You 🙋🏻♀️ Alan 🧓🏻 Food 🍝 Sex 🍆 Now 🕛
A collective of one-shots and imagines
Sometimes domestic fluff
Sometimes smut
Sometimes fights
Always Alan
It's good, I promise!
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#1...
A/N: Guys, I'm gonna be honest. I ran out of ideas, so the inspiration for this one came from a Sherlock fanfic I read way back in 2016 where Mycroft and the reader had to babysit. It's called Babysitting Hamish by freckleslikeconstellations on Archive of our Own. It's not completely the same as I did change a whole lot and added way more detail.
I hope you like it. 10 200+ words!! 🎉 ______________________________________
The newspaper crinkles between Alan's thick hands as he attempts to read the Sports section of The Sunday Times. He just finished his breakfast consisting of scrambled eggs and toast, before relaxing in the breakfast nook with his newspaper and cup of scalding hot tea.
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He's been iffy the whole morning considering what today's activities hold for the couple. Mind you, (Y/N) might not be in a better mood either after last night's harsh exchange of words.
Speaking of, she enters the kitchen, giving a quick glance in Alan's direction, before grabbing a bowl from the cupboard and placing it on the white wooden island.
Sensing her presence, but not wanting to let her know he's watching, he peers over the top of the newspaper to take in the sight of her.
It's still a bit chilly, but not freezing, so she opted for her grey Levi's sweatshirt, a pair of white converse, and a pair of faded ripped jeans - jeans that hug her body and accentuate her curves in all the right places. Not a usual outfit but since it's a casual Sunday, it will suffice.
(Y/N) turns around to grab the Frosted Flakes cereal from the pantry causing Alan to hide behind his newspaper quickly before clearing his throat and murmuring, "I still don't know why you volunteered our services."
"I wouldn't expect you to," she says in a tight voice before grabbing the milk from the fridge and a spoon from the top drawer.
Alan lowers his paper and looks over at her. He immediately notices as she rolls her neck indicating the tightness in her shoulders.
Probably from all the stress.
He notes the way her eyebrows frown slightly as she absentmindedly opens the box and removes the washing peg from the folded inner sleeve, which usually happens when she's deep in thought.
Clearly, she's troubled.
After pouring the golden flakes into the bowl, she sets out to pour the milk but pauses in between pouring.
Clearly, more troubled than I thought.
Just as she was about to tip more milk into the bowl, her hand falters again before she continues to complete the task of preparing her breakfast.
"If you're not feeling well, my love, I can always ring Sheila and tell her to cancel," he offers sincerely.
