#THIS IS ACTUALLY THE EXTREMELY SELF INDULGENT COMIC I HAD THOUGHT UP BACK ON KISS DAY LAST YEAR

[bluecaeriart]

when you go to surprise your fiancé and take him on an adventure but he's so work-tired, thrilled to see you and ecstatic to go on an adventure with you he forgets where he is (￣︶￣)

WITH A BONUS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR.  they are literally married your honor

[imagine-that-100]

Why No Answer? | Part 2 |

Description of Part 1: Alex Turner x Reader (Female) | You’re woken up in the middle of the night to find Alex drunk and high on your doorstep. Looking after him proves to be a tiring and revealing ordeal.

Word Count: 12.8k

Warnings: Angst (from the past) but lots of fluff.

A/N: So this was requested by the lovely @psychkunox​, really hope you enjoy this. I don’t know what happened, but I got very carried away with the word count yet again sorry about that ahha. I would recommend watching the Restaurant scene from When Harry Met Sally either before or after you read. It’s quite comical and will give you more context. Anyway though, Likes, Reblogs, and Feedback is always appreciated, but thank you all for reading, I really hope you all enjoy xx

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Read Part 1: | Here | 

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“Al stop.” You scorn him in a whisper as he once again kisses the back of your neck as you stand in the queue for Space Mountain.  

You really tried not to indulge in the feeling of his lips on your skin because it was an extremely addicting sensation. But you were in public, in Disney World of all places where everyone had their phones and cameras out, and the band were all standing in front of you in the queue.

“Alex.” You whisper shout again and pull yourself out of the hold he had on your hips when you felt him do it again.

You turn around and shake your head when you note the mischief in his eyes and the slight smirk gracing his pretty lips. You wanted nothing more to have them on your own in such a beautiful place but that couldn’t happen since you both decided you wanted to keep your relationship between yourselves for a while longer.

You were their photographer which meant that you didn’t want things to get weird with them on tour. And after you and Alex both decided to keep your relationship on the downlow when you initially started going out with each other, you sort of wanted to keep it that way, so nothing changed the dynamic of your group.  

You were only 2 years younger than Matt and Alex, 3 years younger than Jamie and Nick, so you’d always been pretty close with them all. You thought of them all as your brothers as you were growing up as Alex had gone to the same primary school as you and Matt and they had been best mates since the beginning.

They met Jamie and Nick in High School along with Andy who was obviously initially in the band, before he stepped down and Nick took over. They had always been your family who’d taken good care of you and you knew just how lucky you were to have them all.

But obviously to them you’d always been Matt’s little, and sometimes annoying, sister. When they were 14/15 they all wanted nothing to do with you and you were certain Alex had hated you once upon a time, but that might have been because you were a 12 year old who’d started growing up having crushes on all of your brothers friends.

Thankfully they didn’t disown you completely as when you reached the less annoying age of 15, they didn’t seem to push you out as much. You liked hanging out with all of them, and you saw them more because they always had to come to your house because Matt couldn’t move the drum kit unless it was for a gig.  

You’d always liked music as it had always been an escape for you. Like when the band were first starting out when you’d go up to your bedroom to escape the utter shit music they were making, and you’d have your Pulp and Blur records on.

There was a new band you actually introduced them too at the time which was The Strokes, which is comical in hindsight because if you’d never told Alex and Matt to listen to that record when they caught you humming along to Barely Legal, you weren’t sure Alex would have had the motivation to keep the band going and get it as big as they had become.

It wasn’t a secret that Alex’s hero was Julian Casablancas.

A few years later the band was getting bigger and the excitement in your household at them potentially making it big was intense. So much so that your Mum and Dad threw a party for them all when they got scouted and got the record deal.

It was at that party that Matt and Alex drunkenly agreed to let you be their photographer as soon as you were done with your photography apprenticeship. It was something they never forgot though and they did actually let you become their photographer.

So as soon as your apprenticeship finished in the summer of 2006, your 18-year-old self joined the lads on their tour. To say it was a dream come true would be an understatement.

Both you and Matt had loved photography your entire lives, stemming from when your Grandma bought you both a digital camera each one year for Christmas. Since then, it’d become your passion and your plan was to be a photographer anyway.

But being the photographer for Arctic Monkeys meant that you got to travel the world and see places you never thought you would, and you never got home sick because you already had your family around you.

You honestly adored your job.

In the breaks between their tours and them writing new material you would take other photography jobs in the years off, but that didn’t really happen for the first four years of them all being big.

Alex asked Domino if you could do their The Age of the Understatement tour too which you were surprised by, but of course you did it. A job was a job and you weren’t going to turn it down just because your brother wasn’t there.

Usually on the tours you’d stay in a separate bus from the lads because after the first week into the first tour you joined them on you saw what an absolute shit tip they all created. They were all revolting and all typical lads, being messy, every other sentence was a sex joke, and they were just revolting creatures.

To you it was genuinely a surprise they actually showered after every gig.

But thankfully with the years passing and being on tour busses became a constant for them instead of something new and exciting, they all got better. So, their Suck It And See tour was the first full tour you’d actually stayed in the bus with them.

Although sometimes you wished you hadn’t because that tour was where he met Breana and you definitely heard things you’d never want to hear again. You don’t know how the other lads weren’t scarred from the noises that came out of Matt’s bunk those nights.

All you had to say about it was thank god for earphones and ear defenders.

But you think it was on that tour that you started getting closer to Alex and the other lads. Mostly due to Matt being a love stuck puppy who spent most of his time with Breana but also because you didn’t want to burden him with your emotions.

About a month before the Suck It And See tour started in the February of 2011, your arsehole of a boyfriend texted you saying that he didn’t want to see you anymore. He was an arsehole for doing it over text and then not answering your calls afterwards, but he was an even bigger arsehole for getting with who you thought was your best friend as soon as the tour started.

Matt and the lads obviously knew about the breakup but due to them all having no social media none of them knew what your best friend had done to you. So, you cried about that betrayal in your bunk at night when you knew everyone else was asleep and you cried when you found moments of solitude.

They had enough going on with interviews and tours and you didn’t want them to burden them with your issues too. But that stopped when Alex walked in on your crying in the back lounge of the bus about a month into the tour.

Your ex best friend had just posted a picture of her and your ex who you still had the misfortune of having feelings for and you just crumbled. When you saw it you just couldn’t bear the thought of being around anyone else, so you slipped out of their presence and cried your way back to the tour bus.

Thankfully no one followed you in your time of crisis which meant that you got your uncontrollable sobs out of the way alone. But of course, someone came back to the bus and found you.

And that person was Alex.

He’d come back for another pack of fags needing the extra nicotine in the hours before a show. But all thoughts of that stopped when he heard crying come from the back end of the bus.

He walked past the bunks and opened the door into the back lounge to find you sat on the floor with your head buried into your knees and sobs were ringing in his ears. His heart dropped at the sight.

“Y/N what's wrong?” Alex asks, rushing over to you.

And when you didn't answer he called your name again. “Y/N?”

But you just shake your head and continue sobbing into your knees. So he begs, “Please talk to me, love”

He was kneeling down beside you, his hand coming to the back of your head as if to slowly coax you out of your hiding stop. And after stroking the back of your head for a minute, your head rises from your hiding spot but your eyes remain shut and you continue to sob.

Alex tries his best to coax you out of your sobs but you’re pretty much hyperventilating in front of him. After another one of the longest minutes of Alex’s life he manages to get you to slow your cries enough for words to fall from your lips.

“My life’s falling apart” You sob, still refusing to look at him. Your breathing is better but still erratic when you continue to tell him in a pain stricken voice, “I can’t carry on crying myself to sleep like this every night... I- I just want to feel normal again”

“What’s happened? Why are you upset?” Alex begs for you to tell him, ripping the tears from under your eyes.

The only thing that comes to mind is your previous relationship, so Alex asks, “Is it about your ex?”

You nod, tears still pouring down your eyes, “He’s taken everything Alex... My life is fucking ruined”

“No he hasn’t Y/N. You’re here, you’ve got us” He tries to assure you, but you just shake your head.

After a second you open your watery eyes and Alex can see how much pain they hold. They somehow contain even more when you speak the words out loud, “He’s going out with Y/B/F.”

Even Alex’s blood runs cold when he hears that. His words almost get caught in his throat when he asks, “What?”

You nod, sniffling a bit and wiping your own tears from your cheeks when you repeat, “He’s going out with Y/B/F.”

“Please tell me you’re joking” The words fall from his mouth before he can stop them.

You and your best friend had been together since day one, like you’d practically been friends since birth. You were practically sisters.

It was only the odd time Alex would come to yours and Matt’s house growing up and Y/B/F wasn’t there with you. You were the annoying girls he couldn’t escape.

Not that he still felt like that as you yourself had become a really good friend but back when you were 12 you were both so fucking annoying. But everyone knew that your and Y/B/F came as a pair.

You were the best of friends, and completely inseparable.  

“I don’t think I’d be on the floor crying if I was joking Alex.” You whine, trying your best to stop your tears now someone else was with you.  

You nod towards your phone that you threw on the sofa when you walked in the room and say, “Just look”

So Alex does. He takes your phone off the side and unlocks it knowing your password was your birthday and he quickly puts the numbers in and watches as it unlocks.

And his heart sinks at the proof that lays in his hands. There on the screen he can clearly see the picture of your best friend and your ex-boyfriend quite clearly together.

They were posed in the way couples typically posed for pictures and then there was another of them at the same party and they stood kissing, and Alex found it repulsive.

“This isn’t okay.” Alex looks up from the phone to see your head no leaning back against the settee, tears falling freely down your cheeks now.

You make no effort to look at him when you say, “I know.”

“Why didn’t Matt tell me?” Alex asks, a little confused.

Surely this was something that was to be at least hushedly whispered to the people closest to you.

“Because he doesn't know.” You say simply.

“Why?” He asks, locking the phone so you didn’t see the pictures again.

You told Matt everything these days. There was no point in secrets between you as you were adults and you cared for the other’s well-being.

You’d always been open with each other, minus the time that you went out to a party when you were 16 and came back with a series of love bites on your neck. All of the lads had been really shocked when you walked in a little bit tipsy with those on your skin.

Matt had been furious and a little disgusted knowing someone had been touching you in a romantic sense. So, it was no surprise to the other lads that when you were questioned on if something more happened, you pressed your swollen lips together and slipped up to your room denying that anything else had happened.

It was comical because it was clear to everyone else that it had gone further than someone kissing your neck.

Everyone took the piss out of Matt that night saying that someone had just taken his sister's virginity and it left the drummer mortified. But you always denied it to the full band until about 6 months later when Alex had asked you in the kitchen if you were actually lying or not.

Of course, Alex didn’t actually tell any of the others when you confirmed what everyone already knew. But that was the last time you’d ever lied to your brother.

So, hearing that your brother didn’t know about this shocking and frankly disgusting news in your life was concerning.

You looked up towards your brothers’ best mate and told him the truth, “Because I can’t ruin his time with Breana…”

You had to trail off because the lump in your throat was getting too much. So you swallowed it away before continuing, your voice still pained, barely above a whisper, “He really likes her and he doesn’t need to be worrying about me... She could be the mother of his children for all we know... I’m not ruining that chance because my life has fallen apart.”

“He’d understand Y/N/N.” Alex told you, once again leaning forward to wipe away your tears.

You shake your head, “It’s not fair.”

“And you think what’s happened to you is fair?” Alex questions, knowing full well that it wasn’t.

No one deserved this type of betrayal. Especially you.

You just started weeping again then and Alex brought you into his arms, needing to console you in a hug. Thankfully you didn’t resist his hug and Alex let you cry into his shoulder as you clung to him.

After a while of him rubbing your back and whispering you sweet nothings, he had to tell you, “You could have told me Y/N/N.”

You shake your head into his neck then, Alex could still feel the tears falling onto his skin. He just about hears you say into his shoulder, “You’re happy with Arielle, I don’t want you dealing with my shit either.”

“Your family, what hurts you hurts me” Alex tells you, “You’ve always got me Y/N… Always.”

After another five minutes of you both on the floor, Arielle walks in and is immediately worried seeing you sat on the ground crying into Alex’s arms. Alex just politely asked her to go and get Matt though which she did, and you didn’t oppose it.

You couldn’t deal with that on your own any longer and you were thankful for Alex being so kind to you. Your heart just fully melted in your chest later on after everything had been explained to everyone and he pulled you aside and gave you another big hug.

He whispered to you, “You’re going to be okay Y/N/N.” before placing a kiss to the top of your head.

The rest of that tour was filled with him making sure you were always okay and so did the other lads. But maybe it felt more personal to you when Alex checked on you because he was the one that found you.

It was him that just told you to cut them from your life completely and block them on everything as ‘they weren’t good enough for you anyway’. After you did that you felt better about your life. You’d cleared them from your Instagram, leaving no trace on your page that they were ever in your life and it was a difficult purge, but it definitely helped you in the long run.

The years without them in your life were tough but it had proven to be for the best in the end.

Because once upon a time you thought you were going to marry your ex-boyfriend, but now you were standing in Disney World with your boyfriend trying to steal kisses from you. And you wouldn’t change it for the world.

You give your boyfriend of 4 months a warning look, but his eyes just held mischief. You had to remind him, “They are going to see.”

“Then let’s go somewhere else.” Alex says moving back towards you, and ushering you to move up the line a bit.  

“After this we’ll try and escape.” You promise, but he was really shit at turning you down and you wanted it to be believable. “But you have to actually pretend you don’t wanna go.”

He rolls his eyes but sighs, “Fine.”

After Space Mountain you announced to the lads that you wanted to go see the Disney characters next which they all groaned at. You first of all pleaded with Matt to come with you knowing he wouldn’t before the rest of the lads and one by one they all dismissed you.

The last person you asked was Alex and he surprisingly put up a good fight until you ‘wore him down’ and got your own way. You spent the rest of the afternoon going round with him and getting pictures of the both of you with the characters and you got a nice lady to take a  few pictures of you both outside the castle.

Those were your favourites, especially the one where he was kissing you.

As you were walking back to meet the others who were already back at the bus, you felt the need to tell him something which you’d yet to say. You didn’t think you’d find a better time than walking hand in hand in front of the Disney castle after one of the best days of your life.

So you pause your walk back for a moment to kiss him one last time before you make it back to the others. The kiss was sweet, just like the whole day had been, and you definitely felt like it was the right time to say, “I love you Alex.”

Immediately a smile found its way onto his lips, and he was practically beaming with joy. “You love me?” Alex asks you in a little disbelief.  

“Yeah…” You nod, a massive smile on your lips “A lot as well.”

Alex leant down and kissed you again then, this time though his arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you off your feet, spinning you around in his arms. It caused you to giggle into the kiss a little but you loved it.

When your feet touched the ground again Alex told you, “I love you so much Y/N”

“I know.” You grin as he’d already told you once before.

Alex just chuckles at you, “Alright Han Solo” which made you giggle.

“I love you more than anything Al, thank you for making me happy.” You tell him wrapping your arms around him, needing a tight embrace just so he knew you meant every single word.

His arms obviously snake around you, making you feel secure in the warm hug. And your heart melts once more when he kisses your head and says, “I love you more Angel, thank you for letting me make you happy.”

~*~*~*~

“Al.” You said attempting and failing to pull away from the kiss he’d trapped you in.

If you were honest, you really weren’t really putting up much of a fight to stop the kisses. You were in one of their many tents that this festival they were performing at had given them.

There was one for chilling out in, one that was essentially a bar, and a few more you’d yet to explore. But Alex had pulled you into one with the mass of beanbags in it and he wasted no alone time to have his lips connect to yours.

“Yes baby?” He says in his low voice and you could hear his hunger for you in his voice before he kissed you again.

It made your stomach flip as you knew exactly what he was thinking as you’d heard his voice like that many times since you started seeing each other. You both had to show some restraint though as anyone could walk into the tent, there was only a flimsy curtain between inside and outside.

You pull on his hair to make him pull away as you couldn’t do it yourself as he’d trapped you between him and a beanbag. Once his soft lips parted from yours, you told him seriously,  “Wait until the hotel.”

“But I want you now.” Alex then pouts at you, confirming the explicit thoughts that were running through his head.

You tell him truthfully, finding his pout very cute, “And I want you, but I’m not shagging you in a tent.”

“Why?” Alex questions, looking around for a moment before his gorgeous brown eyes meet your Y/E/C ones again. He chuckles, “It's a really posh tent.”

You guess it was too post to actually call it a tent. It was huge for a start and looked very expensive. You definitely felt privileged to get to experience all of this with him and the band.  

“Hun you had me all last night...” You shake your head whilst smiling like an idiot, “You can retrain yourself until we get back.”

“Not easily.” He pouts again and it makes you giggle which he once again finds adorable.

Another kiss is exchanged then but you don't let it get to what it just had been like. You stop it after he tries to distract you and deepen it again but you’re having none of it.

“You need to go or there gunna be like ‘what’s he doing in there?’” You say knowing he’d be asked to drink with them sooner rather than later.

Alex smiles knowing you’re right, but he chuckles when he tells you, “You know we have to tell them at some point, right?”

“Yeah I know, I just want as much of this tour to be as normal as possible.” You say, aimlessly stroking your fingers up and down the short hair on the back of his hair. You grin when you say, “I’d like to escape Jamie’s jokes for as long as possible.”

Alex just laughs then before he pecks your lips once more. “I don’t blame you Angel… But you can handle yourself. We’ll be fine.”

“I know.” You smile, feeling very content in this moment that you had with him. “I love you Al.”

“I love you too.” He tells you before he steals another kiss and gets himself up. “Do you want a drink?”

You shake your head whilst you get yourself comfy on the beanbag, also reaching to the nearby blanket to cover yourself with. “Nah, I’m good thanks. I’m gunna have a nap before the show.”

Alex smiles at you then, turning back towards you when he gets near the curtain to leave. He just stops by the curtain that divides him from outside and when he sees you getting curled up under the blanket.

He can’t help but nod and say, “Yeah.”

“Yeah what?” You ask looking back up to him standing there grinning at you.  

Alex nods down at you in your cosy spot and continues, “Yeah, you were definitely meant for me.”

You grin like an idiot then before you tell him, “Love you baby.”

“Love you too.” Alex smiles and sends a wink your way before he heads out of the tent.  

You can’t help but shut your eyes and snuggle into your new ‘bed’ with a massive grin on your face. But when you hear Miles say, “Oi Al, you dickhead. Come and have a shot.” you just start giggling.

~*~*~*~

You were absolutely plastered, and it was really making Alex laugh. Even more so than it usually would because you were trying your best not to be obvious that you wanted his affection.

You were a clingy drunk which was absolutely fine, and all the lads knew that, but watching you slip up around him and having to make up for it with the other lads was really comical for Alex.

You’d just come over to Alex after you’d beaten him at pool and teased him for being shit. To which Alex was shooting digs back at you but all you did in response was laugh, call him a sore loser and ruffle his perfect hair up which you knew annoyed him.

So Alex had just forced your hands out of his hair by grabbing your wrists and stopping you from doing anything more. He gave you warning looks like he would have done any other time you annoyed him before you got together but you also noted the looks as a reminder of the secret that you’d set out.

That was what led you to sitting on Jamie’s lap and talking his ear off about Katie whilst playing with his wavy hair. He threatened you to get off it, saying he’d cut it all off which you at first drunkenly pleaded with him not too but then you changed your mind saying he could definitely pull off a Peaky Blinders cut.

Once off Jamie you went on to have some flirty banter with Miles as Nick and Jamie played pool. Alex was watching you with an amused look on his face as his best mate was teasing you about not being on the pull whilst being in a bar with everyone.

You came back with things like, “Aw Miles, I couldn’t do that to you. I know you’d cry yourself to sleep if I entertained anyone elses flirting besides yours.”

Alex also found your laugh adorable when Miles kissed you on your cheek and Matt told him to leave you alone and to stop flirting with you. It was times like that that made Alex glad his best mate didn’t know about the two of you yet.

But after Nick’s game of pool finished and Nick won, he was calling it a night, despite it being relatively early. It seemed that you knew your tolerance though and decided to head back to the bus with Nick.

So you then went around the other 4 lads who were staying and made a bit of an effort to kiss them all goodnight, Alex presumed so you could kiss him. Something which proved to be correct because you came to him last after kissing all the other lads, including your brother, on the cheek and came to give him one.

“Thank you for my drinks” You drunkenly smile at him and Alex grins down at you in an amused way.

“You’re welcome love” Alex chuckles at your tipsy state and you then force a hug upon him.

He obviously hugs you back but he’s aware of his mates looking so he doesn’t make it completely obvious that he’s enjoying the hug as much as he is despite him really wanting to. He wanted nothing more than to kiss your lips instead of you leaning in to kiss his cheek.

When you left his arms, he smiled at you and you moved back to your brother and made him give you a hug. Something which Matt did but not without a roll of his eyes, but Alex could tell it was a playful one.

“See you in the morning guys.” You say with a smile after linking your arm through Nick’s so he could help you walk back.

Everyone said bye to you then and their attention was on the new game of pool again. But whilst it was Matt’s go Alex let his eyes focus on you.

You were so cute, he wanted nothing more than to take you back to a hotel away from the others so he could just be with you all night. But Alex also understood why you wanted to keep it a secret for a while longer.

Tours were long, and he knew you’d both be bullied about it for a while from the others, which you were both prepared for. But you were due to be on the road for the next year with AM due out in September.

The plan was to tell them as soon as interviews back home started so you didn’t have to be around the joking for long. Alex was used to it after Alexa and Arielle, but he knew you weren’t, and he respected that.

So that was why he denied it when the lads began to question him on it about 5 minutes after you left.

“What’s going on?” Matt asks as Alex pots another ball into the pool table.  

Alex grins thinking Matt was just fuming he was losing. As Alex moves around the table to eye up another winning shot, he says, “I’m beating you at pool

“No.” Matt shakes his head, earning eye contact from his best mate. “I mean with Y/N/N.”

“What do you mean?” Alex asks as he leans over the table to play his next shot, “She’s just gone back with Nick.”

“Don’t think he means that.” Miles grinned at him after he missed the tricky shot he’d chosen.  

Alex raises his eyebrows in a questioning way, getting the feeling that people were catching on to how you were around each other.

And that suspicion is confirmed when Jamie says, “You’re very touchy with each other.”

“Touchy?” Alex laughs, as he watches your brother take another shot, “Jamie mate, she was on your lap earlier.”

“Yeah, but she keeps like teasing you and messing with your hair and shit.” Matt chips in with his observations after missing his shot on the stripped balls.  

Alex rolls his eyes, “Matt, you literally fucked with my hair earlier today and Jamie did it yesterday... You all like to fucking annoy me by doing that.”

Alex continues to defend the both of you even though he wishes he didn’t have to. “You know what she’s like when she’s drunk, she doesn’t leave anyone alone.”

“He has a point; she didn’t shy away from me kissing her.” Miles points out raising his pint to the drummer.

Matt fakes a gag then and says, “Leave her the fuck alone Kane.”

“But she loves me.” Miles pouts, resting a hand over his heart like Matt’s words had hurt him. “You definitely want me as your brother-in-law.”

Alex smiles to himself knowing that he was now 6 months ahead of Miles in that category. God, he loved you. He could definitely see a bright future with you, and he had every intention to marry you one day in the years to come.

“I’d rather go to a Radiohead gig.” Matt says which earns a laugh from everyone, knowing how the hatred between the bands still hadn’t died out.

~*~*~*~

A month later you thought you were doing well. You were very careful around everyone after Alex told you about the questioning he got after the bar.

You were just normal with each other throughout the days, not overly interacting with each other. But when Alex’s eyes were hidden by his sunglasses, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wonder.

And it definitely helped that it was your job to take pictures of him. You could stare at him all day that way, even if it was through a camera lens.

Moments alone came when you’d stay in the bus when they went on nights out and Alex would venture back early meaning on nights like that, he actually got to give you goodnight kisses like he loved doing. Other moments took place when he would wander off at the multitude of festivals they were doing.

You’d say you were going getting pictures of different acts that no one else wanted to go watch. Alex would say he was going for a walk about 20 minutes later. Purely coincidence that you met up with him on his walk after you’d taken a photo or two.

Other times you snuck into each other's hotel rooms about an hour after you’d all gone your separate ways. But it was your nights in the hotels that you loved the most.

You got your privacy, and it was secure. The same as it was when he came to your house before the tour or when you went to his.

You loved being alone with him.

And tonight, all the other lads had gone out to a party somewhere and Alex had been faking an illness all day so he could stay in and they wouldn’t ask questions. They wouldn’t think it was weird you not going because you rarely went out with them.

They knew you valued your sleep too much.

So that was why you were alone in the back lounge with Alex tonight. And you’d honestly had one of the best nights being your normal cuddly selves.

You’d just watched a film with each other whilst being cuddled up on the sofa and you very nearly fell asleep in his embrace, but you weren’t wasting a full night alone with him. After the film you both went out and got yourselves a takeout from a place just down the road.

You made it into a full date night which was fucking adorable. After food, you coexisted normally for a little while, Alex letting you lean back against him whilst you edited your photos on your night off.

You were a pro at it after so many years, so it took no longer than an hour for the ones promotion wanted of them all. Alex was quite happily watching you edit the pictures of him and his friends as he absentmindedly played with your hair, placed random little kisses on your neck or on the back of your head, and at one point he even sang.

It was a really beautiful song, one that you’d only heard once before when he let you listen to the album when it was finished.

You only knew the title because he said it often in the song but having your boyfriend softly sing Mad Sounds into your ear as you worked you wished you could freeze time and appreciate it. His voice was amazing as everyone knew, but hearing it so close and so soft, it was hard to keep shivers from running down your spine.

“Such a beautiful song Al.” You smile closing your laptop as you’d finished what you needed to do and he’d finished singing.

You turn to him a bit more and he smiles back at you, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Like you then.” Alex grins before pressing his lips to yours.

You smile into the kiss as the comment was very adorable of him, but when you pulled back bullying was in order, “You’re so cheesy.”

“You love it.” Alex grins as you get up and put your laptop away, but you grab your small Lumix camera and come to sit back down.

You grin as you come and sit back down, this time straddling his lap so you could get a few close ups of him looking cute. You bring the viewfinder up to your eye and once you see his adorable smile on the other side of the lens you capture the perfection.

“I do.” You grin back at him.

You like that Alex never shies away from you when you have a camera in your hand. You knew after this much time that he trusted you with what you were capturing, especially in these moments together they wouldn’t be seen by anyone else.

“However…” You say, putting the camera down for a moment, “Me and your music are nothing alike.”

Alex frowns at you a little then, his hands running up your thighs, pulling you a little closer, “I think a certain track and our text message history would claim otherwise.”

You roll your eyes then knowing he was talking about Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High? But when he grins at your eye roll you quickly snap another picture of him.

“I guess I shouldn't have got involved with a lyricist if I didn't want songs about me, should I?” You ask with a knowing smirk as you pull the camera away from your face.

You don’t bother checking it on the screen as it pops up, you already knew it would be a good picture. Not because you took it, but because it was of him and he was happy.

“No, probably not.” Alex chuckles as he takes the camera from you before raising it to take one of you.

You give him a pointed look after the photograph and joke, “You better hope you get to release your B-sides before Matt catches on.”

“I’ll be murdered, I have no doubt.” Alex grins and you burst out laughing at him being dramatic.

Alex thinks you look gorgeous though, so he raises your camera back up and you let him, not having a problem with him taking your picture. You smile at first but after he gets the first picture, he keeps looking through the viewfinder so you then puff your cheeks out jokingly and move closer to the camera.

Alex chuckles from behind it and he moves the camera from his face so you can both giggle together. He steals a kiss from you which you gladly accept, and you can't help but bite your lip afterwards.

He just looked so good. His skin was flawless these days and the fact that all of his fair wasn’t around his face anymore made his stunning jawline stand out. His brown eyes that were usually always hidden by sunglasses were shining brightly and the smile on his lips really showed how happy he was.

And seeing him happy made you happy. You could safely say you truly loved him. You’d do anything to keep you both as happy as you are now.

Whilst you’re deep in thought, Alex raises your camera back up to his eye which breaks your daydreaming about his features and you playfully roll your eyes.

“Smile for me Angel.” He asks and you do for one shot because he is pretty cute and pretty impossible not to smile at.

“Beautiful.” Alex confirms when he quickly looks down at the screen seeing the picture, he just caught of you.

“Like you then.” You use his own words against him with a playful smile.

Alex then puts your camera down to the side and with his newly free hand he cups the back of your neck and mumbles a ‘very good’ before bringing you in for a kiss. Playful and sweet were the only ways to describe it.

You just adored this alone time with him, sitting on his lap at the back bus, which was usually a very crowded area for you all to use, and you were kissing each other like it was just yesterday you got together. Everything still felt just as exciting and new and you never wanted his lips off yours.

You loved that it was you who got to run your fingers through his hair and pull on it when you wanted a kiss to carry on longer, like you just did. You loved the way his large hands held your hips, keeping you close to him.

But mostly you loved that he was always wanting affection. You’d not been in a relationship for a very long time so it made you nervous initially but there was something about Alex that you craved, and his affection was definitely one of those things that you were addicted to now.

You never wanted moments like these to end. But of course, that wouldn’t be realistic.

“I fucking knew it!”

You both pull away from each other to see Jamie with his jaw agape by the door. And your heart dropped to the ground.

“Jamie.” Alex says before Jamie can run out of the room.

“Oh I can’t fucking believe it.” He says, still stood there with his jacket in his hand but he looks like his whole world has ended. “I’ve gotta go get Matt.”

The panic in you rises then and you practically just off Alex’s lap and grab your intruders’ arm before he can turn back, “Jamie no, don’t.” You plead, pulling on his arm to come into the room.  

He turns back towards you then and he lets himself be pulled into the room. His head is still baffled though which leads him to say rather loudly, “You’re shagging, aren’t you?”

Your eyes go wide at the volume of his voice and you scorn, “Jamie.” quietly as you pull him further into the room so you can shut the door once more.

His eyes go wide impossibly wider though and he gasps, “You are!” looking from you to Alex who was still sat down.

“Matt is going to fucking murder you.” Jamie chuckles looking Alex dead in the eye as you ensure that no one else is on the bus by looking down through the bunks (thankfully all the curtains were still open) to the front lounge and you saw no one down the other end.

“Jamie please don’t start.” You hear Alex say, evidently not wanting this to get out of hand.

You close the door and turn around to the still very shocked man and say, “I’ll explain just please shut up and sit down.”

So you did explain that you’d been seeing each other for months. Jamie was shocked because he only started to suspect something a month into the tour.

But after he’d let the information sink in, it wasn’t really so shocking anymore. Which is why you’d got onto the conversation of why it was still a secret after you’d been going out for months.

“You know he’d be fine.” Jamie tells you, sitting down opposite you both, trying to persuade you to tell Matt. “He wouldn’t actually kick off, you can both do what you like.”

“It’s not really just about Matt.” You tell him honestly from your point of view. “It’s about all of you making jokes and shit for months. I didn’t want that.”

“Y/N we wouldn’t do that.” Jamie says leaning towards the both of you from the other sofa, but you’re having none of it.

“Cookie you’re the worst one for it.” You say with a pointed look.

You then point to Alex, who you were sitting beside now and say, “I remember what you were like with him and Arielle.”

And it was a lot. They joked about it all the time to start with, and it was annoying for you, let alone Alex and her.

“Him and Arielle were different.” Jamie states, a little on the defensive side, but then he follows it up with, “You don’t make funny videos for a living, I actually respect you a hell of a lot for putting up with us.”

You shake your head and tell the tipsy, but now definitely more sober man, “You’re not that bad.”

“Oh, we are.” Jamie says and you laugh because you were just being polite.

They could be a handful sometimes if you were telling the truth. But you wouldn’t change anything about any of them. You loved them all because of who and how they were, and they were all your family.

Jamie follows up with, “I'm genuinely surprised you actually want to go out with him after knowing what he’s like.”

You giggle at that and just pout as you joke, “I know, but you’re taken Cookie, so I went for the next best thing.”

“Hey” Alex scoffs, looking towards you, pretending to be offended.

You and Jamie just laugh at him though, and you intertwine your fingers when you grab Alex’s hand to hold as a little apology. You’d be sure to actually swear to him that you were joking later though.

Jamie notes the gesture and he can see the little knowing smiles on your faces and his heart melts a bit for the both of you. You were both pretty cute with each other to be fair and the more that Jamie had been playing detective about it he thought that the two of you would be a pretty good match.

So he was genuinely happy for the both of you.

“And as for the jokes…” Jamie continues, causing the two of you to look back around at him. But Jamie looks at you as he says, “If it upset you, you know I wouldn't do it”

“I don’t mind the odd joke about me sucking his dick or whatever, but I’ll go crazy if that's all I hear about for the next year.” You tell him honestly.

You could handle jokes, it wasn’t anything new. They joked about your first boyfriend to Matt for the longest time and had done each time you got a new one.

You could take a joke. But not 24/7 like this tour would promise it would.

“Okay, never say that again.” Jamie pleads, the shocked look not coming off his face, but you and Alex just laugh at his reaction.

His head goes into his hands for a moment but afterwards he looks at you both and says, “Yeah, you don’t have anything to worry about, joke wise, until I get comfortable with this dynamic because that was strange coming from your mouth.”

“You’ve heard me say worse than that, surely?” You ask, very amused by his discomfort.

Jamie just blankly says, “Not about Alex… And you’re practically my sister.”

“Sorry Cookie. I’ve got a right to say rude jokes about my boyfriend when I want to. He can say ones about me but from your reaction I don’t think you want him to.”

He then looks Alex dead in the eye and begs, “Please don’t.”

You both just end up laughing.

~*~*~*~

You decided after that night that you would think about being more open to telling Matt about everything that was going on. Thankfully Jamie was quite respectful of the whole thing and actually kept your secret.

He didn’t make things awkward for you both either, if anything he helped you both out a lot. Sometimes when you were out with them Jamie would keep the others entertained so you could escape with Alex for a little bit on a ‘fag break’ which would consist of stolen kisses.

Other times when you were all out, Jamie would lowkey guilt trip Alex into going back with you early so no one asked questions which you loved him even more for.

During this month that Jamie knew though, you’d been trying to come up with a way to tell Matt. Because you weren’t stupid, you knew this couldn’t go on for much longer.

Each time you tried to tell him though something would happen which meant that you didn’t. Once you froze, unable to tell him because you just genuinely didn’t know how to.

It wasn’t exactly something that you could drop on him and expect him to be fine with. Your nerves probably didn’t help but other times when you worked up the courage to do it, other things would go wrong.

Matt was in a foul mood one of the times, so that was a no go. Miles and Nick came in and interrupted another time before you got the words out and it was like a never ending series of unfortunate events that stopped you.

Alex had politely offered to do it after a few failed attempts but you said that you’d be more comfortable doing it. Partly because you thought that you should be the one to tell your brother and partly because you knew Matt wouldn’t hit you.

But there had been multiple failed attempts since then so you thought that you may actually make it to the end of the summer festivals at this rate.

It was nearing the end of August now and you were all staying in a hotel again tonight as you’d got to the city they were performing in the day before the show. You were pleased because it meant another night in with Alex so after you’d all had your dinner downstairs you’d given him your spare key card for your room so he could come to you whenever he liked.

Alex told you that he was looking forward to using it and he was excited to spend another night with you. It warmed your heart hearing that and when he rang you at 9:30 saying he was just running to the shop to grab the both of you some snacks, he said he’d let himself in about 20 minutes when he got back.

And that is why you were a little surprised when there was knocking on the door about 10 minutes later. You thought that was fast for a start but you gave him the key card so you wouldn’t have to get up and answer the door.

“Come in!” You shout across the room hoping he would hear you.

It seems that he does but his muffled response is, “It’s locked.” when the handle doesn’t budge.

You roll your eyes and mumble, “That’s why I gave you a key.” under your breath as you get up off your bed and head to the door.

And you’re about to scorn him but when the door opens you don’t find your boyfriend. You find your brother.

“Hey.” Matt says, stepping into your room after the door opens.

You’re shocked by his presence but try and act as calm as possible when you say, “Hey, you alright?”

Thank fuck you were still dressed. And thank fuck Alex wasn’t already here because you didn’t want him to find out like that.

But then you realised he’d be here in 10 minutes or so. And that made you want to get Matt out as quickly as possible.

“I’m fine, are you?” Your brother asks once he picks up the complimentary chocolate that the hotel had put on your bed which you were saving for later.

Any other night you would have ripped the shit out of him for coming in and doing that but now was not the time. You were borderline panicking as you were about to be caught out. But you try and disguise that as best as possible.

“Yeah, great thanks.” But really you’re just thinking, Shit.

Your brother asks you, “What do you have planned for tonight?”

Thinking on your feet all you can come up with is, “Just editing more pictures.”

“Fancy blowing it off and watching Netflix with me?” Matt questions and you all of a sudden feel really guilty that you want him to leave as much as you do.

You pull a little bit of a face at his question and try to carry on your lie, “Oh, I would but I’m honestly not feeling all that great after tea, so I was just gunna get an early night after I’ve done a few more pictures.”

“Funny that.” Your brother states when you turn away from him to grab your laptop from your bag as he sits himself down at the end of your bed.

You move towards the little desk that was in the room though and ask, “What is?”

“Alex isn’t feeling too well either.”

Well shit. You were too alike for your own good, coming up with the same excuses without telling the other.

“Oh?” You question, shitting it at this point, so you just open up your MacBook to distract you. “Maybe it was something we ate downstairs?”

All your brother replied was, “Doubt that because I had the same thing as you both.”

You choose no response as your best response and just continue to pull up a picture of Matt you hadn’t finished editing on photoshop yet. Being creative always eased your nerves so hopefully him watching you edit a picture of him would distract him.

“Y/N.” Matt says, trying to gain your attention.  

You instead just carry-on messing with the photograph and suggest, “Maybe you should go check on our friend bro, could be being sick for all we know. Wouldn’t make for the prettiest show tomorrow”

“Y/N…” Matt says once more, and you know he wants you to look at him.

So you do and you see your brother sat on the end of your bed, looking at you. He asks in a serious yet calm tone, “Is Alex really ‘just a friend’ anymore?

Well. You guess you didn’t have to find a way to tell him anymore.

You sigh and shake your head, “No.” and as you close your laptop you tell the truth, “He’s a lot more.”

Matt can tell you’re serious straight away just by the way you were looking at him. And it makes him shake his head a bit in disbelief. He says calmly but in a tone that worries you, as he also runs a hand through his hair, “I knew it.”

“Please don’t be angry Matt.” You all but beg as you turn in your chair towards him more. “It’s my fault we didn't tell you sooner... I didn’t want things to be different with the group, so I was the one who wanted to keep it a secret.”

“You know you didn’t have to do that, right?” Matt has to ask you, feeling awful that you felt like you couldn’t tell him something. “I just want you to be happy... Al’s practically family so of course I want the same for him.”

“I know, I’m really sorry…” You trail off for a second, “It just got to a point where I didn’t know how to tell you and when I tried to things always got in the way.”

Matt nods completely understanding that. At least you wanted to tell him.

“When did it start?” Is the question Matt asks you next.

“New Year’s Day” You say quickly before wincing a little, hearing that it has been 8 months out loud.

You felt so bad.

Matt is shocked by that news too, “That long...? Really?”

“Yeah.” You nod, feeling awful, “I’m sorry.”

Matt ends up asking you a few more questions after that which were pretty much big brother sort of questions, making sure Alex was treating you right and stuff like that. Thankfully this had all gone very plain sailing and Matt was happy for you like you both knew he would be.

And he had forgiven you for not telling him for so long too which was a big relief. It felt like a massive weight off your shoulders.

So much so that you had to get up off your seat and give him a hug. Matt stood up for the embrace, so you got to hug him properly and it was such a lovely warm hug that you felt like you hadn’t had in such a long time.

Halfway through that long hug though, both you and Matt hear the door to your room unlock. You press your lips together and wince a little knowing exactly what is about to happen.

“Hey Y/N/N.” You hear Alex say from somewhere behind you and you let go of Matt and both of you look towards Alex now closing the door, not yet noticing the situation.  

After he closes the door though, he begins to say before he turns towards you, “I got you thes- oh”

Matt smiles though seeing your favourite flowers in his best friend’s hand. You can’t help but smile at the sight of them too, and his face falling realising Matt was here was a little funny too.

He looked a little scared.

“I’m glad you’re treating her right Al.” Matt tells him, and Alex struggles with his words for a second and he looks to you for help.

“I just told him.” You nod confirming it out loud for him.  

Alex’s eyes go from you back to his best mate then and he starts, “Listen Matt, I’m sor-”

But Matt interrupts, “No no I don’t need an apology.” He shakes his head, “Just don’t fuck it up.” He then looks between the both of you, “Either of you... Because that would make for a really awkward tour.”

You smile at that and say, “I don’t plan on doing, and I know he doesn’t either.”

Matt grins at you then and he looks back to Alex and takes a few steps towards him. He points a finger to his chest and says very seriously, “Make her cry Turner, and I'll castrate you.”

Alex slowly nods, “Noted”

Matt must then break into a grin because Alex does too, and your brother then heads over to the door.

Matt turns back towards you and says, “Have a nice night love birds.” and walks out with a grin and he shuts the door behind him.

Both you and Alex stay silent for a second looking at the door almost in disbelief that the thing you’d both waited 8 months to do, was now over. Alex turns around to look at you and you’re both just awkwardly smiling at each other.

Alex puts the plastic bag filled with snacks down on the table he was standing beside and says, “Well you could have pre warned me.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t know he was coming. But he asked me to watch Netflix with him and apparently I gave the same excuse as you.”

“Oh fuck. Clever, aren’t we?” Alex chuckles a little and you nod in response.

Alex holds up the flowers he got for you and you can’t help but smile, “Well, I was hoping to surprise you with these, but you definitely won on the surprise front tonight.”

You giggle at that and you lean up to kiss him after taking the flowers from him, “Thank you my love.”

You briefly put them down whilst you say, “At least we don’t have to stay away from each other anymore.”

“Never going to let you go now Darling.” Alex chuckles before picking you up in a hug and spinning you around. You can’t help but giggle.

The next morning you both ventured downstairs to have breakfast with the others and found that they were all there waiting for you at your table with knowing looks. You and Alex just had grins on your faces knowing Matt would have gone around and told them all before you even got the chance.

They were all of course happy for you but of course you got some jokes and some questions. Jamie had got a bit used to it now, so he was starting with his jokes in private to you but when you sat down, he asked the both of you, “Suck his dick last night?”

“Wow, you’ve been waiting for that one, haven’t you?” You laugh, sitting yourself down next to him, immediately reaching for the menu so you could see what was on offer for breakfast.

The table obviously all laughed, and it was all fun and playful as you imagined it would be. You were glad Matt wasn’t cringing at all the details that you were giving out, as it was things like how far back moments happened, like when Alex asked you out officially and stuff like that.

All of the lads seemed really happy for you and even some of your other friends that were a part of the crew were shocked but buzzing for you. Alex got loads of people saying, ‘You better treat her right’ which made you laugh a lot.

But thankfully it was business as usual, just with the addition of getting to hold his hand and kiss him the odd time when you wanted. You’d rather most of your affection be in private though so not much had really changed on the social front.

Even when you were trying to be discrete about it, you didn’t find it too hard because you were still just the same Y/N and Alex. You’d been friends for years, so the dynamic shift wasn’t all that drastic.

You both were just the same friends that you could walk next to each other and it just be normal. You didn’t have to be touching each other all the time, you’d go walk with Miles or Nick and just go spend time with Alex every now and then.

You were glad that things never felt too different.

You guess the only thing that marginally was different was the first night back on the bus after you’d been staying in the hotel. You were all heading to bed and when you came out of the bathroom after changing, you headed to your own bunk, but then realised you didn’t actually need to.

Alex’s bunk was the top bunk in the middle, so you walked right past your own and straight to his. He was just in his boxers like most of the lads usually were when they slept on this bus.

“Hey.” You say with a big smile.

“Hey.” Alex grins, his messy hair almost falling into his eyes. He makes you smile when he says, “Was just about to come kiss you”

“Vile.” You hear Miles gag from the bunk directly below and you look down at him and frown.

“Miles, he kisses you... What are you on about?” You question, not understanding.

They were literally always touchy feely with each other which you thought was cute and adorable. They’d always been great mates and were close enough to actually perform together using one microphone.

So it made you laugh when Alex lent down over his bunk to say, “Little offended there mate.” to his friend.

Nick bursts out laughing at your backchat and Alex’s hurt and you chuckle along before you glance back to your boyfriend. Once his head was the right way up again you smile at him.

“I can join you for the night now, right?” You ask him and you love the smile that comes to his lips.

He nods, “Course you can.”

So Alex shuffles back in the bunk, enough for you to comfortably jump up and once you lay beside him you can’t stop grinning. It definitely felt weird to be in a bunk with him for everyone to see but it definitely makes you happy, even if it was a tight squeeze.

“Hi” You grin at him as he’s on his side, his back pressed to the wall of the bunk, looking down on you.

“Hey beautiful.” Alex says before he leans down and kisses you.

You of course kiss him back but after a second you quickly part so you can reach down to the curtain and pull it closed. You doubt that Nick wanted to watch from the bunk opposite.

As soon as your lips were back attached to Alex’s though you hear Nick whisper shout to everyone, “It’s starting!”

If your eyes were open, you would have rolled when but you just try to keep the smile off your lips, so you don’t ruin the kiss. And thankfully you both controlled yourselves enough to hold your smiles so you could indulge in a very nice kiss.

“If I hear anything come from that bunk, you don’t want to know what will happen.” Matt calls out loudly and you break apart from the kiss to laugh.

It seems like everyone else found it comical too, but it was even funnier when Jamie asked him, “What are you gunna do? Cry?”

“Fuck off Cookie.” Your brother says back, and you chuckle at that too.

You and Alex keep your curtain closed as the rest of them chat away and you get yourselves comfortable in the bunk. You are basically cuddled together in the bunk, with the duvet over you both, you still on your back and Alex tucked into your neck as he lay on his side.

You were glad you didn’t feel like you were about to roll out of the bunk, so it definitely made sense you were that way around. That and Alex quite liked to pick his head up every few minutes and trap you in another kiss.

A trap you certainly didn’t mind.

Usually when you all got in your bunks, curtains would stay open as you would all chat to each other and one by one curtains would close until you were all knackered and pass out until the next day. So, it wasn’t a shock that tonight you were all talking for quite a while, you and Alex just chatting to each other quietly in your bunk, liking the privacy that the curtain provided.

But after about 15 minutes someone shouted your name, popping yours and Alex’s bubble.

“Y/N?” You hear Jamie call you.

You smile knowing a joke was bound to come your way and respond, “Yeah?”

“I’ve got a question for you.” He informs and you can practically hear him smiling.

You grin at Alex and shout back to Jamie, “Okay, go on.”

“You know because you’re a photographer... Does that mean you take pictures of you and Alex in the bedroom?” Jamie asks teasingly and your immediately roll your eyes, but it doesn’t stop you from playing along.

“Shit.” You say jokingly loud, “How do they know?” You scorn Alex jokingly and he’s just silently laughing.

“Matt.” You call and joke, “Maybe don’t go through that SD card tomorrow.”

Earlier on he asked to see some of the pictures after the gig tonight and you said he could look through them before you started editing them tomorrow.

“I’ll burn it” Matt says back, and you just start silently giggling.

“What are you both up to in there?” You both hear Nick ask.

Alex says in a teasing voice, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Both of you have another few kisses in the time between those jokes and the next time you were heckled. But you were just cuddled when they next started joking.

“They are very quiet up there.” You both hear Miles say.

You shake your head and Alex sighs a little as you hear the rest of them chuckle.

“You doing good? You getting it up, Al?” Miles asks and you both feel him punch the top of his bunk, subsequently the bottom of yours.

You aren’t surprised when Alex doesn’t grace him with an answer.

“Very quiet indeed.” Nick laughs, more than likely looking down at Miles so they could share a laugh.

Jamie seems to jump in then with, “They are definitely biting their tongues.”

“Fuck off all of you.” Matt gets defensive but that just makes it comical.

You decided to upset your brother then by pretending to be annoyed when you scorn them, “You’re all really ruining the mood.”

Alex chuckles at that then, even though you weren’t doing anything. That is what made it funnier to him though.

“Sorry, do you need silence for Alex to get you off.” Jamie asks and it makes you roll your eyes at the question.

You reply, “No.” as an idea comes to mind.

“So you don't mind us carrying on talking then?” Miles asks teasingly. You can practically hear the smirk.

You backchat with, “Not if yous don't mind some noises too?”

“Fire away Hun.”

You brother almost shouts in distress, “No don’t. Both of you stay very fucking quiet.”

Jamie defends you both then, “Oh right so it’s alright when you and Breana fuck but when it’s Alex and Y/N you’re suddenly a prude.”

An argument starts out then with Matt defending himself and then Jamie defending you and so on and then it becomes a big thing. But you find it quite funny that Matt is getting annoyed, so you decide to make your own joke too.

“Al” You whisper, and he looks up at you for you to ask him, “Have you ever seen When Harry Met Sally?”

“Yeah, I watched it with you on the last tour.” He whispers back, reminding you.

You remember him doing now. You’d all had a movie night on the bus during the Suck It And See tour and because you were a little depressed they let you choose the film and you chose that one because it made you laugh.

“Okay, good.” You smirk knowing exactly what you were about to do.

Your boyfriend doesn’t yet get it though, so he asks in a whisper, “Why?”

“Alex” You say a bit louder, a smile you couldn’t hold back drawing to your face.

“What babe?” He asks you and you have to close your eyes, so you don’t break and start laughing.

You try to make your voice sound sultrier and you fake moan louder, “Oh god.”

At that though the boys arguing dies down as Alex whispers, “What are you doing?”

You hold your laugh and, “Alex.” falls from your lips in a breathy moan. And it’s loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Y/N, fuck off.” You hear your brother shout, clearly not amused.

You however come straight back with a very load moan of, “Alex fuck.”

“Matt I’m not touching her.” Alex shouts and you open your eyes to see Alex propped up to the side of you, looking at you like he was scared.

You don’t give it a second thought before you gasp even louder, “Right there Al”

You can hear Miles cackling below you both and you don’t let up with the moans you’re making despite wanting to laugh too. Next you raise your hand up to the ceiling of the bunk as if you’re using it to brace yourself, “Fuck.”

“Oh my god, don’t stop.” You plead in a desperate way as you look to your mortified boyfriend.

“Y/N shut up.” Alex whispers, but it just makes you carry on more.

The fake moans fall from you lips, filling the bunks with your pleads and gasps. Alex is still mortified, but the laughter coming from Jamie, Nick, and Miles just fuels you on.

You go fully Sally Albright on them. A series of loud moans leave your lips like:

“Yes Alex yes!”

“Faster.”

“Oh god.”

“Don’t stop!”  

Alex shouts over your loud voice, “Matt, I fucking swear I’m not touching her!”

The way you moan, “Fuck Al” seems to just dismiss what Alex said straight away though.

“Stop!” Matt shouts back, obviously angry now.

You immediately contradict in a fake moan, “Don’t stop!”

“Alex!” You all but scream as you bang on the ceiling of the bunk again a few times.

You go to take it a step further, but you’re apparently not allowed, “Fuck, Alex plea-”

Your boyfriend puts his hand over your mouth so you can’t carry on. However, you just start dramatically fake moaning, and it sounds a lot dirtier because his hand is over your mouth.

You carry on until you get a rise out of Matt despite Alex pleading with you to stop with a scared look on his face. But you know your brother was about to stop so you just looked at your boyfriend’s gorgeous brown eyes and carried on.

And before you know it Matt is swearing getting himself out of his bunk and the curtain of yours is practically ripped open. As soon as you see sight of your brother you stop the fake moans completely as if it never happened.

Alex holds both his hands up in the air as if he’s being held at gunpoint. Matt can quite clearly see you're fully clothed and have a massive shit eating grin on your face.

“Damn that was good, thanks Al.” You joke to your boyfriend but you’re looking at your brother.

Matt holds up a finger at you and warns, “You’re on very thin ice right now.”

He looks angry and embarrassed all at once. He’s bright red but looks absolutely fuming so you can’t stop your laugh.

You giggle questioning, “Why because you know your best mate can fuck your sister?”

Jamie bursts out laughing at that and you crumble into a louder laugh.

“Stop it.” Alex gasps, playfully hitting your shoulder once again looking petrified as he glanced from you to your brother.

“I don’t need to hear whatever that was.” Matt scorns you and you’re very quick to give him some backchat.

“Did you just admit to us all that you’ve never given Bre an orgasm? Because if you don’t know what those sounds were then I feel sorry for her.” You joke back trying to be cocky.

Jamie’s laugh echoes through the bus and you can hear Miles cackling from below. You could see Nick gasping for breath in a fit of laughter and Alex gasps in shock from beside you.

“You need to fuck off Y/N.” Matt gives you one more death glare before he stalks back to his bunk.

“Oh pull the drum stick out your arse!” You say getting a little annoyed at how your brother couldn’t take a joke. “You better hope our hotel rooms are never next to each other.”

“Shut the fuck up. I won’t tell you again.” Matt says as he gets back into his bunk and shuts his curtain in a strop.

“Aw…” You pout turning back to Alex in your bunk. You give him a quick kiss and then joke, “Better save the next orgasm for the next hotel Darling.”

“I’m begging you to stop talking.” Alex shakes his head, still looking at you a little shocked that you’d actually done what you just had.  

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from Matt.” You giggle, and you say louder so the bus can hear you, “He’s not that scary... Just gotta bring up the time he shat himself when we were in the bat house in Chester Zoo and he quietens right down.”

You all hear Matt shout, “Fuck off!”

You and everyone else on the bus, bar Matt, started laughing then and you were still giggling away when you cuddled yourself into your boyfriend's body. Jamie and Miles begin to applaud you during their continued laughter which just makes your giggles difficult to silence.

Alex is still half shocked as he cuddled you into him, loving your humour but not actually believing you just faked an orgasm that loud on a tour bus surrounded by all your mates and your brother. He shakes his head and kisses the top of yours before telling you, “You’re gunna be the death of me.”

“Least it’ll be a fun death.” You joke and Alex laughs.

“You’re right.” Alex chuckles when you look up at him. You're grinning like an idiot and Alex tells you, “I love you, you psycho.”

“Love you too, weirdo.” You grin and proceed to kiss him sweetly.

After the kiss though you actually want to go to sleep in your boyfriend's arms peacefully. So despite Nick, Miles, and Jamie all still chuckling away, you turn back towards the curtain to redraw it and as you do you catch Jamie’s eye.

You wink at him before drawing the curtain and Jamie wolf whistles, which has you and Alex giggling away together as you cuddle yourself into him once more. You kiss Alex once more before playfully calling out to the others who were still laughing, “Night boys”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thank you for reading x

[kindahoping4forever]

Hot N Cold // Ashton Irwin

Both @cal-puddies and I had to endure disgusting heatwaves last week (it was literally 99 degrees before noon for me) and were laughing that we co-wrote a hot weather trope fic and it turns out, being this warm is not sexy. I took it a step further and declared that I was so uncomfortable I wouldn’t let Ashton near me and Cass was like bitch please and instantly proved me a liar by suggesting a scenario that I eventually spun into this entirely self-indulgent fic. (Exposing screenshots available upon request 😂🤡)

Warnings: Boyfriend!Ash, slight soft!dom Ash, female receiving oral sex/rimming, ice play, unprotected sex within established relationship, gratuitous mentions of Ash with a beard and in basketball shorts because I am a 🤡, I truly cannot express how self-indulgent this is.

Word Count: 4.9k exactly! (And I can never thank Cass enough for being a problem solving, editing queen because otherwise this legit could’ve easily been 10k, I was out of control and have officially been dubbed “the Stephen King of smut”)

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————-

You tap on the thermostat display, hoping that the numbers you’re reading are a mistake.

“Babe, it’s digital, that’s not gonna do anything,” Ashton calls from across the room.

You make a face and continue staring in disbelief. Last week when you invited your boyfriend to stay with you while his home underwent plumbing repairs, you had no idea there would be a heatwave sweeping the city. And as if the heat wasn’t bad enough, a thunderstorm was also predicted so it’s not just hot but humid, which drives you absolutely crazy.

You usually find it cozy when Ash stays at yours, your modest apartment a quaint contrast to his luxurious house. But waking up next to him in your full size bed (a far cry from the king size at his place), with you both already drenched in sweat put you in a sour mood and as the day progresses, along with the temperature, your mood has only gotten worse.

“How could the outside temperature and the inside temperature be that similar, what the fuck,” you grumble.

“It only feels that bad because now you know how hot it actually is, babe,” he suggests, coming up and wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, lightly scraping at it with his beard.

You roll your eyes. “No, it feels that bad because it is that bad, babe,” you huff, shrugging his arms off of you. In quick succession, he smirks and then pouts at your brush-off. “Ash, I swear to god, why does it seem like the second it gets above a certain temperature, you get super affectionate just to spite me?”

He grins and reaches for you, pulling you into an embrace once more. “Aww, baby, it’s not out of spite,” he laughs. “I just think you’re cute when you’re irritated.”

Ash squeezes you tight, swaying softly as he kisses the top of your head. Normally you would find yourself melting into his touch but today you just feel like you’re literally melting. 

“You’re about to think I’m really fucking adorable then because I’m gonna flip out if you don’t get away from me,” you gripe, wriggling out of his grasp. 

You decide to take a cool shower but you’re not surprised to find that it’s so hot outside, the water doesn't get any cooler than lukewarm. You let your frustrated mind wander as it runs over your sweat-covered skin. Of course the heatwave would have to be this weekend. Of course it was unexpected so all your fans are still in storage and of course all the stores in the area are sold out of their stock. Of course you live in an apartment that only has a small air conditioner that’s basically useless. Of course Ashton is annoyingly unaffected by the heat and of course you know it’s unreasonable of you to direct your hostility toward him but… seriously, it’s so annoying. Despite your agitated thoughts and the tepid water, by shower’s end, you have to admit you feel relieved. 

Ash’s back is turned when you approach the kitchen. Now that both your body and your temper have had a chance to cool, you’re much more appreciative of his presence. You stand in the doorway, admiring his considerable build: how broad his back looks even as he hunches over, digging through a drawer, how the narrow cut of his tank top makes his shoulders look even larger than usual, how his favorite basketball shorts cling to his ass. By the time his arms start flexing as he stirs what looks like a pitcher of sweet tea, you’re padding over to him and wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Heyyy,” he chuckles, slinging an arm around you and bringing you to his side. “You seem to be feeling better.”

“Better, cooler and nicer,” you declare, pecking at his chest to prove your point. “Sorry I was being a mega bitch.”

He snorts. “No offense but when I saw the heat advisory on my phone last night, I kind of knew what I was gonna be up against.”

You pinch his arm, half offended. “No, my love, I could never think of you as a mega bitch,” you offer the reply you would’ve preferred, in a mocking voice. 

He shakes his head with a smile. “Would I have gone to this much trouble if I really thought that of you?” He gestures towards the living room where he’s spread your spare comforter on the floor in front of the AC; two cold cut sandwiches, a tub of leftover macaroni salad from yesterday’s dinner and a fresh bag of your favorite chips sit on the coffee table. 

You enjoy your “picnic” and continue lounging in front of the AC long after you’re finished eating. Ashton returns from clearing your dishes to discover you sprawled out on your stomach, complaining that you sat on the floor too long and your entire body feels numb. 

He cocks an eyebrow as he lays down next to you and lands a hard smack across your ass. You yelp but honestly, you should’ve seen it coming. You glare at him, unimpressed.

“Just trying to help,” he shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Mmm hmm, sure,” you giggle, turning to face him. “Quick question, why are you like this?” 

He pulls you closer. “Don’t act like it’s just me, I felt you ogling me in the kitchen,” he teases. “I know you’re turned on, look how hard your nipples are.” He grabs a handful of your breast and pinches to emphasize his point.

You snort laugh, “I’ve been sitting in front of an air conditioner, you dummy.” 

He makes a sheepish face and you both crack up. Your joint giggle fit easily transitions into a comfortable, lazy makeout session. You’re about to finally reach your hand inside his shorts when you both pull away after hearing a noise. It takes only a few seconds of humid air on your skin for you to realize that the AC has stopped. “The power’s gone out,” you announce, gently pushing his body off of you so that you can go flip the circuit breakers. “Maybe we had the air on for too long?”

A few minutes later, Ash joins you in the kitchen, where you’re fiddling with the breaker box. “Nothing,” you tell him, frowning at the panel.

“Seems like it’s the whole complex, all your neighbors are out wandering around,” he reports. “Maybe a rolling blackout from the heat? Or I guess it could be the storm? Looked like the signal at the end of the street was out.”

“Fantastic,” you seethe.

Ash reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss to your clenched fist. “It’ll be fine, baby, this is just a good excuse for us to order dinner. And the sun will be going down soon, so it’ll have to cool off!"

You nod slowly, not believing him but appreciating the effort. "You just don't want me to be mean to you again," you tease.

You start looking for your lanterns and candles in case the power doesn't come back before nightfall. Which of course, it doesn’t. And despite Ashton's optimism, it doesn't cool off much either. You know the heat must actually be extreme when even he starts commenting on it.

He spots your cooler in the closet and offers to run down to the corner gas station and grab some ice to fill it with so you could at least have cold drinks. It doesn’t make much of a difference to you but you know he’s trying to do anything he can to make you more comfortable, so you tell him it’s a great idea. 

He returns quickly, triumphantly lifting up a comically large party bag of ice with one hand. "This was the only size they had," he explains. You smile softly and kiss his shoulder in silent thanks as you pass by on your way to gather the drinks.

The rest of the evening is uneventful. You attempt a candlelit dinner, but you both quickly agree it’s more impractical than romantic and replace the candles with your bright ass camping lantern. 

You make it an early night, not because you're tired but because you need the day to end. You thought fresh sheets sounded cooling but when Ash enters the bedroom, he finds you sitting defeatedly in the middle of the half-made bed and in the dim candlelight, he can’t tell if it’s sweat or frustrated tears he spies falling down your face. “OK, that’s enough,” he announces, reaching for your arm to drag you up from the bed. “You’re getting in the shower, I’m dealing with this.”

You’re pleased to find the water has cooled and the candles you have illuminating the bathroom makes for a much more relaxing environment than your previous shower. You haven’t been in long when you feel Ash’s beard scratching your back as he presses small kisses to your shoulders. You smile to yourself and face him, wrapping your arms around him. “You had to put up with a lot from me today,” you start. You peck along his neck and jaw, landing at his lips, which you kiss softly. “I just want you to know I appreciate it.” 

He holds you against him. “It was a long, shit day,” he shrugs. “I was just sorry to see you having such a bad time. Wanted to do what I could."

You lean in and you make out sweetly, enjoying the feel of each other's lips and the cool water. You feel him start to dip his hands in between your legs but you gently push them away. "I'm good, baby, just wanted to thank you." You peck his lips and leave him to finish showering.

You’re in the middle of putting lotion on when you feel Ashton’s hands on you again; he hasn’t even bothered with a towel, as if he couldn’t waste a second moving from the shower back to your body.

"Ashhhh,” you giggle. “I promise I’m fine… and where’s your towel? You’re dripping everywhere.”

His hand has found its way between your legs again and he swipes a finger through your folds. “Well, I’m not the only one,” he quips. "I knew you were getting riled up over there." He sucks and nibbles at your neck, causing you to groan. "Baby, you've been stressed all day. Let me get you off, it's the least I can do."

You sigh and nod, unable to deny the way you’re throbbing for his attention; he lifts you onto the bathroom counter and you find yourself almost involuntarily spreading your legs for him. “That’s my good girl,” he coos, kissing your inner thighs, running his beard along them the way he knows you like. He uses the tip of his tongue to flick at your clit, chuckling to himself as you instantly shudder and tangle your fingers in his wet hair.  

You pant heavily while he flattens his wide tongue and laps at your pussy. By the time his lips wrap around your clit, you’re bucking up onto his face, begging him for more.

You’re puzzled when he suddenly draws you down from the counter and pushes you over it, remaining on his knees. He spreads your legs again and swirls his tongue around your clit; he then licks all the way from your clit to your asshole, fluttering his tongue over it several times. A guttural whine rips through your throat.

“That a good noise, baby?” Ash asks, kneading your ass in his hands. “Want me to keep going?” 

All you can manage is a pitifully whimpered “Uh-huh” and he smirks to himself as he dives back in, spreading your cheeks with his thumbs and rolling his tongue over your tight ring. You can’t remember the last time you were this turned on and it’s overwhelming, the added sensation of his beard making it even more stimulating. You nearly shriek when his hand starts working your clit.

“Please Ash... yeah… oh FUCK...” Nonsense spills from your lips as he licks you and you can’t help but roll your hips against his hand. His mouth pauses for a second and you’re about to complain when suddenly he’s pressing his tongue inside your hole. “Jesus Christ, Ash!” You cry out, white knuckling the edge of the counter.

He groans in response to your outburst and you can feel the vibrations of it as he pushes his tongue in further. You reach back and grab at his hair, desperate for something to hold onto, desperate to pull him even closer. His tongue darts in and out of your ass while his fingers rub tight, relentless circles around your clit. 

Your orgasm hits you without warning and for a second, you’re not sure if you’re going to live through it; your entire body shakes, your legs feel like jelly and your eyes are squeezed shut so tight you’re seeing stars. He reaches his free hand up to support you and continues to lick and rub you as it goes on, even as your fingers viciously yank at his hair.

You let yourself slump over the counter, enjoying the cool feeling of the marbling on your heated skin. You feel Ash’s lips softly kissing up your back and his hand stroking your hair. “You did so good, baby, thank you,” he praises, rubbing your back. “Thought you deserved a treat after the day you've had.”

“That was… wow?” You rasp, surprised at your voice’s scratchiness; you didn’t realize you were screaming but you must have been judging from how wrecked you sound. “ ‘M all sweaty though, gonna need to rinse off again,” you laugh.

“Oops,” his giggle echoes through the bathroom. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He helps you stand upright and presses a kiss to your head. You note that he’s fairly hard but he leaves the room before either of you mention it.

You enter the bedroom a few minutes later and discover it empty; you’ve just pulled on a cotton slip nightgown when your shirtless boyfriend appears, carrying two bottles of water and two cups filled with ice. He sits yours on the nightstand and wanders over to where you’re towel drying your hair. You lovingly roll your eyes as he immediately wraps his arms around you; he’s changed back into his shorts and they’re doing nothing to disguise the erection you noticed in the bathroom. 

“Always love this nightgown on you,” he breathes, mouth biting at your earlobe, hands running up and down your sides. “Do you remember you wore it the first time you stayed over at mine?”

You smile at the memory. “And I thought you only liked it because it’s see-through in the light,” you tease, spinning out of his hold. You love him like this so you don’t want to outright reject him but you also can’t imagine having sex in this sweltering bedroom and aren’t about to take your fourth shower of the day.

You prop your pillows up so you can drink your ice water and check your phone while you still have some battery left. Ash sits next to you and you can already feel the heat radiating off of him. He absentmindedly places his hand on your thigh, squeezing every so often as it creeps higher. You slide your hand into his, bring it to your lips and kiss his knuckles briefly before setting it back on his own leg.

“I really should’ve let you buy me that bigger bed like you offered when you first started sleeping over,” you joke, hoping he’ll understand your meaning.

He chuckles and searches your face sympathetically, “Am I making you warm, baby? I’m sorry,” he pouts. “It’s getting better though, I opened the window before our shower and the storm’s bringing a breeze in.” He snakes an arm around you and leans you closer, pecking your cheek.

“It’s still pretty bad in here… and you’re still kind of a radiator, Ash,” you gently complain.

He frowns, then pauses and his face suddenly changes expression. “I know something we can do to take your mind off that…” 

You make a face. “Baby… I know you're hard but it has been such a ridiculous day," you gently explain. "I'll kiss you while you jerk off if you want? I just cannot fathom having you on me right now.”

“First of all, I never said I wanted to be on you,” he notes. “Second, I just feel bad you’re already so tense again, babe, we gotta get you to relax.” He massages your neck as he talks and you didn’t realize how stiff your muscles were until that moment. “I know it’s not gonna be an easy night sleeping in here and I was just thinking you always sleep so much better right after you cum...”

Despite the heat, your body is buzzing at his touch. “Goddammit, that’s a fair point,” you concede and he laughs under his breath. “Feel like whatever you have in mind is only gonna make me feel even warmer though.”

His eyes shine with playful desire. “Not necessarily…” he replies mysteriously. “Trust me?”

You hate how curious you are and how much his vagueness is turning you on. “You get five minutes to prove this is worth it… or until I start sweating, whichever is first.”

Ash chuckles, “I think we both know you’ll be begging for my cock long before then.”

You shake your head at him and then he's kissing you and laying you down. "Close your eyes," he requests. You look at him skeptically. "I'm assuming you think it's too warm for the blindfold," he points out and you nod in agreement.

He hovers over you and brushes his lips lightly against yours. "So gorgeous laying there, just waiting for me," he whispers low, knowing the praise will make you swoon. "Can you get your tits out for me, baby?"

You slip your thin straps off your shoulders and tug your nightgown down your torso, exposing your chest. Your breath is already heavy with anticipation when you feel Ashton's hands run up your thighs on his way to knead your breasts. His touch feels warmer than you'd like but his firm, calloused grip is always welcome.

His hands disappear for a second and you hear some generic rustling; you assume you'll be feeling his mouth next but what you don't expect is the intense cold of the ice cube he has in between his teeth. A squeal escapes your throat and your eyes shoot open at the sensation of him dragging the ice down your neck and in between your tits; the combined heat of your skin and his mouth starts melting it instantly and freezing water drips down your body. 

“Ash, what the fuck?!” You cry out with a shocked laugh. He tugs your nightgown lower and continues his travels, bringing the cube down over your stomach, water dissolving all over your midsection.

You whine as he pulls back and grins. “OH, did... did you want me to continue?” He taunts, chewing what was left in his mouth. “Didn’t take long for you to decide this was ‘worth it,’ huh, baby?”

He reaches for the cup on your nightstand and drops another cube in his mouth before lowering himself to your chest. His cold fingers play with one of your nipples while he sucks the other between his lips; his tongue swirls the ice around your pointed bud and the dueling feelings of the frozen cube and his warm tongue is unlike anything you’ve felt before.

You hold his head to your chest, running your fingers through his damp, curling hair. “Ash, babyyyyyy,” you breathe dreamily as he moves his attention to your other nipple. “This was a good idea, you were right.” Even with his mouth around you, he manages to grin at your concession and you arch your back into him.

“Love it when you talk dirty,” he smugly responds. He brings the remaining portion of his cube to the front of his lips and traces it over yours before slipping it back in his mouth and kissing you deeply. You whimper as he slowly transfers the cube into your mouth with his tongue. He tugs your lip between his teeth as he pulls away and you moan loudly at the realization that you can’t feel it because your lips are numb from the ice. 

Ashton sits back on his knees and you reach for him, immediately missing his attention. "Want you," you admit, stretching your arm until your hand lands on his bulging crotch. “Need you. Need this.”

He takes a page out of your book and pulls your hand up to his lips, kissing it and sitting it away from him. “Oh I know you need it, baby,” he teases, slipping his hand inside your panties to feel your wetness. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it... but first… can’t let my last ice cube go to waste.”

He smiles at your annoyed sigh as he snatches the cup from the table and moves down your body. You know that look in his eye and for once tonight, you know what he’s thinking. He starts to raise the cup to his lips as you whine, “Oh my god, Ash, don’t,” pushing him away with your feet.

He cocks his head and rubs his hands up and down your legs. “You know your word,” he replies and looks at you expectantly. You hold each other’s gaze for several beats and then his hands yank your panties off. Your nightgown is still bunched around your waist and you finally pull it all the way off, making yourself bare for him. 

Ash raises the cup in your direction in mock cheers and finally slides the ice into his mouth. In the time it takes you to blink he’s already between your legs, running the tip of the cube up and down your lips. You shift your hips to meet his touch and he lightly slaps your thigh to get you to settle. 

He moves through your folds, nudging at your entrance for just a second before moving on; you brace yourself as he reaches your clit. He teases around it first with only his tongue and your heart pounds as you wait for the cold to shock you. After what feels like half a lifetime, a burst of piercing iciness shoots through your entire body, starting at your core. You let out a long, low moan as he alternates flicking the frozen cube over your clit and then running his warm tongue against you in raging contrast. 

He sucks at your clit softly before moving to kiss up your inner thighs as he sits up. You didn’t see it happen but he apparently slipped the ice into his hand because now he’s pressing it directly on your clit, letting it melt, causing you to moan and writhe. 

"ASH PLEASE… oh my godddd…” you cry, grabbing his wrist. You’re not quite sure if you want him to stop or to keep going until you cum so you just hold onto his arm, begging. “Fuck me, please, need you to fuck me, Ash!”

Smiling, he firmly grinds the last of the cube against your clit and you thrash as it melts within seconds. He slips two fingers inside you and you shudder at how cold they are. “Knew I could get you begging for me, baby” he growls, smirking as he kisses up your body. “You sure it’s 'worth it'? Maybe you’re right, maybe it is too warm? This pussy feels pretty warm to me.” He skillfully juts his fingers in and out of you as he taunts you.

You whimper pathetically in response and he chuckles. “Alright, baby, you’ve been so good for me tonight, I’ll let you have my cock,” he declares. “Hands and knees for me, gorgeous.” 

Ashton pulls his shorts off while you do your best to get into position, unsteady from all the stimulation. You can’t help yourself and as soon as you get up on your knees you lunge for him, capturing his mouth in a filthy kiss and your hand tugs at his cock, easily coaxing out a trickle of precum.

He murmurs into your kiss, letting you have your moment and then in one swift move, he swats your hand away and pulls you off his lips by wrapping his hand around your throat. “I said hands and knees, baby,” he reminds you, squeezing lightly.

You can’t quite find your voice to moan but if you had, it would’ve been the loudest yet. You get into position and for the first time tonight, you notice the curtains billowing as the long-promised stormy breeze fills the room. You’re about to point it out but you decide to bite your lip instead because the head of Ash’s cock is pushing up against your entrance. 

You sigh restlessly and slowly push back on him, eager to have him inside you but he promptly halts your hips and roughly smacks your ass for trying. “Don’t be desperate,” he reprimands sternly. 

You mumble a pitiful “Sorry” and he rubs over the stinging redness of his handprint in acknowledgment. He slides his cock over your pussy a couple times, slicking it with your arousal, enjoying how your legs shake every time he juuuust misses running his tip over your clit. Then he starts pushing in for real, at an agonizingly slow rate; he knows you’re already on the verge of overstimulation and he knows you’re aching to cum but he loves teasing you, loves making you feel every inch of him as he enters you.

You hang your head, breathing his name so softly you almost don’t even hear it yourself. The thrill of finally having him inside you combined with the sublime stretch as his thickness gradually fills you is overwhelming; if you wanted to, you honestly think you might be able to cum from this alone. For a moment it crosses your mind to tell him this but in the next, you realize he already knows.

“Love watching you take me,” Ash praises you, finally bottoming out. “You’ve really gotta see it sometime, baby, there’s nothing like it.” 

You whine at his words and your sounds increase as he thrusts into you, wasting no time setting a punishing rhythm, you’ve both waited long enough for this. “Feels… so… good… babe…” you pant, voice quivering as his hips hit forcefully against yours. Your hands are cramping from how tightly you’re gripping the sheets in front of you but you don’t know how else to handle the intensity of what you’re feeling.

Ashton grunts, slapping your ass once on each cheek. He fucks into you rapidly and it's not long before his fingers dig into where he’s holding your hips; this means he’s getting close. You slide your hand to your clit and start rubbing, burying your face in the bed as you let out a choked sigh. He speeds up the pace when he notices. “I’m almost there too, baby,” he puffs. “Go ahead and cum, baby. Fuck, you deserve it.”

The soft howling of the wind, the vigorous slapping of Ash’s skin on yours and your muffled moans are all that can be heard for the next minute or so. Your sounds gain volume as your pussy begins to throb and you finally feel your walls tensing around him. He fucks you through it, murmuring about what a good girl you are, how beautiful you look. 

As your orgasm reaches its end, you hear Ash continuing to mumble but you realize it’s mostly nonsense; seconds later you feel his cock pulsing as he empties his load inside you. He groans loudly, running his thumbs over the fresh marks he’s left on your hips and slowly pumping into you a few more times before sighing and pulling out.

He pecks a kiss on the small of your back and then he grabs the tissues on your vanity to clean you up. You lay on your stomach, sleepy but satisfied; when he’s done, he lays beside you. “How are we feeling?” He asks, running his hand through your hair.

You smile dreamily at him. “Like I’m gonna sleep real good tonight,” you joke. You scoot closer to him and lightly kiss his bearded chin. “Like I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through today without you. Like I love you a lot.”

Ashton’s eyes shine fondly at you through the darkness. "I'm happy to hear that, there were a few times today I wasn't sure if you still liked me," he cracks. You poke him and he kisses your pouted lips. "I love you too, by the way."

You finish getting ready for bed and as you blow out the candles around the room, Ash instinctively moves closer to the edge of the bed; he's sure you'll want to sleep as far apart as possible. "Is it supposed to be this hot again tomorrow?" He asks.

"Yup," you answer, surprisingly unbothered, getting back in bed.

He frowns. "What do you think we should do?"

You surprise him again by curling into him, tangling your legs with his. "We've got all day and half a bag of ice left," you grin mischievously. "I think we'll be fine."

—-

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[fallinnflower]

in absentia

jackson x reader (hermes!au, angst)

word count: 5,638

a/n: i’d like to thank @softseunies​​ for making this happen. thanks for being my ultimate cheerleader as i stumbled through writing this fic, mwah~

When you first meet Jackson, he’s running. You notice him at once — not only because he’s extremely attractive — because you run this same route everyday, and you’ve never seen him before. And this isn’t a heavily-populated area, so your curiosity is immediately piqued.

But soon, you’re not just seeing him when you’re running, you’re seeing him when you’re out for coffee, or at the grocery store, or on your way to work. He’s everywhere, and you have no clue who he is!

The next Saturday morning, he’s out running again, and you just can’t help yourself. You have to talk to him, and it feels like it’s now or never.

He slows his pace as he hears you approaching, lagging behind until you can fall into step beside him.

“Hey,” you greet, trying to ignore the disarming smile he shoots your way because you don’t really want to fall flat on your face in front of him.

“I couldn’t help but notice you around town. Are you new?” He lets out a breathy laugh, the sunlight glistening off his sweat-covered skin; normally, you think you’d be disgusted, but you can’t help but find him handsome.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m Jackson, it’s nice to meet you." He stops running just to shake your hand, and in the moment it takes for you to notice that and turn around, you can already feel yourself falling. His hand is warm, slightly calloused, and fits perfectly against yours. You can’t help but smile; somehow, just being near him, you feel energized. 

“You, too.”

“Wanna grab coffee sometime?” He asks, beaming at you. And, well, how could you say no?

You leave the park with his number in your phone, and an unexpected spring in your step.

Jackson had noticed you long before you’d noticed him. In fact, he’d been living in the area a little longer than you thought he had, and only because he’d taken such care to scope the area out before moving in. He had to be sure there wouldn’t be trouble for him here, and that his contact with Olympus wouldn’t be obstructed in any way. 

He’d first noticed you exiting a coffee shop. The look on your face was so blissful as you took a sip of your drink that he had to go in and try it for himself. 

And just like that, he was hooked — on you and the coffee. 

It wasn’t all about getting to know you at first. After all, he still needed to know the area he’d be living in! But then he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and he couldn’t remember the last time a mortal had made him feel the way he did when he looked at you. 

So he just happened to take his daily runs on the same path as you, when he could have chosen any other place. And just happened to be taking you to your favorite coffee shop on your first date.

Yes, he intended it to be a date. He was hoping you would feel the same way by the end of it — and not just because of his godly charm. He was, after all, a supernatural being; if he wanted you, he could have you, but he had better morals than Zeus at least. Besides, it had been a long time since he’d properly flirted with and gotten to know someone — and he decided he wanted to take his time with you.

(Or, well, as much as he could stand to. He had speed built into him, adrenaline always coursing through his veins. Slow, for him, was probably not the same as slow for you.)

“So,” he says, sitting across from you in a corner table. The sun hits you just right, casting a golden halo around your head, and Jackson leans onto his elbows on the table, propping his chin in his hands as he admires you. “You’ve seen me around?” At his teasing, you startle and it takes a few coughs for you to get your bearings again. 

“I, um— yeah. At the park, and stuff.”

“And stuff?” He repeats, raising one eyebrow. As he watches the expression on your face shift from embarrassment to playful irritation, realizing what he’s getting at, Jackson feels his heart skip a beat. He wishes he could keep this moment in the forefront of his mind forever, the pout on your lips so enticing he can’t help but want to kiss you. It’s shocking to him that he’s already so invested, so lost in your eyes. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you reply, a playful twinkle in your eye. 

He realizes, right then and there, you might be more bewitching and dangerous than Aphrodite herself (though he’d never say such a thing in her presence), and he’s in real trouble. And he doesn’t mind that one bit. What’s life without a little danger?

Jackson is the perfect gentleman. He’s always considerate, holding the door open for you and insisting on paying; showing up early, usually with flowers; memorizing your favorite drink at your favorite cafe within the first handful of dates. It’s incredible, really — you’d thought he was just your average charmer at first, but as you get to know him you realize how genuine his charm actually is. Although he’s certainly handsome and playful, the real charm of him lies below the surface in the type of person he is.

Which is why, when he suddenly stops replying to your texts one day when you’re supposed to have a date, it feels very out of character. Jackson is usually the type to be up before dawn, messaging you just as early with pictures of a cute dog he encountered on his run or just asking if you’re ready for your date — he’s never once been late, and you never imagined he would be the type to stand you up without any reason.

And yet, when the time he’s supposed to pick you up comes around, there’s no sign of him. Your texts remain unanswered, calls going to voicemail, and at first you’re more worried than upset. You turn on the news, wondering if there’s been some kind of major accident, but there’s nothing of note that comes up on the traffic report. Slowly, your anxiety turns to aggravation, which eventually fades into self-pity. By the time three hours have passed, you can’t find a reason to keep your makeup on — so you shuffle miserably to the bathroom and wipe away the work you’d done hours before, and then hop in the shower because you can feel the tears coming on and refuse to just sit around crying on the couch. It’s more cathartic to cry in the shower, anyways. 

You continue your pity party by slipping into an Eeyore onesie your friend bought you as a gag gift last year, yanking up the hood for maximum warmth as you make yourself a cup of tea and begin raiding your snack shelf for anything and everything self-indulgent. As you lug all these things into your living room, fully prepared to set up camp on the couch for the next few hours, a loud knock sounds at your door. It’s urgent, but not excessively loud, and you slowly make your way to the door and peer through the peephole—

And there’s Jackson, sweat clinging to his brow, panting like he just finished a marathon. You hate that you can’t even manage to scowl at him when you open the door.

“Y/N!” He greets, looking ecstatic for a moment before the guilt returns to his features, making him look like a kicked puppy. “I’m so, so sorry about today, but I can explain, I promise! But, like, if you never want to see me again, I get it—”

As he rambles, you find yourself stepping aside and opening your door for him. A small smile finds its way onto your face as you interrupt him,

“I’ll hear you out, but only because you look so miserable. Come on.”

You get him a glass of water before settling on the opposite end of the couch from him. Jackson downs half of it in one gulp, thanking you breathlessly before clearing his throat and schooling his expression into one that’s more somber. 

“Okay, I know I said I could explain, but I… it’s going to sound weird, okay?” You furrow your brows in confusion, but nod for him to go on, nonetheless.

“I missed our date and didn’t respond to your messages because I was, um,” he pauses, licks his lips, then continues more softly, “in the underworld. I’m not actually human, I’m, uh, I’m Hermes. The Greek god. You know?”

There aren’t even crickets to fill the silence between you. Jackson stares into your eyes with his earnest, dark ones, and you feel your throat close up a bit. You avert your gaze to hide the tears you can feel welling up.

“Wow,” you scoff, softly. “You know, Jackson, if you didn’t like me you could’ve just said that—”

“I’m serious!” He cries, taking hold of both of your hands. “Just, okay, hold on a second.” Before you can reply, Jackson is pulling his hands away from yours and reaching down to pull off his socks. As you look up at him in confusion, willing yourself to ask him what the hell is going on, you notice that his skin seems to be shimmering slightly and his once dark irises have turned to gold. Without any hesitation, Jackson lifts his leg up, hands clasped behind his knee so his ankle is almost at your eye level.

It’s almost comical, you think. He must be insane, but then you actually look at his ankle in front of you and realize you must be the crazy one.

Because there’s a wing. An honest-to-God, white-feathered wing sprouting out of his ankle on the exterior side. It’s small, but it’s there, and when you tentatively reach out to touch it with the thought that maybe this is just an elaborate prank, it actually flutters.

The next thing you remember is waking up to see Jackson sitting nervously on the floor beside your couch, staring at you intently as he grips tightly onto one of your hands.

“Oh, thank goodness,” he breathes when you finally open your eyes. “Listen, I am so sorry, I’ve never— I didn’t know how to prove it to you but that was really dumb, I’m so sorry—”

“I— that wasn’t a dream?” You squeak, and you notice Jackson’s eyes still have a little gold left in them. It’s answer enough for you, and as you sit up on the couch Jackson gently places a hand against your back, bracing you in case you pass out again. You run a hand through your hair, letting out a long breath. Eventually, you lift your gaze to meet his,

“So, what you’re saying is there’s no cell service in the underworld?” You ask. Relief washes over Jackson’s features, a smile gracing his lips, and neither of you can help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

And that’s how you start dating Jackson, aka Hermes, the messenger of the Greek gods. 

You had been half joking about there being no cell service in the underworld, but it turned out you were right. The results of this were handfuls of missed dates, because Jackson, true to his godly nature, was the type of person who had trouble being patient. Most times he got an assignment from the Big Guys Upstairs and started on his way without even thinking about you or how you might be waiting for him to send you a message. 

You also learned the hard way that time worked differently down there, aka your boyfriend had no concept of it.

It was extremely worrisome at first. More than being frustrated at him disappearing, you were frightened — what if he wasn’t on a supernatural mission but got hit by a car or something? Did he even have emergency contacts? Did he need them?

Dating was confusing, even more so when your boyfriend is a god who sometimes goes radio silent for days at a time. Sometimes you wish there was some Olympian hotline, just so you could call up and ask if he was okay. All you ever wanted, really, was to know that. It didn’t matter to you if he missed dates for something as important as godly work, but was it too much to ask for a text in advance when he got word of a new assignment?

Were you really as insignificant to him as that?

But then Jackson would come home and you’d forgive him with his puppy dog eyes and remind yourself how lucky you were to be with someone like Jackson; not only because he was a god and you were a mortal, but because he was such a doting, perfect boyfriend when he was around. So you pushed any misgivings you had aside for his sake, trying to enjoy all the time you could with him, ignoring how the frustration piled up in the corners of your mind.

It would be wrong to say that Jackson was the only one who had to go away on business from time to time, although you certainly went less often than he did — and your trips always had a general sense of structure. And cell service.

You’d been chosen by your company to go as a representative on a week-long trip to negotiate a contract with a firm in Japan. It was exciting, and quite the opportunity, but it ran you ragged. After spending three hours on a plane and more than that in airports, going through customs and lugging your bags around, you’re more than excited to be back on familiar soil. And even that pales in comparison to the thought of seeing Jackson again. You can’t help the goofy grin that spreads across your features as you imagine running into his arms for the first time in a week — somehow, it feels so much longer than that, but maybe it’s because he was away on his own business until the crack of dawn the morning you left. Those short, meager hours together in bed weren’t nearly enough to get you through a whole business trip. 

The forecast is calling for rain, but thankfully the weather hasn’t turned just yet, although it’s chilly enough to have you longing for your space heater of a boyfriend even more. You pull out your phone to text him that you’re at the departures area, waiting just inside the doors; you know he’ll get concerned if you wait outside.

The message is delivered. Just like the one you sent when your plane finally taxied in over ten minutes ago.

Jackson is the type to respond to messages fast, especially when they’re from you. He’s a little clingy like that, and especially so after you’ve been gone for a while. But as you stand around, watching people cart their luggage out to cars and reunite with their own loved ones, you can’t help but feel increasingly impatient.

Five minutes pass. Then ten. Fifteen. Your phone has been put on low-power mode, sitting at nineteen percent, and you shift the weight of your duffel around on your shoulder to try and ease the ache in your neck. 

In a last ditch effort fueled by irritation, sleep deprivation, and hunger from skipping lunch because everything at the airport is overpriced, you try calling Jackson.

It goes to voicemail. You frown, because you know exactly what that means, and you hate that you aren’t surprised by it at all. A glance out the glass doors shows you that it’s started raining, and you feel your shoulders slump — as soon as you manage to hail a taxi outside, you nearly start crying in the backseat. If the driver notices your foul mood, he doesn’t mention anything; he actually just turns the radio up for you a bit, which you appreciate. You’re in no mood to talk.

The apartment is cold and empty when you get in, meaning your boyfriend probably hasn’t been around for at least a day — he would’ve turned the heat on for you, at least, if he had. You drop your duffel by the shoe rack and trudge into the kitchen, wanting nothing more than a home-cooked meal, even if it’s leftovers—

The fridge is sparse. Any and all leftovers have obviously been consumed by your boyfriend, and with how cold the apartment is yogurt just doesn’t sound appetizing. You shut the door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through the apartment as you dig out a cheap packet of instant ramen and a bowl, shoving it in the microwave. As the mechanical whir fills the otherwise empty apartment, you plug your phone into the extra charger on the kitchen counter.

When it powers up, you find no new messages on your screen, and the ones you’ve sent to Jackson remain unseen. 

You get over it. You always do, especially when you wake up to Jackson cooking you a massive apology breakfast in the kitchen.

It’s a routine. You can’t stay mad at him — in part because you love him, but also because you’re too tired to stay mad at him. If you let every little setback like this piss you off, then the relationship would die. You tell yourself it’s up to you to keep the peace; you agreed to date a god, and so you should’ve expected it.

You try to ignore the ache in your chest when you press your face into his shoulder, allowing him to press apologetic kisses to the crown of your head and smooth down the wrinkles the his shirt you’d slept in. Your anger seeps into the cracks, unseen and for all you care, forgotten.

It’s the perfect evening. You’re clinging to Jackson’s arm as he guides you towards the restaurant your coworker has been hyping up for weeks. You have reservations, and your boyfriend is wearing a suit and keeps telling you how beautiful you look — it’s perfect. 

Friday nights are good date nights, and because of that the restaurant is extremely crowded. You’re glad you thought ahead to get a reservation for you and Jackson, and gaze around the warmly-lit establishment in childlike wonder. Jackson holds your hand across the table, using the other to peruse the menu. After a few minutes of doing the same, you lift your eyes from the page to your boyfriend’s handsome face.

“What are you thinking?” You ask, folding your own menu and setting it aside. 

“Your coworker said their pasta was good, right?” You nod, listening to Jackson as he discusses the two options he’s stuck between, and when he starts getting pouty over the decision you giggle and squeeze his hand.

“How about you get one and I get the other, and we can split?” His eyes light up at your suggestion. He lifts your hand from the table and presses a kiss to your knuckles, beaming,

“This is why I love you.” 

“Because I share food with you?” You ask, laughing, and Jackson shakes his head, smiling gently at you from across the table. His skin almost glows in the warm golden lighting. 

“No, because—”

A familiar ringtone fills the air between you, and Jackson leans back in his seat. His hand slips from your without even a moment’s hesitation as he pulls his phone from his pocket, answering it without even apologizing to you. You swallow hard, throat suddenly feeling very dry.

Only a few seconds later, his chair is pushed back and he’s standing beside you.

“I have to go,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Don’t wait up, okay? Enjoy the dinner.”

The waiter arrives with your drinks as Jackson leaves the restaurant. You can’t even bring yourself to watch him go, just listening to his footsteps until they disappear below the murmurs around you. 

“Is something wrong?” The waiter asks. You shoot him a weak smile, feeling unbearably cold all of a sudden. 

“Ah, I’m sorry, but I’ll need to get the orders to-go. Something has come up.” You’re grateful that the waiter merely nods and takes down your order, saying nothing more than is necessary. The guy even packs up some breadsticks for you, since you hadn’t even gotten that far, and within twenty minutes you’re walking alone down the sidewalk you’d just walked up with Jackson not even an hour before. There are people all around you, but somehow all you can hear is the sound of your solitary feet hitting the pavement as you make your way to the apartment.

It was supposed to be a perfect evening. You’d go out to dinner and Jackson would keep telling you how good you looked, and you’d come home and bask in each other for as long as you wanted. It would’ve been a blissful start to the weekend — but now here you are, standing in the doorway with a plastic bag dangling from your wrist.

You don’t bother to reheat your food. You shove Jackson’s box in the fridge and drop to the carpet in your living room, putting on some dumb reality show to try and numb your brain to the waves of loneliness and shame you feel rolling over you. You eat all the breadsticks by yourself, but you still end up leaving some of your pasta for Jackson to try later.

Like many of the nights you spend without Jackson, you end up falling asleep on the couch. Sometimes it’s hard to sleep in a bed without him.

You wake up to an empty apartment. You drag yourself off the couch and into the kitchen to wash your dishes from the night before. It sucks being without Jackson, sucks even more that you still feel embarrassed about the night before at that wonderful restaurant, but you know that at least the apartment will look nice when he comes back. Before you can start overthinking, you start a pot of coffee and begin spraying down the counters. The busier your body is, the less time you have to think.

Saturday passes in a whirlwind of cleaning supplies and music turned up high so you don’t have to hear yourself think. Sunday drags along, with you desperately thinking of errands to run and completing them in no time at all. You spend the afternoon binge-watching a drama, and that night when you open the fridge you’re confronted once again by Jackson’s leftovers on the glass shelf.

You avert your gaze and pull out the leftovers of your own pasta, which you’d initially intended for him. It may have been a petty thing to do, really, but you didn’t care much about if he thought you were being petty. He wouldn’t dare to bring it up anyways. The two of you never talked about things that upset you, especially not right after he came home from a trip to the underworld. You manage to fall asleep alone in bed this time.

Monday dawns with no sign of your boyfriend, and you try to ease the worry in your heart, but nothing except for seeing him could possibly make you feel any better. You go through work on autopilot, wishing you could just get over this already. It isn’t like it’s anything new, anyways.

You eat his leftovers that night, because he’s nowhere to be seen and you can’t stand to see it go to waste. It tastes like ashes in your mouth.

He finally comes back on Wednesday night. You should be asleep, but you just couldn’t get your mind to stop running in circles, so you trudged back into the living room and sat down to watch some mindless TV with a cup of tea. It almost works, maybe, except that the clicking of the front door unlocking snaps you out of your half-asleep state.

The two of you rarely fight, but this time you can’t help it. The moment he walks in from the entryway, you feel the annoyance and rage of the past two years bubbling to the surface, unable to be contained.

“Hey,” he greets, sounding tired but not unhappy. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek and you hardly even blink, eyes still focused on the television. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just moves towards the kitchen and somehow that makes you even angrier. You clench your jaw, the words coming out sharp as you hear him rifling around in the drawer for a set of chopsticks,

“Aren’t you going to say anything else?” The rifling doesn’t stop, like he doesn’t even notice the change in your tone. Is he even around enough to notice something so small anymore?

“What do you mean?” He asks, stuffing some noodles into his mouth. You turn your cold gaze onto him, finding yourself infuriated with his casual pose, leaning against the doorframe as though he hasn’t a care in the world.

“I don’t know, maybe a sorry for leaving in the middle of our date?” Jackson swallows his bite and sets his bowl down, slowly making his way to the couch. He sits down beside you, turning his knees in towards yours, and slowly pulls both of your hands off of your lap and into his own. He takes a deep breath before speaking,

“Babe, you know I didn’t want to leave—”

“Do I?” You ask, “Do I know that, Jackson? You barely even hesitated to leave me there alone!” You snatch your hands away and stand up abruptly, feeling your head begin to ache with oncoming tears.

“Do you know how— how embarrassing it was to have to tell the waiter I wanted the food to-go? And then to walk all the way back here by myself, and eat by myself?”

Your boyfriend merely stares at you from his seat on the couch, slack-jawed. Suddenly, you find your vision to blurry to see him clearly, and you shake your head.

“Whatever, I’m going to bed.”

It doesn’t surprise either of you when you lock the bedroom door behind you.

Unlike any other fight you’ve ever had with Jackson, the anger from this one seeps into the next day. You avoid him in the morning before work, but you can’t seem to do so once you get home. Jackson is lying on the couch, eyes shut tight, and you shuffle quietly into the kitchen to start making dinner. 

You bring him a bowl to the living room, the sound of the ceramic settling on the wood waking him from his nap. His eyes are bloodshot and bleary; he probably didn’t sleep much last night, if at all, and you almost feel a little bit guilty. Instead, you just avert your eyes when he thanks you for dinner, and begin shoveling the food into your mouth.

But the tension continues building, like a string being pulled taut, and eventually you can’t take the silence anymore. You lick your lips nervously and set your bowl on the counter, staring at the traces of sauce left on the inside.

“So,” you start, voice small. “Are we gonna talk about it?

Jackson groans. Out of the corner of your eye you see him rub his face with his hands, keeping them over his eyes for a moment longer as he huffs a long breath out of his nose.

“Can’t it wait, Y/N? I’m exhausted.” Again, you almost pity him — but then, for a moment, you pity yourself as well. Where has he been when you’re exhausted, when you need him? Your mind goes back to standing in departures, waiting for a call that never came, and your blood runs hot.

“No, it can’t wait, Jackson,” you reply coldly. “Not anymore.”

“What do you mean ‘not anymore’? I’m just asking for one night—”

“You can’t promise that!” You interrupt. “You can’t promise it will only be one night! I want— I need to talk about this before you leave again, or I might really not be able to do this anymore.” At that, Jackson’s posture stiffens. He lifts his face from his hands and turns to look at you, panic evident in his eyes.

“What does that mean?”

“It means exactly what I said! I can’t wait around for you forever,” you snap, and Jackson finds himself speechless. Suddenly, all the anger that had wound your muscles tight like a spring snaps, leaving your shoulders sagging, your expression hollow,

“I don’t have forever, Jackson.”

His heart constricts, his throat tightening along with it. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out, and you simply stare him down in the silence of the apartment. Jackson wants nothing more than to take you into his arms and smother you with his apologies, prove his love to you, but the familiar chime sounds from the watch on his wrist. 

“I— Y/N, you know… I can’t just…” 

Normally, after an argument like this, you’d scoff. This time, there are no snide remarks, only a tired look in your eyes where the smile doesn’t reach. You jerk your chin slightly towards the front door. 

“Go on, then,” you say. It’s as he slips out the door he hears something that makes his heart drop: 

“Hermes.”

In his younger years, it had seemed like a cool thing to be the only god allowed to come and go from the underworld as he pleased. The thing is, as with anything else, it tends to lose its luster in the face of monotony. 

This trip had been particularly hellish (pun intended) because Cerberus just needed attention, and needed it right then. April was always the worst for Hades; no matter how many years passed he still pouted relentlessly when Persephone had to leave and would spend the next few months moping. As such, his three-headed dog wasn’t exactly getting the most attention. And who was Jackson to deny Cerberus that? The poor pup didn’t know any better. 

He didn’t have his bearings at first, but once he emerged back into the mortal world he found that it was nighttime. After a moment his watch readjusted to his earthly time: it had been almost a full week since he’d left. 

Meaning it had been almost a full week since your fight. 

Thinking back on it, Jackson finds himself filled with shame. You were right, of course — he doesn’t have the best work-life balance, mostly because he’s never needed to. He had never considered bringing a mortal into his life, and even when he asked you to be with him he selfishly pushed your needs and feelings aside in order to do his job. When was the last time he’d really heard you out? When was the last time he did something nice for you, even asked you about your life or what you needed or how you were doing? 

How was it that he had all the time in the world and then some, and yet he couldn’t make any for you? 

On his way back to your apartment, he stops by the one convenience store still open and buys as many of your favorite candy bars as he could. The cashier gives him a weird look, but all he can think about is how he’s going to apologize when he inevitably wakes you from your slumber. 

A feeling overtakes him as he walks up the stairs in your building. A sudden onslaught of nerves, unusual for him considering his outgoing nature. It causes him to pick up the pace, going two steps at a time up to your floor until finally he bursts out into the hallway, feeling as though he can barely breathe from the tightness in his chest. 

He fishes the spare key out of his pocket. It doesn’t fit the lock. At the moment, all he can do is scoff at how petty that is of you, to change the locks on him — especially when he doesn’t need a key to get through a door. 

But then he enters the apartment. 

It’s empty. Your shoes aren’t by the door, your furniture is gone. There are indents from your couch legs still in the living room carpet, but the kitchen as spotless and so are all the walls, he realizes, as he stumbles through the hall in a sudden haze. 

There’s nothing. Not in the medicine cabinet, not in the closet where you keep your towels— even the scent of you seems to be fading and Jackson suddenly finds himself weak in the knees, leaning heavily on the doorframe to your bedroom so he doesn’t fall to the floor. 

The moonlight through the window pours straight onto the center of the floor, unobstructed in the absence of your bed. 

Jackson forces himself through to your en-suite bathroom, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach, his pulse racing. He stares down into the white bowl of the sink, willing his vision to become clear once again. 

Slowly, his gaze raises up to meet the eyes of his reflection. His eternally young face stares back at him, once a point of pride, now only a crushing reminder of the last words of your argument. I don’t have forever. 

“What good is forever without you?” He asks, although he knows you aren’t there to hear him. You didn’t leave even the faintest trace of yourself. Jackson allows a handful of hot tears to run down his face before turning and making his way out of the apartment. As he pulls the door shut behind him, he prepares to do what he does best—

He runs.

[johnny-and-dora]

holding back the flood

“Oh god. Their baby is the size of a cherry. She’s tearing up again.”

or, the one where jake and rosa take care of a extremely stressed, highly emotional and mildly pregnant amy. (future fic) read on ao3

-

Amy really doesn’t know why she’s crying.

As a Santiago, she prides herself on having at least a reasonable amount of self control when it comes to emotional displays in the workplace; she was taught long ago that they were highly inappropriate, after all, and she takes great pride in being a teacher’s pet/star mentee.

Disregarding Holt’s advice (which isn’t something she often does), one of the thousands of things she’s learnt since she became a sergeant is that it’s optimum for everyone’s productivity – and overall physical wellbeing – if she can keep stress braids, Santiago-scale freak outs and full-on weeping to a minimum at work.

(No-one needs to mention the Great Printer Catastrophe again – and absolutely  no-one needs to mention that she’s permanently banned from being anywhere near the machine if it’s ever low on ink.)

Badly timed, apocalypse-inducing paper jams aside; Amy is a strong, emotionally resilient, rational woman. She rolls her eyes and smiles at Jake when he cries at films, she flawlessly multitasks with letting her anxiety get the best of her, and she tries her best to remain professional at all times (ignoring the extremely few instances in which her husband has tempted her into Supply Closet C). She cries when she wants to, when she needs to, but as a rule, she absolutely holds it together at the precinct, especially in front of her officers.

At least, that’s what she’s been firmly trying to tell herself for the past few days, because her usually reliable ability to “hold it together” currently seems about as unstable as her current hormone levels.

Since she got into work this morning, she’s cried four times already – once because they were out of granola, once because Charles’s lunch smelled at least ten million times worse and at least ten times more eye-watering than usual. Once, most unceremoniously, in a toilet stall on her break because her head wrecks and she’s so nauseous she can barely enjoy filling in paperwork anymore, and once because she suddenly remembered the sonogram picture, grainy and monochrome and forever universe-changing, that currently takes pride of place in their kitchen, stuck lovingly with an old I LOVE NY magnet to their fridge.

Notably - and most likely the shining, golden solve for why she might be spending 3pm on a Thursday afternoon sobbing her little heart out in the evidence lock up, riding out her own little hormone rollercoaster - Amy is nine weeks pregnant.

(Now is not the time, but something in her lights up every time she actually dares to think the actual word “pregnant” into existence; she fondly remembers snapshots of the past two months, the swell of joy in her heart at those two life-altering little lines, another test passed with flying colours. The look on Jake’s face when she told him, the way he’s been doing everything he can to take care of her. The time he came home with a little pair of baby sneakers that he “couldn’t resist” and she kissed him after lecturing him about how now wasn’t the time for frivolous purchases and they needed to be balancing their finances.)

(In short, they’re having a baby - and it’s terrifying and exhilarating and extremely, extremely nauseating, and she’s never been happier in her life.)

(And yet, she still can’t quite seem to stop crying.)

The emotional carnival ride of growing a human aside, she really doesn’t want to have an emotional break-down here, of all places, the one place in the precinct that’s meant to keep her steady. Quite frankly, Amy does not have the time to spare for these gross, irritating emotions right now. There is no time reserved in her tightly packed schedule for emotions of any kind, let alone multiple confusing and upsetting ones all at once.

She can’t even really note anything currently worth crying over. It’s just a simple detailed and meticulously planned patrol schedule due by the end of her shift that’s proving slightly harder to organise than first anticipated. Easy. Not a problem that she hasn’t solved a thousand times before.

Of course, that’s also on top of the thirty slide presentation about increasing productivity and efficiency within the precinct she has to give tomorrow that she’s barely had the time or energy to actually prepare for. And the in-depth evaluations she has to hand in of her entire squad by Monday.

And the fact that she’s already behind on the research for her pregnancy binder, and she still hasn’t revised their monthly budgets - because once she finally gets home she’s too exhausted to do anything other than sleepily curl up on the couch next to her husband, using Jake as her personal space heater while he strokes her hair and tells her about his day. She’s even too tired to yell at the TV during Jeopardy.

It’s nothing. At least, it’s nothing she would usually be worried about, tasks to complete that she would normally even be a little excited to feel the adrenaline rush of finishing early and getting some sweet spare time to revise her eighteen step plan to increase arrest numbers by 30% by December. Santiago-style.

And yet, to pregnant Amy, what usually constitutes as ‘nothing’ seems to currently signal the end of days - and so, here she appears to be.

Hormones raging, freshly applied mascara once again ruined, eyes red and puffy, breathing irregular, neon sign brightly flashing with the words “hot mess” directly above her head. She’s hiding, not exactly inconspicuously,  between the endlessly neat rows of closed cases, knees hugged as close to her chest as possible while taking tremendous care not to squish the ever-so-slight, barely noticeable bump that remains breath-taking proof that she’s growing an actual, real-life, cherry sized (as Jake cheerfully informed her this morning over breakfast) human being inside of her.

Oh God. Their baby is now the size of a cherry. She’s tearing up again.

She decides after a while, with the shred of rationality Amy seems to have left, that she is currently a hot mess that only one person is fully equipped to deal with. She reaches for her phone, sniffling, trying her best keep her breathing steady, anxiously fiddling with the shining silver wedding band on her ring finger.

She’s about to text a “Code Blue, Evidence Lockup” to Jake (who she thought she couldn’t love more up until about three weeks ago, when he woke her up at 3am with a meticulously crafted colour-based code system they could use to covertly deal with pregnancy situations - it made her both very emotional and super horny) – but she feels a flash of panic when it’s not in its usual place tucked safely in her back pocket. Her heart quickly sinks when she realises it must be still in the top drawer of her desk.

She lets out another stifled sob of dread and embarrassment and frustration and practically every range of negative emotion under the sun - which is, obviously, exactly when she hears the door to the evidence lock-up swing open.

A spark of fear immediately ignites in her chest as her heart starts racing – not now. She instinctively squeezes her eyes shut, hoping desperately that if she makes herself as small as physically possible, even in her current state, she’ll be able to completely disappear.

The Nine-Nine have seen her in a much worse state, sure. She’s more sure than anything that her chosen family would be able to make her feel better in practically any kind of situation. And yet, pretty much her worst, world-ending, blood-pumping fear right now is anyone – except Jake, seeing as this is the job he kind of signed up for when he married her - having to deal with her like this.

As weighted footsteps inch agonisingly closer, her heart plummets even further at the absence of the familiar sound of well worn sneakers – instead, she hears the equally familiar yet less comforting click-clack of black high-heeled boots on the cold concrete floor. She prepares for the worst.

The next thing she hears, deep yet uncharacteristically quiet and almost with a note of panic, is an unusually soft “Amy?” – when she finally opens her eyes, Rosa swims into view, eyes so comically wide that she can’t help but exhale a shaky, weak laugh. This is going to be fun.

“Heyyyyyyyy, Rosa.” She gives a little half-hearted wave despite herself, deciding to fully embrace the slightly hilarious and extremely mortifying situation.

(It could be worse. At least it’s less mortifying then being walked in on when making out with your boyfriend of one day, resulting in the heart attack and subsequent death of your new captain. Jake and Amy hold a lot of precinct records between them – the award for “highest amount of captains accidentally killed” is probably the one she’s least proud of.)

“Um, hey. Are you...”

“Chill? I’m chilled. I’m to-tal-ly chill. Chilled.”

If possible, Rosa’s eyes get wider.

“Do you possibly happen to know where my husband is, by any chance?” She laughs nervously with this sort of manic grin plastered on her face, putting all her energy into seeming like a normal human being. She’s failing miserably.

Rosa raises an eyebrow, but thankfully decides to indulge her.

“...He’s working on Charles’s B&E, some lame cheese shop downtown that Charles is too devastated about to get any actual police work done. They left like twenty minutes ago.” Amy exhales, trying not to let her face fall too hard.

“Right. Chill. Do you mind if I text him? I left my phone downstairs and I can’t exactly go down looking like...this.” She’s barely finished her sentence before Rosa is handing her phone to her, and she takes it gratefully.

She quickly finds Jake’s contact and involuntarily feels her lips tug up into a small smile at the incredibly unflattering dorky candid - from easily a decade ago, maybe even the Academy - that is his contact picture.

(Some things never change. She’s very glad his hair has.)

To: Jake Peralta, 15:06 Hey babe, it’s Amy. Code Blue, Evidence Lockup. I know you’re with Charles so don’t drop everything and immediately rush back here, just come when you can. Using Rosa’s phone because I left mine downstairs. Love you x

The painstaking minute and a half she takes to type out and send it to him – all while her hands are shaking from the incessant and deafening panic alarm sounding in her ribcage - are made even worse by the intense burning sensation of Rosa’s direct gaze on her the entire time. Hold it together, Amy.

“Thank you.” She hands Rosa her phone back, wishing more than ever that if she concentrated hard enough she could just disappear from sight completely. An awkward silence descends over them both, bringing with it an inevitable thickness in the air not unlike the first warnings of a thunderstorm. It’s unbearable.

It’s not like they’re not close enough to talk about exactly why Amy is sobbing hysterically in the evidence lock-up at 3pm on a Thursday – far from it, in fact. Ever since Florida, Rosa has become more and more of a valued and surprisingly skilled confidante, even if most of her solutions to Amy’s problems are tequila and Nancy Meyers films. (It, somehow, always seems to work.)

If anything, Amy is desperate to tell one of her closest and best friends all about how nauseous she is and how stressed out she feels and how, by the way, she’s casually just in the early stages of growing a human inside of her and she feels even more panicked than usual and what if she can never get the balance of being a mother and focusing on her career right and-

But she can’t. Because they can’t tell anyone, no matter how much Amy yearns to share this joy with the people she cares about the most, and how much Jake wants to gleefully yell that he knocked his wife up at virtually everyone they pass on the street. They’re just not ready – in truth, she isn’t ready for it to be official, real and an unavoidable, gargantuan force of change.

Thinking the word ‘pregnant’ into existence is enough to cause a hurricane of raw emotion – but it’s a light breeze compared to actually saying out loud.

And yet, they both known Rosa won’t leave until she gets some sort of answer out of her. They’re at an impasse – an uncomfortable, awkward, silent impasse.

Rosa’s gaze is scrutinising and calculating and Amy genuinely wouldn’t be surprised if lasers started shooting from her eyes at any second – it’s something of a old western movie stand-off parody, except they’re waiting out who’s going to suck it up and actually start the conversation they should probably be having right about now, no matter how uncomfortable both of them might be.

After an excruciating eternity of roughly ten seconds, the other curly-haired and always slightly terrifying detective eventually sighs and resignedly slides down on the floor next to her, discarding whatever file she had to the side. Her expression (as usual), is unreadable as she clears her throat.

“So - are you going to tell me what’s causing...this...” - Rosa makes an awkward sweeping gesture in her direction, which she assumes can only be in reference to the whole aforementioned “hot mess” state that she’s currently wallowing in – “or am I going to have to interrogate it out of you?”

“Rosa, honestly. I’m fine.”

“You and I have a very different definition of what ‘fine’ is, Santiago.” Amy just shrugs, so Rosa folds her arms and extends her legs across the floor like she’s prepared to be here all night, in true Diaz interrogation style. Amy’s thinking about laser eyes again before her friend’s expression unexpectedly softens.

“Do...you want to...talk about it?”

“I don’t know.” It’s an honest answer, to her credit. Despite everything they’ve been through, seeing Rosa try to talk about feelings can still be a little like imagining a turtle out its shell, and Amy’s really not prepared to honestly talk about her physical and emotional state right now.

She just wants her husband to bring her some chocolate and give her a slightly inappropriate-for-work and yet badly needed neck massage, and Rosa is not someone she’d willingly go to for either of those things.

She sighs again, averting her gaze from Amy’s face to seemingly anywhere in the room before she starts talking again.

“Look dude, talking about your feelings is gross. If you don’t want to talk about it and you just want to sit here and cry it all out, I get it. I’ll stay here as long as you need, then go file my arson case and pretend I didn’t see anything. But...I’m here for you. Even if your feelings are the grossest or lamest, if you wanna talk, I’ll listen. Okay?” She finally brings herself to look at Amy directly, dark irises electric with the most intense sincerity she’s ever seen.

Okay, yeah. She’s definitely going to start crying again.

“Wait, I didn’t mean –“ Rosa begins; but Amy is already hugging her, forcefully and tightly and awkwardly from the side, tears once again free-flowing. She smiles brightly and tenderly at the way Rosa only stiffens up for a second before equally as awkwardly leaning into it, patting Amy reassuringly on the shoulder with her free arm.

They stay like that for a good minute, Amy sniffling and basically doing the exact opposite of holding it together, but also feeling like its okay. Like nothing she can do or say will end the world if she doesn’t let it. It’s a refreshing change of pace.

This, of course, means the second she finally finds the strength to detach herself from her best friend; well, it just kind of comes spilling out.

“I’m pregnant.”

Rosa’s eyes suddenly become comically wide again, and Amy laughs for real this time, bright and shining and clear.

“Seriously?”

“Mmm-hmm. 9 weeks yesterday.”

“Nice.” Rosa smiles, a genuine, rare glowing Rosa smile, giving Amy a light shove of encouragement. When Amy breathes out, it somehow feels like a huge weight has lifted from her shoulders. She grins.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. I feel sick all the time, all my clothes are becoming too tight, I can’t drink caffeine or alcohol or shame smoke and I’m so stressed out and emotional that I cry at literally everything – but, y’know.”

“You’re having a baby.” Rosa says with this kind of awe, and Amy gets this warm glow in her chest.

“Yeah.” She smiles. “I’m having a baby.”

“That’s...a lot.”

“Yeah. Everything’s just...a lot, right now.” She sighs heavily, still weighted with something she’s been worried about for the last week or so.

“We haven’t told anyone else yet, but – well, do you think it’s obvious?” She finally plucks up the courage to ask the question that’s been nagging at her mind ever since she started to have a little more trouble fitting in to her sergeant’s uniform, and the other detective pauses thoughtfully for a second to think about it.

“I don’t think so. You’re not...showing, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

“No, no. We just... we didn’t want to tell everyone until...y’know. We were ready and it was the right time and...” She trails off, making a casual sweeping sort of gesture that somehow encapsulates her worst fears, and Rosa nods.

“I had my suspicions – you haven’t come out with us to Shaw’s in a long time, I haven’t seen you drink caffeine for a month, and you’ve been having even worse reactions to Charles’s disgusting food than usual. You don’t have to be a detective to start threading those symptoms together.”

“Damn. I thought we were doing a pretty good job of keeping it secret.” Amy sighs, folding her arms tightly across her chest, but Rosa just shrugs it off.

“You are. I saw all that but I still wasn’t sure. It just so happens that most of the people you’re trying to keep it secret from are highly trained NYPD detectives.”

Amy exhales a shaky half laugh and smiles, properly and genuinely, at the way her best friend looks at her with this kind of rare and precious softness, the corners of her mouth ever so slightly upturned into a smile.

“Also, I caught Jake on a baby name website last week and he panicked and told me he was brainstorming names for the monitor lizard you guys are thinking of adopting.”

“Oh, my god.”

“Yeah.” Rosa grins and Amy laughs at how wonderfully, amazingly stupid her husband can be, and her heart is actually warmed by the idea of Jake looking up baby names when he’s supposed to be working despite how irresponsible and stupid that is.

Somehow, she already feels better that she has all day, and there’s not a bottle of tequila or a DVD copy of The Holiday in sight. Another successful solve for the Sleuth Sisters (she’s still proud of that name and their corresponding cool-as-heck handshake, okay).

“Is that...why you’re here? You’re worried about everyone knowing?” Rosa asks, a little more tentatively than usual now she understands Amy’s fragile state a little better. She makes a face.

“Maybe. Honestly, I don’t really know why I’m here. It’s just between this stupid patrol schedule and this presentation I have to give tomorrow and my squad evaluations and my pregnancy binder and my actual pregnancy – well, I don’t know if I can handle it, okay?”

“...And that freaks you out because normally it would be something you could do easily.” Rosa nods, understanding, and Amy gives her a weak smile, letting her hands drop and rest naturally, almost protectively on her stomach.

“Amy, you are two months pregnant. There’s no way you can get done what you’d usually be able to get done by yourself, because you’re busy being exhausted from growing another human being inside of you. It’s perfectly normal to not be able to take on your usual superhuman workload, you nerd.” Rosa says, with this familiar exasperated disbelief at Amy’s overworking brain.

“I know, I know. It’s just...frustrating. I’m already struggle to balance family with career and the baby isn’t even here yet. It only just became a foetus, Rosa. A foetus!”

“Okay, okay.” Rosa puts her hands out like she’s trying to steady a horse, clearly fully aware that Amy’s about five seconds away from a Level 3 Santiago Scale Freak Out, Pregnant Edition – something neither of them are fully prepared for.

“I don’t have an answer to the whole baby and career thing, but you don’t have to think about that right now – you need to focus on you.” Amy clearly doesn’t look convinced enough, so Rosa sighs and tries again.

“Tell Holt you’ve been sick recently and you don’t feel ready for the presentation, and he’ll 100% understand, dude. Get Jennings to help you with the patrol schedule seeing as that nerd loves paperwork almost as much as you do, and you know your officers better than another sergeant in New York, so those evaluations will be easy – you could probably motivate them to even do it themselves. Problem solved, you get to go home early and kick your feet up with a non-alcoholic cocktail.” She flawlessly monologues off a game plan with an exceptional ease that leaves Amy in a state of awe.

“Wow. I...erm, yeah. That’s super helpful, actually.” Rosa nods, like it’s nothing that she’s just solved basically the entirety of Amy’s current mental-breakdown-inducing stressors in a matter of seconds, and then softens.

“You’re going to be fine, Amy. Trust me. Once the whole squad knows we’ll be queuing up to help you guys out.” She, of course, knew that already – but it’s nice to hear it out loud, a promise engraved in the unbreakable, indestructible bond of the 99th precinct. She’s definitely less close to tears now, which is always a plus.

She always knew she could count on her parents to help out, of course, and maybe a couple of her brothers when they weren’t busy graduating med school or travelling the world or having kids of their own. But it’s nice to know, to have it spoken, that she’ll always be able to count on her other family, too. That there are so many people who are more than willing to ride her stupid emotional rollercoaster with her, even through the seemingly endless loops.

“Thanks, Rosa.” “Anytime.”

As if on cue, their little bonding moment is abruptly hijacked when Jake comes crashing into the evidence lock-up – chaotic and electric and as hectic as she’s come to expect in the many, many years she’s spent slowly falling more and more in love with him, his eyes slightly wild , extremely out of breath. Amy’s heart rate spikes again as she realises with a jumble of adoration, frustration and amusement that he ran all the way here just to take care of her.

Not for the first time, amazingly not even for the first time this week, she quickly realises that she really couldn’t have found a better person to share the rest of her life with. She whispers a silent thank you to the universe.

“Ames! I’m so sorry it took me so long” – he pauses to take another breath – “I had to run from that stupid cheese shop, and I know you said not to drop everything and immediately rush back here, so I obviously dropped everything and immediately rushed back here, ‘cause I knew that you were just downplaying it and if it’s a Code Blue that’s important and-“

It seems to be only then that he notices Rosa watching them both, who gives him a subtle nod, unable to completely keep the smile from her face. Frozen, his eyes flick repeatedly and chaotically from Rosa’s to hers, as if he’s trying to telepathically figure out whether he can talk about the baby or not.

He looks like a cartoon character and/or absolute, complete utter idiot, and Amy laughs melodically, deciding to put him out of his misery.

“Jake, it’s okay – she knows.”

“...About the monitor lizard we’re planning to adopt?” He says slowly, and Amy and Rosa both roll their eyes simultaneously; neither of them bothering to poorly conceal their smiles anymore.  

In lieu of an answer, Rosa gets up from the floor and punches Jake in the shoulder, smiling wider than Amy thinks she’s ever seen her smile (except maybe when Alicia is around). It’s extremely heart-warming and only slightly unnerving – she doesn’t think she’s ever recorded so many genuine Rosa smiles in one day - except maybe on her and Jake’s wedding night, or when she oh-so casually mentioned over lunch a few months ago that she and Alicia were moving in together.

It’s different and unexpected and unusual in the best way possible – sharing this joy, especially with someone she cares about so much. Suddenly, she starts to understand why Jake wants so badly to yell it out into the street.

“Dude. I know. And for the record, I think you’re going to be a great...monitor lizard keeper.” Amy smiles as she sees the tension practically seep out of Jake’s frame and he relaxes a little, grins at Rosa, bright as the sun. She loves him so much.

“You really think?”

“I know. You two are going to kick ass at this. A thousand push ups.”  Rosa practically radiates sincerity as she places a hand on Jake’s shoulder. She doesn’t have to be a detective to know that she’s not the only one in the room who’s definitely on the verge of tearing up again. Jake, if possible, smiles even wider.

It’s all very disgustingly heart-warming and Amy thinks if it carries on much longer there’s a high chance that Hysterical Cry #6 could happen at any minute.

“Thanks, Diaz. We’re hugging now.” “No, we’re not.”

“Yes we are, c’mon, we’re having a moment.” Before she can object further, he hugs her tightly and Rosa hugs back - without hesitation or apprehension or any of it, just warmth. Amy takes the opportunity to wipe fresh tears away.

“Ames, you wanna get in on this?” Jake says after a minute, and she shakes her head.

“Nah, I’ve already had my one allocated Rosa hug today.”

“Just get in here, Santiago.” Rosa grumbles, slightly muffled, and Amy more than happily obliges, carefully lifting herself up and gladly sandwiching herself between two of her favourite people in the entire world.

Somehow, she can’t seem to remember what she was crying about.

“God, you guys’ lameness is infectious.” Rosa says after they break apart, quickly wiping her face with her sleeve like if she does it fast enough they won’t see. It doesn’t work.

“I’ve got to get out of here.” “...Haven’t you actually got an arson case to file?” Amy says, concerned, but she just shrugs it off.

“It can wait. You gonna be okay?” Rosa asks, and Amy pauses for a second, still hyperaware of the anxiety pushing down at the bottom of her stomach like lead and making her slightly dizzy. But then Jake squeezes her hand gently, anchoring her back down to reality, and she smiles.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Good. If you need anything, ask, dummy.  I’m not massaging you, though. That’s Peralta’s job.” She adds as an afterthought, which makes Amy laugh.

“Ah, a job I do with zero experience, very little skill and far too much confidence. The Peralta speciality.” Rosa rolls her eyes and casually strides out of the evidence lock-up like she hasn’t just been given the life-changing news that the Peralta-Santiagos are expecting - like she hasn’t just spent the last fifteen minutes flawlessly consoling a highly emotional and mildly pregnant weeping police sergeant like it was nothing. Amy has really no idea what she would do without her.

She watches her go with a sense of awe and peace and finally, sweet contentment - before turning to Jake, who smiles that soft smile that’s guaranteed to melt her like butter even when she’s not crazy hormonal and super horny. He squeezes her hand again, another secret coded language they’ve been speaking for almost a decade with remarkable ease.

“You sure you’re okay? I can go get chocolate if you need it, I know where Scully keeps his secret stash.”

“Mmm. I’m okay. Better now you’re here.” She says, wholeheartedly meaning it, and he carefully, tenderly hugs her, placing a chaste, appropriate-for-work kiss on the top of her head in a way that makes her think this is it. They’re having a baby. Amy wants to yell it out to passing strangers in the street.

“We’re having a baby.” She opts for the more practical decision of whispering it gently with this sort of quiet, glowing glee - he matches it in the way he looks at her, in all her red-eyed, mascara ruined glory, like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Hell yeah, we are.” He whispers back, grinning ecstatically, and her heart is New York lit up in Christmas lights.

She’s still a little stressed beyond belief about that patrol schedule, and the inevitably anxiety inducing email she has to send to Holt about putting off the presentation for a couple of days. She’s still behind on the pregnancy binder, and their monthly budgets, and every day the cherry sized piece of her heart that’s growing ever bigger in her stomach provides a whole new set of challenges she’d rather openly weep about that actually get on with overcoming.

But she has a dork of a husband who will willingly drop everything and sprint 20 blocks just to take care of her, and a terrifying best friend who can solve her greatest problems and quiet her worst fears without a bottle of tequila in sight. She has a family, one that is always growing bigger and bigger – a totally bizarre, mismatched, unique and strange family, but one that she grows more grateful for every single day.

So when Jake hurriedly whispers a “love you” and kisses her softly before running back to tell Charles that the owner definitely broke into his own shop for the insurance money, and when Amy finally returns to her desk, smile on her face, to find Gary eagerly waiting to help her figure out the patrol schedule as Rosa so wisely predicted, she is no longer crying – she’s still nauseous and exhausted, sure, but happy, so deliriously happy, and so deliriously excited to finally embrace hurricane of change.

She opens up her phone’s calendar, where she quickly types “Announcement Day!” into the slot six days away, before sitting back in her chair, deciding what episodes of Serve and Protect they’re going to watch tonight, glowing smile on her face.

Then,  and only then, Amy just grips the bar in the carriage of her own little emotional rollercoaster before it can start up again – and she holds on tight, waiting patiently to enjoy the ride.

[geekmama]

The Kensington House

 Pure fluff and kid!fic besides, this is the 26th part of my Time of the Season series, and written for the Where prompt in the BDT of prompts I’ve been working on - 98 down and 2 to go!

There was something amiss. Sherlock knew it as soon as he laid eyes on his wife, on returning to 221B earlier than his text that afternoon had originally estimated. Molly was very happy to see him, but there was something around her eyes, and in her smile, and in her embrace when she rose from the dinner table and came round to greet him. The baby must have been put to bed already, but the three older children were their usual selves, each of them vying for attention and yammering on when Sherlock was frowning with narrowed eyes, striving for wordless communication with their mother. 

But then Jon popped up with, “Oh, and Lady Smallwood came to visit today, she walked in just when we’d started playing pirates!” 

And Will laughed. “Yes, we were bashing about with our swords, even Daisy. And Lexie was helping Mum with the laundry, so the place was a complete tip! I think Lady Smallwood was pretty shocked, she didn’t stay for tea or anything--” 

“But Daddy!” Daisy broke in, tugging with some violence on the sleeve of his Belstaff. “She asked us to dinner tomorrow -- all of us, not just you and Mummy. At her beautiful house! May we go, pleeeease?” 

Sherlock pried Daisy’s little hand from his coat and gave it a squeeze, though he raised a brow at Molly’s expression. “Is that what it is?” 

He saw that she was tempted to brush it off, but then she gave a rueful chuckle. “Well, yes, a bit. Not that I blame the children! If it hadn’t been pouring buckets all day, we could have gone out somewhere, a museum and the park perhaps. But with Lexie barely on the mend from that virus...” 

“Yes, the weather was far too cold,” Sherlock agreed. “It’s ridiculous for the beginning of May, and particularly inconvenient on a day when these tiresome brats are out of school and must be kept occupied lest they tear the place apart.” The tiresome brats merely laughed at this, and hugged him, and he couldn’t help smirking. But he said to Molly, “Not the best way to spend your day off. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to stay and help. ” 

“Greg needed you,” Molly shrugged. “And we managed -- though I believe Will was right about Alicia being shocked. Mrs. Hudson let her in and we didn’t hear her coming up the stairs, so there was no time to put things to rights. But we can discuss this later, if you like. I believe your greedy sons have left you at least a few scraps of dinner! Come sit down.” 

But Daisy, dissatisfied at this put-off, said, “But Mummy, Daddy, can we go tomorrow? If we promise to be good?” 

The thought of his children on the loose in Alicia Smallwood’s elegant Kensington mansion was enough to strike dismay into the heart of a stronger man than Sherlock Holmes, promises or no. But Molly reiterated in her “Mummy’s Serious” tone, “Your father and I will discuss it later!” and Daisy sighed, dramatically sulky as only a four year old -- his four year old -- could be, but ultimately accepting the delay without further complaint.

 *

 Alicia might be known as Lady Smallwood, Associate of the British Government, but she was also very much a woman and a mother, and was not at all impervious to the sight of three of the four Holmes urchins, all dressed to the nines and fairly dancing with anticipation of a high treat as they made their way into the gate and up the front walk, their wary but resigned parents in tow. 

“No running! And remember: your best manners,” Molly was heard to say, probably for the tenth time. 

Alicia chuckled as Mycroft came up beside her at the door and took her hand in his. 

“Let’s hope you’re still amused two hours from now,” he murmured. 

“Oh, hush,” she said, giving him a severe look. “You know you love them to pieces.” 

Mycroft gave a sigh of resignation. “I do, but I prefer them in small doses, rather than en masse.” 

Alicia chuckled at that. “They’ll be fine.” She turned back to greet Daisy as the little girl cast off restraint and flitted ahead, up the walkway. 

“Look at my new dress, Aunt Alicia!” she exclaimed, as she bounced up the few marble steps to the wide porch. She stopped to smooth the skirt of the pink satin confection she was wearing. “Isn’t it lovely?” 

“My dear, you look ravishing,” Alicia assured her, bending down to kiss her cheek. 

Daisy sweetly returned the favor, and then said, brightly, “Hello, Uncle Mycroft! We’re here!” 

“So I see,” said Mycroft, the laughter in his voice almost entirely free of disapprobation. 

“Look, lads!” said Sherlock, too brightly, as the rest of the family approached in Daisy’s wake. “Uncle Mycroft is here, too! Now we’re guaranteed a fine selection of cake!” 

Alicia narrowed her eyes at Mycroft’s brother but refrained from comment as Molly had the matter in hand with raised brows and a useful jab with her elbow. 

Unfortunately, he only simpered at Molly before turning his teasing gaze on his brother again. “Things must be slow at the office with both of you able to be here,” he remarked. 

“An accurate observation,” said Mycroft, “and a fact for which we must all be thankful. Boys! You look very smart -- and uncomfortable. I thought school was out several hours ago.” 

“We had our music lessons just before we came,” Jon said, wrinkling his nose. “Madame insists we dress like gentlemen.” 

“Ah, so I recall now, and very proper, too,” said Mycroft with approval, “though if your parents permit you might at least remove your ties -- God knows your father hasn’t worn one in years. Molly, my dear, you look as ravishing as your daughter.” 

Molly, who wore a lacy white cardigan over a light blue sheath that prettily accentuated her still-slender figure, said warmly, “It’s good to see you, Mycroft.” 

“And you,” said Mycroft, with real sincerely, smiling down at his sister-in-law. 

“Alicia,” said Sherlock. “You’re looking well.” 

Alicia raised a brow. “Thank you,” she said, then silently mouthed one word at him: Behave! 

He made no verbal reply, just assumed a comically wounded expression and placed his hand over his heart. 

Alicia rolled her eyes and and turned back to the little boys. “I see that you’ve brought along your violin, Jon, and we’ve just had the piano in the drawing room re-tuned. Will you two favor us with your latest pieces?” 

“Yes!” said Jon with alacrity, and Will smiled, too, his eyes lighting at the prospect of sitting down behind Alicia’s beautiful baby grand. “But can we play in the back garden after?” 

Alicia laughed, remembering the astoundingly grubby but eminently satisfied look of the three the last time they’d been allowed the run of the back garden. The lawn and shrubbery were quite extensive for a home situated in the middle of London -- which was, of course, one reason for tonight’s invitation. Alicia said, “If your parents permit, yes, but you should probably wait until after we’ve had dinner. Now come in, all of you, and let’s have some music!”

 *

 The children had been on their best behavior, both prior to dinner and throughout the rather formal meal, sufficiently awestruck by their surroundings to be quieter and more careful than usual, and actually put into use the manners they’d been taught. Now they had been released to play in the back garden while the light lasted, much to Molly’s relief. The house was not at all “childproof”, for Alicia’s three children were grown and had been gone a dozen years or more. None of the three had elected to settle in the noisy bustle and excitement of London and now rarely even visited the metropolis. Alicia’s eldest, the current Lord Smallwood, had settled at the country estate with his wife and son, shortly after the death of his father; her younger son had emigrated to Australia in his early twenties and was still gainfully employed in the music industry when he wasn’t indulging in some extreme sport or other, to which his mother was forced to turn a blind eye or go mad with worry; and the daughter of the family had married a Scots physician and was settled in a picturesque little town outside Edinburgh, busily raising a pair of ginger-haired twin girls and apparently more than content with rural life. 

“It’s a shame your children don’t care for the city,” Molly commiserated, as Alicia stepped up beside her, near the window where she had been surreptitiously keeping an eye on her brood. “You must miss them.” 

Alicia gave a little shrug, though she was smiling as she looked out at the children in the garden. “Oh, I don’t know. It gives one a good reason to indulge in frequent holidays. Mycroft and I were in Scotland just last weekend, for example -- Allison and Amabel are growing up so quickly! And I believe it won’t be long before they and their cousins -- my oldest boy’s children -- will be able to come visit us in London, whether their parents accompany them or not.” 

Molly smiled. “That will be an event.” 

“To be sure. They’re already anxious to meet their little Holmes cousins.” But then Alicia chuckled. “Heavens, I can just see -- and hear -- Mycroft.” 

Molly gave a small snort of laughter. “We’ll have to get him a bottle of his favorite wine for the occasion. Or even brandy! But he’s been very welcoming to our little savages this evening. I was a bit surprised you dared to invite us, after that display at Baker Street yesterday. Not our finest moment.” 

“Don’t be absurd,” said Alicia. “Entirely understandable under the circumstances! And there’s not a mean-spirited bone among the lot of them. Really, Molly, you’ve done an amazing job with them.” 

“Well, thank you, but Sherlock has a great deal to do with it, too, you know. He’s a wonderful father.” 

“Marriage and fatherhood seem to have been the making of him, certainly,” Alicia agreed. “Gave him something to think about other than his beautiful, brilliant self, which was exactly what he needed. Still, who would have guessed, nine years ago?” 

“Well… I did,” Molly said with a smile. 

“So you did.” Alicia turned to Molly and considered her thoughtfully for a few moments, and finally Molly raised an inquiring brow. Alicia said, as if in reply. “Speaking of yesterday… not that that has anything to do with it, really, it merely reminded me why… well… I assure you I’ve had it in mind for months...” 

Amused at this uncharacteristic rambling, Molly asked,. “Alicia, are you quite alright? What did you have in mind?” 

Alicia took a deep breath through her nose, steadying herself, then glanced around before meeting Molly’s eyes again. “Do you like this house?” 

Molly laughed. “Well, of course. How could one not?” 

“Yes. Well. I like it, too. But it wants… a family. It was made for a family, all those years ago, and of course it was a splendid home for mine when the children were growing up, but… they’ve been gone a long time, now. And my husband… well. In any case, I was wondering… would you and Sherlock like to have it?” 

Molly stared, gave a choking exclamation of “What? Alicia, you--” 

“Rent free, of course,” Alicia interrupted, as though Molly hadn’t spoken. “Though there is still the upkeep -- I use a service now, and they are most efficient, if a trifle costly, though with the children you might want to hire some staff -- not necessarily live-in, though there is certainly room, there are quarters for at least two or three persons off the kitchen. And there are the taxes. But I’m given to understand the two of you could well afford those things and still keep Baker Street as an office for Sherlock, and as a second… ah… bolthole? Guest house? In any case, I don’t suppose you’d care to give it up. You have done such a lovely job renovating it since you and Sherlock married and the children began to arrive.” 

“Alicia! You cannot be serious!” 

“I am, though.” A little smile tugged at Alicia’s lips. “I have finally acquiesced to Mycroft’s wishes and consented to move into his house. There is some refurbishment already being done there in preparation.” 

“Oh!” Molly smiled. “That’s wonderful! Are you… that is--” 

“I have not yet agreed to marry him. We are still in negotiations on that point.” 

Molly laughed. “Oh, Alicia, you are… the completest thing. To keep The British Government on a lead for all these years…” 

Alicia chuckled, and looked quite smug. But she said, “So. Will you discuss it with Sherlock? Since little Alexandra came along it is all too apparent to those who love you that 221B Baker Street will soon be filled to bursting. Here there are enough bedrooms for each of your children to have his or her own with plenty left over for guests, a playroom, an office. I won’t be taking much of the furniture, just a few favorite pieces, and you can keep what you like, and replace the rest at your leisure. Daisy, and even the boys might like to pick out new furnishings for their bedrooms, for example. They still share a room at 221B, I believe?” 

“Yes,” said Molly, feeling quite dazed. “John’s old bedroom, though they’re getting so big… and we’ve been in a quandary about Lexie, now that she is getting older. She can’t stay in our room much longer.” 

“And here she won’t have to!” Alicia said cheerily. “There is a lovely little bedroom that would be perfect for her, just across from the master suite.” 

“The master suite!” Molly repeated, even more dazed. Not that she and Sherlock had not been blissfully happy in his bedroom… well, their bedroom, for almost a decade now. But still… 

“Would you like to come upstairs and take a look around? And I believe Mycroft has been presenting the proposal to Sherlock while we’ve been talking, and I haven’t heard any explosions. I take it as a good sign, don’t you?” 

“Oh, Heavens. I don’t know what to say, Alicia. Why… why?” 

“I don’t want to sell -- the property just gets more and more valuable. But I don’t want it to sit vacant, either. And lease it to strangers? I… I just don’t think I could do it. Think of it this way: you and Sherlock will be doing me a great favor.” Alicia laughed again at Molly’s apparently obvious bewilderment. “Come! Pull yourself together. The children will be fine out in the garden for half an hour. Let’s go see what Sherlock thinks, and the two of you can take a look at the rooms upstairs -- go all over the house, in fact, so you can make an informed decision.”

 *

 It was after midnight and he and Molly were in bed, but not sleeping. Far from it. They were both lying on their backs, staring at the deeply shadowed ceiling. Holding hands. Still both astounded at the way their world was being overturned. 

Sherlock thought one minute that he couldn’t do it, then the next he remembered that he would not be leaving 221B, precisely -- he would still spend a great deal of time there. And Baker Street was just as close to the boys’ school as the Kensington house. He could imagine his sons racing over when class let out, if he were not out on some case; doing their homework or playing until he should be ready to journey home. 

Home. 

They could still practice their music here, after school -- Mrs. Hudson would grieve for it, else. 

Ah, Hudders. What would she say to all this? She was getting on in years, of course. Didn’t make the journey up the stairs with tea and scones nearly as often lately. Visited her sister in Devon more, though that lady’s health was failing rapidly, from what he gathered. That would be a blow and no mistake.  And it might not be long before she herself… well. Time was a cruel master to all, even their timeless landlady (Not your housekeeper! -- he grinned briefly in the black night). 

There’d be room at the Kensington house for her, too, if it came to that. 

Ten bedrooms. Lord. Not quite as bad as Musgrave, but along those lines. 

They would have to acquire a housekeeper. 

And a second violin for Jon to keep at 221B. The spinet could stay, since Mycroft had a fine instrument of his own and Alicia had told them she was content to leave her baby grand with the House. William would like that -- and Molly. And the girls, eventually. Daisy was nearly old enough to begin lessons already. 

But… it still hurt to think of leaving. After all the work they’d put into 221B (and C) to create a suitable environment for their growing family. Of course, they had not realized just how much their family would grow when they’d begun the renovations. 

Four children. Who would have thought it, a decade back? And yet here they were with a houseful -- and nothing yet done to prohibit a potential fifth. They’d have to think seriously about that, or risk another surprise. Alexandra had been a delightful one, to be sure, but five children? It seemed excessive, to put it mildly. 

Though his parents wouldn’t mind. They reveled in their role, Mummy dismissing the bother with a wave of her hand, and merely hiring some neighbors’ daughters, lively teenaged girls, to help out when Will, Jon, and Daisy were to stay more than a night or two. And Lexie, soon enough. 

And he gave a slight snort of laughter at the thought of denying his own happiness. 

“What?” Molly whispered, turning her head on the pillow to peer at him, squeezing his hand.

He squeezed back. “I am… counting my blessings, I suppose.” 

She let go of his hand and turned onto her side to face him, fingers rather shyly smoothing the soft material of the ancient T-shirt he wore. She said, “Do you think the Kensington house would enhance them?” 

“I think it might. I think we’d be fools not to accept. Our children are not going to stop growing.” 

She chuckled. “No! Though sometimes I wish…” 

“What? That time would stop?” He moved to face her and put his hand on her waist. 

“Yes,” she said, and, closing the final gap, kissed him. 

He smiled beneath the kiss, bittersweet. 

He’d always known there were two sides of the coin called love, which was why he’d shied away from it for so many years, and even this issue, the inexorable march of time, was an ever-present weight. Pain was always part of the joy -- and perhaps made the joy all the sweeter. 

Doors closing. 

And others opening, down the way. 

“I’m a lucky man,” he whispered, when he could. 

“You are,” she whispered back. “And a brave one, too.” 

But he laughed softly at that, knowing that it was only she who allowed him to be so. Physical courage had never been an issue, and he had never lacked confidence in his intellectual abilities. But love… the one thing that truly mattered… that had required assistance. 

The loyalty and perception and faith of one Molly Hooper had been necessary to complete him. 

He reached up and brushed the auburn hair back behind the perfect pale pink shell of her ear, seeing the colors in his mind’s eye, even in the shadows. 

How long had it been since they’d made love in the clear light of morning, or through a long, golden afternoon? 

And yet, the darkness enhanced one’s other senses. 

Touch. 

Smell. 

Taste. 

“I love you,” he replied, still whispering. 

“I know,” she whispered back. 

And, sensing his need, she gave herself to him once again, in that well-practiced way she had… skill… infinite tenderness… an old comfort… 

Yet somehow, she could still surprise him… somehow it was always, always new.

 *

 Mycroft was stuck in his office, but Alicia was able to escape for a few hours on the evening of the Big Move, accepting the invitation to join his brother’s family, John and Rosie Watson, and Greg Lestrade for a celebratory dinner of Thai take-away, and to see the changes that had been wrought at the Kensington house. 

Alicia had moved out nearly two months before to facilitate matters, and was happier living with Mycroft than she had imagined possible -- and he seemed content, too. He had twice reiterated his proposal that they should marry, and she had almost accepted the last time. Perhaps it would not needlessly complicate their lives. Perhaps she was making too much of a fuss over it. She knew many women who were on their third or even fourth marriage -- and most of them were divorcees, a situation far more difficult than her own. Being a widow, with her children grown and getting on with their lives, really did simplify matters. 

She was still mulling over this subject as she arrived at her former residence, and did not move on until she’d exited the car and had entered the front gate. Walking up to the door, however, she noticed how neat the small front garden looked, with three new rose bushes, a new bed of pansies beside the porch, and the bits of lawn very well-tended. The front door had been repainted, too, a shiny black, and it now sported a knocker very similar to the one on the door of 221B Baker Street. 

She used the knocker in the manner for which it was intended, and it wasn’t more than twenty seconds before the door was thrown open by Jon, with Daisy just behind. 

“Aunt Alicia!” said Jon -- or half-shouted, really. “Wait till you see my bed! It’s even better than it looked in the shop!” 

“She has to see my room first!” cried Daisy in the tone of a four year old who’d gone without her nap and reached the limit of her patience with her older brother. She gripped Jon’s jumper with both hands and tried to pull him out of her way with some violence. 

But Sherlock had apparently heard Alicia’s knock, too and was coming up just behind the children. Seeing what was toward, he snapped, “Enough!” in so sharp a tone that Alicia gave a little start herself, and the children turned to him wide-eyed. 

Jon was carefully silent. Daisy, however, began to whinge, “But Daddy! Jon--” 

“But Daisy,” Sherlock interrupted, bending down to look her in the eye. “You’ve been skating on thin ice for the last hour and if you utter one more word you’ll find yourself staring at the most boring corner I can find in this house. Alone. Until I say you can move, not your mother or Uncle John. Do you understand?” 

Alicia tensed, fearful that the little girl would be rash enough to put her father to the test. But, thankfully, she did not. Daisy merely lowered her gaze, lip quivering. 

Sherlock straightened to face Alicia, “Welcome to the madhouse.” 

Alicia replied, sympathetically, “Long day?” 

“My God, you’ve no idea. Come into the dining room,” he said, leading the way. “The kitchen’s set up, and the bedrooms -- and they do look like something out of Parenting Magazine. But the tour can wait. We were just setting out dinner.” 

“I’m not hungry,” came a tiny, discontented voice from behind them. 

“Shut it!” came Jon’s hiss, just as Alicia glanced over her shoulder. Jon was giving Daisy’s arm a surreptitious squeeze in warning, even as he favored Alicia with an innocent smile. 

Sherlock wisely feigned deafness and led the way into the dining room.

 *

 Less than an hour later, John and Rosie had departed, Sherlock was discussing a case with Greg over some brandy, and Molly led the way up the staircase, carrying little Alexandra, Will and Jon racing ahead, and Alicia Smallwood bringing up the rear, hand in hand with a now smiling Daisy. 

Daisy’s smiles were in strong contrast to the pout she’d maintained throughout dinner, much to her father’s annoyance. Molly, tired as she was, had been rather amused, however, and had quietly reminded Sherlock that his daughter came by her pout honestly, and the avowed lack of hunger, too. John and Greg would have picked up on this, both friends hinting at numerous recollections of a certain consulting detective who’d been renowned for his petulance in the past, but they’d cut the teasing short, not because of Sherlock’s glare, but in consideration of the fact that Will, Jon, and Rosie had been all ears. 

But it wasn’t hard to understand why Daisy and her brothers were anxious to show off their new bedrooms. Lady Smallwood had accompanied them when they’d all gone furniture shopping a few weeks ago, and now at last she would see the results. 

Alicia had convinced Daisy that they should “save the best for last”, so Will’s room was shown first. He’d opted to keep the simple and elegant cherry furniture already in the room, only enhancing the collection with a new roll top desk to match. There were several movie posters on the walls, Star Wars, Avengers, and the like, and the framed print of the periodic table that had hung in Sherlock’s room for so many years held pride of place above his new desk. All the bedrooms had walk-in wardrobes and Will’s now held stacks of board games and neatly organized bins of Legos, action figures, and other small toys. Molly said to Alicia, “Admire it now -- it’s not likely to look this tidy for long!”, but Will, who was now ten and feeling very grown up as the eldest, said, “It will if I can keep the brats from destroying it!” 

Jon retorted, “Who needs your old stuff? Come on and see mine, Aunt Alicia!” 

Jon, too, had chosen a desk for homework and art projects, but had also fallen in love with a sturdy bed frame designed to look like a race car. Much to his delighted surprise, his mother had approved the purchase, though his father had been less pleased with the idea when he’d been informed. However, when the bed had arrived and Sherlock had seen its beauty and quality, he had become much more enthusiastic. He and Jon had run with the theme, and the walls were now adorned with a number of pictures and posters of race cars, and Sherlock had installed shelves for Jon’s collection of model cars. His beloved trains were relegated to the wardrobe, but Alicia noted that his old Thomas the Tank cuddle pillow was waiting for him on the new bed. 

Daisy’s room was last, and certainly by far the best, at least in Daisy’s opinion. The entire room had been redone in pink: pink furniture with lovely hand-painted flowers; fuzzy pink throw rugs; gauzy pink drapes on the window and canopied four-poster bed; and tiny pink rosebuds were patterned over the newly installed wallpaper. It might have been overwhelming, but Molly had insisted on using paler shades of pink along with a judicious use of white, and the result was really quite soothing. 

“Goodness!” exclaimed Alicia, taking it in. “It looks rather as though it dropped from Heaven!” 

Molly chuckled. “Now all it needs is an angel to take care of it!” 

“That’s me!” Daisy piped up. 

“Hmmm,” said Molly doubtfully. “I don’t know… there was that little display at the dinner table. An angel would not have behaved so -- or at least she would have apologized to her father for giving into her weariness, even after a long day of moving house.” 

Daisy looked between Molly and Lady Smallwood uncertainly as she worked this out, but then, coming to a decision, exclaimed, “I’ll be right back!” She ran from the room and could presently be heard yelling, “Daddy! Daddy!” as she pounded down the stairs.

 *

 At four in the morning, Sherlock was lying abed, caught up in a comfortable and eminently satisfied tangle with the wife of his bosom, the two of them having inaugurated the Kensington house in the best way imaginable, after recruiting their strength with a few hours’ sleep. 

“Now it’s on its way to being home,” Sherlock murmured into Molly’s ear. 

And she laughed, and turned her face to his, and kissed him. “I love you,” she said. 

“I know,” he returned with a smile. 

There were a great many more kisses, and some happy sighs, and cuddling: plenty of the most delightful clichés. But presently Molly extricated herself with a whispered, “Have to use the loo!” and Sherlock lay back contentedly against the pillows, stared at the shadowed ceiling, and thought once again what a lucky man he was. 

He must have started drowsing again, for suddenly Molly was there, whispering his name again. “Hmm?” he said, opening his eyes. The light was dim, but he could see she’d put on her dressing gown. 

“Get up for a minute!” she said softly. “You have to see the children!” 

He frowned, but did as she asked, throwing on his own dressing gown and padding after her over the thick carpet, following her out the door. 

“Are they alright?” he asked. “Lexie’s still asleep, isn’t she?” 

“Yes. It’s the others. Come see.” 

She didn’t pause at Daisy’s half open door, nor at Jon’s, but went straight over to Will’s room and motioned for him to peek in -- and there they were, all three of them curled up together in Will’s big bed, Daisy in the middle, and all of them sound asleep. 

Sherlock turned to Molly and made a silent pantomime of outrage. “Tell me again why we needed to move here? We might just as well be back at Baker Street!” 

But Molly shook her head, grinning. “They’ll get used to it. But now it’s really home for them, too. Don’t you see?” 

There was nothing for it. He had to take her in his arms and kiss her again. “I love you, Mrs. Holmes,” he said finally. 

“I love you, too,” she returned, a trifle breathless. 

The proper exchange. 

He took her hand up, said, “Come, then,” and, in the lovely silence before dawn, he led her back to bed.

 ~.~

[wonkyuna-blog]

Paint Me

Genre: Fluff, M / M

Park Jimin x Jeon Jungkook Summary: A story, written only for his professor to see, ultimately throws Park Jimin’s university crush into a self indulgent scenario of his own making. Jeon Jungguk, the mysterious artist and painter has caught his eye for so long, he must use him as his muse.

Word Count: 1.5+

Warnings: No Applicable Warnings /// Author’s Note /// Ah, this is super squishy and I think I wanna add more but I just got inspired and had to write this idea out so here it is!

Jimin concentrated hard on the lined paper before him, where notes had been scribbled in a very organized fashion. Aligning his ideas with a story he was attempting to produce for his creative writing class. The assignment was simple enough: create your own character and build a story based around their personality. The only problem being Jimin typically had a horrible time coming up with his own original characters. He believed he would be over it by now, since he had attended university as an English Literature major for two years now, but still he had struggled none the less. He sat alone in his dorm with lo-fi hip hop reverberating through the room trying his best to stay focused. He thought only of Jeon Jungkook; his appointed muse and the boy he was completely and utterly smitten with.

Jimin himself was always too shy to approach the mysterious boy. All he had known of him was that he was a very talented artist. Jungkook had entered his paintings in the campus gallery for an evening viewing one weekend, but Jimin had missed his opportunity to catch the gathering on time due to his class schedule. Too determined though, after class he managed to swing by the gallery to catch sight of the work. That’s where he learned Jungkook’s name, and became all too inspired - albeit enamored in addition to. From what Jimin saw from just a few canvases, his ability was astounding. Emotion radiated from the paint itself almost with it’s own sentience, and his color theory was well coordinated. One day he knew he’d summon the courage to speak to him, but for now he needed to continue his paper. Drafting literature on this artistically based loner, Jimin decided to go with something he felt was rather cliche but it was only for a class assignment. It wasn’t like it was going to be published for all the world to see. The big picture: lonely artist is finally granted his big break and becomes well known within his community. One thing was missing, though. Of course! It was there in his own premise: lonely. Jimin felt it was only courteous to his subconscious to cater to his own fantasies. He soon got over his fears as he decided to self indulge himself with a personal insert unbeknownst to anyone aside himself of course. He would add a female love interest… no… a male love interest. This was his story, after all.

A bench sat comfortably underneath a large oak tree in the middle of campus. This is where Jimin chose to feed his creative process in between classes. It was also conveniently the crossing point that Jungkook took on his own way to class every day. Jimin couldn’t help it, honestly. It served both of his interests: a cool, quiet place to write, and his huge stupid crush on Jungkook. At times Jimin could have sworn up and down that Jungkook stole glaces at him, and the thought that maybe one day he’d approach him is what ultimately kept him coming back to this spot. One day during his normal daily routine Jimin realized he had left his journal that he wrote in behind after answering a phone call from his mother. He was distracted and she was making the call out to be extremely important when it was in fact only her wanting to tell him all about the stray cat that had come to sit in her lap while she was spending time on her front porch. During the call he realized how late it was and he rushed to class, leaving it sitting on that bench. Once his class had let out he returned to find it missing. Jimin’s heart was beating hard enough to burst through his chest. There was no where else it could be, so the only conclusion was that someone must have picked it up. Not only was his work for class within those pages but a big part of him felt the story contained was too personal for anyone else to see. He thought in horror about the possibility of someone actually knowing Jungkook and telling him about his name being written over and over again in this story about a struggling artist trying to make it big. What’s worse is Jimin had just that day finished his scene containing the self insert male love interest and he had finally felt guilty about being so self indulgent. For now, though, he chose to give up and simply start over with a clean journal. He would face the consequences if there were any when the time came. It wasn’t like it mattered completely, it was a simple crush and they had never spoken before anyway. Now they never will.

The next day just as Jimin settled himself into the bench in his usual spot he felt someone tap on his shoulder where he turned to find Jungkook hovering over him, arm outstretched. Jimin just about fainted, but he tried his best to remain calm and collected. The heat slowly rising in his face surely gave his anxiety away, though.

“You left this here yesterday. I wanted to make sure it got back to you, so I kept it until I knew I’d see you again.” Jimin was speechless, and absolutely relieved. With the way Jungkook was acting there was no way he had read it, he was simply being a good person.

“T-thank you so much. I’d be lost without this.”

“No problem!” Jungkook smiled with his whole face then, a privilege Jimin had never had before. “I’ll see you around! And good luck with your assignment!”

Jimin waved back as Jungkook paced himself towards his class. They had finally spoken to each other and Jimin wasn’t quite sure how to feel. At least, he couldn’t pin point one single emotion alone. Damn, he had forgotten to introduce himself. Jimin let out a sigh as he flipped through the pages of his journal to see where he had left off. He found a folded piece of paper within that wasn’t there before and his heart immediately felt heavy. Jungkook must have actually read Jimin’s writing and now he’s never felt more embarrassed. He thought about how he could never possibly show his face to Jungkook again as he opened the folds to reveal a small comic depicting the scene where the main character in Jimin’s story shares an unexpected kiss with the love interest. Did this mean he enjoyed it? Jimin flipped the illustration over in search of clues to find a small note scribbled on the back that read: “Your story is cute, sorry I read it. I hope you get a good grade!” He felt like his face surely would melt off with how warm he grew over just a few words. Not so much from embarrassment but because he had so many new questions.

The next day Jimin returned to his spot underneath the tree in hopes of catching Jungkook during his walk to confront him. As he scribbled in his journal waiting he felt a body sit next to him on the bench. Jimin looked up to find no one other than Jungkook sitting right there next to him offering an expressionless wave in greeting. Jimin gathered his courage together to force a smile and asked, “So you read my story, huh?”

Jungkook nodded, “You captured me pretty well with words I’d say. Always nice to meet an admirer.” He ended his sentence with a smirked wink and Jimin just about died right where he sat. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

“I didn’t know if you’d be creeped out or something since we don’t exactly know each other. I wasn’t erm… stalking you or anything I just knew you were an artist so I kind of went from there for my story.”

“Nah, don’t sweat it.” Jungkook shook his head. “I know of you anyway, too. I saw you come to my gallery after everyone had left. I got curious and found out that you’re one of the most talented writer in our class. That’s why, when I found your journal, I got curious and read what I found there. I hope you aren’t too heated at me over that, I understand it might have been personal.”

Jimin wasn’t quite sure of what to say. Jungkook, the guy that he was enamored with, had just complimented him on his writing and for the most part from what he could tell wasn’t worried that he was used for Jimin’s paper. Even still, Jimin was slightly embarrassed learning that Jungkook was at the gallery when he was. He was convinced that he had been alone that day so he had pretty much fan girled to himself out loud in front of the paintings. “Speak for yourself on talent,” Jimin managed to respond while he was reminiscing. “Your artwork is pretty amazing from what I saw, and surprisingly full of emotion.”

“Surprising huh? No wonder you made me out to be so cold in your paper.” Jungkook blushed slightly and turned up the corner of his mouth into a slight smile.

“Ah,” Jimin stammered, unable to bring himself to look at Jungkook, “maybe I’m better at writing than speaking.” He stared at his feet, fidgeting.

“Maybe so,” Jungkook replied, “in that case… read this later and write me a response.” He reached into his pocket to pull out a tiny piece of paper, folded it, and slipped it into Jimin’s hand. Instead of letting go and backing up, he grabbed Jimin’s hand and pulled him close. Jungkook’s free hand flew to Jimin’s face and lifted his chin so they were eye to eye and kissed him gently. Jimin felt the world fall out from under his feet and he was suddenly floating in his mind. Before he could take a breath Jungkook disconnected from him and jogged towards the building his class must have been in. Dumbfounded, Jimin opened Jungkook’s paper he slipped to him to find a cartoon drawing of the two of them holding hands and large lettering above that read: “DINNER?”