The One With The Advent Calendar (Day 5)

The one with the Advent Calendar (Day 5)

Pairing: Henry Cavill x reader

Warning: 18+ only

You had just got out of the shower when you heard your phone ringing; knowing the only person that called you this late at night could be Henry, you almost broke your foot to answer it.

“Hey baby”- you said breathless as soon as the call connected. You had been too focus on not losing his call to noticing he was actually video calling you. So once you saw your boyfriend’s face your eyes sparkled a little bit.

“What if I wasn’t alone!”- Henry smirked looking at the valley of your breast. You had had no time to dress yourself, so the only thing covering you was a towel.

“What? I mean I could be wearing a strapless dress, they would never know”- you smirked before noticing the dark circles under your boyfriend’s eyes -“how are you?”

“Everything is fine”- of course he said he was fine, when did he not

“You look tired Hennybear”- he huffed at you. It wasn’t like he was annoyed at you, more like astonished at how much you could notice even trough a screen

“I just can’t wait to be back at home with you. I miss you”- you could have melted, Henry was the sweetest even when he fucked you so hard you could barely walk the next day. He was able to be sweet even then, you really didn’t know how he did it.

“I miss you too, this is why I’m spending all day tomorrow watching you being a super awesome witcher on tv”- he laughed at you

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”- you gasped at him

“Never say such an heresy, every again”- you were outraged

“You’re a dork, but thank you”- he knew he could always count on your support in everything

“Nah… maybe you should go to sleep, I don’t want to keep you up if you’re tired”- you wanted to talk to him for hours but you were starting to worry about how tired he looked.

“You know what I would like to do?”- he asked, and you should have guessed from his smirk what he wanted, but didn’t pay any mind to it too worry about his health and sleep schedule

“What?”

“I would really like to know what surprise was in store for us in today box of the calendar?”- Henry said and you almost laughed at his dorky face

“I didn’t open it today”

“Why”

“You weren’t here”- you shrugged

“Well I’m here now… somehow. Let’s open it”- you looked at him to make sure he was serious before opening the box with the number five on it

“Well what is it?”- Henry urged you when it was clear you had opened it but weren’t saying anything.

You took the gift and showed it to Henry. As soon as his eyes lended on the purple dildo he smirked

“Isn’t this perfect? What do you say love? You wanna have some fun?”- your breath hitched at Henry’s word. It didn’t take a genius to guess what your boyfriend was hinting at, beside it wouldn’t even be the first time. With your boyfriend’s job, which required him to travel a lot, and with your inability to always follow him, you weren’t new to phone sex

You got yourself comfortable on the bed and then patiently waited

“Touch your boobs love, you know I love them”- Henry was short of breath already just by watching you laying naked on the bed.

You gently squeezed your breast before focusing on your nipple

“You look so beautiful love, I want you to take your little toy and give that pretty pussy of yours whatever she wants”

You looked at your boyfriend on your phone while slowly passing the dildo trough your slit, once you were nice and wet you started to fuck yourself with it.

You looked at Henry the whole time: his eyes were full with lust, his groans were music to your ears. Even without seeing all of him, you knew he was playing with himself too.

Knowing you were at your peak, you stimulated your clitoris to bring you over the edge.

“So how is your new toys?”- Henry asked some time later once you both had had time to calm down. You were both on the bed under the cover, you were ready to go to sleep but you wanted to talk to each other for as long as you could.

“I’m used to much better, but I have high standards so…”- Henry smirked at your answer, he already knew you were always going to prefer his cock to any toy, but it was always nice to hear you say it.

This is really short and there isn’t that much smut in it but this is how it is today. Sorry

English is not my first language so I’m sorry if there are any mistakes

FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME AND APPRECIATED ❤️

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Masterlist

Sherlock x Reader: what it would be like to love you [One Shot]

Plot: What happens when a genius and a hopeless romantic are arranged to be wed?

or, the one where you broke your own heart to keep him happy only for him to realize all of his happiness lied with you.

Tags: angst, fluff, cheesy proposals, painfully emotionally unavailable men, my poor oldey writing, jealousy, canon-level violence, guns, injuries

A broken engagement.

Sherlock presumes he should be happy -- relieved at least.

But he was … surprised. Painfully so.

Sherlock Holmes, the greatest mind in modern history, has an inability to be surprised. He sees too much, understands every glance and touch. If it intrigues him he will be able to decipher a situation in one glance.

He thinks of it as a gift, one that has proven useful in more ways than one. It had definitely saved his back from many situations. His surprisingly hopelessly romantic little sister (all thanks to a certain young duke) seems to think otherwise.

“Those inquisitive eyes of yours make you incapable of understanding a woman’s heart, dear brother. You’re too logical. It makes you blind.”

A woman’s heart. He had scoffed then. He knew it would be a while before he would try to settle down, or actually find a woman he would find tolerable enough to spend his waking moments with. In fact, he doubts he would’ve found someone who would be willing to deal with his intricacies too.

Yet, if there was one person who would be able to catch him off guard it would be his eccentric fiance.

Logically, it wasn’t that she was as brilliant as he was, as conniving as his older brother Mycroft, nor as sneaky as his little sister Enola. In one glance she was a pretty average but certainly a beautiful woman. A bit simplistic sure but not too doltish either.

However, she just refuses to be predictable, doing things that not even one as smart as Sherlock can foretell. He still isn’t quite sure if he had been underestimating her or she was too daft for Sherlock to apply the logic of his world.

It was arranged -- one that would bring her family honor for marrying the genius of the century Sherlock Holmes and his a proper title that would leverage him some power that would be useful for his … line of work.

When the engagement between the two families had been announced he had expected the brat that was half a decade younger than him to throw a hissy fit -- a noblewoman born with a golden spoon would not want to marry one of lower position with lesser blood.

But she had been agreeable.

Even giddy at the prospect of marrying him.

“I’ve read so much of your work!”

She was bluffing, he was certain. Many women had tried to sneak their way with sweet words only to go mute when he asked them about the details.

“I thought for sure the butler was the murderer,” she pouted. He told her not to feel bad, almost everyone did. “But I did think the way the maid told the police it was murder before there was an investigation was a bit weird. Though a part of me thought maybe she was just her lover.”

That made Sherlock’s brows raise. He had the same observation the first time, it was one of the first clues he had that the woman had not been a simple servant.

He thought maybe she wasn’t so terrible then, at that very moment.

That was until he had learned from the whispers of their social circles that she had been the one to instigate the engagement after all. Probably a whim of hers that was a bit too eagerly given by her doting father.

It left a bad taste in his mouth.

But, truly, you weren't a horrible person, he had observed.

Despite living in high society her entire life she was never one to look down on those beneath her. Her head may be up in the clouds most of the time, a bit too idealistic and naive for his liking, but to her everyone was equal that even a man from a fallen house would be worthy enough to marry into hers.

Even sparing those nosy hags a sharp glare, using her undeniably high status to cut through any whispers and rumors of his own lesser status. Reminding everyone of how he had managed to crawl and sneak himself from a fallen family back into high society -- a feat not achieved by a mere no one.

It made him see her as a powerful ally.

Then she became a friend.

He didn’t have a lot.

Someone who won’t think of his corrections on facts as bragging. A person who won’t purposefully misunderstand him to soothe their own wounded pride.

“You’re brilliant, ‘lock!” she’d grin, eyes always twinkling in pure delight every time he’d prove himself right, even at your own expense. “Absolutely brilliant!”

Someone who won’t think of his painfully practical gifts as a mockery.

“What was it called? Hairclips?” she’d look at them curiously at first, making sure to understand both its intricacies and simplicity until he explains it.

Then she’ll smile -- always smiling at him. “I love it!”

Then … she was gone.

Slipped through his own fingers like sand. As she got crushed by his own betrayal.

It all started with a ghost from his past.

Victoria.

She was an old childhood friend and a teammate when he was still starting in his sleuthing skills. His hobby pissed off a lot of important people so it was a nice help to have someone to watch his back.

He thought his young fiance would be livid, turning into a vile woman from jealousy like so many women he has seen.

But she tolerated them and their relationship as best as she could.

“'lock?”

He turned, surprised to see his fiance in her sleeping ware and a thin coat over it. Despite her many quirks, she wasn’t one to dress inappropriately in front of others much less in front of him. So he was quick to close the front door and protect her decency as best as he could.

“Are you …” she turned to look at him, and for the first time she wasn’t smiling like she always does, Sherlock saw the insecurity in her eyes.

“Is she coming with you?”

The jealousy was slowly eating her up from the inside.

And … it made him smile.

Almost relieved.

It was confusing but he didn’t have time to figure it out. Time was ticking, and he had to catch the burning wick before it imploded.

And Mycroft’s screams from the carriage outside were getting vexing.

Knowing what he knew now, he should’ve stayed in that goddamn house and let everything else explode into chaos.

He should’ve stayed with you.

“Darling,” It was his endearment for her. Cause she was such a darling to be with. But now, he simply meant it. She was his darling, his darling fiancee, his darling friend. “You wouldn’t have to worry about my fidelity.”

“I --” she yelped, shaking her head as if embarrassed at the thoughts in her head. “... I knew that.”

“Look at me,” he leaned down, gently pushing her chin up to make her look up at him. “When I come back, let’s talk about the wedding, hmm? I’m still not quite convinced about the bouquet arrangement that the damned florist from hell picked.”

That seemed to perk her up and he couldn’t help but smile with her.

“So wait for me, okay?”

He should’ve known that the fates wouldn’t be that kind.

That they wouldn’t wait.

It wasn’t until he was knee-deep in uncovering secrets that he realized they had pulled a fast one on him. That their target to keep his mouth shut would not be his own life but his Achilles heel.

His darling.

“You don’t want to do this, Mikhael!” Mycroft, Sherlock’s older brother tried his best to use his veiled threats to convince the rat to put down the gun aimed shakily at his sobbing fiance and a Victoria that tried to hide her behind her own back, hands spread out with only a few feet between the two of them.

“Mikhael put it down. It’s over.”

Sherlock was frozen a few feet from the two ladies, fearful that a single misstep would cost him a friend.

He didn’t have a lot.

“I’m not falling down alone.”

“No!”

He must’ve gone insane, or it must’ve been his instinct to protect his old partner in crime.

But to this day he could never wipe the betrayal in your eyes as he grabbed Victoria away from the bullet’s line of sight instead of you. The two of them falling to the ground just in time for the great Sherlock Holmes to finally realize his great mistake as he lay sprawled out on the floor.

Looking up just to catch your tearful eyes, a hundred different emotions running through it.

Mycroft, bless him, managed to pull you down by your feet but he had been just a split second too late, the bullet piercing on your left arm instead of your chest. But Sherlock had a feeling his betrayal hurt deeper than any bullet could burrow on your skin.

He had a feeling the bullet might as well have pierced your bruised heart.

Especially as you laid there with tears in your eyes, but failed to let out a single scream.

Sherlock had never been good with emotions.

It was one of his few flaws -- could never read when a person is getting offended or if his corrections have started to embarrass them. Could read their minds but not their sentiments.

Just like now when you surprised him once more as he stared at you in the hospital bed with a bouquet of flowers he had spent too much time thinking about gripped in his hand. Narcissus for forgiveness, and bright purple hyacinth for regret.

“I’m fine, really!” you smiled, but it wasn’t the one he was used to. Head flinching to the side, suddenly uncomfortable. It had the same curve, your eyes still crinkling the same but you still looked so sad.

A deep sadness, one that rooted from somewhere he could never reach. One he could never heal -- not with his too careful, logical, cold touches.

But what does he know? He was never good with emotions.

“I … I have no excuse,” he started, trying to apologize but you just shook your head.

“You will never have to give me one,” you looked at him like you understood but still he had a feeling you didn’t have the same train of thoughts running in your heads. He almost feels you pulling away, your train trudging away into a place he couldn’t follow. Your roads diverging, seemingly never to meet again.

It sent shivers up his spine, his hand twitching as if desperate to reach out to you. That despite all logic of reality, his heart screams of the feeling of you suddenly disappearing right in front of his very eyes.

“Darling …”

You flinched. A normal man would miss it but not him. Maybe his gift truly was a curse.

“I’m --”

“Visiting time is over, dearie.”

The old nurse was apologetic at having to cut short the reunion of the two lovers but it was the rules.

“I’ll come to visit tomorrow,” Sherlock walked to your side to place the flower on your lap.

“You don’t have to.”

“I’ll come,” he insisted, reaching out to touch a stray hair on your face as he always does but you turned, looking down on the flowers on your lap and pressing on its fragile petals.

Sherlock could’ve almost felt your connection snap.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, my darling.”

You flinched, taking a breath before looking up at him, smiling.

You still looked so fucking sad.

“Goodbye, 'lock.”

“Sherlock.”

The familiar voice broke him out of his reverie as he paced the steps back to his carriage.

“Victoria.”

He tries not to be bitter, tries to be rational, and not blame his old friend for the grave he had dug himself in. But it was difficult not to grind his jaw when he was barely out of the hospital he had unintentionally put his fiance in.

“I never thanked you,” she approached him slowly, like a wild animal she was trying to befriend.

“Don’t.”

He doesn’t want to be thanked, doesn’t even want to be reminded of what he’s done -- or did not do. Yet here she stood, the greatest piece of evidence of his mistake.

“We need to talk,” she sighed, blocking his way and effectively halting his steps.

“Victoria, I’m tired --”

“You do not belong here.”

You froze on your step, just about to go to the ensuite bathroom when an eerily familiar voice sneaked into your room from the front window overlooking the entrance of the hospital.

“Here?”

This time, you knew before looking down outside the hospital walls just who exactly the other voice is.

“Yes, here,” the fiery woman with her fiery hair stomped the ground she stood on. Eyes blazing in passion and determination you had never had on your own. “Here in this stuffy place with your stuffy clothes that make you look like a circus fool trying to make pleasantries with people you don’t even like.”

Gritting your teeth, you felt like a nosy child, listening to personal conversations that just chipped away at every piece of your tattered heart.

“Well, don’t you know me quite well.”

“I do.”

She answered.

“I do know you,” Victoria reached out, hand gripping the one that wasn’t holding his cane. “And I know I could make you happy.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened, frozen on his feet. He wasn’t a fool. He knew of those affections behind her eyes, it was all too familiar with him. But as the years passed he had appreciated her friendship and companionship way too much, pushing and pushing it until it just disappeared.

He had hoped the years had done the same for her.

He was a fool.

The silence was all too thick but Victoria knew pushing a man like Sherlock for an answer would lead to pointless nothing, “My uncle in America, he wants me to work for him. And … they have an opening for a lead detective and a President’s assassination to solve.”

That piqued his interest.

An American president was assassinated?

This is exactly why he needs more connections. One that would give him priceless information so he doesn’t have to keep chasing tails. But … a position as a head detective would also do that for him.

Logically, remaining engaged to you would only chain him down.

Yet, his chest constricts, each breath made his lungs throb.

“Sherlock,” he led his eyes back into her eyes. Their history flashed before his very eyes, good ones, but the last one had him nearly crushing the cane you gave him in his hand.

The look in your eyes as the bullet pierced you -- the resignation, the lack of shock.

Like you knew he would run.

“You can always run away with me.”

Foxgloves for confusion.

White Poppies for the one who gives him peace.

And a pink ribbon because he knew it was your favorite color to tie it all together.

However, just as he finished the last bow for the flower he was gonna bring you tomorrow, the door opened, his servant bowed letting him know of who exactly waited for him, unannounced, in the tea room.

“Sir,” his voice was shaky, and Sherlock knew exactly why. “We have a guest.”

The duke has always been a fair man, it was one of the reasons he always had a certain fondness for this sponsor of his.

But even he knew his glare was meant to cut.

“Mr. Holmes,” he eyed the love seat on his right to let him know where exactly he wants him to sit. He had been prepared for this, knowing your doting father would have his head.

The silence that filled the glamorous room was almost too much.

It wasn’t until the duke called his name again that he realized he had been so full of shame that he failed to be polite and look your father in the eyes.

“You know, when my daughter shoved a newspaper to my face, droning on and on about the brilliant detective that was putting the Queen’s men to shame, I thought nothing about it.”

He felt his heart drop at the nonchalant revelation.

What?

He hadn’t heard of this version of the story yet All that was said to him was a certain duke had been fond of him ever since he had disrespected his nemesis that had once been the Queen’s head of security and that’s why he decided to sponsor him.

“And even when she begged me to support you, saying how you needed all the help you could get, I thought it was nothing short of an infatuation. So I did what any respectable father should do and tried to buy my way into her happiness, getting her to be your fiance was easy enough,” he let out a small bitter laugh as if recalling the memories. “But you could not imagine her rage when I told her of what I did. Nearly dragging me back all the way to your home to take it back. Screaming about how she did not want to trap a man like you who was clearly meant to fly.”

Sherlock was flabbergasted. It was well-known throughout the social circles that you were the one who had ”trapped” the man into an engagement. You had always laughed it off, teasing him for falling for your charms.

But …. you didn’t want to marry him?

He had thought all this time that this silly little engagement had been all your doing.

“But then you accepted,” the duke gritted his teeth. “And you gave her hope.”

He did. He remembered nonchalantly accepting it, simply thinking of the arrangement as a necessity -- a thing he has to suffer for if it meant getting to what he wants in the end.

But it seemed you knew. You knew all along he had no love for you -- barely tolerating his fiancee who he treated like a fool when all she had ever wanted was to be the one to walk beside the lonely path he had created for himself.

“I know a rational man like you is probably wondering what an old man like me aims to achieve by coming here,” he didn’t, but Sherlock already knew of his effect on people, his dead glare that offended the most rational of minds, always making them think that he was looking down on them.

Except you.

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“Did I use the hairclips right, Lock?”

“I think people always hate people who they think are better than them. And you are better than the lot of them so don’t bother with it and let other people lick their own pride. I like you just the way you are.”

The Duke leaned back, slumping on the arm of the couch while rubbing his forehead.

“I guess I’m making a case for my daughter,” he pursed his lips as if he was disgusted that he would even have to, especially to a man who would benefit more from the arrangement than his daughter ever would. “To show you that the woman you failed to protect had never failed you behind your back.”

“Sir --”

“I am not done!” he slammed his hand on the arm of the chair. Even someone like Sherlock would know unbridled rage when he saw one. “I did not just come here just to rip you a new one.”

Pulling out a plain envelope with a certain scent that had been all too familiar for him. The letters that had been his constant companion in the long months he would have to leave the country.

“The engagement is broken.”

He was fairly sure this was the first time he felt horror.

True horror.

An unexplainable chill that crawls up from behind him, snickering, mocking.

The consequences of his continuous mistakes finally piled up on him one by one until he felt like his chest would burst. His blood turning so cold yet his skin couldn’t help but sweat. His brain, for once, finally failed him as he grabbed the fragile piece of paper without uttering a single word.

It would seem this was something he could no longer fix.

“I know someone as brilliant as you would have a life full of adventures. One brighter than the next,” the duke stood up, slamming the teacup impolitely on the glass table. Sherlock could only focus on the crack that ran on the base. “But I hope you don’t wake up one day, tired and worn, sitting at the top with no one to call home. Too focused on the adventures you didn’t take that you never realized the treasure at the end of the trail had been something you once had all along.”

The old duke walked towards to door, sparing the young man one last glance – satisfied in the sickest way as a father should when he saw the look on his face. But then he felt sad, wondering what would happen to this lonely soul now that his daughter had given up on him.

“Well, son,” he sighed. “Now, you can fly.”

The country air has done you some good.

It’s been a long month but the throbbing in your heart has finally ceased even if just for a little bit.

Your late mother always told you to let bad things flow through you as you go through life – to not ignore it, nor suppress it but to let yourself feel it as it passes then let it go.

The problem now is you didn’t want to let go, because all the memories that did nothing but hurt you were all you had left of him.

“My lady.”

You turned your face away from the view of the balcony of your room to look at your polite maid by the door.

“We have a guest.”

Was your father visiting?

He had explicitly told you to take all the time you need in your countryside home. The humiliation of your broken engagement you would’ve been able to take but everywhere you went was nothing but a painful reminder of the man who had betrayed your heart and thus you had to leave.

Every nook where he had dragged you in when the crowds gets overwhelming to every store he bought the intricate gifts he would offer you on the daily made you wilt.

Your father was all too willing to get you out of that place.

“Dad?”

Yet what stood in the middle of your waiting lounge was the sturdy body and mop of curly brown hair that had chased you from the shadows of England to the edge of your wildest dreams.

“Not quite, darling.”

A breath you didn’t know you left you.

“Sherlock.”

It was him. You turned to the small mirror hanging by the wall to as if to check if he was real yet his reflection stood the same way he did. Maybe it was the months of the distance between you two or the longing you have been trying to supress for months but looking at him now he seemed taller. A bit less confident but his eyes didn’t hold the same blankness that was nearly constant except in the few moments you managed to make him chuckle. He seemed finally sure of something, not the lost man that always had wandering eyes for bigger brighter things.

“What are you doing here?”

His eyes were as bright as the last time you had truly looked at it. Though now, it wasn’t as sharp as he let his gaze run to you, it makes you uncomfortable.

“I’ve come to deliver a letter.”

You frowned.

The last you had heard of him was that he was on a boat to American soil. What the hell is he doing in your self-imposed exile with a freakishly ominous letter.

“Is it … bad news?” you waried. He grimaced.

“I hope not.”

That did nothing for your worries. Sighing you took a couple of steps, holding your breath in hopes his scent won’t go into your system after you had vigorously flushed it out of your memory but it wafted in your nose the same.

You clenched your jaw to stop a shudder.

Flipping the letter, you found nothing to indicate that it had come from your father. Instead, in his print was a small header that let you know exactly what the rest of the official letter would contain.

A letter of proposal.

You steeled yourself to not look up in the mesmerizing eyes that threatens to bore holes on the top of your head.

“What the hell.”

“Language.”

Despite yourself, you glared up at him, your proximity forcing you to crane your neck but he just chuckled, nervously.

“Sherlock, what is this?”

He sighed. He didn’t break eye contact as he gently took your hands, guiding you to sit in the plush sofa while he kneeled down on one knee in front of you.

“Darling.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Unfortunately, my darling, I can’t,” he smiled, one of those rare ones you once used to steal from him. “After all, you are my darling, are you not? It would be silly of me to call you otherwise.”

“Stop with the games, Sherlock!”

That seemed to take him off guard, horrified when he finally saw the tears in your eyes.

“I am not one of your people of interest that you can trick with your confusing words! I did my dues! I gave you the freedom to make you happy! Was it not enough? What would be enough?! Because I’m –” you bit your lip to stop a wobble. “I’m empty now. I have nothing left of me to give you.”

“My darling.”

You looked at him to throw him another glare when the knives behind your eyes wavered at the grief in his. An unfamiliar emotion you never once saw in him.

“Forgive me,” for once in your life, you realized, you were looking down on him. He continued to surprise you when he rested his head on your knee. “You loved a fool.”

“Sherlock …”

“But I’m begging you,” he was determined, now confidently grabbing your hand as he leaned in closer. “I’m begging you to marry this fool – make me yours.”

You could feel your jaw falling in shock.

“Wha –,” you blinked. “What about Victoria?”

He shook his head, “That ship had long passed.”

“But you deserve – you were supposed to –”

“No,” he tightened his grip on your shaky hands. “I adore you with all my being but even you cannot dictate what I am meant to do. Because I am a selfish man who had always done whatever I want.”

“I’m even more confused, did I not give you what you had wanted?”

He calmed your shaking faith down with a simple kiss on the palm of your hands. Looked at you as if he had ran through this situation a million times in his head, his answer study and sure like those times everything clicks in a case and he finally found his truth.

“In all my complexities I have realized one thing because of you,” he explained, a soft smile on his face that had you letting out a breath. “I am, after all, a simple man. Just like any other man I had looked down upon for turning into fools for a woman. That I am one of those men who will uproot their entire life and throw away all their vocations if just for a spare glance from the woman they love.”

He chuckled when you gaped at him as if he too couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“And for all my ambitions, my greatest one is that I want to be loved by you most of all.”

You didn’t realize you had forgotten to blink throughout his declaration of love until you felt a warm tear getting wiped away from your cheek.

“Sherlock …”

“So I come as a simple man, a second son from a fallen family, with no prospects other than the fact that I will assure you a life full of glory and happiness,” his free hand was suddenly holding a beautiful olive box that opened to show the family ring that was passed down from one wife of each generation. “To let me be the fool who will love you the most out of them all.”

“Papa!”

Sherlock’s conversation with the mayor was cut short, his only warning was the familiar hue of his daughter’s bouncing hair before he was nearly tackled to the ground.

“Allianah! You’re father was talking to the guest!”

His daughter pouted at his wife’s reprimands.

“Sorry, Mr. Guest.”

Both men chuckled, Sherlock pressing a kiss on her chubby cheeks. “Excuse me.”

The old man only nodded fondly. He had been familiar of Sherlock Holmes when he was a bit younger, so it was a pleasant surprise to see him become a doting family man no one could’ve seen coming.

“Darling, I told you to rest,” your husband softly scolded. Even though it was a party to celebrate his latest success as your father’s partner on your daily business and saving London by foiling the plans of wannabe bioterrorists on his spare time, he had still forbidden you in breaking the bedrest your doctor had ordered you to take after finding out you were probably carrying twins this time. “Let’s get you and the little ones upstairs, hmm?”

“I’m fine, lock,” a pout too similar to the ones his daughter gave him not a minute ago would’ve made him offer the world up to you on a platter, but this was one of the rare times he stood his ground.

“I know you are, my darling,” he cooed, but still placed a supporting arm on your back as he guided you up the stairs and into the master’s bedroom. “But humor me and my worries, don’t you?”

Once the three of you were on the second floor of your home he turned to his bouncing, energetic daughter.

“Yannah, sweetheart, why don’t you go to your bedroom, I'll tuck you in in a bit.”

Ever the daddy’s girl, your daughter nodded once then bounded her way out of your bedroom and onto the other side of the estate being chased by her maids.

“That was easy,” you raised a brow, letting yourself be led to the master’s bedroom, the dying light from the sunset outside drowned it in gentle orange hues. Despite your initial protests, you sighed in relief as you melted in your marital bed.

Carrying a Holmes' inside you was getting bad for your back.

“I guess I just know my way around Holmes women.”

That made you giggle, reaching up your hands to cup his face and press small kisses around them. He took the opportunity to tuck the blanket tighter around your body.

“Try not to give me a heart attack and stay here for the rest of the night, hmm?”

You nodded, pressing one last kiss to his lips “do you have to go back down, lock?”

It was lonely, having to be confined in your room all the time. The moment he had found out about your pregnancy he had taken the first ship off the foreign country he was in, his heart almost failing when he saw his heavily pregnant wife walking around the city with his daughter like she wasn’t carrying life inside her.

Which is exactly why you had tried to hide it from him as much as possible. In hindsight, it was foolish to do so considering who you were married to. It led to you and him being visited by a doctor he had trusted that broke the news to the two of you of the possibility of twins.

You had never seen the outside of your estate ever since.

Thankfully, your husband has banned work from entering your home either, dedicating his time solely to making sure you were well taken care of throughout the entire pregnancy.

Sometimes, when he has a dull moment for himself it makes him laugh.

Oh, what would his self from 5 years ago think if he saw him now.

He’d like to see his face if he knew that the giddy woman who got on the end of his every last nerve would one day carry his name, his children, and his happiness in her soft little hands.

That she would one day be the one to give him everything he had been searching for his entire life.

“‘Lock? Pretty please?”

That every adventure he had thought would brighten his life would dull in comparison to the colors of her eyes as she pleaded for him to abandon their guests like heathens and spend the rest of his days with her.

He pretended to think about it until your pleading eyes got bigger making him smile fondly at his wife. “Alright, I'm sure Mycroft can handle entertaining our guests till the night.”

In the ballroom, Mycroft felt a shiver run up his spine.

With you in his arms, he lets his mind wander.

He thinks his past self would think he did alright.

I know this is not stepdaddy but I promise that is coming soon! This has been sitting in my WIP's for so long i just had to finish it before finals end me. I hope you like it!!

- tia

I’m working on Day 3 of the advent calendar, hopefully I’ll be able to post it today.

In the mean time, enjoy a beautiful Henry Cavill smiling.

(For once the Gif is mine)

This scene was so simple but yet so funny at the same time 😂😂

Geralt of Rivia and the terrible, no good, very bad portal experience

How I Married Your Mother Pt. 2

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. SMUT! Read at your own risk. Fluff, Angst, Woman on top, pregnancy symptoms, creampie, pregnancy test, discussion of keeping the baby, ultrasound.

A/N: I needed a wholesome break from the sin that is The Bar Au 🥵, well as wholesome as smut can be? Anyway, I struggled to make this shorter, but finally gave in to the length. There will just have to be a part three. 🤗Dividers by @firefly-graphics​. I’ve been going through a lot this week, so I hope you enjoy!

Read How I Married Your Mother, Pt 1, This is Part of the How I Met Your Father Series found here.

Smut under the cut.

I no longer have a taglist.

Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

As you rode Chris you felt electric.

Your thighs were sore from tensing up, because every time you moved your hips, the drag of his long, thick cock your walls sparked fire.

You panted and looked down on him as he looked at where you two were connected. Those fucking eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheeks and his mouth was open, gasping for breath at how good you were fucking himself on him.

You put your hand on one of his pecs, tracing your thumb against his nipple. Chris’s mouth opened wider.

“Fuck Angel. Didn’t know that you missed me that much…shit! Fucking yourself so good on this cock.. Pussy so wet. And sooo fucking tight.”

One of Chris’ hands reached for your clit, and the other hand grasped your breast.

“Fuck, Chris! Your dick feels sooo damn good inside me.”

Your thighs trembled as you moved faster, the stimulation from Chris’ hands spurring you on. He brushed your nipple with his thumb. It was so sensitive that you moaned loudly, so he did it again, causing you to clench and grind down on his cock.

“So fucking responsive for me. Shit!”

Chris moved the hand that working your clit and slapped your ass.

“Ride me cowgirl!”

He continued rubbing your nipple and sat up to lick it. The. He breathed up into your face as his eyes held yours. His deep voice caused you to shiver.

“You’re about to milk my cock for all that it’s worth.”

And he leaned down and softly suckled your breast. That and those blue eyes entrancing you made you throw your head back as you came violently round him.

Chris tilted you back onto the bed and ponded you until he reached his end, spurting cum into your clenching hot cunt. You could swear that you felt every pulse and shot against your walls and cervix.

“Holy fuck, that was hot!” He kissed your sweaty forehead. “God I missed you.”

“Missed you too.” You started giggling.

“But ride me cowgirl? How are you so sexy but such a dork?”

You smiled into Chris’s eyes as he lay stroking your side, chuckling with happiness.

“What can I say? it's my superpower.”

You smirked at him.

“What did you put on our dick?”

Chris raised his eyebrow at you.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It feels like an electric baton. Like it’s in 3-D or something”

Chris leaned up on his elbow.

“Can I have some of what you’re smoking? Because my dick has always been 3-D? Maybe it’s all the lotion I’ve used jacking off to pictures of you for the last two weeks.”

You giggled again.

“You mean you’re real? Chris Evans just let me ride him into the sunset?”

Chris smiled, glad that you two could laugh about it. His fame had been the only source of tension in your relationship.

“Yeah. Because he loves you so much.”

He leaned down and kissed you on the nose, then rubbed your nipples.

“It is really hot how you reacted every time I touched you. What’s up with that?”

You shrugged.

“I don't know. I’m just extra sensitive. Maybe it’s reunification hormones?”

Chris laughed.

“Or maybe it’s just going to be that time of the month. Can’t that affect sensation? Your tits are extra big. Me likey.”

Chris leaned down and started running his lips across your nipples. You lay back and smiled as you enjoyed the sensation, you hand in his hair and scratching his scalp as he made you feel good.

Then your eyes popped open. You sat straight up and pushed Chris off you.

“What’s wrong?”

You looked at Chris and your mouth fell open.

“Fuck!”

You gasped and grabbed your phone.

“Haven’t had a time of the month since couple of weeks before Vegas.”

You checked your cycle tracker.

“Holy Shit!”

This explained a lot.

Chris was still clueless.

“But that was two months…” He caught on. …”ago…”

“Yeah…”

You started freaking out and going to your closet to grab some sweats, Chris’ in fact, your new favorites.

“What are you doing?”

You were irritated now.

“Going to the drug store, Christopher.”

“You can’t go in this state. Let me.”

“The paps are stalking you. They followed us here. You certainly can’t be seen buying a pregnancy test…what if I’m not pregnant? I love you, but I’m not going through all that for nothing.”

Chris knew you were right.

“Then what do we do?”

You grabbed your phone and pressed a contact. It was two am, but you knew she'd pick up the phone.

An hour later, Kit was knocking on your door with a bag of assorted pregnancy tests.

“Whaddup, Dude Bro. Not firing blanks I see!” She put her hand up for a high five from Chris.

“You gonna leave me hanging? I see how it is.”

You took the bag from her, not amused.

“Not funny Kit. Let’s hope he is firing blanks.”

“Hey!”

Chris protested as you gave Kit a quick hug.

“Thank you girl.”

You grabbed the bag and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

You heard Kit and Chris trying the knob and knocking on the door.

“Open up bitch.”

“C’mon, Angel, let me in.”

“Just let me have 10 minutes please!”

They heard the panic in your voice and decided to stop pressing you.

Chris and Kit went to the kitchen to give you some space.

Kit walked around the kitchen island eyeing Chris.

“So. If my girl is pregnant, are you gonna man up?”

Chris retorted quickly.

“Have you forgotten the last two weeks? You know how I feel about her.”

“Yeah, yeah, but you’re also an actor.”

Kit squared up, as tall as Chris was as he sat on the stool.

“You fuck my girl over, you’re a dead man. Just know that if you run from your responsibilities, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.”

Kit and Chris stared each other down for about 30 seconds until Kit lost interest and opened your fridge.

“A bitch is hungry, what y’all got to eat in here.”

Chris hadn’t thought of running, but now he didn’t know whether to get a head start or laugh.

Kit was kinda crazy.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom you were looking in the mirror and trying to regulate your breathing. It took you a couple of minutes, but you finally opened all the tests and lined them up.

Kit had bought five different kinds.

“Nothing to it, but to do it,” you said to yourself as you started the process.

15 minutes and five tests later, you walked out of the bathroom. Your face said it all

“Ohhhhh, SHIT!”

“Kit…” your voice barely registered. You were in shock. You looked over to Chris who was sitting on the stool with a blank stare.

“I’M FIXING TO BE AN AUNTIE!!!”

“Kit!”

Your voice was louder now as the panic set in.

“OooooooOOOO! I hope it’s a little ol’ girl!”

“KIT SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

Both Kit and Chris were staring at you. Kit looked from you to him and cleared her throat.

“Well, you two might like some privacy right about now. Iiiii’mmmm gonna go get something to eat. From The Diner. Watcha want?”

She was greeted with silence as you and Chris continued to look at each other, trying to read the other’s expression.

“Alrighty then. I’ll get the usual. Be back.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Chris got up and as he neared, you backed away.

You went to sit on the couch and he followed. Your head was in your hands as you felt the couch dip beside you.

“Shit.”

Your heart dropped. You peeked between your fingers to look at him.

Chris was grinning.

“Ohhh shit!” He started laughing.

“What the hell are you laughing at???”

“This is perfect!”

You stood up, horrified.

“You’ve lost your fucking mind!”

Chris stood up and put his hands on your arms.

“I know this is a little unexpected. But it’s not like we didn’t want it, right? I mean, we’ve been going at it raw since day one…”

“I didn’t… I… I’m not trying to trap you Chris…”

You shook your head and pulled away.

“I didn’t say that. How could you trap me when I’m a grown man? I knew very well what we were doing and this crossed my mind.”

He shrugged.

“I decided that I’d be thrilled if you have my baby.”

You stared at him.

“Did you plan this?”

“No. Just like you, I’m not trying to trap you, but you had to know this could happen.”

You shook your head again.

“I guess I did. Theoretically. But I was so caught up in this new… this.. us..”

You motioned between you two.

“…And work that I just didn’t think…Oh fuck. Work. What am I going to do?”

You started sobbing and Chris moved toward you and tentatively took you in his arms. When you let him, he held you close.

“It’s okay…..” He was silent for a long while. “Whatever you want to do, I’m here.”

You held onto him for dear life. You were so scared.

“This is not like I had this planned.”

Chris held you out from him, and wiped your tears with his thumbs. He kissed your lips. And then he started to kneel.

“What the hell are you doing???”

“Will you marry me?”

“NO!“

Chris was shocked. He got up and sat on the couch with the same expression he wore when he found out you were pregnant.

He looked so lost that you felt bad. You sat down beside him.

“Chris… I can’t marry you.”

Your voice was soft

“Why not?” He looked so much like a little boy.

“Because I.. we just can’t.”

“Look me in my eyes and tell me you don't love me.”

You couldn’t do it. You looked down at your hands twisting in your lap.

“You only want to marry me because I’m pregnant. Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“I love you Angel. That’s why I want to marry you.”

“Chris, we’ve known each other for two months…”

He looked at you, and those blue eyes never seemed bluer.

“True, but I knew the moment I saw you.”

“Chris….”

“Tell me you don’t feel the same way and I’ll adjust my attitude. I won’t ask you. For a month. But I will ask you every month until the day I die until you say yes.”

You sighed.

“I don’t go with you. Chris Evans marries librarian. So not the move Chris.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that. You make me happy.”

“I haven't told my mom about you.”

“I’ve told mine everything about you.”

You looked at him in astonishment.

“Everything?”

He smiled. “We’re close.”

You just shook your head and tried to talk him out of it.

“Do you want a boring life?”

“I want consistency.”

“Do you want to be tied down with a family?”

“I want the opportunity to be there for my kid.”

“Do you want to be trapped?”

“I want to be given the gift of trying to make you happy every day for the rest of my life.” You looked in his eyes and you knew he meant it.

“Give me a chance to do those things. I love you. I want you. I need you. I want to make this work.”

You put your head in your hands.

“Chris. This is too much. I need… time. to think. I need space. To breathe.”

Chris didn’t want to leave. But if he stayed he knew it would be a fight and wouldn’t get him anywhere.

He gathered his things, and came back into the living room, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“I love you, Angel. Call me and I’m here.”

You nodded and gave him a hug at the door. This all felt so surreal. You went to your bed and lay down, hoping this was all a dream.

Kit basically broke into your apartment, although she had a key, when you wouldn’t answer her. You had to tell her why you were crying because she was about to go ham and unleash holy hell on Chris on social media.

“Dude Bro is gonna be a daddy. What’s the problem?”

“He asked me to marry him.”

Kit moved her neck.

“...As he should… Dafuq?”

“I’m not down for that Kit.”

“Girl, you are tripping. He is clearly head over heels for you. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Kit stopped and massaged her temples.

“I’m sorry. I said I was gonna stop saying that to people.”

Kit took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Then she spoke to you again in a faux soothing tone.

“How can I help you understand what the fuck is wrong with you?”

You didn’t have an explanation.

“It’s just too much to think about, Kit.”

“Are you going to keep the baby?”

You looked at her. She saw it in your eyes.

“Well then, think about this. When you have that baby, there is no way that you will keep Chris away. And you two can’t keep your hands off each other sooo… you’ll probably make more little dude bros. Why not marry him if nothing else than to save the baby mama drama?”

“Fuck the fact THAT YOU LOVE THAT MAN??? THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

Kit got up and went to the kitchen.

“Now eat this damn food. Got to make sure my godchild is fed.”

Kit fed you and stayed with you all night. You fell asleep curled up next to her on the couch.

The next morning, you woke up in your bed and reached for Chris. You panicked and then remembered the night before.

“My god. What have I done?”

You really turned down a marriage proposal from the man you loved.

You reached for your phone and melted when you saw the texts from Chris.

I wanted to call you and come back over so many times last night, but you said you wanted space.

Space sucks.

Call me.

Please.

You called him and he picked up immediately.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Hey, Angel. Did you sleep well?”

Chris sounded tired.

“Slept okay. How about you?”

He sighed. “Not a lot.”

“You hungry?”

“Not really.”

“You gotta eat.”

“Okay. You wanna go somewhere?”

“I… might be in your lobby. With food.”

You chuckled. “Well, come on up.”

You went to the bathroom and tried to fix your self. You looked terrible.

“You look gorgeous.”

Was the first thing Chris said when you opened the door. You smiled and stepped back to let him in.

“I look like shit. I need a shower…”

Chris went to the kitchen to put the food down.

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

You smiled at him. “How did you get in the lobby?”

“Doorman took pity on me when he saw the paparazzi.”

“Ah. Listen, Chris…”

“No, Angel. You listen.”

The authoritativeness in Chris’s voice gave you pause.

“I presented it all wrong last night. You can’t push me away. Like it said, I’m here. Believe it or not, I was already planning to propose. And I’m not going to alter those plans, so think about your answer.”

He moved to take you in his arms and you let him.

“Because pregnant or not, librarian or not, whether your mom ever knows about me or not, You’re my forever. And I just want to be yours.”

“Chris, I’ve thought…”

He cut you off with a kiss.

“You missed your chance last night. I’ll ask you again, but you don’t get to control it. I’m coming for you. And you need to get ready.”

You flushed and looked up at him through your lashes.

“Yes… Daddy.”

He chuckled. “Fuck Angel. Did you say something about a shower?”

Two weeks later—

Chris moved to sit down and the nurse quickly moved a chair behind him to catch him.

“Mr. Evans, are you okay?”

Chris looked at the doctor. “Who? What?”

“Oh. My. God, Chris! Look at them!”

Your voice broke as you said it.

Chris looked up at the screen and then remembered that you were on the table with an ultrasound wand up your hooo hah.

He moved to hold your hand again and looked into your tear filled eyes.

“Yes, Ms. YLN and Mr. Evans. There they are. Your twins. Baby A and Baby B.”

Handsome

Summary: you’re heading home from a Christmas Eve Eve dinner at a nice restaurant.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Popstar!Reader, Chris Evans x Sister!Reader

“Did you have a good time?” Henry asked as he helped her into her jacket.

His little girl nodded her head. She then looked up to you. You took the hint and gave her her nutcracker that she had to bring to the restaurant. Henry smiled as she hugged the wooden thing to her chest.

“Let’s get going,” Henry said.

He stood up and picked up Ariella. He kissed her cheek. You fixed the tulle skirt of her dress that had bunched up.

“Aww, you tired, Bubby?” your brother asked.

She yawned answering her uncle’s question. You rubbed her back.

“It’s been such an exhausting day of looking so cute,” you said.

“And watching the two of you finally get engaged,” Chris said.

“It took him a good twenty minutes to finally ask and let Y/n answer,” Scott added.

“It took him five minutes at most!” you exclaimed turning your fiancé around.

“Too long!” Chris said jokingly.

“I think I’ll make my vows over an hour long,” Henry said following your brother out of the big private room.

“I’ll sing every song I wrote about you for mine,” you said following behind your fiancé.

“Jeez, I’ll be bringing a blanket and a pillow,” Chris said.

Your family all filed out and through the restaurant. You could see heads turning. Got three very very famous people walking past. You all went outside to wait on the valets. They bring out the cars.

“Thanks,” Chris said getting his keys from the 20 year old.

He unlocked the car. You slid in first and Henry gave you the little one. You got her into her car seat. Henry closed the door and went around. He got in and shut the door. You both buckled up. Henry adjusted Ariella’s blanket. She took a hold of his middle finger.

“You’re very cute,” Henry said smiling at her.

“Thanks,” Chris said driving off.

“I don’t think he was talking to you,” Scott said.

Henry reached forward and pinched Chris’s cheek.

“Such a handsome face,” your fiancé teased.

You and Scott busted out laughing. Chris couldn’t help but laugh along with you. Henry retracted his hand and gave it back to the little one. She grabbed his pinky in her left hand and his middle finger in her right hand. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

“Your daddy is silly, Princess,” you said.

She smiled. Your hand went over her dad’s. Henry smiled at you.