• Stephen enjoys keeping the room chilly. He grew accustomed to the cold air of operating rooms and strongly dislikes when a room is stuffy.
• Wong will attempt to engage Stephen in winter antics, such as friendly snowball fights. Stephen acts cool and refuses until Wong turns his back and WHAM! There’s a bout between the sorcerers. No magic needed until Stephen starts cheating.
• Stephen isn’t interested in watching football. It’s hard for a former neurosurgeon to watch. He is quite interested in Super Bowl party food, however. Buffalo chicken dip will vanish in his presence.
• While running common errands is rare, Stephen will discreetly use magic on the street during the seldom trek. Clearing black ice at an intersection. Conjuring an insulated coat for a homeless individual.
summary: Stephen Strange brings you exactly what you want on Valentine’s Day
“Oh, thank goodness,” Stephen would breathe, relieved about your wishes for Valentine’s Day.
The sorcerer anguished all week about planning an expensive dinner, purchasing extravagant gifts, and the general expectation to be uncharacteristically lovey-dovey. Wong said he was overanalyzing it. His affections for you ran deep, but overt and cliche affection never came easily for Stephen. Surprise, surprise. Now if you actually wanted the aforementioned things above, he’d move heaven and earth to get it done. Your request? That he didn’t use any magic on Valentine’s Day.
Stephen commuted on foot alongside other New Yorkers to pick up flowers. He ensured the blooms were wrapped the way you preferred by the florist. For a moment he considered dropping the bouquet through a portal so that he didn’t have to carry them around the city, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to you.
He then made his way to a patisserie for some chocolate, only to learn that the sweets shop didn’t open for another half hour. Christ. He thought about the Time Stone resting against his chest, but again, obeyed your wish. After walking around the city and drawing a sweat, Stephen arrived back with flowers, chocolate and breakfast in his shaky hands.
The bouquet was full of fragrant roses and peonies. A rectangular box contained one dozen bonbons with various fillings and flavors. A warm poppy seed bagel with smoked salmon and cream cheese was washed down with a latte. Standard, normal people gifts for this occasion. Exactly what you wanted.
“How’d I do?” He asked, pale green eyes laser focused on your micro expressions.
summary: [request] How about strangexofc where they are dating and going to meet your family for the first time. But there’s an age gap and you’ve kinda been keeping your relationship a secret. Then you catch strange trying to dye his grey hair and stop him and tell him you love the grey and maybe show him how much you love him … 😈 Also like an epilogue of him meeting the fam and they love him??
word count: 3.3k
warnings: insecure!Stephen (and his showing clinginess and touch starved behavior), fluff, Wong being Wong, encouragement, smutty allusions but nothing graphic, more fluff, boyfriend!Stephen because yes, he is a warning, loving parents (we’ll see how I gonna suck at this part lol), more fluff, my inability to end fanfictions, not entirely proofread
author’s note: Another pretty old request! I’m not sure what today is all about, but I’m trying to work through those I deem interesting and fun xD Hope you enjoy it! The dividers belong to @enchanthings-a and @strangergraphics <3
The double door to the Sanctum Sanctorum opened with a swoosh of New Yorker winter air following the arriving woman; snow crystals dancing over the floor of the foyer and forming intricate details in the woman's braided strands. A shiver ran through her body for the hundreds of times this day, reminding her again that winter most definitely had arrived in her most loved city.
With a groan, YN shrugged off the heavy coat and shook it to deliberate it from the layer of frost, snow, and half-melted ice before hanging it on the detailed wooden clothes rack standing next to the doors. The frost-crusted scarf and beanie followed closely. Now, only armed with her trusty souvenir bags, which she had acquired in every city she had ever visited—it wasn't an obsession, nope—YN put the grand staircase behind her and entered the second floor. She turned right, followed the hallway, and let the bags pile onto the kitchen island after getting there. Wong turned at the sound—steaming cup in hand and letting another one appear in front of the frozen witch.
"I know again why you're my favorite sorcerer," the woman sighed, closing both hands around the warm mug, her eyes falling shut in a flutter as the warmth seeped into her skin. "Tell me that again when he is in the same room, and I'm tempted to believe it, Elsa." YN opened her eyes again and grinned over the mug at the older man, softly shrugging her shoulders and rolling her eyes. "The movie insults won't hurt me, Maui," she returned, winking at the sorcerer with a grin still on her lips. "And I will say it in front of him when he infuriates me again. Give us a few more weeks; the closer we get to Christmas, the more likely it will become."
She loved Stephen with all her heart and every fiber of her being, but this man never knew when to shut his mouth—especially if she was already stressed out because Christmas was a huge deal for her. She loved Christmas. She lived the Christmas season as soon as nasty Halloween lay behind humanity and Thanksgiving was finally coming up. But Christmas was also the most stressful season for her, and now, as part of the Avengers, it seemingly grew increasingly frustrating. YN never had to think about so many presents because before, it had always been only her parents, maybe some co-workers, and Stephen and Wong after the sorcerer had entered her life.
Speaking of which…
"I will keep that in mind," Wong said after taking a big sip of his tea. YN turned to see if Cloaky had already come floating through the hallway like it usually did as soon as she came home but was greeted by emptiness. "You don't know by any chance where he is?" The woman had turned back to him, but Wong couldn't even open his mouth because the sound of a portal interrupted them. They looked both in the direction of approaching steps, and Stephen appeared in the hallway, seemingly not expecting any of these two to see here. His brows knitted, and YN cocked an eyebrow at the sight of him trying to hide the paper bag from Target behind his long legs.
"What are you doing here? I thought you said something about errands." His voice held an edge to it she couldn't pinpoint, so YN's brow wandered up even further until it almost reached her hairline. "Well, I was done sooner than expected. But I can leave again if you prefer it that way." The witch had already turned to find her purse, not hearing as the paper bag dropped to the hardwood floor and Stephen's hurried steps came closer to her. His hands softly took hold of her shoulders before the Sorcerer Supreme snaked his arms around them and leaned his forehead on her right shoulder. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry, darling," he whispered, not caring that Wong stood opposite them and chuckled behind his mug.
To be honest, the other sorcerer had seen much worse in the past one and three-quarter years ever since Stephen had brought his girl to the Sanctum. And yes, he counted the months since the woman in his arms had told him she loved and came home with him. He was the luckiest bastard on this damned planet after all.
Stephen pressed a soft kiss to YN's neck, tightening his hold. He could hear her sigh before she settled her back against his chest and caressed one of his hands with the tips of her fingers. The sorcerer closed his eyes at the feeling of her lips against his reachable temple and how she leaned her head against his. "Is everything okay?" Her soft voice asked, and Stephen nodded quickly, not wanting to let her into his head to see the boiling mess in there—she would probably laugh before running away, changing her mind over everything that concerned him and their relationship. He couldn't let that happen. Not so shortly after he had finally found the one woman who could keep up with him and who loved him with every single damned flaw he possessed. "You can talk to me, Stephen. Whatever might be bothering you, I am here to help. It's my job."
She meant every single word because YN knew how the man in her back tended to be as soon as he spiraled. And because she knew every single red flag, she was worried to her bones—his behavior right now was a single big, screaming red flag. But she also knew she couldn't push him, so she had to wait and sit this one out as long as it might take.
"I know, darling, but it's nothing." He grew silent for a moment before continuing. "Would you mind cooking alone? I… I need to check some books that arrived this morning from Kamar-Taj, and they can't wait until tomorrow." YN furrowed her forehead at the shakiness of his voice, his barely audible stutter, and counting more red flags. Even Wong seemed not convinced. But instead of calling Stephen out now and not in their bedroom later after dinner, the witch only turned in his tight grasp and cupped his cheeks with both hands. She smiled up at him. "Of course, love. Go and do your work. I will get you when dinner is ready. Mousse au chocolate for dessert, or does Doctor Strange prefer a chocolate cake tonight?" Stephen pressed a long, lingering kiss to her forehead. "Whatever Miss LN is up to tonight," he returned with a soft whisper, followed by another kiss on her head.
And then he disappeared upstairs—but not without the ominous paper bag.
YN turned to Wong with heavily furrowed brows and deep creases between them. "Something is wrong," both spoke in unison and sighed before they started to prepare dinner together, a heavy silence dominating the kitchen.
Knuckles knocked gently on the hardwood door leading to Stephen's study after almost two hours of cooking dinner—lasagna just like he loved the dish—and baking his favorite cake—chocolate, with a soft chocolate core. She even got him his favorite whiskey in preparation for a cozy night in front of the fireplace, with some of their favorite vinyl playing in the background.
At the silence greeting YN from the other side, even after another soft knock, she huffed and opened the door without another warning. "Stephen?" But the study wasn't even lit, and twilight was all the witch saw. The snow still fell in front of the massive windows leading to the nonetheless busy New Yorker streets, and curiosity got its best of her. So the woman wandered into the grant but still cozy-looking room and rounded the wooden desk. Her fingers stroked over the scattered books—some opened, others closed—and got a hold of an opened letter written by one of the masters back at Kamar-Taj, dated a week ago.
"Books my ass," the witch mumbled under her breath and left the study again after a last displeased look at the books Stephen most definitely had already worked through. She closed the door behind herself because she was taught to be a decent human and raised her right hand softly. YN tried to not get distracted by the ring Stephen had gifted her at their first anniversary—a promise to a future, as he had called it. But she couldn't admire the piece, not now. Now, she had a task to fulfill.
Her pointer and ring finger twitched, barely visible, and the warm-feeling magic glided almost gracefully through the hallway and highlighted a golden path leading upstairs to the second floor. The witch followed her conjured marks, not really having to pay close attention to them because now, she was sure where she would find her boyfriend in distress. And that's where the path brought her—right in front of the door to their shared bedroom. This time, YN didn't bother to knock. Instead, she pushed the wood open and was faced with twilight once more, but the golden gleam of the bathroom lighting drew her steps closer.
And what she saw there let her pause dead in her tracks.
Stephen stood in front of the mirror, only wearing his sweatpants, a towel hanging over his shoulders, and his left hand held a plastic bowl with something thickly dark inside. His right hand had a tight grip on a brush, typically used for hair accidents requiring a re-touch before an important occasion. Inside the sink laid an assortment of at-home hair coloring products, all ripped open, and the instructions scattered around the sink's edge—one was even taped to the mirror in front of him.
YN gently cleared her throat before Stephen could even think of smearing this stuff into his hair. "Would you mind telling me what you are trying to do, love?" She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of her chest, and eyes settled on his widening eyes before the sorcerer turned to his girlfriend—stupid contributors to his spiraling mind still in his hands. He looked from the brush and bowl to the woman he loved, the unpleasant smell of hair dye lingering in the air. "Would you believe me if I said nothing is happening right now?" Stephen had to try to lighten the mood a bit, at least, but YN couldn't have any of that. She pushed her body off the frame and walked over to him before taking both items out of his hands and placing them into the sink.
Her entire focus was settled on him.
"Did you try to dye your hair?" At the confused sound of her voice, Stephen only shrugged. "But why?" Another shrug followed, but because he didn't dare to look into her eyes, YN already guessed where his mind had wandered off. "Is this because we're gonna see my parents next weekend?" His heavy swallow was answer enough, and the witch couldn't hold back anymore. Her hands gently cupped his face, just like earlier, before her fingers carded through his salt-and-pepper hair. "Oh, Stephen…," she mumbled and pulled him closer until she could feel his hands resting on her hips. "I wanted… I… You…” His deep rumbling sigh was evidence enough for the woman to feel the boiling emotions running havoc in this usually composed man. "It's okay." She took one of his hands and pulled at it. "Come on, love," she encouraged him to follow her back into their bedroom.
YN's hand flicked to light up the many candles inside their room while she pushed Stephen to sit down at his bedside. She stayed in front of him, right between his thighs that spread to make space for her, and her hands were back on his handsome face, grounding him and clearing his mind at least a bit. He never knew if it was just inherently YN or her magic that pushed through to him. Either way, he didn't object in the slightest.
"Tell me what's going on in that brilliant mind of yours." She sounded as if she was begging, and maybe she was because YN had felt a pit forming in her stomach ever since seeing what Stephen tried to do. He started to play with the hem of her oversized hoodie—his Columbia University hoodie. "I tried to dye my grey spots to seem younger," the Sorcerer Supreme mumbled, ashamed to admit it out loud. YN stayed silent to give him enough space to sort through his thoughts and let them out in the open. It took a moment until he spoke again. "I never met parents before. I never had to think about how I appear in other's parent's eyes… All I can think about is how old I look and how old I am compared to you, and I thought that it might help my case in convincing your parents that I am good enough for their pride and joy if I dyed my hair to at least look somewhat your age." He sighed deeply and let his forehead fall against her chest, letting it rest there.
YN started to comb through his soft strands, staying quiet once more because she had never thought about what the question of whether Stephen wanted to come with her might do to him. She had only thought about the fact that this man was the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with and how much she wanted her parents to meet this handsome, loving, and compassionate man she had stumbled upon—quite literally. The witch would've never suggested it in the first place if she knew what it would do to him, and now, guilt washed over her, but she had to take care of Stephen's spiraling mind before she could tend to her very own troublemaker up there.
Tenderly, she took his chin between her thumb and pointer finger and nudged Stephen's face up so he would look her right into her eyes. "You will listen to me now, love," YN started, and Stephen stared into her eyes, unmoving. "You are not old. We may have a slight age gap—but nothing as vast as you picture it—and yes, some may object to it, but not my parents. They are happy if I am happy, and I can tell you, I never was happier in my entire life. You make me the happiest and most content version of myself, Stephen, and this is all that matters." YN stopped to press a soft kiss to his forehead, easing his deep worry-wrinkles. "And now, to the one point I may never have made perfectly clear." Her voice dropped to a whisper, and the witch cupped his face again. "You will never touch those grey spots, do you understand?"
Stephen still stared at her, utter wonder written in his eyes and on his face, and his hands grabbed her hips to coax her into his lap. "Are you trying to tell me you secretly love them?" A grin tucked at YN's lips, and her eyes wandered over his grey strands, her fingers following close as they combed through them once more. "I think they make you incredibly hot and deadly handsome, love," she giggled before burrowing her fingers in the short hair at the nape of his neck. The sorcerer let out a raspy groan at the feeling of YN's nails scratching over the sensitive skin there. He cupped the side of her own neck with his much bigger hand, his thumb caressing her jawline slowly while his eyes took in the beauty that was her face. "Oh, really?" Stephen asked, almost teasingly, and pulled her closer to him until their chests were pressed against each other. YN nodded softly, a gasp leaving her parted lips, and a moan soon followed when Stephen dared to steal a deepening kiss from her. "Those spots make you appear like damned fine wine, aged into perfection and promising me the most perfect taste of summer, dreams, and sunsets. Don't you dare touch them as long as I am here," she whispered against his lips, drinking him in when the sorcerer kissed her once again, reveling in his taste and the feel of this man who had chosen her of all the women he could've selected from. "You are perfect just the way you are."
Stephen's hands gripped her hips in a tight, almost bruising hold and pulled the witch flush against him, tickling out yet another moan when their cores made contact. "You mean that?" He still felt insecure about this whole ordeal despite his mind slowly stopping to spiral out of control, but Stephen would be damned if he didn't ask for more reassurance, knowing well enough that YN would never hold back with it. The following smirk growing on her face? He did not expect that, nor what she had in mind for them, his eyes following her gorgeous body when she slowly sank down on her knees, right between his parting thighs.
"I have no qualms in proofing my words," the witch giggled in anticipation when the palm of her hands caressed his strong thighs, up and down, her eyes never leaving his. "When I'm done, there won't be a single lingering doubt, Stephen Strange, I promise you that."
—
And she would be correct.
"Stop fidgeting." Trying to soothe his over-worrying mind, YN smoothed out the lapels of his pristine coat as they stood in front of her parent's home in the dainty and quiet suburban around New York City. "Easier said than done," the sorcerer grumbled back and let her push back a salt-and-pepper strand, and after rising to her tiptoes, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, leaving a faint mark of her lipstick on his skin. Humming, YN erased it with the pad of her thumb, perfectly timed with the sound of steps echoing behind the front door. "Everything will be fine, Stephen, believe me," she all had time but to whisper before the door opened and welcomed them with a wind of warm air.
Her mother smiled brightly as always when she took in her daughter, arms already wide open to gather her in a tight, motherly hug. "Oh, my sweet girl. Look at you." She held her at arm's length, eyes mapping and cataloging everything she could see under the thick coat and layers of fabrics. "How is it possible that you still turn prettier every time I see you again? It must be magic," Mrs. LN smiled widely, and YN pressed a loving kiss to her mother's cheek. "Oh, please. You over-exaggerate."
"She is right, darling," Stephen chimed in, his unoccupied hand finding the small of her back when he stepped closer. Her mother instantly took him in as well, eyes like a hawk observing its potential prey, but the hardness vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and her smile returned. "You must be Stephen. I've heard so much about you—welcome!" YN had already grabbed the transport box filled with chocolate cake, so they could shake hands, but instead, the Sorcerer Supreme found himself in a welcoming and tight hug, making YN giggle in delight. "Come in, come in! It's freezing out here."
They both got ushered into the warmth of her childhood home, and the sound of her father rummaging in the kitchen welcomed them as her mother accepted the cake and watched with a softening expression when Stephen gently helped her out of the cloak and kissed her cheek while doing so. "You two are just too sweet," the mother hummed, showing them to follow her.
YN gathered Stephen's hand in hers and squeezed it softly, her other hand naturally wrapping around his bicep. "See? I told you," she whispered as quietly as possible, letting one brow rise when the man beside her huffed. "I still need to survive the introduction to your father, sweetheart," he answered just as quietly when they arrived in the living space with the open kitchen and her father smiling warmly at them. "I think this will run smoother than you give yourself credit, love."
And again, she would be correct.
Thank you so much for reading! Please consider leaving a like, a comment, and a reblog. It would mean the world to me <33
Note: after a little more thought, I decided that this new title was more in line with the story I was planning. I'm very excited and I hope you like what's coming soon. Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapters.
Warnings: Relationship between a priest and one of his devotees, slow burning, betrayal, complicated family relationships, conversations about trauma, smut scenes in future chapters (Not allowed for under 18s).
You're used to your life, comfortable but full of predictable monotony. The good girl, the good daughter and the good fiancée, just the perfect girl, until the arrival of the new priest in town, Stephen Strange. Young and charismatic, he manages to challenge the community's norms, and his modern vision of the faith awakens feelings in you that you never imagined.
Torn between your family obligations and the inexplicable connection you feel for this new priest, you feel yourself begin to vibrate with new ideas and emotions. As the bonds between you strengthen, you must confront your own expectations and the pressures of society, questioning what it really means to be happy. In a world where appearances are everything, you must decide whether to follow the safe path or dare to follow the call of your heart.
Warnings: Small discussion, SMUT: sex without a condom.
Hi, this is Ray.
In this short excerpt we have Father Strange so in love with one of his devotees, since a little forbidden love never hurt anyone.
This excerpt was taken from a story I've been planning for some time, inspired in Thou Shalt Not Covet by @daydreamtofiction and the song False God by Taylor Swift.
Please let me know what you think and if you think I should start posting the first chapters of this story.
I hope you enjoy it.
-Forgive any grammatical errors, English is not my first language-
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... "I need an answer, God," the priest says, now on his knees, begging the Lord to respond and help him with his dilemma. "I just need an answer."
It is at that exact moment that Strange hears the heavy church door opening and closing, rising to look at the candlelit hallway that highlighted a silhouette so familiar to him.
Stephen feels his breath falter; the vision before him, walking toward him, was wicked and sinful for his thoughts, yet still seemed deliciously divine.
You were there, soaked from the heavy rain falling outside, the dress you had worn earlier at the festival now clinging to your body.
"It’s late," Stephen says, after gathering the courage to finally speak to you. "What are you doing here? You should be home by now."
"I need to confess," you explain, your voice trembling, perhaps a little nervous.
"It’s past midnight, the church is closed, come back tomorrow," he didn't mean to be harsh, but thought it was the only way to get you to leave quickly, though he was wrong.
"I need to confess," you repeat, making it clear you wouldn’t leave until you got what you wanted. "God’s house doesn’t close to a believer, no matter the hour. You, of all people, should know that, Father Strange."
Being called Father Strange by you hurt. Just days ago, you were close, perhaps even friends. He had grown used to hearing your sweet voice calling him Stephen, until he had given in to temptation during the trip to New York. Hearing you be so polite with him now reminded him of how greatly he had erred.
"You’re right," Stephen knew he would regret it, but he already felt so guilty for everything he had done with you that he couldn’t deny your wishes any longer.
The two walk silently to the large confessional in the corner of the church. He could hear everything even through the wooden wall, listening to your trembling breath as you prepared to speak, watching through the small window as you made the sacred sign of the cross.
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you begin.
"Tell me what happened, and we will decide your penance."
"I am engaged," the small reminder of this fact made Stephen’s heart ache in his chest. "And he is a good man, a really good man, but I don’t love him. In fact, I feel like I’ve never truly loved him, but my family adores him, and this union would be great for everyone."
"The church does not support a marriage built without true love," the priest says, trying to hide from both you and himself that, in reality, he was more than pleased to know of your lack of love for that idiot your family had chosen for you.
"I know, I know, but I must marry him; it’s what everyone expects of me, what they’ve always wanted for me, and I simply cannot ruin their plans," the pain in your voice and exhaustion was palpable, trying to be the perfect daughter and feeling like you had to carry the world on your shoulders. "So I must marry him, try to love him, respect him, and be faithful to him," you take a deep breath before continuing. "But that’s the problem, Father. I’m in love with another man. More than that, I lay with this man, and forgive my words, but damn, I loved every bit of it."
Stephen says your name in a warning tone. "I think we’d better not talk about this," he doesn’t have time to finish reprimanding you, as you quickly interrupt him.
"But the next day, he left me. He said the best night of my life had been a mistake that couldn’t be repeated, said we should stay away from each other. Suddenly, I lost a faithful friend, a confidant, and he broke my heart."
"Stop, please," he pleads.
"And I should be happy about that," your tone rises, emotions overwhelming you. "I should kneel before God and be thankful, go back to living my life as if none of this had happened, but I can’t."
"Stop," Stephen repeats, not knowing what he could do if this went on.
"I can’t, because all I can think about is him, his voice, his advice, his touch," the sound of your footsteps in the booth is audible. "And I don’t know what to do anymore. I find myself in the middle of the night wishing he were there with me, craving his kiss, touching myself wishing he would touch me that way, desiring every part of him, desiring you."
The priest felt he might explode at any moment, give in to his temptations, and worst of all, he wanted it. He had wanted it for a long time.
The curtain on his side of the booth suddenly opens, and he finds himself face to face with you, panting, still wet from the rain, tears streaking your face.
"So tell me, Father," you move closer to where he was sitting, "tell me what I should do when all I want is you?"
"This...this isn’t right," it was the first time in years Stephen found himself stammering with nervousness.
"I KNOW, DAMN IT, I KNOW," you shout, unable to contain yourself any longer. "But I can’t, I can’t resist anymore. I’ve tried, I’ve been trying since the day I met you, and I know you’ve been trying too. Don’t lie to me."
Your hand rests gently on his face, making him sigh. He had missed your touch so much in the past weeks.
"Please, don’t do this," Strange whispers, looking at you, his beautiful blue eyes now darkened by his dilated pupils. He does nothing to pull away, one of his hands moving directly to your waist.
"Tell me to leave, and I will. I’ll only step into this church again on my wedding day, and then you’ll never see me again. But I know you want me here, I know you want me."
He couldn’t resist anymore, not now, not ever.
Stephen pulls you tightly by the waist, guiding you to sit on his lap, finally kissing you again. This time was different; it wasn’t gentle. Instead, he poured all the longing he had felt into that kiss, aggressively holding you tightly as if you might slip away from his arms at any moment, his hand moving up the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, deepening the kiss even more.
"I missed you," you whisper between kisses.
"I don’t think I could put into words how much I missed you."
His other hand slides down one of your thighs, removing the friction of the wet fabric of your dress from your body. The only thing you could feel in that moment was the immense pleasure of his body’s heat against yours, sighing in pleasure as his finger neared the wetness already forming in your panties.
You are quick to unzip his pants and touch his already hard cock.
Everything happens quickly, both of you burning with desire, just wanting to feel each other and quench the longing that had consumed you for weeks.
He doesn’t even bother removing your panties, just pushing them aside and making you slide down onto his cock, a long moan escaping your lips, tears of pleasure welling up in your eyes.
You move, experimenting with the different position, holding onto him even tighter, watching him and unable to contain your sounds of delight with each new movement.
Stephen feels himself nearing the edge, and he doesn’t care if he’s coming too quickly. All he could think about in that moment was how beautiful you looked riding him, the most divine vision he had ever seen in his life. If he were to go to hell for this, it didn’t matter—it was worth it.
He wraps a finger around your necklace, with its silver crucifix, pulling you in for one last kiss as the two of you reach your climax.
You rest your head on his shoulder, recovering, feeling his arms holding you tightly.
"Don’t leave me, Stephen, please," you whisper. "I need you."
"I won’t, not ever," his hand gently caresses your back, comforting you. "I promise you."
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@ironstrange1991 (You commented that I could tag you in the posts about Stephen, so I hope you like it )
Let me know if you want to be tagged in my next stories 💞
I saw you said you write for Sherlock, are requests still open? I have a short blurb of an idea. Reader has a long day at college and Sherlock notices and tries to help, maybe with just pulling reader away from an assignment or something. Fluff, lots of fluff. (I’m tired, thank you for reading this ask though, you don’t have to write it)
A Mystery of Calm
bbc/Sherlock Holmes x Reader
718 words
I decided to combine your idea with one I already had, I'm also in college, so I know how complicated and difficult this period of our lives can be, but we'll get through it.
As it's the first time I've written after so long, I decided to write something not so long, but I hope it doesn't upset you.
Enjoy reading, I hope you like it.
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It was almost 7 a.m. and Sherlock Holmes was at home at 221B Baker Street, immersed in yet another of his cases, something about a politician killed during his own election campaign. But his attention was focused on something much closer: you, his partner.
He knew that your exams were approaching and that this made you feel overwhelmed. The stress was consuming you, it even seemed to have become a feature of your personality. Worrying about getting the best grades and staying among the best students was like a big weight on your shoulders, it was all you could think about, with no time for distractions or fun, not even the most fascinating books could hold your attention anymore.
Sherlock looked around again and found himself getting worried, it was still so early and you hadn't even taken a break from your studies to eat or sleep the night before, it was clear that you were tired, he could tell just by your breathing and droopy eyes. Noticing your anxiety, Sherlock decided it was time to put work aside and use his skills not only to solve mysteries, but also to help the love of his life.
"Darling," he said softly, approaching where you were sitting, "you need a rest."
You looked at him, a tired expression mixed with doubt. "But I have so much to study, Sherlock! I have a very important exam tomorrow, I don't want to do badly."
Holmes smiled, knowing that you needed more than words of comfort "Sometimes the best way to move forward is to take a step back. Your grades are excellent and you've studied hard, I think a rest and some fresh air wouldn't hurt. How about a walk in the park? We can have a picnic, have something to eat, I can even show you my favorite crime scenes," he says with a sweet smile on his face.
Reluctantly, you agreed. Soon, the two of you were in Hyde Park, where the trees swayed gently and the sun illuminated the path. Sherlock knew you needed him at that moment, so even if it was just something simple, he made the effort and asked Mrs. Hudson to help him prepare a delicious picnic, with sandwiches, fruit and some tea.
You sat under the shade of your favorite tree, the same one where he met you for the first time and asked you various questions, considering you a suspect in one of his cases, where you had your first date and where he assumed that for the first time he might be having romantic feelings for someone. As you ate, he watched you with affection. "You know, even the greatest detectives need a moment's break. The mind needs to be aired in order to find solutions."
You laughed, just being away from your books and study materials made you feel a little lighter. "But I'm not a detective, Sherlock."
"But you are a problem solver," he replied, looking into her eyes. "Life, like a mystery, takes time and patience."
After the picnic, he led her to a quieter area of the park. "Close your eyes and listen," he said. "The sounds of nature can be as comforting as a book."
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, feeling your worries dissipate. The birdsong, the gentle whisper of the wind, and Sherlock's reassuring presence beside you brought a peace you couldn't remember feeling for weeks.
Sherlock approaches you, placing his hand gently on your cheek and leaving a kiss under your lips. You smile as he pulls away, knowing that despite everything, you had chosen the right person for you.
"Thank you, my love," you whisper, still close to him.
"And remember, love," he says with a smile. "When everything seems like an unsolvable mystery, it's good to have someone by your side to help clear your head."
In a new mood, you returned home, knowing that you had studied enough and now needed a little rest for your mind. After a long, relaxing bath, you lay down on the bed you shared every night with Sherlock and felt him tuck the soft sheet under your body.
"Sleep well, my love," he says, leaving a light kiss on your forehead and leaving your room to finally let you rest.
