#benedict cumberbatch fics

[petite-madame]

Three Times - (2024)

Three times Sherlock and John couldn't resist kissing in the London means of transportation.

[ironstrange1991]

Safe Place

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Things don't always go the way we want. The reader learns this the hard way and Stephen is the only one that can make her feel better.

Word Count: 2,5k

Warnings: None.

A/N: Another self-indulgent fic inspired by another bad day. I'm just really happy to have something to post. I hope you guys like it and have a good read ;)

Tears had been streaming down your face and soaking your pillow for what seemed like hours since you had gotten home after a terrible day where everything had gone apocalyptically wrong. You were relieved to be home in the first place, but at the same time you were disappointed enough that you didn't feel right about being there.

You knew that you had placed too much expectation on that day and that it was your fault for expecting too much from luck when you knew very well that in your life luck had never been with you. You just wanted to disappear. You wanted a hole to open in the ground and swallow you, but all you could do was cry your eyes out and that was exactly what you did until you fell asleep and woke up to the touch of a trembling hand in your hair and the baritone voice calling your name.

"Sweetheart" You heard Stephen calling you. "I barely saw you today. I didn't know you were already here. Are you hiding from me?" He dismissed the question with a light and caring tone, but you knew he was worried. You didn't look at him as you answered.

"I want to die, Stephen." You said, giving in to the tears and hiding your face in the pillow.

"Oh sweetheart! Things didn't work out the way you expected, huh?" He asked and you felt the bed dipping.

"It's my fault. I should listen to MJ and stop putting so much hope into things that I know will never happen. I always get disappointed and never learn."

He let out a heavy sigh.

"Come here." He asked, touching your hair and you crawled so you could lay your head in his lap. "Why don't you tell me exactly what happened?"

But you didn't want to talk about it. It was like by doing so you were accepting it was real, and you didn't want it to be real. So you just shook your head.

"Okay. How about I tell you about my day? Would you like that?"

You nodded.

"Well, Wong and I spent the morning training a group of masters who are going on a mission for the first time. They are good, they just need to gain practice, and the mission is not that difficult. I believe everything will be fine." He said as he gently ran his fingers through your hair.

"After that, I got a call from Stark asking me to come over there to help identify a magical artifact they found in the hands of Hydra. It was an ancient relic that disappeared from the London Sanctum hundreds of years ago. You can imagine Wong's happiness when I took it straight to the Kamar Taj."

You could feel the lump in your throat getting less tight as he spoke. Not only was his voice soothing and pleasant, but you enjoyed listening to him talk about his sorcerer stuff. It was another world entirely and at that moment all you needed was to distance yourself from your reality and to be immersed in his.

"Let me see what else..." He said and you waited. "Oh, I almost forgot! Stark is throwing a party at the end of the month and he insists that we both go. I could have said that I'll be on a mission, but I know you like spending time with your Avengers friends, so I confirmed our attendance. Did I do wrong?"

You shook your head and he chuckled softly. "I knew you'd want to go. Let me see... what else? I had cold pizza for breakfast and I ventured into the kitchen to make something for lunch because I was starving."

That caught your attention and you waited for him to tell you what he had cooked.

"Tuna spaghetti. It didn't turn out as good as yours. I think I overcooked it. It was sticky, but it was what I had and it satisfied my hunger. You know I'd rather eat your food anyway and at least I didn't burn the house down."

You smiled to yourself and turned around to look at him. Your eyes were still wet with tears, but you were calmer and the heaviness in your heart was replaced by warmth. "I love you." You whispered reaching out to touch his face. There was a frown on his forehead that slowly faded and he smiled back.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He replied as he continued to caress your hair. "Feeling a bit better now?"

You nodded. "It's amazing how you can do that."

He cocked his head to the side. "Do what?"

"Change my mood just by talking to me."

"And caressing your hair. That sure helps." He said with a cocky smile.

You smiled back at him. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Did you know that? You found me at my lowest and changed me forever. I know I'm not an easy person, that this anxiety and mood swings are constant and that I make you worried most of the time..."

"Sweetheart..."

"Let me say this. Please." You asked, bringing your fingers to his mouth to shut him up.

"I know I need you much more than you need me. I know I shouldn't say this, but I feel like I can't live without you. Or maybe I can, but I don't want to have to find out."

You sighed deeply, trying to contain the wave of emotion that was threatening to spill over your eyes. "Today was a horrible day. Everything went so wrong that it would be comical if it wasn't so fucking annoying and heartbreaking. But at the same time I know that no matter how bad things get, I will always have this home to come back to and when I say home I'm not talking about the house, I'm talking about you. You are my home and my comfort, Stephen. My safe place and I love you with all the strength of my being and if for all this love you give me I have to pay by cooking you a decent meal, I'm more than happy with the bargain."

"Can I talk now?" He grumbled and you took your hand away from his mouth. He was trying to keep the same confident face as before, but there was a whole world of emotions behind his blue eyes and you saw his throat bobbing a few times. "First of all, you'll never have to figure out whether or not you can live without me because, sweetheart, I'll never leave and I'll never let you go." He sighed, trying to compose himself, and then continued, "Secondly, I want you to know that you're not a burden to me and I don't think you need me any more than I need you. You say I saved you at your lowest, but you forget that you've saved me from myself so many times. I changed you? You've changed me too, love. You've made me a better man, you've taught me that love can be a good thing and that I don't need to be in control of everything all the time. You've made me let my guard down and allow myself to love and be loved. To care for you and having you care for me is the greatest achievement of my life. You're my home too, sweetheart. My love, my best friend, my everything. It's safe to say that neither of us are easy people." He finished with a smirk. "We just complement each other so well."

You nodded, feeling your eyes fill with tears again, but you smiled. "Thank you."

His smile widened, "You're welcome, sweetheart. Now get up and go take a shower and I'll order some food. I'm sure you'll feel better after that."

You sat up and stretched before standing up. "I'm already feeling better, actually." You answered honestly. "If you're not in a hurry, I can cook you something. You must be dying to eat some decent food."

He seemed a bit surprised by your offer, but smiled happily. "Really? And what will you do?"

"It'll depend on what's in the fridge."

He nodded, "Okay. I'm in."

"But there's something I want in return." You said, taking his hand and pulling him to stand up. You pulled him close to you, letting him tower over you, and rested your hand on his chest.

"And what is it?" He asked, already knowing the answer very well.

"You. I want you to come take a shower with me."

He hummed, lifting your chin to make you look directly at him.

"I thought you were sad," he teased.

"I am. And really mad, that's why I need some physical love. You know?"

He chuckled. "Alright, love. I think I can provide that for you."

You barely waited for him to answer and dragged him into the bathroom with you. Your mood swings sometimes confused even you, but if there was one thing that was certain about your depressive crises, it was that they always ended in sex. It was your body's way of balancing things out, exchanging cortisol for oxytocin, and you were fine with that. More than fine, in fact.

After the shower - and what ended up becoming a long lovemaking session - the two of you got dressed in comfortable pajamas and ended up in the kitchen. You wanted to prepare something decent and nutritious, after all Stephen was a tall and strong man and you knew that his body needed more than the empty calories of two slices of pizza and some tuna spaghetti, but when you looked in the fridge you realized what you had already feared. You were practically out of food.

"Oh Stephen, we forgot to go to the grocery store." You said dejectedly, but your eyes found a piece of bacon and some cheese and you sighed in defeat. It seemed that the nutritious food would have to wait for tomorrow.

"I can make mac & cheese. It has bacon, we can fry it really crispy and add it to the recipe. I know it wasn't what you expected..."

Stephen approached, hugging you from behind and taking advantage of the fact that your hair was tied up, he gave you a little kiss on the back of your neck. That never failed to give you goosebumps.

"Anything you prepare for me will be delicious, I'm sure. And I love mac & cheese. It's fine by me."

You turned to look at him "Are you sure? There's still time to order food if you want."

He shook his head "I'm sure. Unless you changed your mind. I know you've had a long day, sweetheart."

But before he finished speaking you were already grabbing the necessary ingredients from the fridge. "I did, but I'm feeling much better now. Your mac & cheese will be ready in fifteen minutes, and I promise it will be way better than your sticky tuna spaghetti."

He chuckled, letting go of your waist and stepping away, opening a cabinet door and grabbing one of your ceramic pots. "I'm going to put the water on to boil. I don't think you can go wrong with that." He informed and you let out a soft laugh.

"Don't forget the salt." You said as you grabbed a knife and began to chop the bacon into small cubes.

"Before or after it boils? I never remember."

"After." You replied, watching as he turned on the stove. It was quite a sight: Stephen Strange dressed in nothing but pajama pants, his hair wet from the shower, his back marked by your nails, his neck marked by love bites you had left on him, doing banal and domestic things in the kitchen. He may have been a sorcerer, a master of the mystical arts, and protector of the Sanctum, but what made you fall more and more in love with him each day were those little moments when he was completely ordinary.

You got distracted while finishing chopping the bacon and cheese and were surprised by his arms wrapping around your waist. He didn't say anything, he just hugged you from behind, gave you a kiss on the back of your neck and laid his head on your shoulder, and that act made you melt. You continued your task with a deliberate slowness so that you wouldn't have to move away from him, but eventually you finished chopping everything.

"Steph... I need..."

But he held you tighter in his arms, humming, "Just one more minute. I just want to stay like this for one more minute."

You chuckled, dropping the knife and reaching your hand up to his hair, stroking it slowly. "As if you didn't have me for an hour in that bathroom." You said, and he groaned as if the memory of what you did was too good to mention.

"It's not the same, sweetheart." He said, lifting his head to speak in your ear, "Sometimes I just want to be close to you like this. It's not sexual."

You felt your heart flutter in your chest and your knees went weak. "Does that mean the great Doctor Strange sometimes needs cuddles?"

He gave your ear a light nibble to tease you back, "Sometimes... yes."

You nodded, turning to look at him and cupping his face. "You deserve all the cuddles in the world, Steph. But right now you need to decide what you want more. Cuddles or mac & cheese?"

He sighed exaggeratedly. "Such a hard choice." He said, pretending to think, "But I think I'll have to choose mac & cheese." He responded with a smirk and let go of you. You stood on your tiptoes to kiss his lips and then stepped away, returning to your mission.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you were sitting at the table to eat. Stephen had chosen a bottle of red to open and you allowed yourself a glass that he generously poured before pouring his own and sitting down.

"It's always so rewarding to sit at the table to have dinner with you after a day of doing the things I do." He confessed, sipping from his glass and allowing himself a bite of the mac & cheese. "Oh this is delicious!"

You smiled as you watched him devour a second bite. This was your favorite part of cooking for him. It might have been a little weird, but you really loved watching him eat, especially when it was something you had cooked for him.

You allowed yourself a bite too and smiled contentedly. "Okay, this is really good."

"I told you!" He said, smiling, and you found yourself thinking that it was possible to endure the bad days and the terrible days, as long as you had Stephen by your side. After all, he was the only one who could make you feel good even when everything around you seemed to be falling apart. He saved you from the world and especially from yourself, and you could see yourself going on as long as he was there for you.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[anyca786]

Press Conference

Platonic!Marvel cast (Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Benedict Cumberbatch, Anthony Mackie, Tom Hiddleston) x actress!reader

Summary: When a notorious press member became too personal,your marvel family stood up for you.

The flashbulbs exploded in synchronized bursts as you entered the Endgame press conference, the air thick with anticipation. You, the newest member of the MCU family, were the talk of the town, and tonight, all eyes were on you.

The lights dimmed, a hush fell over the packed auditorium. All eyes swivelled towards the entrance as the press conference host boomed, "Let's give a warm welcome to Y/N L/N, our newest addition to the Marvel Cinematic Universe!"

Chris Evans, seated beside Benedict Cumberbatch, couldn't help but steal a glance, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Sebastian Stan, across from him, mirrored the sentiment, his gaze lingering a beat longer. Tom Hiddleston, ever the gentleman, offered a small, knowing nod, while Anthony Mackie, your on-screen partner, winked playfully, muttering, "Ready to steal the show, Y/N?"

After introductions and greetings, everyone settled into their assigned sofas, you positioned amongst the Avengers heartthrobs. The press conference began, questions flying thick and fast, your name met with excited murmurs and camera clicks.

You settled onto your designated sofa, a nervous flutter in your stomach. But as the press conference began, you found your rhythm, your wit and intelligence shining through your responses. Your laughter filled the room, captivating not just the audience, but also the men around you.

Their gazes, once discreet, became bolder. Chris leaned in, his smile widening with every insightful point you made. Benedict chuckled at your witty retort, his eyes sparkling with appreciation. Sebastian's lips twitched, and Tom offered a thumbs-up, his smile tinged with a hint of something deeper. Even Anthony, usually the joker, seemed captivated, his gaze lingering on you with newfound respect.

Then, the atmosphere shifted. A reporter, notorious for his inappropriate remarks, directed his attention solely at you, his motives seemingly more personal than professional, began peppering you with flirtatious questions, his gaze lingering a little too long on your figure. The room grew tense, and you could sense a change in your fellow MCU stars. Chris's normally relaxed posture stiffened, his jaw clenching imperceptibly. Sebastian's smile vanished, replaced by a steely glint in his eyes. Tom, even Tom, seemed to radiate a cool disapproval.

"Y/N," the reporter drawled, his voice dripping with insincerity, "you're absolutely captivating. Tell us, does playing alongside such handsome co-stars come with any perks?"

Benedict leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper, "You don't have to answer that, Y/N. He doesn't deserve your attention." His words, laced with a quiet intensity, sent a wave of gratitude through you.

You gave him a polite smile, your response witty and deflecting. But you saw Chris clench his jaw, and Sebastian crossed his arms, a scowl forming. You appreciated their silent show of support, focusing on the next question.

However, the reporter persisted. "Come on," he pressed, "surely there's some juicy behind-the-scenes romance brewing..."

Before you could even formulate a reply, a chorus of voices interrupted.

Suddenly, Chris interrupted, his jaw clenched, stood up, his voice low and dangerous. "Excuse me, but your line of questioning is overstepping boundaries."

Anthony, equally protective, rose, his voice booming, "Show some respect, man!"

Benedict, ever the diplomat, interjected, "Let's keep things professional, shall we?"

Sebastian, his eyes narrowed, added, "We won't tolerate any further disrespect towards Y/N."

Tom, ever eloquent, finished the thought, "Her talent speaks for itself, no need for cheap tactics."

The reporter, flustered and intimidated, stammered an apology, slinking back in his seat. You sat there, speechless, the warmth of their protectiveness washing over you.

The press conference continued, but the mood had changed. The air buzzed with a new energy, a silent understanding between you and the men around you. You were no longer just the newest star; you were their colleague, their friend, and they would fiercely protect your place in their universe.

Later, after the formalities were over, Chris approached you, a sheepish grin on his face. "Sorry about that," he muttered, "we don't take kindly to anyone disrespecting our team."

You smiled, touched by their protectiveness. "It means a lot," you admitted, "having you all have my back."

A comfortable silence settled between you, before Chris chuckled. "Besides," he winked, "who wouldn't stand up for someone as brilliant and beautiful as you?"

Your cheeks flushed, and you laughed, the warmth in Chris's eyes making your heart skip a beat. Maybe being an Avenger wasn't just about saving the world, but also finding a new kind of family, one that protected you not just from villains, but also from inappropriate reporters and perhaps, even budding feelings.

And as you looked around at the smiling faces of your co-stars, you knew you wouldn't trade this experience for anything, even if it meant facing a few intrusive questions along the way. After all, who wouldn't want to be protected by Earth's Mightiest Heroes, both on and off screen?

Please suggest anything related to marvel characters, cast or actors. I'm very new to this, I just started yesterday *cries*

[vickiee-mcmuffin]

Realization

Summary: After hooking up with Stephen on the night of the full moon Kamar Taj party over a month ago, you begin to experience pregnancy symptoms. And you realise you could potentially be pregnant with Stephen's child.

Word count: 2.5k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Fluff, mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of smut (18+ warning, minors DNI)

A/N: This is another little idea I thought of, I hope you like it. I will be doing a Surgeon Strange smut fic next.

You hadn’t planned it or anything. It just sort of happened. One minute you were enjoying the full moon party at Kamar Taj, and the next, you were wrapped up in Stephen Strange’s arms as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. It had all happened so fast. You knew it was wrong and bad—he was your teacher, your mentor—and you both should have known better, but you had been flirting with him since you pretty much locked eyes with him that night. He just looked so good and he hadn’t been able to take his own gaze off of you.

So, after a night of teasing smiles and lingering touches, the two of you found a corner where no one would find you, and he kissed you long and deep, his groans muffled from your soft lips. Then he got all handsy, his fingers grasping at your hips and waist before he brought you back to the sanctum where he took you and made you his.

He had been rough and fast with you, like he had been eagerly waiting for the moment when he finally got to have you. On his bed he had bent you over, taking you from behind as he slammed his cock into you, as you cried out his name, as you begged and pleaded with him to make you cum, and he did. He had your eyes rolling into the back of your head that night. You had no idea that he could make you feel like that, that he possessed that kind of skill. His experienced fingers and tongue and mouth had made you see absolute stars. He had been so big and thick and long, stretching you out and filling you up so, so good. There had been a smirk on his face the whole night, like he was absolutely loving every second of seeing you in pleasure. He had been the reason you went back to Kamar Taj that night just aching to have him take you again.

But when it was all over and done with, you and Stephen promised to never, ever talk about that night again. It was a filthy hook-up. It was a night of dirty actions and words and secrets with the both of you engaging in something that never, ever should have happened. That didn’t stop you from loving every second of it though.

But that was just over a month ago, and while you had been more than ready to keep that secret close to you, there was something that had been on your mind recently. Your period was late and there had been a handful of mornings where you woke up ready to throw up. You kept trying to tell yourself that it was nothing: that you were just a little sick and that the stress was the reason your period was late, but deep down, there was a feeling that wouldn’t go away. You couldn’t deny it: you were worried you could be pregnant with Stephen’s baby. And he was the only man you had been with, so it had to be his.

That same nausea you had been feeling for the last few days hit you as soon as you got out of bed. You had your training class today but that was the last thing on your mind as you ran to the bathroom to throw up. There was no way you could go to your class while you were on the verge of vomiting every three seconds, so you crawled back into bed with a groan.

The nagging feeling wouldn’t leave you. There was a good chance you were pregnant and you needed to know for sure, so after you felt well enough, you opened up a portal that took you right to a pharmacy to buy a test. You bought it and came back to your room, letting in and out some uneven breaths before you opened up the box. You followed the instructions and took the test before you flipped the little piece of plastic over, not quite ready to see the result. Instead, your eyes focused on your reflection as you wondered if your future was about to change forever. How could it be that everything had changed so quickly? You were supposed to be training and learning, not wondering if you were pregnant with a baby.

The word repeated over and over in your head. A baby. An actual baby. Stephen’s baby. You had been so careless that night with him, just seeking your own pleasure. But now that night felt like it was haunting you. What would Stephen think?

You shook your head. You couldn’t think about that. Your stomach was already filled with too many butterflies, and just wondering about what Stephen’s reaction would be would make it worse. There were days when he could be so cruel, so mean.

It took you about five minutes, but you finally let out a long breath and flipped the test over. You literally froze on the spot when you saw a positive sign looking back at you. The one you got gave you an estimate of when the baby had been conceived, and there it was: 6 weeks. That meant Stephen was most definitely the father, that the baby had been conceived that night.

The test fell right out of your hands as tears filled your eyes. What would Stephen’s reaction be? Angry, upset, elated, horrified? Either way, you would have to tell him, and you were terrified about how that could go. Then there was the fact that you were still very much training at Kamar Taj. You couldn’t just take time off. Would you even have time to look after a baby? Would Stephen? Would he want the baby at all?

You didn’t know what to do.

******

The day went by fast and now nighttime was upon you. You had been upset all day after taking the test and your brain wouldn’t stop reminding you that you had to tell Stephen the truth. You knew, but you were so scared of what his reaction would be. You just didn’t feel ready to tell him. Part of you was a little scared. There were times when he was quick to anger.

There was a knocking at your door and you sighed and let out a soft, “come in.”

It was Wong pushing open the door, a concerned look on his face. “Y/N, what’s going on? You’ve been missing some training sessions lately. I’m worried… Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

You sniffled. There were tears in your eyes that you hadn’t been able to hide. “Can you please just get Stephen for me? I need to talk to him.”

Wong nodded. “Of course. I’ll go get him for you.”

“Thank you,” you said, watching Wong leave.

A few minutes later, Stephen was at your door with raised eyebrows. “Wong told me you wanted me to come and talk to you.”

Wiping at your eyes, you let out a trembling breath. “Yes. You can come in. Please shut the door behind you.”

He followed your instructions and sat down next to you on the bed. “Why are you crying?”

Instant regret hit you. Why had you asked Wong to get Stephen? You still didn’t feel ready. You thought maybe ripping the band-aid off would have worked out in your favour, but there were so many butterflies in your stomach as you avoided his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” you muttered, your eyes all wet.

Stephen sighed. “Then why did you make sure Wong came and got me? You must have done that for a reason.”

You shook your head. “What’s the point? It’s not like you care, anyway.”

“Wow,” Stephen said quietly.

The room went horrifyingly quiet. So quiet it almost made you wince. You weren’t talking, Stephen wasn’t talking. The two of you sat there in pure silence and all you could do was wipe at your wet eyes.

“You know, I know I can be an asshole sometimes,” he muttered, “but at least I’m not completely heartless, Y/N. Will you just tell me why you’re so upset? There must have been a reason you called me in here, and there’s clearly something big on your mind if you’re crying. If you just told me…”

Finally, you met his eyes, and you were taken aback by the frown on his face. He looked worried. “I know you agreed that we weren’t supposed to talk about that night at the party… The night where we… You know…”

“Yeah…” Stephen murmured.

You couldn’t say it. You just grabbed the pregnancy test that you had kept tucked under the blankets and handed it to Stephen. You kept your eyes on him, taking in the pure shock on his face. He stayed quiet for a good minute or two before finally, in a shaky voice he said, “You… You’re pregnant.” He looked over at you. “With my baby?”

You nodded and you felt more tears forming. You could hear Stephen mutter out a low and deep “fuck” next to you.

“I’m really sorry,” you whispered. “This is all my—”

“You aren’t to blame for this, Y/N.”

A sharp gasp fell from your lips when you felt Stephen’s soft, warm hands on the sides of your face. He was forcing you to look at him, his eyes all soft and warm, and you couldn’t believe how gentle he had suddenly become. You also couldn’t quite believe that he had tears in his eyes. Could he be happy?

Stephen smiled at you. “Well, you being pregnant is partly my fault too.”

A smile stretched across your face before you laughed, tears rolling down your cheeks. Stephen used his thumbs to wipe at them, his touch soft and slow.

“Breathe for me,” he said. “Just take some deep breaths for me. Can you do that?”

You followed his instructions, your eyes closing as your breath slowed down to a more calm, gentle rhythm. That was helping. Sort of. But the nerves were still so ever-present and you just wanted to go back in time and fix everything.

“So, what do you want to do about this?” he asked. “I just want you to know that I will fully support your choice. Whatever choice that is.”

“I mean, I’ve always wanted to be a mother one day, but this is all so sudden. It’s scary and I still have to finish my training.”

“If you truly want to have this baby, then I’ll be here for you. I’ll support you and I’ll do everything I can to be the best father I can be. Being a dad wasn’t something I had ever really thought about, but I’m not afraid to try.”

You smiled at him. “Ain’t you too busy to have time to look after a baby?”

“Yes, but we’ll make it work.”

You couldn’t help it when you threw your arms around him, totally without warning. You squeezed at him as relief washed over you, a soft sigh leaving your lips. That had gone a lot better than you had expected. You could hear Stephen grunting a little as you held him.

“I know you’ll be the best dad,” you whispered. “I just know it.”

Stephen gave you a shocked sounding laugh before he finally circled his own arms around you, his hands pressed up against you tightly. “I’m glad you think so.”

Pulling away from him, you kept your hands on his shoulders. “I know so.”

Placing his hand on your thigh, Stephen gave you a comforting smile. One that made you truly feel like everything was going to be okay, that the future would be alright, and suddenly a whole less daunting. He rubbed at your thigh, the room comfortably quiet as your eyes stayed locked. A smile grew on your face simply from how sweet he was being. You loved seeing his kind, gentle side. It made your heart flutter. But then it hit you. Everyone would know you were pregnant. Very soon, you wouldn’t be able to hide it at all.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” you said. “What are we gonna do? What happens when everyone finds out? I don’t want you to get into trouble. That’s the last thing I want. Everyone’s gonna be in our business. I don’t want that either.”

He hummed, his hand still on your thigh. “I have some hoodies you can borrow as the baby grows. That should hide the bump. And if and when someone does finally find out… Well, I’ll just deal with that. I promise. Don’t stress about that. Let me handle all of that.”

“Thank you.” Leaning forward, you gave his cheek a kiss. You could have sworn his pale cheeks went a little red at the sudden act of intimacy. But he had just been so sweet, so sensitive, so caring that you couldn’t even stop yourself. You were pretty sure that you had never even seen him blush before. It felt like a bit of an accomplishment to be the first person to ever do it and the fact had your own face feeling all hot. But Stephen just looked so cute suddenly getting all nervous, and you smiled at the way his hand rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Well, I better let you get some rest then, right?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Thank you. For everything. For being so supportive and caring and kind. I really needed it.”

He smiled at you and got off the bed, making a slow walk towards your door. “You know, I’m not always an asshole. And I do care about people. I have the ability to care and I also have feelings,” he said, letting out a low chuckle.

Smiling at him, you nodded. “Noted.”

Stephen winked at you before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. You let out a long breath of air that you had been holding in for what felt like the entire conversation with Stephen. No, the entire day that gloomy feeling had been hanging over you, but that felt like it was slowly fading away by the second. You felt light, you felt happy, you felt like the future would be something good and bright instead of that darkness you had felt wash over you when you first looked at your pregnancy test in the morning.

You laid down in bed, resting your head against the pillows and letting out a long yawn. You definitely needed some rest, but there was some excitement flowing through you still. You’d be a mother and Stephen would be a father, and he’d be there for you every single step of the way, and there were definitely going to be a lot of them. And deep down, you knew Stephen would be a good dad. The best dad. The kind that would make you so proud and so happy.

You couldn’t wait.

[frost-queen]

In labour (Reader x Sherlock Holmes)

Requested by: @thewritersdesk95 Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex–awesome–22, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23, @melsunshine  , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis, @slythetic, @bitchybananaflower, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr

“So any day now?”

John’s question sparked up an interest in Sherlock. He set his hands underneath his chin with a deep hum. – “Mycroft will be on his knees begging for forgiveness in no time.” – he responded. John furrowed his brows, staring confused back at his mate. – “I… I was talking about Y/n!”  - John called out, gesturing away.

“Oh.” – Sherlock responded. Taking exactly a few seconds before it hit him. – “Ooh!” – calling out, lowering his hands. John nodding with raised up brows that he finally understood. – “I forgot for a moment.” – Sherlock waved his hand idle away.

“How can you forget that any day now, you could become a father.” – John answered shaking his head at Sherlock’s thought train. Questioning again how Sherlock was able to strike you as his wife.

“I just forgot alright.” – Sherlock spoke with tensed brows. – “Just… just don’t tell her that.” – he made clear. John shook his head with a sigh. Turning his head, John looked around curiously.  – “Where… where is Y/n anyways?” – questioning as he hadn’t seen you walk around for at least half an hour.

“In the bathroom.” – Sherlock responded. John made a face to usher him to speak further. Worry striking his face. – “Yes, she is fine.” – Sherlock filled in. Not a moment later they jumped up from a loud scream. Both getting up and running over to the bathroom. – “Y/n, are you alright in there?” – Sherlock started pounding on the door.

“Y/n are you in pain?” – John asked turning the door knob that you had closed. – “Y/n, answer me.” – Sherlock begged, knocking even louder. John held his ear by the door, hearing you pant.

“Y/n open the door please.” – John asked as you cried it out in pain. Huffing and puffing moments later. The door got unlocked. Sherlock shoving John aside to enter. – “Y/n!” – he called out with worry.

Seeing you stand by the tub, one hand under your stomach. Sherlock’s gaze fell down on the wetness at your feet. Staring in shock at it. John bumped against his shoulder to get to you. – “Her water broke Sherlock!” – he called out. Sherlock blinking rapidly in response to absorb that information. John was already at your side, holding your arm up.

“Deep breaths Y/n.” – he said, supporting you. – “Sherlock we have to move. Now!” – John shouted at him. That seemed to work as Sherlock got in action. Nearly knocking himself out by the door when he rushed back out. Hurrying back inside with yours and his coats. Holding them proudly up like caught fish.

John sighed loud, snatching your coat from him. John helped you put on the coat. Handing you then over to your husband. – “I’m going to park the car in front. You help her downstairs.” – John addressed to Sherlock with a warning point.

Sherlock swallowed, taking John’s place at your side. Taking a hold of your arm. – “Is… is there going to be any more water?” – he asked as you could scream at him. – “Just get me downstairs.” – you responded annoyed. Sherlock helped you step carefully over the spill.

You were trying to steady your breathing as he helped you down the stairs. Misses Hudson appearing at the foot of the stairs. – “Oh is it time?” – she called out with delight. – “It is baby time misses Hudson.” – he responded helping you down the last few steps. – “Best of luck.” – she wished, sending you off with a pat on your back.

The car was parked in front. With the help of Sherlock you got inside. John not wasting any time by stepping on the gas. You were huffing and puffing. Calling it out in screams in between. Sherlock took your hand firm.

“Y/n, I’ve read that you have to puff like this.” – he informed you. He started mimicking huffs and puffs. First quick one’s than much slower one’s. You shot him a glare at how annoying he was. – “Don’t you start!” – you called out in pure frustration.

“Y/n!” – Sherlock panicked when you started to move around the car. Trying to find a comfortable position. Yelping in distress at the discomfort of being in labour. – “How is she doing back there?” – John wanted to know. – “Drive!” – was your answer ending in a loud scream of pain, shooting through you.

Sherlock’s gaze fell down on you, staring with wide eyes at you. Gasping at what you were doing. Panicking himself a bit as it suddenly all felt real. – “Drive faster John!” – he called out, worrying that you might give birth in the car. Panting loud, you settled for a comforting position for as long as it lasted. Sweating immensely.

You reached for his hand, wanting him close. Sherlock took your hand, leaning in closer. Wanting to give you a comforting kiss. Yet the moment his face got close to you, he received your hand against his cheek. Pressing his face against the window with a scream of agony. – “Au.” – Sherlock yelped out, face getting squashed against the window.

“Sorry.” – you puffed out. Sherlock removed his face from against the glass, waving at you that it was alright. – “How much longer?” – He wanted to know, not sure how much of this torture he could endure. – “Any moment now.” – John replied, taking a turn. – “Sherlock.” – you breathed out, reaching for his hand. – “I’m here Y/n… I’m here.” – he said taking your hand. 

A discomforting pain shot through you, making you squeeze his hand hard. Sherlock calling it out as his hand got crushed in yours. Trying to bite the pain away, by upholding his smile at you. Seeing how you were worried and panicking. He didn’t want to add more to that. Giving your hand a good pat.

John parked the car in front of the hospital. Opening the door for you, helping you out. Still crushing Sherlock’s hand, he toggled behind you, trying to keep up. Inside you were immediately assisted by nurses. One of them helped you sit down in a wheelchair. The two of them running after you.

You got pushed through double doors as one of the last nurses stopped them. – “Only the father can go further.” – she told them. John looked over at Sherlock, who remained silent. – “That is you!” – he called out. – “Right… right. That’s me.” – Sherlock shot his hand up. The nurse urged him to follow her. They gave him some protection coat before entering the room. You smiled between the tears at the sight of him.

Sherlock let his hand slide in yours, brushing his hand over your head. – “It’s really happening darling.” – he said calmly. Sucking in a breath, you nodded. – “I’m scared…” – you told him. – “So am I, but we can do this together.” – his words soothing you. You closed your eyes when he pressed his lips on your forehead. Leaving a tender kiss. Holding his hand firm, you began pushing.

Hours later, you had your baby in your arms. Sherlock stroking his hand through your hair. Complimenting you on the good work. Smiling between the tears, you kissed him. For your family had a member more.  

-----------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It is finally Y/N's turn to walk down the aisle. Sherlock can't keep his eyes off of her. She is certain that the man waiting at the alter is the one she will spend the rest of her life with. Is he?

wedding fluff and angst

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Sherlock stood at the alter, hands clasped behind his back. To the wedding guests, his sharp stance would suggest ease. In truth, each deep breath he chased was laboured and unsure.

She was a vision in white. Precious in deep sheets of ivory.

Sherlock had never seen such perfection.

Y/N took measured steps down the aisle in time to the music's pace. A few steps further and the bride would become somebody's wife.

Sherlock promised himself he would not cry today. Not one tear, he swore. He was better than that. Still, as Y/N drew closer, step by step, he wasn't certain he could keep a dry eye.

He considered turning away or focusing on the flower arrangements set behind her shoulder. Anything to keep the strain in his chest at bay.

It was in that moment of deliberation that Y/N chose to wink at him. A small gesture, hardly visible behind her veil but even so, he caught it.

Propping his shoulders back, he chose to keep looking. Better to face the music than miss a flutter of her lashes or the quiver of her lip when she smiled.

Though his throat felt constricted and his chest heaved for breath, Sherlock Holmes could not turn away from the bride.

He registered John shoot him a grin from the left. He wasn't sure that he returned it.

"She's beautiful," John said in a hushed tone.

"She's beautiful," Sherlock repeated.

Three years earlier, Sherlock had met Y/N for the first time. Since then, she had stumbled through the flat each day, always with a shy smile and a soft spoken, "hello".

He loved her from the start.

Their highs and lows, they would experience together. When she threw her head back in laugher, teeth gleaming at something her lover said, Sherlock would see it. He often revealed his experiments to her, if only to see the wonder shine in her eyes.

Even after every lover's spat, Sherlock would wrap his arms around her and swear that things would look brighter in time.

He was right. By God, he was right. He had to be, for now, she stood just steps away from him, at the alter, incandescently happy in her wedding gown.

A slow tear trailed down Sherlock's cheek.

Y/N finally reached him and there was silence in the cathedral when the music at last, had died. 

"You're crying," she said.

Sherlock choked out a laugh that hurt his head. "I'm not," he replied. He tightened his lips together to ease the line of worry that had suddenly appeared on Y/N's brow.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. Closing his eyes, Sherlock shifted her veil aside. His hand trembled as he pushed it just far enough to kiss her cheek.

Though he gave her the softest of kisses, he felt a sharp stab in his heart, as arduous as the touch of his lips on her skin was brief.

He dropped her veil again and opened his eyes. "Every happiness," he said to her. His gaze steeled into her own. He hoped she wouldn't understand but she did.

Y/N nodded and her veil rustled. "Every happiness," she said back to him.

Sherlock clenched his jaw and feigned a smile for the wedding guests that stared from the pews. Then, he took Y/N's hand in his own and walked with her for three final steps.

John waited beside the priest.

Sherlock presented the groom with his bride and took his position as best man.

He was good at that, after all; standing on the outside, looking in. It's how he captured so many of his friends' most private moments in the small space of 221B.

Throughout the ceremony, the words, "every happiness" rang in Sherlock's mind.

When John and Y/N shared their first kiss as man and wife, Sherlock clapped along with the others but still, "every happiness" lingered at the tip of his tongue.

He simply couldn't manage to add the words, "I wish you..." at the start.

Things would be brighter in time, he told himself.

He knew it was a lie but for now, he clapped.

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

I'm crying. I have reposted this thing like, 10 times. Last time, I swear. omg. please work. If you'd like to be tagged, let me know.

Thank you for your patience, literally everybody I'm tagging: @twisted-monster @starryeddie @the-chaotic-cow @turkisherlockian @aephereal ​ @andthevillainshallrises ​ @baby-bloos ​ @cookiemumster1 ​​ @eternal-silvertongued-prince ​ @bogginsreadings ​ @lumosouls @spencerrxids @serenity-lattes @msseijii @classickook @starstruck-loner @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson ​ @lucywrites02  @danzalladaggers @mrs-holmes @pytharuw @antsn @kabubsmagga @newtsniffles  @cemak​ @liv-olive-oliver @iamtrash-withrespect @asgards-princess-of-mischief

[ceruleanmindpalace]

I painted this watercolour in 2019/2020 - on paper. Now, for the first time, I digitally edited/painted over an almost finished 'analogue' work. I think it works well.

This is a giftwork for @7-percent. An illustration for both of the following works, which can be read on AO3. The series are amazing, feel free to check them out.

I am flattered if you reblog, but do NOT post my art on other sites/social media or use in any other way without my written permission.

[amethystarachnid]

hello! i was wondering if i could request trope 20, Christmas Eve Confessions? Could it be Dr Strange x Fem Reader? (if you don’t write for Dr Strange you could message me and i’ll request a different character :3)

maybe it could go something like this, the both of them are sorcerers/wizards and they’re helping each other out around the Sanctum kinda prepping for Christmas, decorations, peoples gifts, and making sure they’ll be no disturbances and such. and once they’re finally sharing a comfortable silence that’s when the both of them are debating if they should confess. The Reader is a tad bit shy and soft spoken, but she’s almost willing to push it aside so she could confess to him, unless Dr Strange does it first of course 👀

any other additional details are up to you! and if you have any questions feel free to message me! (also message me if the request goes through because my internet is slow right now so i’m not sure if it would go through- and i apologize if it sends twice-) have a lovely day!

A SORCERER'S CHRISTMAS

⤷ STEPHEN V. STRANGE

ᯓ★ Pairing: Stephen V. Strange x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said <3

ᯓ★ TW(s): just fluff

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The Sanctum Sanctorum hums with its usual mystical energy, though the chill of December seeps even through its enchanted walls. You wrap your arms around yourself briefly, taking a deep breath as you glance at the myriad of boxes Stephen set down in the grand foyer. Decorations spill from the lids—strings of lights, ornaments with faint magical glows, and garlands that shimmer as if imbued with life.

Stephen stands a few feet away, surveying the task ahead with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I didn’t think this place could feel any stranger, but now it’s about to look like a department store window.” His tone is teasing, but there’s a warmth in his gaze as it flicks over to you.

You can’t help but chuckle. “Well, if you hadn’t insisted on helping, it wouldn’t look as good as I know it will.” You crouch down to untangle a set of enchanted fairy lights. “Besides, I think it’s nice. Even a sorcerer’s sanctum can use a little holiday spirit.”

He raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms, his cloak shifting slightly with the movement. “Holiday spirit, huh? You mean a chaotic explosion of tinsel and glitter?”

You tilt your head at him, feigning an exaggerated pout. “Chaos is kind of your thing, Doctor Strange.”

The faint laugh he lets out is enough to send warmth spreading through you, and you quickly return your focus to the lights, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight flush creeping up your cheeks. The two of you fall into a steady rhythm, working in companionable silence to transform the Sanctum’s imposing, ancient halls into something that feels…cozy.

You take a garland and weave it along the staircase banister, pausing to let Stephen levitate an oversized wreath into place above the main doorway. His hands move with practiced precision, the faint blue glow of his magic illuminating the sharp lines of his face. You force yourself to look away before he catches you staring.

“Are you sure Wong won’t think this is ridiculous?” he asks, glancing over at you. “He’s not exactly one for frivolity.”

You grin. “Wong secretly loves Christmas. Trust me, I’ve seen him humming carols when he thinks no one’s listening.”

Stephen chuckles at that, shaking his head as he steps down from his spell-induced hover. “I’ll take your word for it.”

For a moment, the two of you stand side by side, surveying your progress. The decorations transform the space into something almost otherworldly—a reflection of the magic that permeates every corner of the Sanctum but with an added layer of warmth and light. The fairy lights you strung along the walls twinkle like stars, and the faint scent of pine from the garlands fills the air.

“It’s…nice,” Stephen admits, his voice softer now. “You were right.”

You glance up at him, startled by the gentleness in his tone. He’s looking at the decorations, but there’s a thoughtful expression on his face, as if he’s seeing something beyond them. You want to ask what he’s thinking, but before you can, he gestures to the towering box of ornaments near your feet.

“Let’s get those on the tree before you start gloating.”

You laugh, grabbing a handful of shimmering baubles. “I would never gloat. I’m too humble for that.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, arching a skeptical brow as he levitates a particularly ornate ornament to one of the higher branches of the tree. “Remind me of that the next time you beat me at a spell duel.”

You roll your eyes, fighting back a grin. “That only happened once.”

“Twice,” he corrects, his voice tinged with amusement. “Though I’ll admit, you’re a quick learner.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and you falter for a moment, nearly dropping the ornament in your hand. Stephen doesn’t seem to notice, his attention already shifting back to the tree. You exhale softly, reminding yourself to keep your composure.

The hours slip by as the two of you work, the Sanctum gradually transforming into a festive haven. There’s an ease between you, a rhythm to your movements as you pass decorations back and forth and exchange quips. Every so often, your hands brush, and each time it sends a jolt through you, though you quickly disguise it with a joke or a question about where to hang something.

When the last ornament is placed and the final string of lights is hung, you step back, hands on your hips, and take in the sight. The Sanctum has never looked so warm, so inviting. Even Stephen seems impressed, his usual stoicism giving way to a small, genuine smile.

“Not bad,” he says, glancing over at you. “For a department store window, anyway.”

You laugh, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Admit it, you like it.”

He doesn’t deny it, and that alone is enough to make your heart skip a beat.

The two of you settle into a rare moment of stillness, standing side by side in the softly lit foyer. The tree glows with an almost ethereal light, and the faint hum of magic mingles with the warmth of the decorations. It feels…peaceful.

Stephen clears his throat, breaking the silence. “Do you think it’ll stay like this? Quiet, I mean.”

You glance at him, surprised by the question. “Are you worried?”

He hesitates, his gaze fixed on the tree. “Not worried. Just…mindful. The holidays have a way of bringing out unexpected…disturbances.”

You nod, understanding what he means. The two of you have seen enough to know that peace is often fleeting, especially for sorcerers. Still, you can’t help but hope that this moment—this rare, quiet moment—will last.

“We’ve done what we can,” you say softly. “If anything happens, we’ll handle it like we always do.”

He looks at you then, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s about to say something, but instead, he nods and turns away, his cloak swirling behind him.

As he moves to adjust one of the garlands, you feel a pang of something you can’t quite name. There’s a weight between you, something unspoken that lingers in the air. You’ve felt it before, in the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, in the moments of quiet understanding that pass between you. But neither of you has dared to give it a name.

You watch him for a moment longer, your heart pounding in your chest. Maybe one day, you think. Maybe one day, you’ll find the courage to say what you’ve been holding back for so long. But for now, you let the silence settle around you, comfortable and familiar, as the warmth of the season wraps around you both.

The smell of cinnamon and pine fills the air as you haul another stack of gifts into the study. Stephen’s already there, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a roll of wrapping paper unspooled haphazardly beside him. His cloak drapes itself across a nearby chair, looking vaguely irritated—if such a thing were possible—as it flicks at a stray piece of ribbon that’s landed on its edge.

“You realize we could finish this in about five minutes if we just used a simple spell,” Stephen says without looking up, his tone tinged with exasperation. “One flick of the wrist, and we’re done.”

You drop the stack onto the rug with a dramatic sigh and cross your arms. “And where’s the fun in that? Christmas is about tradition. You can’t cheat your way through wrapping presents.”

He raises an eyebrow, finally glancing up at you. “It’s not cheating. It’s efficiency. There’s a difference.”

“It’s soulless, Strange.” You plop down beside him, grabbing a roll of paper and a pair of scissors. “Besides, it’ll be good for you. You could use some practice with non-magical problem-solving.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, and the sound sends a little flutter through your chest. “Is this your way of saying my practical skills are lacking?”

“I’m just saying,” you reply with a grin, cutting an uneven square of paper. “I’ve seen you fight interdimensional demons with more grace than you handle a pair of scissors.”

“They’re slippery,” he mutters defensively, reaching for another box. His fingers brush against yours for the briefest moment, and you feel a spark that has nothing to do with magic. He pulls back quickly, his expression unreadable, and you force yourself to focus on the task at hand.

The two of you fall into a rhythm, albeit a slightly chaotic one. Stephen’s initial attempts at wrapping are, predictably, a disaster. His folds are uneven, his tape placement haphazard, and at one point, he accidentally cuts through the paper with a flick of his wrist that’s just a little too precise. You’re torn between laughing and feeling bad for him, especially when he holds up his first wrapped gift and it looks more like a crumpled piece of origami than a present.

“Wow,” you tease, biting back a laugh. “Truly a masterpiece. I’m sure Wong will treasure it forever.”

Stephen narrows his eyes at you, though there’s a glimmer of amusement there too. “You’re awfully smug for someone who just cut a piece of paper too small to cover the box.”

You glance down at your own handiwork and groan. “Okay, fine. Maybe we’re both terrible at this.”

He chuckles, leaning back on his hands. “Let’s just agree to blame the tools and not ourselves.”

The banter makes the task feel less like a chore and more like a game. You take turns critiquing each other’s wrapping techniques, and at one point, you start a mock competition to see who can create the neatest package. Stephen, ever the perfectionist, actually starts improving, his movements growing more deliberate as he folds and tapes. You, on the other hand, get distracted watching him. There’s something oddly endearing about seeing the usually poised and composed Doctor Strange frown in concentration over a roll of tape.

“You’re staring,” he says without looking up, his tone casual but tinged with something you can’t quite place.

You blink, startled. “No, I’m not.”

He glances at you then, one eyebrow raised in that infuriatingly knowing way of his. “Right. Must be my imagination.”

You open your mouth to retort but close it again when you realize you don’t have a good comeback. Instead, you grab a bow and toss it at him, grinning when it lands squarely on his head. “There. Much better.”

Stephen doesn’t react immediately. He just sits there, the bow perched lopsidedly on his dark hair, and stares at you. For a moment, you think you’ve crossed some invisible line, but then he breaks into a rare, full smile—the kind that makes your chest feel like it’s simultaneously floating and caving in.

“Careful,” he says, his voice softer now. “I might start thinking you actually enjoy my company.”

You laugh, though it comes out a little breathless. “Don’t let it go to your head, Strange.”

The two of you continue working, the pile of wrapped gifts slowly growing as the evening stretches on. The study is warm and quiet, the only sounds the occasional snip of scissors or rustle of paper. Outside, snow begins to fall, the flakes drifting lazily past the tall windows. It’s peaceful in a way that feels almost unreal, as if the rest of the world has faded away, leaving only this moment.

As you finish tying a ribbon around the last box, you glance over at Stephen. He’s sitting cross-legged again, his hands resting on his knees as he watches the snow. There’s a faraway look in his eyes, and for a moment, you wonder what he’s thinking.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask softly.

He turns to you, his expression shifting into something more guarded. “Just...thinking about how different this feels. The holidays, I mean. I’m not used to it being so...quiet.”

You nod, understanding. “It’s nice, though. Isn’t it?”

“It is,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze lingers on you for a moment, and you feel your heart skip a beat. There’s something in his eyes that makes you want to reach out, to close the space between you, but you’re too afraid to break the fragile balance of whatever this is.

Instead, you clear your throat and gesture to the now-complete pile of gifts. “Well, mission accomplished. No magic required.”

Stephen’s lips quirk into a small smile. “You were right. It does feel more...personal this way.”

“Told you so.” You grin, leaning back on your hands. “Though I’m pretty sure Wong’s going to think we’ve lost our minds when he sees how much tape we used.”

He laughs, and the sound warms you in a way that has nothing to do with the crackling fire in the hearth. The two of you sit there for a while, the silence between you no longer heavy but comfortable, like an old blanket.

“You know,” Stephen says after a while, his tone contemplative, “you’re...good at this.”

“At what? Wrapping gifts?” you ask, feigning confusion.

“At making things feel...” He pauses, searching for the right word. “Normal. Like they used to.”

Your chest tightens at the quiet vulnerability in his voice. You want to tell him that he does the same for you, that even in the chaos of magic and otherworldly threats, he’s been your anchor. But the words stick in your throat, too big and too fragile to say out loud.

Instead, you nudge him lightly with your shoulder and offer a small smile. “Guess that makes us a good team, huh?”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a moment, you feel like you’re the only two people in the world. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “We are.”

The moment stretches, and you can’t tell if it’s your imagination or if he’s leaning just a little closer. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you wonder if now—finally—might be the time to say what you’ve been holding back for so long. But before either of you can speak, the sound of Wong clearing his throat echoes from the doorway.

“I see you two have been busy,” he says, his tone neutral but his expression amused as he takes in the pile of gifts and the bits of ribbon and paper scattered across the floor.

Stephen straightens quickly, his usual composure snapping back into place. “Just...wrapping some gifts.”

“Without magic?” Wong raises an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

You laugh, standing up and brushing off your hands. “It’s called holiday spirit. You should try it sometime.”

Wong snorts but doesn’t argue. As he turns to leave, he throws a pointed look over his shoulder. “Don’t stay up too late. You’ll need your energy if something decides to interrupt our peaceful holiday.”

Once he’s gone, you glance at Stephen, who’s still sitting on the floor, his expression unreadable. You hesitate, wondering if the moment you shared has passed for good. But then he looks up at you, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks for insisting we do it this way,” he says, his voice soft. “It...meant something.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you return his smile, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the firelight. “Anytime, Strange. Anytime.”

The morning after your gift-wrapping escapade, the peaceful atmosphere of the Sanctum Sanctorum has shifted. A storm brews outside, snow falling in wild, sideways sheets against the towering windows. You sit in the study, surrounded by a growing mess of Christmas supplies, as you try to make sense of a particularly unruly strand of lights. It’s supposed to blink in a specific pattern but instead flashes like it’s trying to communicate with an alien civilization.

Stephen walks in, his usual air of calm composure noticeably absent. His cloak flutters behind him like it’s agitated, and his expression is tense. You glance up, immediately sensing that something is off.

“Morning,” you say cautiously, testing the waters. “Coffee hasn’t magically brewed itself, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

He doesn’t respond to the joke, which sets off alarm bells. Stephen always has a quip, even when he’s in a mood. Instead, he crosses the room and sits heavily in the chair across from you, running a hand through his dark hair.

“What happened?” you ask, setting the tangled lights aside.

“There’s… been a complication,” he says, his voice tight.

“Complication,” you repeat, leaning forward. “As in apocalyptic complication? Portal-to-another-dimension complication?”

“No,” he says sharply, and then, more quietly, “Not yet. Just… something I need to deal with.”

You study him for a moment. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head, avoiding your gaze. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

That stings more than you’d like to admit. You’ve faced down countless threats together, stood by his side when the odds were stacked against you both. And now he’s shutting you out? The hurt bubbles to the surface before you can stop it.

“Right,” you say, your voice colder than you intended. “Nothing I need to worry about. Got it.”

His head snaps up, and for a moment, you see a flicker of regret in his eyes. But it’s gone just as quickly, replaced by the guarded expression he wears like armor. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No?” You stand, the tangled lights dropping to the floor. “Because it sure sounds like you’re saying I’m not capable of handling whatever’s going on.”

Stephen sighs, standing as well. He towers over you, his frustration evident. “This isn’t about capability. It’s about protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” You let out a humorless laugh. “Stephen, do you even hear yourself? I’m not some civilian who stumbled into this world by accident. I’m your partner, or at least I thought I was.”

“You are,” he says, his voice softening. “You are my partner. But sometimes—”

“Sometimes what? You don’t trust me?” The words spill out before you can stop them, and you immediately regret the vulnerability in your tone.

He looks stricken. “That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” you demand, your frustration masking the ache in your chest. “Because right now, it feels like you’re pushing me away.”

Stephen opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, the ground beneath you trembles slightly—a subtle vibration that you’ve learned to recognize all too well. Both of you freeze, the tension between you momentarily forgotten.

“Disturbance?” you ask, already bracing yourself.

He nods grimly, and within seconds, the two of you are moving in tandem, the argument shelved but far from resolved. The Sanctum’s defenses hum to life as the source of the tremor grows closer. You catch a flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye—a distortion in the air, like heat waves rising from pavement.

And then it appears. A portal, jagged and unstable, tears open in the center of the room. Through it steps a figure cloaked in shadow, their presence radiating a dark energy that makes your skin crawl. Stephen steps in front of you instinctively, his hands already glowing with the beginnings of a spell.

The confrontation is brief but intense. Together, you and Stephen drive the intruder back through the portal, sealing it before any real damage can be done. But the effort leaves both of you shaken. As the Sanctum settles back into its usual hum of quiet power, you find yourself staring at Stephen, your earlier frustration returning with a vengeance.

“See?” you say, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and adrenaline. “This is exactly why you can’t keep me in the dark. If you had told me what was going on—”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” he interrupts, his tone sharp.

“Are you kidding me?” You take a step closer, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “Stephen, I’m not some liability you need to shield. I’m your equal. Or at least, I thought I was.”

He looks at you then, his expression a mix of guilt and something else—something deeper that he’s trying to hide. “You are,” he says softly. “You’re more than that.”

The admission catches you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. The weight of his words hangs in the air between you, thick and charged. But before you can press him to elaborate, he turns away, running a hand through his hair.

“I just—” He exhales sharply, his shoulders tense. “I can’t lose you.”

The raw honesty in his voice cuts through your anger like a blade. You feel your defenses crumbling, the frustration giving way to something softer, something more vulnerable.

“You’re not going to lose me,” you say, your voice gentler now. “But if you keep shutting me out, you’re going to push me away. Is that what you want?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretches until you’re sure he’s not going to. But then he turns back to you, his expression open in a way you’ve never seen before.

“No,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s the last thing I want.”

The confession sends a jolt through you, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. The tension between you feels different now, heavier but in a way that makes you want to step closer, not further away.

“Stephen—” you begin, but the words catch in your throat.

He takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you. His gaze holds yours, and for the first time, you see the full depth of what he’s been holding back—the fear, the longing, the vulnerability.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For pushing you away. For trying to handle everything on my own.”

You nod, your throat tight. “I just… I need to know you trust me. That we’re in this together.”

“We are,” he says firmly, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “Always.”

The words are simple, but they carry a weight that makes your chest ache. You want to believe him, to let go of the lingering doubt and frustration. And as he reaches out, his hand brushing against yours, you realize that you do.

For a long moment, the two of you stand there, the world outside forgotten. The storm rages on, the snow battering against the windows, but inside, everything feels still.

“Okay,” you say softly, squeezing his hand. “But next time, no secrets. Deal?”

“Deal,” he says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The tension between you eases, replaced by a tentative warmth. It’s not a perfect resolution, but it’s a start.

The storm outside eventually fades into the background as the two of you return to the task at hand: decorating the tree. The argument lingers faintly, like the smell of smoke after a fire has been extinguished, but the air between you is warmer now. You’ve both said what needed to be said, and though things still feel a little fragile, there’s an unspoken agreement to move forward.

Stephen picks up a box of ornaments and studies it like it might bite him. “So, what’s the plan here? Do we have a specific theme? Or are we just throwing random baubles on and hoping for the best?”

You suppress a smile, unable to resist an opening like that. “Random baubles, huh? Is that your professional sorcerer opinion?”

He rolls his eyes, though there’s a faint pink tinge to his ears. “I’m serious. This is your area of expertise, apparently.”

“Oh, so now I’m the Christmas tree expert?” You smirk, grabbing a handful of tinsel and tossing it around your shoulders like a boa. “What happened to Mr. ‘Efficiency Is Better Than Tradition’?”

Stephen glares at the tinsel for a moment before his lips twitch in what might be the beginnings of a smile. “Efficiency is for wrapping presents. Decorating a tree is apparently a whole other… ritual.”

“Exactly!” you say, pointing a finger at him. “It’s all about the experience. You can’t just magic your way through this one, Strange.”

He mutters something under his breath about the inefficiency of tradition but doesn’t argue further. Instead, he picks up a glass ornament shaped like a snowflake and examines it with the kind of focus he usually reserves for ancient texts and mystical artifacts. It’s endearing, really, how out of his element he looks.

“You know,” you say, unable to resist, “you’re awfully careful with that ornament for someone who once juggled three flaming swords during a fight with a demon.”

Stephen shoots you a look, his brow furrowing. “Those swords were enchanted. This is… delicate.”

You snort. “So is your ego.”

The snowflake slips from his fingers, and for a split second, you both freeze. But then he mutters a quick spell, and the ornament hovers in midair, spinning gently before he catches it. His face is a mixture of relief and exasperation as he sets the snowflake on the tree.

“Careful,” you tease, grinning. “Wouldn’t want Wong to hear that you almost dropped one of his prized decorations.”

“Why do I let you do this to me?” he mutters, though there’s no real bite in his words.

“Because you secretly love it,” you reply cheerfully, grabbing another ornament and tossing it to him. He catches it without looking, his reflexes annoyingly perfect even when he’s flustered.

The two of you fall into a rhythm, hanging ornaments and draping garlands with an ease that feels almost domestic. But every so often, you can’t help but prod him, throwing in little comments just to see that faint pink blush creep back into his cheeks.

“Nice placement,” you say, gesturing to a particularly crooked ornament. “Very avant-garde. Didn’t know you were such an artist.”

“It’s not crooked,” he insists, stepping back to examine it. Then, with a frown: “Okay, maybe it is.”

You laugh, reaching over to adjust it. Your fingers brush against his, and he pulls back quickly, his movements stiff. The awkwardness is almost palpable, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing. For someone who exudes confidence in every other aspect of his life, Stephen is hilariously bad at navigating these kinds of moments.

“Relax, Strange,” you say, giving him a sly smile. “It’s just a Christmas tree. Not a mystical artifact of great power.”

“I know that,” he says, his tone defensive. “I’m perfectly relaxed.”

“Sure you are,” you say, stepping back to admire the tree. “You look as relaxed as Wong does when I mention the word ‘karaoke.’”

Stephen glares at you, but the effect is somewhat ruined by the way his lips twitch, betraying his amusement. “One of these days, your jokes are going to get you into trouble.”

“Maybe,” you say with a shrug. “But until then, they’re going to keep making you blush.”

His jaw tightens, and you can practically see him willing himself not to react. It’s adorable, really, how hard he tries to maintain his composure. But then you catch his gaze lingering on you a moment too long, and your teasing falters, replaced by a sudden, heart-pounding awareness of how close you’re standing.

The moment stretches, and for once, you don’t have a quip ready. Stephen clears his throat, breaking the silence, and takes a step back, busying himself with a strand of lights. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and turn back to the tree, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest.

The awkwardness lingers, but it’s softened by the occasional shared glance, the way his hand brushes yours when you both reach for the same ornament. You can’t help but wonder if he feels it too, this strange, magnetic pull that seems to grow stronger every time you’re near him.

“Are you always this insufferable during the holidays?” he asks eventually, his tone light but tinged with curiosity.

“Only when I’m decorating with someone who’s so easy to mess with,” you reply, shooting him a grin.

He shakes his head, but there’s a small smile on his lips now, the tension between you easing. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” you say, draping a strand of tinsel over his shoulders. “Stuck with me.”

Stephen’s smile widens, and for a moment, you see something in his expression that makes your breath catch. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes says enough. Maybe, just maybe, being stuck with you isn’t the worst thing in the world.

By the time the tree is fully decorated, the awkwardness has given way to a quiet camaraderie. You sit on the floor beside Stephen, admiring your handiwork as the twinkling lights cast a warm glow over the room. The storm outside has quieted, the snow falling gently now, and the Sanctum feels like a haven—a world unto itself.

“Not bad,” you say, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “For a couple of sorcerers.”

Stephen chuckles, his gaze fixed on the tree. “Not bad at all.”

The comfortable silence stretches between you, and for a moment, everything feels right. But then you glance at him, catching the way the lights reflect in his eyes, and your heart skips a beat. The teasing words that come so easily to you suddenly feel inadequate, and you wonder if he can hear the unspoken feelings in the quiet.

You look away quickly, focusing on the tree. “So,” you say, your voice a little too loud, “what’s next on the Christmas to-do list?”

Stephen smirks, clearly picking up on your attempt to change the subject. “Mistletoe, apparently. Wong insisted we have some, though I have no idea where he put it.”

“Mistletoe, huh?” You raise an eyebrow, your grin returning. “Dangerous territory, Strange. You sure you can handle it?”

He laughs, and the sound is warm and genuine. “I think I’ll manage. As long as you don’t hang it directly above my chair.”

“No promises,” you say with a wink, feeling the awkward tension melt away again. Whatever this is between you—this dance of teasing and unspoken emotions—it’s messy and complicated, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

As the night goes on, the two of you continue decorating the Sanctum, the occasional awkward moment giving way to laughter and warmth. And though you don’t say it out loud, you know that this Christmas, with all its chaos and imperfection, is one you’ll never forget.

The Sanctum is uncharacteristically serene as you and Stephen sink into the plush couch, the warmth from the nearby fire casting a golden glow across the room. Outside, the snow has settled into a quiet, delicate fall, a soft white blanket draping over the city. The once-chaotic mess of decorations has been transformed into a festive masterpiece: garlands twined along the railings, twinkling lights adorning the walls, and the Christmas tree standing proudly in the corner, shimmering with every color imaginable.

Wong is nowhere to be seen, having retreated to another part of the Sanctum hours ago, muttering something about tea and solitude. It’s just you and Stephen now, the silence between you comfortable yet charged with unspoken words.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s leaning back against the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. His usually sharp features are softened in the firelight, the lines of his face etched with something like contentment. He’s still wearing that ridiculous strand of tinsel you draped over his shoulders earlier, and the sight makes you smile.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you say, breaking the silence. “Thinking about something?”

Stephen turns his head to look at you, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Just… enjoying the peace. It’s rare around here.”

“True,” you say, nodding. “But I think we earned it. That tree didn’t decorate itself, after all.”

He chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “You’re not going to let me live down the ornament thing, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you reply with a grin. “It’s not every day I see the great Doctor Strange fumbling with Christmas decorations.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a warmth in his expression that makes your chest tighten. You’re suddenly very aware of how close you’re sitting, your knees almost touching, the space between you feeling impossibly small.

The words you’ve been holding back all evening rise to the surface, clamoring to be said. You glance at the tree, the lights, the snow falling softly outside. It feels like the perfect moment, the kind you’ve only ever seen in movies. And as your gaze drifts upward, you notice something that makes your heart skip a beat.

Mistletoe. Dangling just above the couch, its green leaves and tiny white berries gleaming in the firelight.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you hesitate. Is this too cliché? Too obvious? But then Stephen shifts beside you, his fingers brushing against yours on the couch, and all your doubts vanish.

“Stephen,” you say softly, turning to face him fully.

He meets your gaze, his expression curious but guarded. “Yeah?”

Your heart pounds as you take a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve been meaning to say for a while now.”

His brow furrows slightly, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you think he’s going to interrupt, to stop you. But he stays quiet, his gaze steady and unreadable.

You forge ahead, your voice trembling slightly. “I know we’ve been through a lot together—fighting off threats, saving the world, arguing about Christmas lights—” You pause, your lips quirking into a nervous smile. “But somewhere along the way, it stopped being just about teamwork for me.”

Stephen’s eyes widen slightly, the guarded look in his expression faltering. You press on, the words spilling out before you can second-guess them.

“I care about you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “More than I probably should. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest as you search his face for a reaction. For a moment, he looks stunned, his lips parted slightly, his gaze fixed on you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

And then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face. It’s soft and a little shy, and it makes your breath catch all over again.

“I thought I was the only one,” he says, his voice low and rough with emotion.

Your eyes widen. “Wait, what?”

Stephen leans closer, his hand brushing against yours on the couch. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been? Pretending that I don’t feel… everything when I’m around you?” He lets out a soft, almost self-deprecating laugh. “I thought you’d never see me as anything more than an arrogant sorcerer.”

“I mean, you are an arrogant sorcerer,” you tease, a grin breaking through your shock. “But I guess I like you anyway.”

His laugh this time is louder, freer, and it sends a thrill through you. He reaches up, his hand cupping your cheek, and the warmth of his touch makes your heart flutter.

“You’re insufferable,” he says, his tone affectionate. “But so am I. Maybe that’s why this works.”

Your breath hitches as he leans in, his gaze flicking briefly upward. “And look at that,” he murmurs, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Mistletoe.”

You glance up, a laugh bubbling out of you. “Convenient, huh?”

“Very,” he agrees, his voice soft as he closes the remaining distance between you.

When his lips meet yours, it’s like the world tilts on its axis. The kiss is gentle at first, tentative, as if he’s afraid this might all be a dream. But then his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You lose yourself in the sensation—the warmth of his lips, the way his thumb strokes your cheek, the faint scent of cedar and magic that clings to him. It’s everything you didn’t know you needed, and yet it feels like coming home.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathing heavily, your foreheads resting together. Stephen’s eyes search yours, and you see a vulnerability there that makes your chest ache.

“Is this real?” he whispers, his voice so quiet you almost don’t hear it.

You smile, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. “It’s real.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling softly. “Good. Because I don’t think I could go back to pretending.”

“Me neither,” you admit, your voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

The two of you sit there for a long moment, the weight of your confession settling over you like a warm blanket. And as you lean into him, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, you can’t help but feel like this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Above you, the mistletoe sways gently, as if in approval.

[fanartka]

Imagine that Strange accidentally got caught in Sherlock's universe and Holmes tries to help him find the Vishanti book so that Strange can return home. Or maybe Sherlock just dreamed it, who knows.

[meandhisjohn]

Thanks to the wonderful inspiration coming from @holmesianlove and @lisbeth-kk and their great work and recommendations, I will also share the fics I'm currently reading.

So here is the one that left me in tears in no time.

Absolutely wonderful with a focus on a very heartbroken doctor and a very caring detective.

Truly lovely story by @fuckyeahfightlock

@inevitably-johnlocked @swissmissficrecs

SORRY FORGOT THE LINK!

Here it is.

[love-yellow-door]

Last chapter up today.

Thank you so much to everyone who has read and responded. 💜

(NOTE: Beautiful art by Sempaiko)

[annesthaeticc]

lovers rock | sherlock x fem!reader

| Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

| one shot , song fic

| 961 words

| 'because love can burn like a cigarette, and leave you alone with nothing...' What Sherlock and Y/N had was beautiful, but it crashed and burned.

A/N okay bear with me it's short, but hey it's something, right? testing the waters asi hopefully hopefully come back into writing. let me know what you think!

————————————————————————————————

“Such a small world,” you quietly said and watched as the air escaped your lungs, echoing your words. The party inside was loud, but not loud enough for the silence outside was piercing yet calming. And so, he heard you. Slowly, he turned to see who spoke and found your silhouette, your shape outlined amongst the trees and the pillars.

Slowly, he walked towards you. Yet another mistake he was about to make. For all the choices he made that involved you, it led to one.

One. Big. Mistake.

Sherlock heard his heart thudding. Crashing and breaking in every step he made towards you. You sat there frozen, your eyes unblinking, or at least trying not to blink for you feared that if you do so, he might disappear.

Just like he did back then.

Sherlock sometimes wished he never pursued you, but here he was, about to do the very same thing. He never learned.

“Indeed it is.” he replied, his very perfect presence now crowding over you. His shadow embraced you and your eyes finally blinked only to find he was still there, standing in front of you.

He was taller. His face is more defined. His curls, curled to perfection. His perfume was the same, or is it? His lips fuller, more inviting than ever.

Sherlock noticed this, and cannot help himself but do the very same. You were perfect in every shape and form, as the day he met you. He committed crimes before, but his favorite might be the one he is about to make; to kiss you.

Silence passed by the small distance between you and him and it was almost deafening. You were waiting for him to say something. Something along the lines of “I’m sorry I left you…” And he was doing just the same, waiting for the words like “I’m sorry I couldn't wait for you…”

“Best man leaving early?” you finally said, shyly asking. He nodded and looked away.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, cutting you off before you could even say anything.

“I was invited, well not just me really, Ian and I were…” your voice trailed off as your husband's name left your lips. Again, he nodded.

Ah yes, Ian. Sherlock knew more than you. He is decent enough, this Sherlock could guarantee. But not decent enough to leave you on your own for days, even weeks or months on end while he was traveling the world on some sort of opera tour. Sherlock didn't care enough to dig for more details.

All he knew was deep seated anger and sadness.

And this resonated through the walls of the second floor of 221B Baker Street for months. Your wedding invitation sent for him lay hopeless on his desk, waiting to be written on to confirm his invitation. He was about to decline after finally making a decision that went on for weeks, only to find out it was pointless to respond because your wedding was already done.

And so, he threw the invitation in the fire. He watched as the intricate paper got swallowed by the flames, melting into ashes, into nothing. He was mesmerized by it. How something could be nothing because of the burning flames.

He was shaken from his thoughts when he saw your hand, holding a packet of cigarettes. You were offering him one and Sherlock accepted. You sat down again on the bench and he followed, allowing a few inches between you.

Quietly, the two of you smoked. Avoiding glancing or talking. You were caught up in a trance and were shaken out of it when you felt movement. Sherlock stood up and stepped on the cigarette. His shoe dug into the grass as the last of the embers glowed.

“Going somewhere?” you asked.

“Home.” he replied, his voice deep.

“I could drive you.” you offered.

“No thank you. I’ll catch a cab.” he replied, slowly walking away.

“Sherlock, wait, please—” you caught up with him and offered to drive him once more. He declined and you almost gave up.

His figure faded into the darkness when you cried out, “Sherlock, I'm sorry.”

Tears flooded your eyes and you couldn't help. It fell from your eyes, flowing down your face. Everything was blurry and you felt your hands shaking from the nicotine and from the adrenaline of your apology.

“It's been 12 years, Y/N,” he replied. “Why are you saying sorry now?”

“Because…”

“You will not tempt me to play one of your games, Y/N. Not this time. Not ever again.”

“Sherlock, please,”

“I'm sorry? Is that all you could think? You left me, Y/N,” he cried. And now you see his face. Anger, despair, and longing painted his face,

“You left me first!” you accused him. He really did.

“And yet you couldn't wait for me, couldn't you? All the promises I made—”

“Were gone as soon as you disappeared, Sherlock.”

“Oh ye of little faith!” he said, his voice booming.

“Sherlock,” you breathlessly begged. “I'm sorry.”

Sherlock heard you, and saw your eyes. He hated you for marrying someone else, but what he hated most is seeing you cry. He pulled out his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed your face, wiping away the tears. He pulled you into his embrace, just like he did back then. When your cries died down, he pulled away then planted a kiss on your temple.

“We would never work out. You're happier with him.” Sherlock said.

“I realized that what he had, was all that it was. Nothing more, nothing less. We burned too fast until we became nothing, Y/N.” he continued.

“I loved you,” you whispered.

“And I did too. So much.” he said, his voice breaking.

————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ——

TAGLIST:

@migurin @damiensoda @inas-thing @peachywoong @ruevz @sammiisnthere @srapalestina @winchestersgirl222 @taramaria @alexag-barnes @sleutherclaw @will0wfairy @vexedvalerie @lovecleastrange @evelynrosestuff @azu21 @getlostsquidward @bubu890 @strangefilms @ice-ksk @my-beel @doctorswitch @tuitiononlivings @windchaser1990 @swds @andrewgarfieldsloml @spencerreidslittleslut @sherlockstrangewolf @littlebadariell @whosgwyneth @cumberbitch @lostfleurs @strangeobsessed @slvtforstr4nge @jyessaminereads @dancerpanda04 @stephenstrangeaddictions @starryeddie @cemak @valoa3s @paola-carter @runningnannie @siredlust @stupidthoughtsinwriting

[ironstrange1991]

You're So Loved (Happy Birthday, Sweetheart)

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It's Y/n's birthday and Stephen prepares a special dinner

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: None, just fluff.

A/N: I'm so happy for finally being able to post a fic here. It wasn't a piece of cake, since I've been batling writer's block, but I am proud of the result. I Need to be honest and say that this hasn't been proofread, so any typos or grammar mistakes you see just pretend you didn't. Hope you guys enjoy it and have a nice read ;)

You never liked your birthday. For some reason, the date always contributed to intensifying your depressive episodes. For some reason, the beginning of April brought with it an air of melancholy that you attributed solely to the fact that it was the month of your birthday and the reason for this remained unknown. You were not exactly a happy person, but there were so many people in worse situations. Of course, thinking that way did not help.

However, since Stephen had entered your life, you could see a clear improvement in the matter. After you started living with him in the Sanctum, you spent three birthdays with him. The first one was melancholic and you asked him not to give you any presents or celebrations, the second one you had accepted that he would take you out to dinner and in the present year you had not objected at all to the idea of ​​Tony throwing a party at Stark Tower to celebrate your birthday, although as the date approached you wondered if it had been a good idea to give in so much. After all, you knew that things could get a little crazy and grand when you let Tony do whatever he wanted, but at the same time, the fact that he cared about you enough to do that with such affection warmed your heart.

Anyway, Monday went by uneventfully and during the night you asked Stephen about his plans for the next day and he replied that he would probably be at Kamar Taj all day sorting out who knows what and you understood that he hadn't really thought of anything different for the occasion. It was better this way, you told yourself. There would be enough celebrating on Saturday. However, you couldn't help but feel a little sad, but in the morning you woke up, took a shower and had your coffee normally and didn't even bother to be disappointed that your boyfriend wasn't home. Stephen always woke up before you and always left the house before you woke up when he had to work. So, you simply grabbed your bag and left for work like any other Tuesday.

With Stephen, however, you had no idea how you would celebrate or if you would celebrate at all. The big party would be on Saturday night and your actual birthday would be on Tuesday, and Tuesdays were complicated and tiring days at work. Stephen had mentioned dinner, but he had been so busy all week at Kamar Taj that you wondered if he had forgotten, and honestly, you wouldn't blame him if he had. Your birthday was never a topic of conversation between you because that was how you preferred it to be. Deep down, maybe you were afraid that he would question what the matter was, and you wouldn't know how to answer.

...

Stephen was feeling remorseful for not having waited for you to wake up to congratulate you first thing in the morning, but America had convinced him that their plan would be more successful if you thought he had forgotten what day it was. Stephen had a photographic memory, he tried to warn the teenager, he never forgot anything.

"Well, then she'll think you just didn't bother to say happy birthday to her," America had said, rolling her eyes. How that could be a good thing, he couldn't say, but since even Wong had gotten on board with this with unusual enthusiasm, Stephen had agreed to do as America suggested. He woke up in the morning, stroked your hair gently as he watched you sleep soundly for a second, and then left.

He remembered perfectly the first kiss, the first time you made love, how you blushed beautifully when he called you sweetheart for the first time and just like that, he knew that would be your pet name. You completely transformed his life and suddenly he stopped being a bitter and resentful man with control issues and became your Stephen, a person he sometimes didn't even recognize, but whom he liked to be much more.

Tuesday was boring and tiring at Kamar Taj as usual. He trained the students as he had promised Wong he would, and then devoted himself to preparing for the next mission that he thankfully wouldn't have to participate in. Overall, it was a Tuesday like any other, except that it wasn't. Stephen couldn't stop thinking about you all day. It was like a movie playing in his head, making him remember your moments together.

It was safe to say that even his relationship with the Avengers improved after you came into his life. You and Stark were great friends, Stephen had no choice but to live with the billionaire in a more friendly way and that wasn't a bad thing at all. Stephen liked having friends now, he even liked having America as his protégé and all of that was thanks to you. There wasn't much he could say to you that would express how much he loved you, but he tried and would continue to try every day. Especially today.

He smiled and nodded. "We better go before it gets too late to make dinner." He replied, watching the girl approach. "I don't want her to get home before we've everything sorted out." America nodded.

"Are you ready to go home yet?" America's voice echoed from the distance across the courtyard as he crossed the hall from the library to the dorms while she ran toward him.

"There'll be time, relax." And then she slapped her forehead with her hand. "The dress! I completely forgot! I need to go to the store to get it."

Stephen shook his head in confusion. "I thought you and Wong had already picked it up yesterday."

She shook her head. "It wasn't her size. The saleswoman had to order it from another store. It arrived this afternoon. We need to go there to get it."

"What took you so long?" He asked impatiently.

Stephen sighed. "I'll let Wong know we're on our way."

When you use portals to get around, everything gets easier. Within 15 minutes, Stephen and America had gone to the store to get your present and were already back home. Without even planning it, they both took a shower and met in the kitchen where Wong was already waiting with all the ingredients already on the balcony.

"I hope everything went well at the bakery." Stephen said without bothering to answer and Wong gestured to the refrigerator. When Stephen opened the fridge door, he saw exactly what he expected, a beautiful round cake with white frosting and colorful sprinkles that said "Happy Birthday, sweetheart." He just smiled and closed the door again.

"Did you remember to wrap her present?" Wong asked as if he doubted the answer and Stephen's ability to do it right.

"Yeah. And you? You still haven't told me what you bought for her."

"That's because it's none of your business. You'll see when it's time." He replied. "Now we better start cooking if we want this dinner to be ready on time."

Stephen agreed and simply followed Wong's orders, which were basically washing and chopping ingredients while the Sorcerer Supreme actually cooked. Stephen couldn't argue; he couldn't touch the food if he expected it to be edible.

...

You were starving when you left the office and were caught in a persistent rain. You even thought about stopping by the sandwich bar next door to get some sandwiches to take home, but laziness got the better of you and you ended up giving up. There was always the option of ordering pizza anyway.

It was almost 7pm and if there was any sun it would be setting. The days in April were starting to get longer at this time of the year and some flowers were starting to appear on the trees on Bleecker Street due to the arrival of spring. It was a beautiful time of year indeed and as you walked slowly down the street under your umbrella and saw the Sanctum as a fortress of love and security, you felt happy to be alive and to have that home to return to at the end of each day. When you finally walked through the door that opened by itself as always to let you in, you were greeted by a delicious smell of food that made your stomach growl. It was unusual, really. Unless Wong was home.

"Hi there!" You were welcomed by a baritone voice. "You took your time."

You left the umbrella dripping behind the door and put your bag on the sideboard before getting rid of your coat. "Long and boring day. I thought about buying sandwiches for dinner, but I decided against it." You answered turning to finally look at him and it was then that the feeling of warmth and love intensified even more. He was dressed in dark jeans and a purple shirt, his hair was carefully combed and his goatee perfectly drawn, which indicated that he had taken some time to make it that way.

"You look nice. Any plans for tonight I don't know about?" You asked without trying to be subtle and making him chuckle.

"I always look nice." He answered walking slowly towards you. "And the answer is yes and no, but I'm not going to explain it until you come upstairs with me. Something tells me you need a hot shower."

He finally reached you and touched your face gently before kissing your lips.

"Yes, please." That was all you said on his lips while letting out a little groan. "What a Tuesday!"

He chuckled softly taking your hand in his. "Mine wasn't a piece of cake either, but it's finally over." He nodded leading you upstairs.

After you had showered and spent some time on your post-shower skincare routine, you were ready to get dressed in your most worn and comfortable pajamas, but Stephen just tsked.

"You don't want Wong to see you like this." He warned and you remembered the delicious smell of food you smelled when you got home.

"Did he cook for us?" You asked excited at the idea of ​​eating a proper dinner instead of takeout. Stephen could say whatever he wanted, but you loved Wong's cooking. The Sorcerer Supreme really knew how to cook, in fact he cooked much better than you, but Stephen wasn't ready for that conversation.

Before he could answer, you grabbed a pair of denim shorts and a band t-shirt and got dressed.

"Actually, we cooked for you." Stephen finally confessed with a slight blush on his cheeks. "It all started with America's idea of ​​celebrating your birthday in a low-key way so you wouldn't get mad." He explained. “That was precisely her words”

You smiled from ear to ear. So he hadn't forgotten.

"It was also her idea for me to pretend I forgot it was your birthday today, and she'll probably be mad at me because I should take you downstairs before I tell you, but I couldn't bear to spend another minute of my day without saying it." Then he leaned in close, cupped your face between his shaking hands, and spoke sweetly, "Happy birthday, sweetheart." Before he could say anything else, you had your arms around his neck and pulled him abruptly into a kiss that started out casual and soon became intense and full of saliva and teeth.

"I really thought you forgot!" You confessed, letting out a relieved chuckle. "I don't know what got into me this year, but I spent the whole day thinking it was my birthday and that we should do something about it."

He pinched your cheek teasingly, "I happened to you."

You hummed, "Well, I can't refute that." You responded, pulling him back into your arms. lips in a kiss that lasted until you were interrupted by an incessant knocking on the door.

"Are you guys coming down or what?" America's voice sounded slightly irritated, which made you laugh softly.

"I think you better pretend to be surprised, or she'll kill me." Stephen whispered.

"We're going now." You replied.

When you went down to the dining room - you with the best surprised face you could muster - the table was set beautifully and the candlesticks, never used since you started attending the Sanctum, were lit with candles that seemed to give off a slightly musky scent, but that perfectly matched the delicious smell coming from the kitchen. Wong was finishing the last details and when he saw you, he opened a rare smile.

"Oh my... I can't believe you went to all that trouble!" You exclaimed sincerely.

"You didn't really think we forgot, did you?" He joked, coming towards you and, to your surprise, hugging you. You felt your cheeks turning slightly pink, but you surrendered to the hug, feeling your chest fill with joy and warmth.

"To be honest, I thought everyone had forgotten." You confessed when Wong stepped away and gently pulled out your chair for you to sit down. Stephen smiled ironically, as if he was surprised by his friend's gallantry and maybe even a little jealous, but he said nothing and just pulled out his own chair and sat next to you.

"I think I spent so much time asking people to ignore my birthday that I ended up being afraid that it had actually been ignored this year."

Wong smirked, pointing at all the food placed in front of you. "As you can see, it wasn't. We spent a lot of time thinking about each dish we would make, and we trust that Strange knows what he's talking about because he was the one who chose the menu saying that these are your favorite foods."

You smiled, looking at the food in front of you. Nothing matched, it was just a pile of your favorite foods and somehow you found it much more incredible than if it had been a perfectly prepared menu. There was a basket with fries and some sauces next to it. There was a dish with lasagna Bolognese and another with cannelloni in white sauce. They also roasted what looked like a pork leg and with it there was mashed potatoes, rice, salad and stroganoff. There was definitely enough food to serve about 20 people easily.

"Stephen and I helped Wong prepare everything." America said sitting down and smiling proudly. "Actually I was the one who thought of everything, all the good ideas. Stephen helped, of course. He thinks he knows you so much better than me just because you've known each other longer..."

"Four years longer than you, actually," he teased.

"As I was saying..." She started shooting daggers at him again. "I thought of the best things and even remembered the fries. But overall we didn't do much, Wong got us to do the meson place, the good stuff was on his hands."

"Years and years of practice," Wong said proudly, pulling out his own chair and sitting down as well. "Besides, I needed to make sure you two didn't burn anything."

America rolled her eyes at him and then turned her attention back to you. "Is everything how you like it?"

You smiled. "Of course it is. I just don't know if I'll be able to eat everything you guys prepared."

"Eat whatever you like best," Stephen suggested, taking your plate. "Can I serve you?"

You nodded, noticing that his hands weren't shaking and you knew he was using magic to keep them steady. God forbid he spilled anything that night. Not that you would care, but he would never forgive himself if he did. "What do you want, first?"

You thought for a minute. "I'll start with the fries and the stroganoff. They go together somehow. And to drink... as much as I appreciate the choice of a good wine..."

"She'll have a diet Coke with me." America finished and you winked at her.

Stephen rolled his eyes. "I spent a good fifteen minutes in the wine cellar choosing this wine."

"Well, I'm sure I'll enjoy it properly," Wong said, opening the bottle and pouring himself a full glass of the red wine. He raised the glass to his nose and inhaled deeply before taking a sip. "I really deserve this after the week I've had."

"It's only Tuesday." Stephen said, placing the plate back in front of you. He was clearly going to start serving America, but the teenager was in too much of a hurry to wait and began serving herself, putting a little bit of everything on her plate and carefully assembling a pyramid of food.

"You're going to get a stomachache." Stephen warned as he began to serve himself, but America just shrugged.

Wong helped himself too and soon you guys engaged in a heated conversation about which dish was the best and in the midst of all the silly talk, while eating and laughing like a family, you found yourself thinking that what made you want to celebrate your birthday was that you felt like you belonged to a real family now. Stephen, Wong and America were your family and there was nothing more incredible than spending time with them.

"Just a little bit" Stephen insisted, indicating that you try the roast pork, but you grimaced and refused.

"I feel like I'm going to explode if I eat any more." You confessed "I'm sure it will be good for dinner tomorrow. In fact, I thought we could save some for tomorrow's dinner and make some lunch boxes with the rest to send to the compound. What do you guys think?"

Wong nodded, wiping his lips and finishing what must have been his fourth or fifth glass of wine. "That's a great idea. The food is good, I'd hate for anything to go to waste."

"The lasagna will stay." Stephen demanded as he poured himself another piece of it. "This is extremely delicious."

You couldn't help but smile as you watched him eat. There must have been something about watching your man eat because you found it extremely cute and sexy.

"Okay, the lasagna will stay." You said, bringing your napkin up to his chin to wipe a drop of sauce off his goatee, which made him blush slightly.

...

Stephen smiled broadly as you listened to America explaining the feeling of entering the mirror dimension for the first time and you knew that he saw himself in each new discovery of hers, that as Wong had pointed out several times, he saw himself in America and he liked that. Stephen always told you that you had made him a better man, but you couldn't take all the credit for his growth as a person, America had a big part in that. It was after she arrived that he finally lost his fear of being loved and even though he didn't talk about it, you knew that America was a kind of replacement for the little sister he lost.

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to clear the table." Wong announced with a pompous gesture with his fingers and everything simply disappeared. You didn't even question the physics of it anymore, you were just grateful that their magic saved you from having to wash so many dishes.

"Is it time yet?" America asked impatiently and Stephen shook his head.

"What are you two up to?" You asked curiously and Stephen just laughed softly, standing up.

"Trust me, you'll like it. But first, I hope you have saved some place for the dessert." He said, making his own pompous gesture with his fingers and a beautiful cake materialized in front of you. It was round, full of colorful sprinkles and on it was the words "Happy birthday, sweetheart" with a single lit candle.

Before you could process the fact that this was the first birthday cake you had since you became an adult, Stephen, America and Wong started singing 'happy birthday to you' as out of tune as possible and before you knew it, you were crying, but you were also laughing and smiling, and it was undeniable that you were happy.

"Make a wish" America asked before you blew out the candle. "I wish..." You began, but were interrupted by Stephen.

"It needs to be a secret or it won't come true."

You nodded, closing your eyes and thinking about your wish with all your might, and then you blew out the candle.

You definitely shouldn't have eaten the second piece of cake, but it was so good that it was impossible to deny it, and besides, there would always be the next day to make up for the excess calories, right? America, on the other hand, didn't seem worried about the calories she had consumed, but thinking about the amount of strength training that Stephen and Wong were subjecting her to, added to the fact that she was a teenager in full physical development, you knew there was no real reason for her to worry about it, and so she devoured the fourth slice quickly before looking at Stephen with her pleading eyes.

"Come on, it's time." She almost begged impatiently. Wong smirked, finishing his own slice of cake.

"Well, I guess it really is time. We have to go back to Kamar Taj after all."

You had moved your chair away from the table enough so that you could sit sideways in it and rest your back against Stephen's chest who was sitting right behind you. The excess sugar and carbohydrates were starting to kick in and you felt slightly sleepy.

"What exactly are you guys up to?" You asked interestedly. Somehow you knew that whatever it was had to do with you. America smiled broadly at Stephen, but it was Wong who answered and with a simple gesture of his fingers, a large, old and heavy book appeared in the air and fell into your lap.

"Oh my god, what is this?" You asked sitting up straight and picking up the book and placing it on the table to look at it. It had a reddish leather cover and gold lettering that read "The magic and mystery of the New York Sanctum."

"It tells the story of the Sanctum, its mysteries, peculiarities, rooms and secret passages, as well as the great events that happened here." Wong said proudly. "Theoretically it should belong to the master of the Sanctum, but since we agreed that the one who really runs the house is you, I decided that you should keep it. It is a humble gift, but of extreme value and it is also a way of saying that you are part of our world."

You couldn't help but feel emotional with those words. Since the beginning, you always wanted to be accepted and welcomed by Wong and you indeed got what you wanted and much more. You had his friendship. "This is... I don't even know what this is..." You found yourself whispering as your fingers caressed the cover of the book because your voice refused to come out.

"A small demonstration of my affection for you, Y/n. Happy birthday and thanks for making Strange a lot less unpleasant." Wong said with a smile at you that turned into a teasing smirk.

"You can compliment her without offending me, you know?" Stephen complained to which Wong shrugged.

"Sure, but it wouldn't be the same."

"Okay, now it's my turn!" America said, butting in. "Remember when we went to the mall and you were eyeing that dress?"

You put your hand over your mouth in disbelief when America made a white box materialize in front of you on the table. "No!"

"Yes!" She answered so excitedly that it seemed like the gift was for her. "I didn't understand why you didn't buy it, but after Stephen told me that Tony was having a party to celebrate your birthday, I knew you had to go dressed in it."

"But it was too expensive! That's why I didn't buy it."

"Well, I had some savings saved up and know that neither Stephen nor Wong had to give a dime to it. It's all me." She said proudly.

You opened the box, removing the silk and finally looking at the beautiful pink dress inside. "Argh, I hate you, kid! Come here, give me a hug."

America's smile widened as she walked around the table and ran to hug you.

"You're my best friend, Y/n."

"Oh, and you're mine."

The two of you were interrupted by Stephen clearing his throat exaggeratedly. "I think it's my turn now."

America stuck her tongue out at him and returned to her seat.

"Well, what could it be?" You teased and he smirked. "I heard you like this particular band, so I thought you might like this..." He moved his fingers and a beautiful vinyl of the album X by Cigarettes After Sex appeared in his hand. He didn't bother to wrap it, but there was a small red bow around the object.

You took the vinyl from his hands in a not-so-delicate way and a soft squeal escaped your lips, such was your ecstasy. "Oh my... there were only 500 copies, how did you..."

"Turn it over to see the back." He instructed proudly and when you did so you almost fell out of your chair. In beautiful script written in silver permanent marker it said "To you, Y/n, with all my love, Greg."

Your jaw dropped and you stared at Stephen and then at the vinyl and then at Stephen again and then at the vinyl trying to believe that this was real. "How..."

"Too much coercion and threats." America said teasingly and Stephen glared at her.

"He likes the Avengers. I promised I'd get him an autograph from Captain America."

You couldn't help but laugh "You're kidding."

He shook his head "I swear. But tell me, did you like it?"

You wrapped the vinyl in an awkward tight hug "What do you think?"

Stephen smirked "I think I deserve a kiss." He said holding your face in his hands and pulling you to his lips.

"Ew." You heard America complain, but at that moment, you didn't care.

"I think that's our cue. Shall we go?!" You heard Wong say as they stood up.

...

"I still can't believe everything they did for me tonight." You said still amazed by the incredible night they had given you.

You and Stephen were lying on the couch in the living room and Wong and America had just left back to Kamar Taj. The TV was on, and you had put on a random horror movie to play, but it was safe to say that neither you nor Stephen were giving a damn about the seemingly bizarre scenes on the screen.

Your bodies were so close that you could feel the heat emanating through Stephen's comfortable clothes, your legs were comfortably intertwined, and your ear was glued to his chest so you could hear the soft beating of his heart and that was the most beautiful sound in the world to you.

"You deserve everything we did and even more." Stephen answered after a minute of silence. His arms were tightly around your body, and he caressed your arms absentmindedly. "You are so loved, Y/n. Not only by me, but by everyone around you. There is something about you that is impossible not to like."

You smiled to yourself hearing those words. They seemed so foreign to you. As someone who grew up with the feeling of rejection rooted within you, it was difficult to receive love or simply understand it as something positive. For a long time you were afraid to love or be loved for fear of losing it.

"Thank you for loving me." You said simply and Stephen kissed your forehead affectionately.

"It's not like it's something hard to do." He joked.

"I spent my whole life thinking the opposite. I always saw myself as someone unlovable. You, Wong, America, Tony and all my Avengers friends showed me that wasn't true and I'm very grateful for that." You confessed, raising your head to look at him.

Stephen was so beautiful. You would never get used to the beauty of those cheekbones and that jaw, much less the color of his eyes and that goatee. The combination of all the details took your breath away every time you looked at him the way you were looking at him now.

"I love it when you look at me like that." He said smirking as if he could read your mind.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm the most important person in your life."

You smile, resting your chin on his chest. "But you are. I love you, Doctor Stephen Strange."

He smiled broadly, cupping your cheek. "And I you." He paused to think for a moment and then asked, "Can I ask what your wish was?"

You had to force your mind out of the trance his gaze had put you in and only then did you realize what he was talking about. "I thought it had to be a secret."

"I won't tell anyone." He said, smirking and making your heart flutter.

"I wished that you would stay in my life forever. That nothing would ever take the three of you away from me." You finally confessed and his smirk gave way to a sweet, open smile.

"You are so loved, sweetheart. I'm sorry the world made you think otherwise, but we are here every day to change that, to make this stubborn, anxious little head of yours understand that you are special.”

"I always feel special when I'm with you."

"Thank goodness because you are. I love you and again, Happy birthday." He said pulling you to his lips and just like that all your doubts, anxiety and tiredness of the day disappeared.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[geeky-politics-46]

Hope

Pairing: Doctor Stephen Strange x Reader, America Chavez

Summary: You & America watch Kamala's DNC acceptance speech.

Warnings: Not much it’s mostly fluff. Story is political in nature. A little inspiration from Rogue One.

I'm back, baby! This is just a short little blurb, but there will be more & longer new stuff soon.

You knew you were staring at the future in more ways than one. Your heart was feeling lighter, and the dark storm clouds of what could be receding in your mind. The sunshine warmth of hope once again present as you watched the awe struck look on America's face as she watched Kamala Harris accept the Democratic nomination for President of the United States.

A woman, and not just any woman, but a woman of color, standing poised and ready to lead the country. You remember watching Hillary accept the nomination in 2016 with a sense of solidarity and the thought of “it's about damn time” planning in your head, but even then, it didn't feel like this. Why was it different this time? Why was the thought of a female president so energizing?

Maybe it's because now you and Stephen essentially had a teenage daughter to raise. Or by New York's phrasing, that you were legal guardians of. Maybe it's because of the fall of Roe and having to once again fight for rights that had been legally protected for nearly half a century. Maybe it's because of all the other rights and freedoms that were now openly under attack from the right and the Supreme Court. Maybe it's because you were technically a childless cat lady, at least by the other parties own wording, and you wanted to make damn certain Vance knew you did in fact have a direct stake in where your country was going. You just wouldn't be going back to the past.

You were both unaware of the sorcerer standing in the doorway, carefully studying both of you. His movements towards the loveseat you were sat in eventually making you turn your attention to him. A soft, sweet smile on his face as his lowered himself to sit next to you. Immediately putting an arm up for you to settle in under. Your body instinctively curling into his as your attention drifted back to the television. 

The sound of applause and cheers erupted from the convention crowd, and balloons came toppling down on both the stage and the crowd. Kamala Harris now stood with her family, her husband, and two step-children on one side of her. On the other side was her vice presidential pick, Tim Walz, and his family. Smiles and laughter filling the screen.

Their joy was palpable, and their smiles were contagious. America wore a matching one, and now so did you. Even Stephen was smirking as he watched you both. 

He leaned in and placed a kiss on the side of your head, brushing your hair back to see your face clearly. Seeing the wheels turning in your mind, he couldn't help but posit a question. A serene smile on your face as you moved to snuggle into Stephen's side.

“What's going on in there?”

Without looking away from your adopted daughter and her elation, you answered. 

“Hope.”

--------------------------------

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[softestqueeen]

don't you forget about me, sherlock part1

pairing: sherlock holmes x fem!reader

summary: When Janine forces Sherlock to choose between being in a relationship with her and living with you, he has to make a tough decision. How will your feelings for each other be affected by it?

warnings: angst, canon? I don’t know her

wordcount: 2141 words

a/n: Soo, I actually should be working on a request, but I’m kinda stuck with the story, so I decided to write something else in the meantime. I also know that this is lowkey a bit shitty, but I had a fun time writing it, so et voila. This is not a request or anything, but something that recently came to my mind. This will have two parts! Yes, I am a sucker for hurt/comfort and I hope you are too! Enjoy <3

“Either she moves out or I’ll leave,” Sherlocks eyebrows raised at his girlfriend Janine’s words “I think it’s weird that you still live with a female roommate if you have me. Also, I think she’s kinda in love with you, so that makes it even weirder. Have you ever noticed the way she looks at you? It makes me sick!”

Sherlock had indeed not noticed the looks you were apparently giving him. If you did, he was sure he would have noticed. He has had feelings for you ever since you got to know each other better, which was shortly after you moved into the spare bedroom of his flat. Mrs Hudson had basically begged him to give you a chance, as you have known each other for quite some time, but he couldn’t recall where you knew each other from.

He made a mental note to ask you soon, so he could hear you scold him for forgetting, before still enthusiastically telling him the story again.

But there was a way more important matter at hand. What was it again? Oh, yeah, Janine wanted him to throw you out. Of course she worded it a bit differently, but that was quintessentially what she was asking of him. Janine or you?

Now, if this was life or death situation, the answer would be easy. Without thinking he would chose you. He was only in a relationship with Janine, because she was the assistant of Augustus Magnussen, whom he wanted to get to for a while now. At Johns wedding Janine got introduced to him and Sherlock took the opportunity to take get closer to Magnussen. And his plan was definitely moving forward. Slower than he would have liked, but still.

Now though, things were taking on another dimension. He was supposed to throw out his best friend, his partner in crime and his secret love. You.

Sherlock realised that he had been quiet for way too long, thinking about you. “You want me to do what? To just throw her out because of your growing insecurity about our romantic relationship? Don’t you think that is a bit… silly?” his baritone voice was collected, though his feeling were anything but.

“No, I don’t think it’s silly and I’m not insecure about our relationship, Sherly. I just think that she may not be the best influence on us. She’s always there, I can never have you just for me.”

Sherlock was sitting in his chair and until now Janine had been seated opposite from him in your chair. But during her talking she got up and planted herself on Sherlocks lap, his hand wandering from below his chin to her thigh.

He was now pressing it reassuringly as he answered. “You know you’re the only one I want, darling.” Lie “Even though I don’t see her as a threat to you, I will talk to her about it. But you know, she’s my best friend and I deeply care for her. If she agrees to move out, she can stay until she has found a new flat. Deal?” The detectives voice left no room for discussion, no matter how soft it was.

Janine hummed before placing a kiss to his lips. Before she could deepen it though, she could hear you coming down the stairs from your room. She pulled away and got up, before taking her things to leave. “Don’t let it wait too long, Sherly. I’ll leave you to it now. Bye Bye!” She threw him one last kiss before leaving the room.

Not a second after that, you entered the room. He knew he had to talk about it, but breaking your heart by making you leave was definitely not what he wanted. Sherlock thought for a second it he should just tell you the truth. Tell you that he’s just using her and definitely not in love with you. Tell you that you’re the only one he wants and that you can stay here in this flat as long as you want and if he was bothering you in any way it would be him that was leaving – no discussion. Tell her that every time you enter the room, you take his breath away in a way Janine could never even attempt to.

But he knew, that that would not work. The less people knew about his secret, the better and at this  point only he knew of his plan. He was also convinced that if you move out, he will convince you to come back to him once he ended things with Janine and explained everything to you. You would understand, he was sure of it. Easier said than done.

“Hey Sherlock, where’s Janine?” you greeted him with your signature smile that was usually reserved just for him.

“She just went out probably to work or something,” he shook his head before continuing ,”but it’s good to see you, I need to talk with you about something.”

Something about the detectives words made you nervous. Usually, he never warned you before bombarding you with a flood of words that oftentimes didn’t make as much sense to you as they did to him. So him actually telling you that he needs to talk to you couldn’t be any good.

“Yeah, of course. Are you alright? You know you can talk to me about everything,” you told him while trying to keep your voice as worry-free as possible.

“Actually, I’m in a bit of a frenzy right now. I would consider my relationship with Janine to be going pretty well, especially for my standards and experiences with relationships of any nature, not just romantic. And I thought she felt the same until she told me something I still can’t really comprehend or understand,” his brows furrowed and you slowly took a seat in your usual chair, which was facing Sherlock ,”She told me that she didn’t like me living with you anymore. Janine considered it quote ‘weird’ that I have pretty female roommate, when I already have a girlfriend. But here comes my struggle, she gave me an ultimatum: Either, I ask you to move out or she will leave me. I hope you can understand that I have to ask you to move out. You can of course stay as long as you need until you’ve found a new place. As I said, things have been going rather well between the two of us and I don’t want anything to disrupt this newfound peace.

“Please keep in mind that you are still my best friend and that I deeply care about you. But I beg you to understand that I don’t really have a choice. I’m sorry, I really am.”

With every word your face fell more. But you could also fee anger burning under your skin, making your blood boil. Who does Janine think she is? Who does she think she is that she could force Sherlock – your best friend – to throw you out?

Of course you could understand Sherlock. As much as it pained you. You knew he had no choice and you wanted him to be happy, no matter how much you wished that you were the one making him this happy.

“Oh Sherlock, It’s alright. Well, I mean it’s not but I can see why you don’t have that much of a choice if she practically forces you… Did she say anything about why exactly she thinks that it’s weird that we live together?” with ever word it was harder for you to hide your feelings. If you could, you would never leave 221B, especially when someone like Janine practically demanded it from you. “I mean, she always was kinda weird with me, but I just thought we got off on the wrong foot or something, but it seems that she really has a problem with me.”

Sherlock immediately tried to reassure you “No, no, she never said anything bad about you. Just that it bothered her. And I also don’t think she dislikes you, you just don’t know each other that well.”

He could sense that you still didn’t fully trust the situation and it was breaking his heart that he could practically see you falling apart in front of him. You were slumping more and more in your chair, slowly resigning to the fact that you would have to move.

“Okay Sherlock, I’ll move out. But only if you promise, that Janine will not come between our friendship. We will still see each other on cases of course, but I also want us to do stuff together, even if it’s just walking around the block or me listening to you playing the violin. Don’t you forget about me! Deal?”

“Deal,” it was definitely not hard to accept, as he wanted to still stay in contact, even if he had to spend a lot of time with Janine, acting as if he actually liked her.

After coming to terms with everything that happened in the last 10 minutes, you excused yourself. You went downstairs to the one person who knew exactly what to do in any situation.

You only had to know once before Mrs. Hudson’s door opened, to reveal the old lady in an apron that was tied around her waist. “Hey, do you have a moment to talk?” you asked her.

“Of course, darling. I have always time for you. Come on in,” she said before stepping aside to let you in. After offering you some biscuits you both sat down at her kitchen table.

You gave her a full run down of what has happened before asking her “What am I supposed to do now? I don’t even want to move out and I have a feeling that he doesn’t want me to either.”

“Oh dear, how can this genius of a man be this stupid? Well, there’s not much we can do, is there? I’ll talk to Sherlock about this, but I’ll also go call up some of my old girlfriends and ask if anyone has a cheap place to stay for you. But don’t worry dear, my door will always be open for you, no matter if you live here or not,” her words were only partially calming you down.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” and with you words it was understood that this conversation would be put on hold for now.

Your conversation now moved to other things and before too long Sherlock was knocking on he door. “There you are. Geoffrey just called, he needs us at a crime scene,” you wondered if he would ever get Lestrade’s name right. Probably not.

“His name is Greg, Sherlock. You should know that by now. But I’ll be there in a sec, I just have to get my coat and bag,” you say before making your way upstairs again.

Sherlock was about to turn around, when Mrs Hudson called him back. “Where do you think you’re going, young man? Come in for a moment, I have to talk about something very important with you.”

Once the door behind Sherlock, the elderly woman started talking “What were you thinking, Sherlock? Throwing that poor girl out of my house without discussing this with me first? And then for that girl, that you’ve known for what, 5 months? I just don’t think that this is a wise decision. I’m not blind I can see the way you look at each other when you think the other isn’t watching. Oh Sherlock, I don’t want you to do things you’ll regret,” Sherlock may miss a lot of social clues but he could definitely tell that Mrs Hudson was not happy with this at all.

“I know it might seem sudden, but I think this is the right step,” he hated lying to her, she has been almost like a mother for him these last few years that he has been living here.

“Just think about what I’ve said Sherlock,” at that he looked at the floor before leaving the flat, almost bumping into you.

“You’re done? Let’s go.”

~*~*~*~

That happened now almost a month ago and you could practically cut the tension between you and Sherlock. Since that day, nothing has been the same.

You had now found a flat that you could afford and that wasn’t too far, you still wanted to be close to work.

Every time you talked to Sherlock, it was trained, he gave you short answers. No long rambles anymore, only when you were on a case. No more listening to his violin when you can’t fall asleep. No dinners are spent laughing anymore, as you now eat alone in your room, not being able to bear Janine and Sherlock being all smiley and couply with each other.

Almost one month of wishing you had your best friend back.

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueen

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[strangelockd]

Hii!! How are u? 🥰

Could you write something with the prompts 7.“how mad would you be if i kissed you?” and 2.“my lipgloss is all over your lips.” from the fluff list with Stephen pls

Fates Embrace

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Pairing: Sinister Strange x FemReader

Summary: Your sick at the Sanctum and Stephen being poor with words tries to comfort you in his own special way leading to a much greater surprise.

•Im slowly chipping away at my requests and this one was so long overdue. I really tried keeping it fluff but i couldn’t help myself. There were many directions that this fic could have taken but I hope you love it. The story was inspired by Harry Styles and you can find the song on my Sinister Playlist•

“Sinister was fully convinced that if you tasted half as divine as the forbidden fruit of Eve, then he absolutely understood her succumb to the surrender of temptation”

You had been nauseous for days, and no amount of rest seemed to make it better. With a shaking hand, you reached for the bed pan, the cool porcelain a welcome contrast to your already warm skin. Setting the bed pan on the floor, you groaned, wiping the leftover vomit from your cheek. Yep you definitely were sick no doubt. Despite having everything you needed from herbal tea to nausea medication, Sinister still paced the room in a worry for your health; you are his world after all.

Leaning against the foot of the bed Sinister pawed the comforter on the four poster bed, “are you sure there's nothing else I can do for you my love,” eyeing you like a hawk he was seeking your gaze making sure you were not just playing the hero. Stephen could always see right through your poker face. Letting out a small hum you smiled reassuring him, “Babe relax, it's just a little bug. You as a doctor even said it's more than likely a common cold, trust me I will be fine in a few days.”

Sinisters chilled hands slowly slithered from the warmth of the blankets, searching for your feet, which were hidden under the many layers of blankets, “Yes yes I know my pet, it's just that I can’t help but worry for you so,” his grip tightened more around your ankles as if you would disappear like smoke. Sinister had always felt alone in the world, and he had never expected to find someone who could make him feel so connected and loved. He had believed that he could never be happy, but you knew deep down that Sinister was willing to do anything to keep you in his life. The thought of losing you was unbearable to him, and it felt like his own personal hell.

Seeing the worry laced in his eyes you shot him a comforting smile,“Stephen, trust me I'm not going anywhere. You know i'm with you forever in this life,” extending your arms outwards beckoning him to join you. Sinister for a second was taken aback; feeling a sudden warmth spread over him he couldn't help but grin, his heart swelled with your irrevocable love so much that he could burst. Letting out a soft contented sigh he couldn't help but feel unbrimmed joy for being so wanted by such a divine woman. For how could he say no to his queen, the very person he would sacrifice his own life for.

Kicking off the heavy boots they made a slight thump against the wooden floorboards as your husband manifested a beautiful purple indigo smoke. The smoke cascading around him as he opted to change into his comfiest pair of dark purple pajamas leaving you in awe. You have been with him for years and even doing basic things, Sinister was the pure definition of elegance and it bever failed to leave you breathless. Feeling the weight of his form shift on the mattress, Sinister slowly made his way across the burgundy comforter. He snuggled close to you, wrapping himself in the warmth of the covers sighing contentedly.

Sinisters scarred hands reached over to gently cup your jaw placing a delicate kiss to your forehead. He nuzzled his nose against yours adding softly, “…In this life. And the next my love. For I have crossed oceans of time to find you and I will never lose you,” his finger traced your cheek softly as his blue eyes searched yours, the sentiment making you blush a deeper red. Placing a hand above his you leaned in to his touch, batting your lashes softly you couldn't help but melt into his eyes that reflected your very own.

“And you'll always have me, Stephen Strange,” breathing in his scent you closed your eyes, “For my heart and soul are yours and yours alone,” breaking the gap Sinister leaned into your lips. The sudden connection made you moan as he traced your lower lip with his tongue tasting your skin. It was so hypnotic, so mesmerizing that you suddenly snapped back to reality pulling away not wanting him to catch your cold. Feeling your resistance his strong hands only pulled you flush to his chest.

“Babe, don’t! You'll catch whatever I got,” you protested. Sinister couldn't help but chuckle at your declaration.

“Darling, I'm a man with the power of gods. It will take more than a cold to stop me from adoring you”, feeling the brush of his goatee against your delicate earlobe. His lips were so close to yours that you could feel his heat radiating from them. His lips ghosted your collarbone, his breath sweet and warm as he continued to ghost across your soft skin, sending a shiver of pleasure through your body and a fire of desire awakening in your core. Cocking his head to the side Sinister gently pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger, eyes laced with mischief he had a better idea in mind.

“How mad would you be if I kissed that beautiful mouth of yours?” He smirked, taking note of your sudden tight grip on the crimson sheets. Hes such a fucking tease…

Pulling away once more in an attempt to resist, you looked into his eyes and you could clearly tell that all your husband wanted to do was to be there to make you feel good no matter what. “I dunno,” biting your lip you smirked, “why not find out.” The familiar feeling of his hands slithered against the back of your neck as he pulled you in slowly, kissing you once more he tasted the sweetness of your lips. The essence of strawberries sticking to his mind imprinted on his eidetic memory forever. He wanted to drown in you for the rest of his days. You both pulled away chuckling like a couple of school kids as his hands sought your face tracing your jawline, his breath welcoming against your soft delicate flesh.

“Delicious,” he cooed, giving your lower lip a gentle nip.

Damn him…

Sinister always brought you great joy even on days you were not at your best, times when you were sure he would leave after seeing your unsavory sides. You knew that deep down he would walk through fire for you, proving all too well his devotion time and time again leaving you with no doubts. Sinisters hands trailed down your curves resting at the slope of your hips guiding you to his lap. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his once more as his hands traced your thighs gripping them firmly. Pulling away to look into your eyes he smiled brushing your cheek with unbridled admiration.

“I love you y/n,” he proclaimed, palms giving a slight tremble, “you know that right?”

Your heart swelled at the profession of his words only for them to taper, it broke your heart knowing he was alone for so long and yet still felt uncertainty about your devotion. Years if self loathing convinced him that his blackened heart was too difficult to bear, that he was a burden and needed to hide from the light forever. But here you are loving it through all the dirt to bare something of a diamond underneath the crevice of his newly alivened heart.

Heart racing you leaned in kissing him deeper, showing him how much he truly means to you. His moans drowning all thought as you pulled away looking him in the eyes. “And I love you Stephen Strange. I always have,” nibbling his earlobe in return you felt his grip tighten. You were sure there would be mark’s later no doubt, but in the moment you couldn’t care less. He growled pulling you in for another kiss, taking note of your nightgown riding up your thighs he smirked suddenly flipping you to once more your backside.

“Stephen!” You cried feeling him slither down between your thighs taking note of what's below. Or lack thereof.

“Hmm no panties?” His eyes suddenly turning dark and piercing it shot right to your center causing you to involuntarily rock your hips against his goatee.

“Mmm ya,” giving a teasing smile, “Didn't feel like it,” flashing him a cheeky wink it only spurred him on more to dig into your needy heat inhaling your arousal.

“You naughty girl,” his voice laced with a husky desire as you felt the welcoming sensation of his fingers slipping deeper into your thighs. His fingers gliding between the folds of your heat as his thumb traced circles around your clit.

“Always so wet for me my pet,” slipping two fingers inside he watched as your body writhed against his touch, “and my cock isnt even inside you yet,” he teased, pumping his digits at a steady pace. Sinister watched in awe as he felt your pussy clamp down like a vice around his fingers.

“You're such a good girl. Do you know that? Do you know how beautiful you look coming undone by my hands?” His eyes glowed under the light as he watched on, your legs trembling. He felt them spread wider, practically welcoming him to feast upon you. You get off on the praise, and he knows it all too well. Your body arched and pebbled against his touch as if you were fabricated just for him. Your reaction alone was enough to make his stiffened cock ache between his trousers. The only thoughts going through his mind were mine mine mine…like a sacred prayer only for you.

“I adore you. Your absolutely beautiful,” he purred, pressing his face into you deeper he traced his tongue over your wet folds making you moan deeper only urging him to need more. Sinister wanted to drown in your essence for this was his paradise and his alone, you locked around him wanting to be entangled in this state for eternity. Swirling your clit in a figure eight his mouth continued its assault as he felt your climax grip around his digits, you were close and nothing felt more sweeter or divine than this very moment. You moaning for him and only him alone. Your fingers laced through his ravenous strands pushing him deeper as his hands reached up, ripping the straps off your gown to expose your perfect bare breast on display. His hands immediately seeking your exposed nipples, giving them a gentle twist. It was just enough to send you over the edge as his right hand continued pumping in and out of your throbbing cunt claiming him only tighter.

Sinister takinging in the staggered rise and fall of your breath he placed his hand on the flat of your stomach in an attempt to steady yourself. For a moment he felt something…a heartbeat. But it…it can't be? His heart fluttered and flipped all at once with the sudden possible realization but there was something more pressing that demanded his attention and that was you.

“Ste-Stephen I’m gonna!”

The echo of your pleasured moans suddenly snapping him back to reality. This is the only thing he ever wants to do, be lost in you. Devoting every waking moment to your pleasure.

“That's it! That's my girl,” His thumb pressing firm circles on your clit as his lips traced yours, “your so beautiful when you come”

Your mouth shot open in a silent scream as you arched off the mattress, your heat riding his digits as he finger fucked you through your orgasm. The curling of his hand making you see stars, he truly did have magic hands in more ways than one.

Sinisters mind suddenly shot to the thought of what he felt in the base of your tummy. Tracing his palm over his chest he instinctively placed the other over your lower tummy, your elbows propped you up as your heart fluttered when you casted your gaze upon your husband.

“Stephen? What's wrong?” You asked with bated breath.

“Nothing my love,” he spoke with promise, his gaze still fixated on your belly, “hold on and let me see here”

At first the sensation was warm as if being cloaked by a blanket fresh from the dryer. A soft purple glow emitted from your abdomen as you both witnessed what was clearly a little baby in your belly no more than 10 weeks. The motions of its little arms made tears form in your eyes. You couldn't believe it, and neither could Sinister but here you are in fact pregnant.

You traced his features taking note of his reaction, noticing the swell of tears in his eyes he sniffled looking up at you, “And I thought I've seen everything,” you brushed a stray strang away from his forehead; he couldn't help but grin wide.

Come to think of it It's not like safe sex was a part of your repertoire. You both were more shocked it just took this long to finally happen.

“You're not upset, are you Stephen?” Your heart filled with sudden rising dread at the silly question. The seconds felt like minutes as you waited on for your husband's answer.

Eyes widened he practically leapt forward his hands sought yours as he paused just a fraction from your lips. You couldn't help but feel the sudden thrill of it, his unbridled excitement and joy seemed to penetrate every cell of your body. The comfort of his large hands made you lean into his touch, you took a breath as he craned his neck down ensuring you met his gaze. The calm timber of his voice was slow and smooth like the sweetest of chocolate and all you wanted was to melt into him.

“Heavens no my sweet angel. I am beyond thrilled. For you have given me all the more reason for being alive, and I couldn't possibly love you more than in this moment.”

Hearing the soft sniffles he leaned forward nuzzling foreheads peppering you with kisses that spoke of promise, you just couldn't believe that you are with child. Instinctively you couldn't help but draw his palm forward over your bare belly once more, the soft purple glow emitting from his palm glowed once more revealing the miracle underneath leading Sinister to smile.

“So much for you being sick,” he chuckled, kissing you once more. Rubbing your belly softly you placed a hand above his, joining the three of you in unison.

“Seems like the doctor is getting a little rusty with diagnosing,” you teased, feeling him give a playful yet gentle shove so as to not hurt you or the baby.

You smiled leaning in, nestling your face against his. “Oh hush now kiss me once more”

For a moment, all was still and peaceful and you never wanted it to end. Wrapping his arms around your waist you took in the warmth and familiarity of him. With a contented sigh, he whispered, "I love you."

Tears rolled down your cheek as his thumb took the liberty of wiping them away gently. Your lips sought his as you mended once more into each other like the sand meets the sea. You've kissed many times but yet somehow it feels like your millionth and first all wrapped up in one. Sinister was fully convinced that if you tasted half as divine as the forbidden fruit of Eve, then he absolutely understood her succumb to the surrender of temptation. For nothing ever tasted so sweet.

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