes and clichés there are in it, I would just love reading/writing something like this. For example, a Hartwin fic with a whole plot, be it an au or a canon universe fic, which has missions, friends relationships, family, but also a loooot of hartwin moment in it. I just love it.
4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?
I have a damn list, look at it: -Pirates of the Caribbean!Kingsman Hartwin AU-Rise of the Guardians!Kingsman Hartwin AU-Werewolf pack!Kingsman AU-Little Red Riding Hood!Teen Wolf Sterek AUThese are the main ones. I’ve got also a couple of soul mates hartwin au. And of course I want to finish the stories I’ve already shared on tumblr and AO3 as soon as possible.
11. Is writing a passion or just a fun hobby?
Writing for me is a passion. I love it, I’m good at it, and basically… It gives me life. My nightmares, my pain, my sorrow, I can forget everything just writing something, especially if fluffy and sweet. I just love it, it helps me a lot and it makes me feel something I never thought I would while reading a book, and because of that, I write. I write to pass my emotions to my reader, to make them feel something. If I do, then I’ll the writer I’ve always wanted to be.
I edited a bit the answer because the tumblr app on my phone fucked it up. @teamfreeswag
