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sobeautifullyobsessed · 12 days

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'It's Not the Years, Honey - It's the Mileage'

a Whumped Doctor Strange one-shot

Inspired by a couple of pre Multiverse of Madness articles comparing Stephen Strange to Indiana Jones😉😁

genre: whump, hurt/comfort, light humor

rating: general audience

characters: Stephen Strange, Tess O'Neill (Healer of Kamar-Taj, OFC); established relationship; Cloak of Levitation

word count: 1.9k

It was supposed to have been date night, but Stephen was overdue. Three hours overdue. Again. Tess had taken these things in stride, right from the start. After all, you can’t be lucky enough to be the significant other of the Sorcerer Supreme without being incredibly patient, understanding, and flexible. Besides which, he was always so adorable when he finally found his way home, sincere in his apologies, and more often than not, presenting her with a fresh bouquet, which he managed to conjure even before he uttered a single word. Tonight’s transgression was bound to be a two dozen roses mea culpa--and she just knew he’d make them her favorite: pale pink American Beauties.

Not that he ever needed to. His company was dear enough recompense for any time he kept her waiting. Except for the worrying, of course, but Tess had quickly adjusted to that, and so far she hadn’t made any complaint, no matter how late her Stephen managed to show up. She’d rather spend their precious time on more pleasant pursuits--and on showing him however she could, how happy he made her simply by being...him.

And so, Tess had adjusted down their plans. First, from dinner out and a movie, to take-out and the latest blu-ray release. And then from that, to something she could whip up, quick and easy, in the Sanctum’s smaller kitchen. Stephen was bound to be hungry when he arrived, and she had a hearty pot of stew simmering on the stove and a batch of honey cornbread ready to pop into the oven while he cleaned up.

Tess had just given the stew another stir, when she felt a tapping on her shoulder. She turned to find Cloak looking battle singed and...well...harried. How this being without a face could express such a wide range of emotions was a continual wonder to her--but right now her immediate reaction was to ask if Stephen was alright.

Cloak’s collar shook a clear ‘no’, and then it tugged at her arm, to get her moving. She turned off the stove and moved the stewpot to another burner, and followed Cloak down the grand staircase. And there sat Stephen on the third step, head bowed and shoulders hunched, his bloodstained tunic rent in several places. Tess’s heart leapt to her throat, though she tried to remain calm, realizing that he needed her as a Healer tonight, far more than as the woman who loved him.

She dropped to one knee in front of him, noting that the shelf of his jaw bore a dark bruise, and that he had a nasty cut across the bridge of his nose, a black eye and a split lip. “Hey,” she said softly, reaching her sure hands towards him, studying his wounds with practiced eyes, evaluating which she should address first. Thankfully, the blood on his clothing was dried, so that Tess concluded he wasn’t actively bleeding. “What happened,” she asked quietly, concerned to see him breathe shallowly, as breathing any deeper appeared to make him wince.

“You don’t wanna know,” he muttered, as she placed both of her palms on his chest and closed her eyes, searching for any internal damage.

“Ow...ow...ow...owwwwwwww,” he grumbled, “Is this really necessary?”

Cloak was flitting back and forth, giving the closest approximation of pacing as possible. “It certainly is, as well you know...Doctor.” To that he only grunted, then followed with a heavy groan when she palpated his lower ribs and abdomen. “Stephen,” she informed him patiently, “You’ve got at least three cracked ribs...”

“I know,” he replied curtly, “Don’t you think I know that?”

Tess tried to placate him. “Of course you do--but there’s no need to be pissy about it. It’ll just take a simple healing spell to start them knitting properly together.”

“I...know,” he repeated through gritted teeth, attempting to stand. Cloak had to swoop in to keep him from landing hard on his bottom.

Tess rose and wiped her hands on her denim capris. “Cloak, can you get him up to the infirmary, so I can take care of him properly?”

Cloak nodded, but Stephen had other ideas. “No infirmary--just get me to my room...”

Honestly, doctors really do make the worst patients, she thought, although she held her tongue, telling Stephen instead, “Nope. It’s the infirmary for you.” He huffed, but didn’t speak up. “And that’s Healer’s orders, Stephen. I outrank you in this, at least for the moment...”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled dismissively. He handed her his sling ring, “We can portal there--it’ll be quicker and a less bumpy trip than relying on...” He wagged his head in Cloak’s direction.

Tess had to suppress a chuckle, as Cloak’s reaction to that perceived insult was to turn its back to Stephen. “Alright,” she sighed, slipping his ring on and bringing the golden circle to life. She returned to his side and offered him a hand to help him stand up. “Just lean on me, and we’ll be there in a jiffy.”

She could feel his aversion to appearing so needy, even as he braced himself with an arm across her shoulders, but knew well that it wasn’t on her account. Stephen generally disliked showing weakness to anyone, although as their relationship had blossomed, his trust in her had been enough for him to reveal much of what he hid from the world behind sarcasm and bravado. Tess had always taken such precious trust as both a privilege and an honor. Stiff lipped against his pain and leaning on her heavily, they hobbled through the portal and Tess led him to sit on the nearest bed.

The infirmary was empty but for them, and she took a moment to close the portal, and then rushed to gather her supplies. Disinfectant and a basin of warm water, along with a washcloth and the softest, fluffiest towel she could conjure, for after she got him cleaned up. And bandages. Lots and lots of bandages. Tess returned to Stephen’s side to find him struggling to remove his tunic. She set down her things, telling him, “Here...let me...”

“I’ve...got...this.” he grunted, though it was clearly hurting him to raise his arms above his head.

“No. No you don’t,” she corrected him gently, “Please--just let me do my job, Stephen.”

“Alright...alright...” He did his best to relax as she worked the garment over his head and off. Tess gasped at the network of contusions across his shoulders and upper chest. “Dammit, Tess...that hurts!”

“I know, darling. I know.” To her relief, most of his bruises appeared superficial. “Let’s start by getting you cleaned up, okay.” Stephen nooded, and closed his eyes as she washed the cut on his nose, and several shallow scratches on his cheeks and chin, finally seeing to the split on his lower lip.

Next, she addressed the wounds on his back, circling behind him and perching on the edge of the bed. She was relieved again to find that they were rather shallow as well, and made quick work of cleansing them. Tess chose that moment to speak to him as his woman, rather than as a Healer. “You know--you’re extremely fit for a man your age, darling. But it wouldn’t hurt to be a little more careful out there.”

“It’s not the years, honey...” he snorted, “...it’s the mileage...” Stephen had stiffened despite her gentle approach, but when she applied the disinfectant, he hissed out a string of very un-Stephen-like curses.

“Don’t be such a baby,” she muttered, her patience beginning to strain.

“I’m not,” he responded petulantly.

Coulda fooled me, she thought, but bit back that retort. A few minutes more and she had his wounds properly bandaged. Tess set aside the basin and the towel, telling him, “Now let’s see about those ribs. Do you think you can lay back? It’ll be easier that way.”

“Of course I can,” he barked, “I’m not an invalid, you know.”

No, you’re just the crankiest Master of the Mystic Arts that I've ever encountered. Bravest and most selfless too, so I suppose I can forgive your churlishness.

He winced when she placed her hands on his shoulders, helping to ease him onto his back. Closing her eyes again, she skimmed her hands above the skin covering his damaged ribs, whispering the charm needed to bolster his body’s natural healing ability. Satisfied that she had succeeded once she could feel the spell take root, Tess pulled her hands away and opened her eyes. Stephen’s were closed, and his face had gone slack with a look of relief. Good enough, she concluded, hoping he would sleep a long while to aid in healing.

Still, she thought she could do a little something to speed the reduction in the nastiest of his contusions--and it would be best to try while he was asleep. She reached tentative fingers to Stephen’s right shoulder. His eyes flew open with a start, “Owwwwww...that’s still tender, you know!”

“I’m just trying to help...”

“Well...I don’t need a nurse anymore,” he groused, “I just want to sleep.”

“If you let me see to these now, you’ll feel much better in the morning...” Tess trailed her fingertips along his jaw, channeling her own energy into relieving his pain. “Any better?”

"A little,” he pouted, “But it hurts...almost everywhere...”

There seemed to be no pleasing him this way--but still, it was her nature to try. Exasperated, she blurted out, “Well, dammit, Stephen--where doesn’t it hurt?”

Looking defiant, he showed her his elbow, “Here.” Tess laid the softest kiss she could upon it.

“And...and here,” he added, pointing to his forehead, his whole demeanor softening in response to her tenderness. Cautiously, Tess leaned in and planted a loving kiss there. Momentum had turned in her favor.

Stephen pointed to his un-blackened eye, “Um...here?”

Tess smiled softly, watching his eyes flutter shut, and then brushed her lips as lightly as she could upon his eyelid. There was a moment as her face hovered over his, and the look when he opened his eyes made her heart start to melt--for within their mercurial depths, she saw both gratitude and an apology for his childish behavior. Stephen tapped his lips and murmured, “Here.”

She wondered if he felt her indulgent smile as their lips finally met, but before too long their kiss had gone from chaste to something deeper and more enduring, as he relaxed completely under her loving ministration. When she finally pulled away, Tess found that her kiss had worked a magic of its own, and her beloved Stephen was out like a light.

Tess arose and draped the sheet across him lightly, then levitated the next bed over and landed it flush against his. Her hunch was that he’d sleep through the night, but she wanted to be close by if he should need her.

Come morning, she awoke to find him gone--can’t keep a good Sorcerer down for long, she mused--but in his place, he’d left three dozen pale pink American Beauties, and a small piece of handwritten parchment. It was brief but to the point:

Thank you, honey. For everything. Love - your Stephen xx

tagging: @hithertoundreamtof23 @stewardofningishzida @ironstrange1991 @mousedetective @aphroditesdilemma @icytrickster17 @groovyqueer @battledress @aelaer @mckiwi @couldntbedamned

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girl-of-many-fandoms · 2 years

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distractions

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: Y/N needs a distraction from it all and her fiance is more than willing to give her one.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ MINORS DNI! Unprotected sex (do the right thing), bondage, Stephen being a tease.

MASTERLIST

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Y/N’s been stressed out lately with work for the past couple weeks. Just like Stephen, Y/N was also a well known neurosurgeon and lately her list of expired patients has grown exceptionally. For the life of her she couldn’t tell what exactly was the problem; was it her or was her patients too far gone before they got onto the table?

Releasing a heavy sigh, Y/N let herself into her home and locked the door behind her. Stephen closed the book in his hands and put it off to the side, his charming smile slowly dimmed once he saw the glum look on his fiance’s face. He watched as she dropped her keys and purse on the table in the hallway and kicked off her sneakers while fighting to hold back the tears.

“Hunnie?”

“I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Y/N headed straight for their bathroom, removing her clothes in the process. She needed to take a shower to wash off the sucky ass day she had, she didn’t even want to be around Stephen because all she saw when she looked at him was the neurosurgeon she’d never be and that made her even more sad. With the cold water running, Y/N stepped under, soaking her entire body from head to toe.

“I’ll see you when you’ve finished working your magic doc.”

“I’ll be right here waiting when you wake up.”

The sound of the water hitting the bathroom tiles muffled the ugly sobs she produced as she finally allowed herself to fall apart. Y/N held her hands to her chest, crying at the thought of what her patient’s last words to her were. She failed him, she failed herself and for some reason she felt like she failed Stephen too.

Stephen lightly pushed the bathroom door open and his heart broke seeing her in this state. He didn’t waste time stripping down and joined her in the shower; he pulled her back into his chest and wrapped his arms securely around her.

“Stephen please leave me alone.” She hiccupped trying to wiggle her way out of his hold but stopped once she realised that he didn’t plan on letting her go anytime soon. Stephen kissed the back of her head and shoulder, feeling her relax into his touch.

“I’m a failure.”

“You’re not, you’re an incredible surgeon who’s just going through a rough patch right now.”

“I failed my patients, their families, myself, you…” Stephen turned her around to face him but she found more interest in his pectoral muscles than looking up into his eyes. Using his index finger, Stephen tilted her head back forcing her to look at him as he spoke.

“You could never fail me darling. We’ve all lost people on the table, we all knew the risks and doing surgery on someone’s brain isn’t an easy thing to do. You did your best but sometimes, our best isn’t enough.” Stephen was right but she couldn’t help but blame herself still for the loss of her patients.

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Stephen I need a distraction so, kiss me. Kiss me until I forget everything.” Cupping her face in his hands, Stephen closed the distance between them, gently capturing her lips in a much needed kiss. Y/N guided her hands up his biceps up to his hair and grabbed a handful of it, ripping a groan from his chest.

Stephen backed her up until her back came into contact with the cold tiles; their innocent kiss took a sharp turn. Y/N broke apart for a second lightly biting down on his bottom lip in the process. Stephen’s hands roamed every inch of skin that they came into contact with on her body; she dragged her hands down his chest and abdomen.

“Mhmm.”

Stephen’s eyes shut feeling her wrap her hand around his shaft, jerking him a couple times. Y/N trailed kisses along his strong jawline and column of his neck, nibbling on his exposed flesh. Stephen nudged her legs apart, running his fingers through her slick folds returning the favour. Y/N bucked her hips into his palm, grinding down on it for more stimulation on her clit.

“You’re so needy baby.”

With his eyes locked with hers, Stephen lowered himself to his knees and hooked her right leg over his shoulder; he flattened his tongue against her lower lips, coating it in her sweet juices and dragged it up to her bundle of nerves making her squirm above him. Y/N tried to pull his head closer but the sorcerer used one of his handy moves, binding her hands together and holding them above her head.

“No touching.”

“I hate you.”

Stephen smirked at her before delving back into her nether region licking and sucking, eating her out like a man starved. Y/N’s moans grew louder as Stephen brought her closer and closer to her much needed release. Rubbing his thumb back and forth on her clit, Stephen inserted two of his long digits into her needy hole, curling them to hit the particular spot that always had her squirming and begging for more.

“Fuck…don’t stop.”

Y/N’s eyes shut in the midst of the pleasure that she was receiving from the sorcerer between her legs. Stephen loved hearing the sweet sounds she produced every time they had sex and he planned on hearing them all night long. Y/N’s walls pulsed as she got closer to her climax.

“Come for me baby, that’s it.” Stephen kept thrusting his fingers into her, smiling at the feeling of her release coating his hand. He replaced his hand with his mouth, lapping up her sweet juices as she grounded her cunt on his face.

“Stephen, I need you.” She dropped her leg from his shoulder as he stood up. Stephen motioned for her to turn around and she did, bending over with her palms on the wall for support. He jerked himself a couple times, lining himself up with her cunt. Stephen slowly inserted the tip of his cock in and removed it a couple times teasing her with what she craved most right now.

“Stephen please, stop teasing.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Stephen didn’t leave room for her to rebut as he buried himself in her heat, stretching her out completely. Placing both hands on her hips, Stephen began pounding into her at a moderate pace. Their moans mixed with the slapping of skin on skin filled the bathroom which only encouraged him to continue his actions.

Stephen pulled her hair back into a ponytail and pulled her head back to crash his lips against hers. Y/N pushed herself back to meet his thrusts; his fingers found her bundle of nerves again, stimulating her further.

“O-oh shit. I’m gonna-”

“Hold it.”

Stephen continued to fuck her into oblivion ensuring that Y/N was too preoccupied thinking about his cock buried inside of her rather than the recent crap she’s been dealing with at work. His thrusts became uneven as he chased his release; Y/N chanted his name like she was saying a prayer, begging to come.

“Come for me babygirl.”

With a cry of his name, Y/N came on his cock, her walls clamped down on him which triggered his climax as well. Stephen bit down on her shoulder as he emptied his seed deep within her. He thrusted a couple more times as they rode out their high before completely removing himself.

Y/N smiled feeling his sticky release seep from her cunt and down her inner thighs. Stephen released her arms from their binds and shut the water off.

"Come here." She pulled him down to meet her halfway, crashing their lips together. Stephen hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. The sorcerer took them into their adjoining room and placed her on the bed.

"Uh uh Strange, my turn."

Y/N mustered all her strength and flipped them over; she was now straddling his lap while he lay there admiring her blissed out state.

"As you wish."

---

MARVEL Taglist:

@dorks2022 @sophiaedits @peakascum @anonymoustip217 @iiddaaa @panaitbeatrice @n3ssm0nique @mintphoenix @inas-thing @sketch-and-write-lover @friskae @bernthalbabe43 @trinkets01 @blackcat420 @justreadingficsdontmindme @bakingpotatoes21 @hardcoppizzasludge @tanyaherondale @creatingjana @calimoi @rootcrop @louisianalady @chrisfucksblog @thummbelina @vicmc624 @leyannrae @janaev4ns @queenofkings1212 @believinghurts @poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @stumbleonmywords @youarethereasonimsmiling @juxtaposition-exe @wanda-1 @katzenwahnsinn @v0idl1nq @winksasleeplesseye

#stephen strange smut #stephen strange x ofc #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #stephen strange #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange #doctor strange smut #doctor strange multiverse of madness

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multific · 2 years

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Another Reality

Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: America found a rather interesting multiverse. One, which Steven never would have believed existed if he didn't see it with his own two eyes.

"So, you are from the multiverse." The Stephen standing in front of them looked, a little younger somehow and tired, very tired.

Wong eyed the man before turning to America.

"Where did you bring us this time?"

"I don't know. I still don't have full control over my power." argued the girl, but Stephen was looking at his other version.

"So, what is your life like? Did you marry Christine?"

"Christine?" laughed the other Strange. "No, she married someone, has two children know. I found someone else."

"Wait, you are married?" asked Wong.

"Yes." he showed his ring. "After Christine got married, I realized, while yes I do love her, I cannot be alone forever, so, I found someone else, or rather she found be but, none the less, I am married, happily at that."

Stephen couldn't wrap his head around this. How could he find someone? No one compared to Christine in his mind.

"Sweetheart, that's my ear, please." all turned to the voice, seeing a young woman walk into the room with a baby grabbing onto her earring.

The baby girl was obviously very interested in her mother's silver earring as it did not want to let go even when her hands were pulled away.

"Is she troubling you?" asked your husband.

"Not really, she should be sleeping but-" and then you noticed the people in the room. "What did you do?" you turned to your husband with a little angry expression.

"Why do you think I did something?" asked the man, offended. You gave him a look but then he nodded. "Right, okay, but this time, I swear it wasn't me."

"Hi. Are you the wife?" asked America as she walked over to you. "Cute baby." you gave her a smile.

"I like your pin." you said noticing the pin of her jacket. "Would you like to hold her? She likes to grab things so be warned."

America got the baby and smiled as the kid laughed and toucher her cheek.

"I like her." she turned to her Stephen and Wong as she held the little girl.

"Darling?" turned your husband to you.

"Hm?"

"We need to help them get home, do you have the spellbook?"

"Did you check my room?"

"I rather not go into your room, Dear. I feel like I enter Satan's lair every time I do."

"I don't sacrifice stuff, Stephen. You are saying that because of the candles and the dark walls, but I'm nothing but an ordinary witch, you know that."

Stephen rolled his eyes before he turned to his other self and Wong.

"She says that but she killed Thanos' entire army with a snap of her finger.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes as you turned to your guests.

"Would you like something to eat? I made some lasagna yesterday."

"YES!" America turned and yelled so loud, your baby got scared and started to cry. America panicked and tried to hand you back the kid, but your husband was faster. You walked to the kitchen to get the food ready.

He held his daughter and lulled her back to sleep.

Stephen and Wong watched the scene, as this small delicate little thing calmed down and started to play with her father's necklace. They watched as he placed a kiss on top of her head.

"Eat with us, then I will make her get the book from that room."

"I heard that." you yelled from the kitchen.

Throughout the entire day, America, Wong and Stephen just watched the couple. You and your Stephen got along very well, even if you did bicker from time to time, they could tell, the love was real. And the best proof of that was the little girl in your arms. The baby was the reason you two were so sleepy, you told them many stories, you told them the story of how you gave birth.

"He freak out! He started running up and down, opening portal to every possible dimension other than the hospital." you laughed.

"I did not freak out!"

"Oh, he did. I laughed so hard, but then I also felt the pain. Eventually, I got to the hospital and was able to finally give birth. He was there all along, holding my hand, making sure we were both okay. And then we could finally hold her."

"Most precious thing in my life." your husband nodded.

The three smiled at the couple and Stephen knew, he might need to rethink his life choices.

Finally America would be able o open the portal, so they could go home.

Your husband stepped over to Stephen before they left and said. "Find her."

And soon, Stephen was standing in his Sanctum once again.

His Sanctum, quiet, no laugher or bickering, no baby or wife. Just him. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and the child, about how that could be his reality.

Wong headed back to Kamar-Taj with America, not making a single comment. He trusted his friend enough to know what they just saw will be important to him.

And so, Stephen headed out into the world, trying to find the ordinary witch who will give a new purpose to his life.

Part 2

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow crazzyter @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

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dexnnovk · 2 years

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Where is my love?

a/n: can you tell how much I adore angst? Idk how i feel about this one, but i kinda like it??? Hope you’ll enjoy <33

summary: Stephen finds himself in a different universe. He goes to the Sanctum Sanctorum where he meets someone who’s been long gone, you.

pairing: Stephen Strange x variant!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: hurt no comfort, angst

The darkness around him felt heavy, oppressive, almost surreal. He was in New York, but it was nothing like the city he knew. Silver moonlight broke through heavy, dark clouds showing him even more of an atrocity that he wasn't able to see at first. A few mockingbirds were sitting on a dead tree, they tried to sing, but the sound that came out was almost like screams of tortured souls. This universe was rotten down to its core, even howls of the wind were dreadfully unwelcoming. He was pretty sure that he got stuck in an empty universe with no one to help him.

He walked through vacant streets wondering what happened to this place. All of the buildings were destroyed, with no grass on the ground, only dirt. Street after street of abandoned houses drowning in the darkness of this world looked the same. Each house was once a home, a home belonging to a family and now there was only hollowness and coldness. If there was hell he was sure that this was exactly how it looked like. The closer he got to the Sanctum Sanctorum the quieter the world got, even the wind seemed to be gone. When he finally saw the building shivers went down his spine, he had never seen so many dead birds laying around one place. He was never the one to believe in bad omens but this one made him want to turn around and run as far away as he possibly could. The dead bird is considered to be a symbol of discontentment, loss, grief and hopelessness. They also symbolise that the place that you're in is unsafe and he was aware of that. He looked at one of the birds lying next to his feet and noticed something on its crown, a symbol that he has seen only once before, in the book about the darkest magic. It looked like whoever did this was in possession of the darkhold and what was even worse, knew how to use it. He took a few deep breaths and walked towards the doors. If there was a way for him to come back to his universe it was through objects and books from the Sanctum. As he approached them the smell of rotten corpses was unbearable. Whatever was inside was probably as vile and wicked as what was outside.

Before he was able to push the door open, a portal appeared underneath him causing him to fall. He hit the wooden floors of the building's hallway. He immediately stood up ready to fight the person that opened that portal, but he was alone. His only companion was the silence that allowed him to hear his shaky breath. Much to his surprise, he didn't smell the corpses anymore but the sweet, familiar scent of paperwhites. He decided to follow it and as he did he entered the living room that looked just like the one in his New York except it was messier. He looked around and found plenty of ancient magic books tossed around the tables, some artefacts and a few weapons. What got his attention was a small frame laying on the floor a couple of metres away. It looked oddly familiar. He wiped out the thick layer of dust that revealed a broken glass underneath which was a picture of you and him. He was always happy while being next to you. No matter where his life was taking him as long as you were near he felt safe. Tears formed in his eyes, in his universe you were gone, you sacrificed yourself for the universe. Another version of him probably went through the same loss. Lost in the memory of you he didn’t hear someone coming down the stairs.

“Hello, Stephen” this voice, the one he would recognize anywhere, yours.

His eyes widened, you looked nothing like he remembered, you were tired, no, exhausted. Dark circles were under your fatigued eyes. Your face was sickly colourless, almost corpse-like. He was carefully analysing your features. He didn’t even realise that a sad smile formed on his face. You walked towards him and for the first time in this universe, he felt comfortable.

“y/n,” he said, trying not to break down in front of you. He missed you dearly. Back at home, he thought about every possible way to bring you back or at least to let him say goodbye. He tried to touch your cheek but you stopped him by grabbing his wrist. That’s when he noticed your fingers. They were black, cursed by the magic of the darkhold.

“Why?” he asked you.

“There was no other way” you stated. Before you were able to continue you got interrupted by coughing up your blood. “Fuck” you mumbled to yourself.

“It’s killing you,” Stephen said, it was obvious how concerned he was. You weren’t his, but he couldn’t bring himself to act like he does not care.

“I know” you responded.

“Then why? Why are you using the darkhold? I’ve seen this world… it’s almost dead” his voice was a little shaky.

“Because as I said there was no other way” you don’t remember the last time that you said anything and considering your health condition it was a miracle that you still were able to do so. “We fought against Galactus, we were losing. If we’d lost that day the whole multiverse would have paid a horrible price for it. You absorbed the power of all six infinity stones just to buy me a little time” you chewed on your lower lips nervously as you felt tears filling up your eyes. “You distracted him and I tried to trap him in a pocket dimension but he was too powerful already. I managed to do so but…” you took a deep breath.

“But even the spell from the darkhold wasn’t enough to keep him locked up. You have to protect it” he finished your sentence.

“Yes, that’s why I look like this” you turned your head and felt disgusted as you saw your reflection in a window.

“Did… I leave you?” he asked anxiously.

“In a way,” you said and he felt his heart stop. How could he leave you knowing the price that you had to pay for keeping the multiverse safe? “You couldn’t handle the power of all the infinity stones. I killed you and destroyed all of them except for the time stone” you explained. “I kept the time stone so I can be here and protect the spell” you continued.

“You’ll be here until the end of everything?” he tried to touch you again and this time you allowed him. The feeling of his palm on your shoulder made you grin.

“Yes,” you sighed knowing that all that you can expect is pain and suffering.

“You don't deserve this, you deserve the world. That’s not how things should be for you” he said, his voice shaking.

“Where am I in your world?” you asked and just by the expression on his face you knew the answer “Sometimes we need to put ourselves aside Stephen. I’ve had plenty of time to learn about the multiverse and us. In every universe, one of us, if not both, has to deal with eternal sacrifice. I wish it wasn’t like that, I wish there was at least one version of me and you living a happy life” you smiled at him. “But I don’t think it’s meant for us”.

He would love to say that you were wrong but he’d be lying. He was trying to remember if he ever dreamt about you laying in bed playing with his hair and not having to deal with any sort of threat. His dreams were always the same, either you or he were dying.

“Can I ask you about this picture?” he pointed at the frame he found earlier.

“That was the day you proposed. We went to my favourite restaurant in Italy…” you closed your eyes and gulped. “I miss my Stephen, every day. Being here all alone isn’t helping with that, but trying to change anything is just a pointless resistance to the destiny” you coughed again. “I miss you too. I mean my version of you. I had all of you and then none of you, in just a few seconds I lost everything. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I watched you die and I couldn’t do a thing about it” he said.

“I’m so sorry” you gently cupped his cheek and looked into his eyes. After a moment of hesitation, you placed a gentle kiss on his temple.

“You came here because you need to get out, right?” you said. You could read his thoughts, this one was buried deep down, almost hidden. Not from you, but from him.

“I don't think I want to” he responded.

“I can help you” you stated. “I know a spell that can open a multidimensional portal. It will send you home” shy smile formed on your lips. “How is your universe?” you asked.

“It’s beautiful. I wish I could show it to you” he grabbed your hand. “Leave this universe, leave with me, please” he was practically begging you.

“If that was an option for me I’d do it ages ago. If I leave and the spell breaks…I can’t afford that risk. I’ve carried the burden of the darkhold on my shoulders and I’ll do it for as long as I’ll have to. You see Stephen, everyone in the multiverse plays a part. I wasn’t born to be happy and have my little, sweet, dreamy life. I was born to suffer, take burdens and cause destruction. That’s how it is, was and always will be, all so the others can live in a peaceful world. The same goes for you” you sighed. “You're not meant to stay with me. My death was an absolute point in your life and yours was an absolute point in mine. We can not change it.”

“I know,” he said. You walked towards the large windows and within one swift move of your hand, you created a circle out of candles. He walked into it and stood next to you, your bodies inches apart. “I want to try something,” he said and pulled you into a kiss.

“Thank you” you wished you could keep the warmth of his lips forever. “Once I start we won’t have much time left. I want to say goodbye”

“This is our last goodbye, isn’t it?” he asked.

“I’m afraid it is” you answered and he nodded. Dark mist filled the room and you began to cast the spell. His eyes weren’t leaving yours until the light beam blinded him.

He was on his earth surrounded by so many people and yet he felt lonely. Then he noticed something in his palm, a paperwhite from the sanctums living room on the other earth, a symbol of hope.

MASTERLIST

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thatlittlered · 2 years

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Let Me Come With You | Stephen Strange

Summary: There are approximately ten versions of this earth that Stephen knows you exist in.

"I know that each one of us travels to love alone, alone to faith and to death. I know it. I’ve tried it. It doesn’t help. Let me come with you." Moonlight Sonata - Yiannis Ritsos

There are approximately ten versions of this earth that Stephen knows you exist in.

In three of those you’re strangers, divided by time and consequence. He changed but not enough and you stayed longer than you should but a particular delusional alien and his plans were quite the wake up call. There was no time to be spent in pain.

There are a couple more he doesn’t think about, not by choice at least.

Bad things happen there.

In 1376 and 1838 you’re married to a smiley brunette who makes you laugh. He remains nameless in Stephen’s head on behalf of stealing a life from him.

He is simple, uncomplicated; everything you wanted. You worked together, fell in love, had a darling little blue-eyed boy like the fantasy you’d shared with Stephen late one night. Only this boy got his eyes from your side, an unlikely event, but like you once told him “Blue runs in my family too.”

You always walk at the brunette’s left, little Odie between you, holding both of your hands.

These ones he thinks about often.

There is one single reality in which you are together, inseparable and happy without a worry in the world. He has retired from his duties, all is marvelously at peace and all he need do is observe.

It is simple and uncomplicated.

Your little boy has his eyes, it cannot be mistaken. You say ‘I love you’ at breakfast and over an evening cup of tea, make up for the rest of it in casual affection. You always walk at his right, as you would in every universe you’ve known each other, and little Dominic likes to hold your hands and swing.

This, of course, is not his reality.

A/N: This was written right after watching MoM a while ago, but it's also the first fic I've written in over a year so I was doubtful about publishing. Regardless, enjoy!

#doctor strange x reader #doctor strange #marvel multiverse #doctor strange x you #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x ofc #stephen strange #marvel #fanfiction #multiverse of madness

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tinuvielbianca · 2 years

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*Y/n is talking to Stephen*

Y/n: Because all the people I love are gone.

Is it me, I must have some curse.

Strange: You have no curse, Y/n.

Y/n: are they because they die?

Strange: That's life.

Y/n: but it seems to me she is much more cruel.

First my parents

*Flashback of parents*

Then my friend who was like my brother

*Flashback Pietro*

Then the man I loved

*Flashback Loki*

Let's not forget my best friend and father figure

*Flashback Nat and Tony*

Maybe I am the embodiment of death?

Since everyone I care about dies.

I miss them so much.

Strange: I know, but everything happens for a purpose, maybe the reason they leave is to fortify you.

Y/n: Maybe they're still there, taking care of me.

Y/n: my mom once said that even dead stars still shine in the sky.

*Y/n looking at the night sky.*

Strange: Nothing is impossible for the universe.

*Strange says smiling*

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marvel-snape-writes · 1 year

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Thoughts? 🤔

What about a Stephen one shot before the accident where his boss is a high up female figure within the hospital and one of them manages to seduce the other and they either have their way with one another over papers and wine at one of their apartments or in her office…

Arctic Monkeys faintly playing in the background;

“ᵢₜ’ₛ ₙₒₜ ₗᵢₖₑ ᵢ’ₘ fₐₗₗᵢₙg ᵢₙ ₗₒᵥₑ, ᵢ ⱼᵤₛₜ wₐₙₜ yₒᵤ ₜₒ dₒ ₘₑ ₙₒ gₒₒd… ₐₙd yₒᵤ ₗₒₒₖ ₗᵢₖₑ yₒᵤ cₒᵤₗd…”

#benedict cumberbatch #marvel #doctor strange #stephen strange #multiverse of madness #marvel cinematic universe #doctor strange in the multiverse of madness #marvel multiverse #fanfic #fanfiction #doctor strange smut #stephen strange smut #benedict cumberbatch smut #stephen strange x ofc #doctor strange x original female character

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karolamurdock · 2 years

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Accidental Marriage Pt.1

Stephen Strange x OFC

Warnings: Implied/referenced sex, light angst and english is not the author's first lenguage

Summary: For the prompt "Accidental Marriage."

“So… Do you put on my last name, or will this get a little Stranger?

Or: Cassandra Paulssen meets Stephen Strange twice. Once as master and student and once as husband and wife.

Not in that particular order.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4

The first thing Cassandra noticed when she woke up was how soft the warm sheets felt against her bare skin.

Gradually, consciousness took over the numb senses that remained alien to the environment around her. The mixed aroma of colognes in the environment; the barely muffled sounds of The City that Never Sleeps swarming in the distance, and the softness of the thin sheets that touched her bare back.

Frowning slightly, her eyes still closed at the remnants of heaviness in her system, she wondered how she had slept to roll up her pajamas so sharply. Curling her toes against her bare calf, she also noticed that it wasn't in her favorite worn sleeping pants.

A particularly loud horn thundered in the distance, and Cassandra opened her eyes, finding, to her utter bewilderment, the steely gaze of some not very familiar blue orbs.

A second passed. Cassandra blinked, almost stunned, and when she realized that the image in front of her eyes was, in fact, very real and not one of the perverse machinations of her juiciest dreams, her stomach fell to her feet.

The man blinked mechanically. Leaning as he was against the dark high headboard behind him, Cassandra took note of his chiseled, naked and slender figure. His bare chest was wide, his arms strong and his collarbones soft.

Slowly standing up, with the stranger's eyes still stuck in her figure (Oh, surprise! Also naked), she took her time to recognize the anomalous environment that surrounded her and notice the particularities that were slowly revealed in front of her. The man's face was thin and angular: his high cheekbones and dark hair, falling into a disheveled curl over his forehead (Cassandra had the impression that that hair must have been well combed the previous afternoon), and his blue eyes were sharp, with dark eyelashes and frowning eyebrows that contrasted richly against his light skin.

Finally, sitting on the edge of the wide bed of expensive sheets, Cassandra concluded two things:

One, Cassandra did not arrive at her apartment the day before, as was the plan to finalize the Congress to which she had accompanied her friend Hank.

And two: Cassandra, always surpassing herself, still had an exquisite taste.

Tilting her face subtly as she crouched down to pick up the forgotten underwear peeking out from under the bed, she allowed the curtain of brown hair, loose from the confines she regularly found herself in, to hide the pernicious smile she drew on her repentant lips.

"So..." Cassandra began, standing up and with her face again drawn in an impassive expression. Her state of semi-nakedness was suddenly reminded to her when the man's eyes briefly strolled through her tall figure; her arms defined, her chest barely covered by the dark strands that fell a few centimeters below her breasts, and her long legs. The man's gaze stopped abruptly when he took note of the various scars that decorated her skin. Cassandra didn't bother to manipulate the subject's mind to blur the marks. (Except for one particular stroke that jumped to attention on her lower back. That mark was an exception to any appeal to her prudence.) After all, the same man didn't seem particularly embarrassed by his undressed state either.

"Good morning," the man finally replied, and his short cordiality would have made her smile if not for the worry that was beginning to swirl in the bottom of her stomach. He exhaled, as if blowing his reservations, and shouted at last what he formulated in his own thoughts: “I don't know you.”

Cassandra hummed, okay, and watched him pass a long, well-groomed hand through his messy curls.

A little docile strand curled around a silver band around the man's ring finger, and Cassandra's heart skipped one, two, and then three beats before breath returned in a race to her constricted lungs.

“Are you married?” She whispered, her eyes flying around the room in search of evidence of a spouse who, in her drowsiness, may have been lost.

The man stood up. When the sheet slipped and fell back on the bed, Cassandra noticed that he, unlike her, was wearing pajama pants. She wondered then, if the man had had the opportunity to look for clothes and return to his senses completely after a night like the previous one (Cassandra, in truth, could not remember when it had been the last time she had slept so deeply)... How long had he watched her sleep?

"You tell me," he spoke. His deep baritone voice echoed in her eardrums and caused a shudder that only became evident when she made a gesture to his own hands, loose at her sides.

Slowly, her left hand rose in front of her face. Cassandra suddenly felt like she wasn’t fully awake. The silver band that shone around her own finger and perfectly matched the wedding ring of the handsome stranger seemed something straight out of a dream.

"Who was going to say...?" Cassandra rambled in her thoughts. Her stoic face revealed nothing of her inner anxieties. "Long lives fantasizing about my wedding day, and here I am now. Without remembering my own husband's name."

"Oh," Cassandra exhaled at last. Rubbing her eyes with the hand with which she did not carry the offending object, she decided to first address the most pressing issue for both of them. “Have you seen my clothes?”

~ • ~

Fifteen minutes later, less exposed in a baggy white shirt and knee-high sports pants, Cassandra sat on a high stool with her arms folded over the polished marble island. The man, no, the Doctor Stephen Strange, as he had succinctly presented himself to her moments before, walked around with his thumbs spinning around each other. She barely had a glimpse of his soft hands and long, slender fingers before Stephen, her husband, continued to drum with his fingers on the surface of the cold bar.

“I think we need to discuss the circumstances of our... situation.” he spoke sternly, and Cassandra just nodded softly before his measured face. “How did we get here last night?”

"We were in the Convention room," she replied. She resisted the urge to turn the icy band around her ring finger as she continued: “Dinner had been served. I... I was there with a friend.”

She thought of Hank's professional expression as he listened, his blue brow frowning with interest, to the impressive talks that swarmed around him. Most of the conversation had passed over her. Cassandra had attended just to accompany him; for it had been no wonder that he was invited to the annual convention of the American Health Association.

"I was invited to deliver the opening speech," Stephen said. Cassandra blinked, lethargic, as last night's details were blurry, and while she didn't commit to remembering the faces that figured at the party any more than she tried to keep an eye on the exits and another eye on her glass of frothy champagne, she thought she should have remembered the first person to appear on stage.

"Impressive," she said, after a silence that lasted several seconds, "Have you seen my phone? I think I should report to my colleague.” Before the X-men show up here and accuse Stephen of kidnapping, she thought, Machiavellian.

Stephen made a brief gesture to the luxurious leather sofa behind her. Cassandra turned on her high chair and watched her small handbag, hurriedly thrown against the cushions, and her thick black coat wrinkled next to the carpet.

Pursing the lips with disapproval; Where was her dress? she lazily came down from her bench and walked over to the sofa. Checking her cell phone first, and looking at the flickering green dot in the corner of the screen, she deduced that Charles and the rest had already noticed her absence.

To her surprise, she only had a couple of messages in the mailbox. One was Hank's — and Cassandra felt instantly terrible for having left him behind the night before in her unexpected unconscious state — another was from Ororo — who, to her delight, had only stopped to wish her a good day: "Take care, Cassie! I hope your departure will cheer you up a bit!" and the last one was Tony's.

With an inaudible sigh for her unexpected company, she left the cell phone back inside the carry-on bag. Consciously ignoring the unwelcome weight of anguish at the last message in her tray.

“Where did we go after the party?” He ventured to ask Cassandra.

She heard the sound of measured footsteps approaching from the open kitchen, and caught the sound of paper hitting the wood before seeing the crumpled documents on top of the coffee table.

There is no way that's official, Cassandra thought. Leaning a little to better observe the letters printed on the accusing document, she felt her breath get stuck in her throat when she observed her signature, the signature she used for her official documents at the time, carelessly scrawled over the black line at the end of the paper. Beside it, she read the neat, if perhaps slightly crooked, lyrics of Mr. Stephen Vincent Strange.

Well, heck. It was official, indeed.

“So... Do you put on my last name, or will this get a little Stranger?”

Cassandra observed the doctor's exasperated profile, his frown and tight mouth, and thought, belatedly, that perhaps her husband did not appreciate jokes as easily as she did.

For a brief moment, Cassandra let her gaze wander absentmindedly in the distance. The wall next to them was made of floor-to-ceiling windows that allowed her to appreciate the wide landscape of the city around her. In the distance, the Avengers Tower stood as a beacon of hope for vulnerable citizens under the shadow of its imposing figure. Cassandra pondered, gently stroking the ring with her thumb, whether to remain in the spotlight; stripped of the value of clandestinity, venturing into "heroes" businesses and getting exposed, stripping herself of her covers and revealing them to the eyes of others those evidences of a perfidious and veperian past as it had not been allowed from what seemed an eternity ago, if it had been worth the price of the honor in exchange for sabotaging a life that she would never have the pleasure of experiencing.

"This is serious," she heard Stephen murmur. Cassandra didn't look away from the sun's rays that swept behind the surrounding buildings. “We have to think about the next course of action. I need to talk to my lawyer, I'm sure Christine will know what to do... God, Christine... She'll think I'm an idiot!”

He ran his hands over his face. The stress very obvious in his defensive posture. “This can't be made public. Do you understand me? I am a recognized Neurosurgeon! I have a reputation to maintain.”

He walked a couple of steps, going back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, and continued to mutter through clenched teeth: “If something like this gets public, that I married... a stranger.“ The tone of voice with which he spoke the word settled badly in Cassandra's eardrums, and she frowned, finally looking at him as he continued with his infamous tone of voice. “It will be a media circus. The famous Doctor Stephen Strange, united in sacred marriage with a wallow of one night.”

He stared at her for a moment, and questioned aloud, "Did you lie when you denied knowing who I was when I approached your table last night?" He let out a curse and shouted, his body agitated and his face hard. “Of course. How convenient for you, and unfortunate for me. This was your plan since the beginning!”

"Let me stop you there," Cassandra lashed out at last. She tasted the bitter savor of disappointment in her mouth, and consoled herself by reminding that, according to her own background, her good taste for couples had never been accompanied by good judgment. As usual, all the pretty faces she romantically matched ended up being complete assholes.

"I have a name," her proud father and courageous mother had taken care of it, thank you very much. And while Cassandra hadn't been the name she was born with, she had come to harbor quite a bit of affection for it. “And I won't appreciate being dismissed as an opportunistic whore for a consented night of sex. I'm not fully aware of where our converged paths took us last night, but it takes two persons to dance this tango, and I won't be staying here to hear how your olympic narcissism allows you to keep trampling on me."

Snatching her purse from the couch and dressing in the wrinkled coat she rescued from the floor, she gave Stephen a glacial gaze, suddenly blank and with tight lips as he watched her walk away with great strides in the direction of the door.

“Goodbye, dear husband.”

And, emboldened by her blind anger, she closed the door behind her with a resounding final blow.

#stephen strange #marvel #stephen strange x oc #doctor strange x oc #dr strange x original character #dr strange #stephen strange x female reader #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x ofc #stephen strange x original character #dr strange x fem!reader #dr strange x you #dr strange x reader #doctor stephen strange #mcu #mcu imagine

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cherryfinolahobbes · 1 year

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Debauchery thanks to @mastersofkamartaj 🤣 because Stephen is an absolute menace and of course he’d stage something like this

This will be getting a mixed media layout but i love the colors so much I wanted to post it.

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mysticartsydaydream · 2 years

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The Chain (Keep Us Together) Masterlist

Chapters:

Prologue: You Would Never Break the Chain

One: Watch the Sun Rise

Two: Running in the Shadows

Three: Damn the Dark, Damn the Light

Four: Listen to the Wind Blow

Five: Down Comes the Night

Six: Break the Silence

Epilogue: You Must Never Break the Chain

Spotify Playlist:

#doctor strange x oc #stephen strange x ofc #the chain (keep us together)#annabelle rogers #doctor strange #stephen strange #my fic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #Spotify

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 4 months

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Wrapped Up In Christmas Memories

a Stephen Strange x Hope Collins fic

Part One

genre: fluff & Christmas to begin with; angst, catharsis, with healing later...and as always, love❤️💚

characters: Stephen Strange, Hope Collins (OFC), established relationship

word count: approximately 3.1k

moodboard by the very generous @strangelock221b 💙🩵💜

Stephen should have known that he had fallen in love with a Christmas person. Should have been prepared for what was in store for him come late November. Hope's enthusiasm for all things Yuletide was exactly in keeping with her nature--and of course, she had no way of knowing that when it came to Christmastime, his past had shaped him into a bit of a Grinch.

A week or so before Thanksgiving, she'd brought a mysterious shopping bag to the Sanctum and set it discretely in a corner of the living room portion of his suite. When he'd asked what was inside, she'd flashed him a pert smile and smiling eyes as she answered, "Darling, that's for me to know, and you to find out. Eventually." Then sashayed away, humming 'Good King Wenceslas'. Yup, he should've known then that Hope was...was very much a Who.

They had shared a quiet, homey Thanksgiving; Hope had eagerly prepared a little feast for them, along with far too many desserts prepped in a flurry of baking in the 48 hours ahead of time. "There's supposed to be an abundance of leftovers," she had insisted when Stephen groused that they could never finish it all, "And in my family tradition, the freezer was always stuffed with packages of turkey, potatoes, and what have you--enough for a meal a week 'til nearly Christmas." And she'd relished the sight of him digging into those leftovers--along with a healthy serving of her apple-ginger pie--as a midnight snack, looking every bit the adorable 'told ya so' when she grabbed a fork to help him polish off the pie.

When they'd finally settled into bed and snuggled close, Stephen was happy to tell Hope it had been his best Thanksgiving in decades--and that perhaps it could be the start of traditions of their own. "Good," she replied, kissing his neck and then resting her head on his shoulder, "There's more I'd love to share with you. If you don't mind...starting tomorrow."

Stephen's own family traditions always felt like dusty, ancient history now; memories he seldom allowed himself to dwell upon for the heartbreak of the losses of his sister Donna, and later his mother Beverly, who had never fully recovered emotionally from Donna's death. He sighed hard, not wishing to spoil the moment, but feeling he should give his love fair warning. "If it's Christmas related, Hope--I'm really not that guy..."

"Oh, Stephen..." she started to protest.

"I don't wanna disappoint you, honey, but I...I gave up Christmas a loooong time ago..."

"Gave up Christmas?" Hope tutted. "You don't strike me as a Scrooge..."

"I'm not. Of course I'm not," he countered gently, "There's just a lot of...baggage...that I gave up carrying. Decades ago." For my own peace of mind, he thought but didn't add. "I mean, I'll be happy to see how you embrace the season, Hope, but um..."

He felt more than heard her sigh, understanding that she would not be deterred--while well aware that as ever, whatever form her persuasion would take would be gentle. Patient. Quiet. Stephen couldn't help but love that about her.

"Alright," she told him, laying her palm above his heart, which he always found soothing. "I promise to be mindful of your...baggage...if you help me with just one tradition tomorrow."

Stephen's turn to quietly sigh with his intent to cooperate, "Just the one? Seems a fair bargain to make...if you can stick to it."

"Just the one--I promise," Hope laughed softly, "And after that, well...I'll go about my Christmasing without the sort of fuss that might bother you."

Though he could practically feel the wheels in her head turning to come up with a way to change his view of the season, he chuckled, "It's a deal then. So what will we be doing tomorrow?"

"Getting a tree, of course. That's my mom's thing. Tree goes up the day after Thanksgiving...and comes down on New Years Day. Although, since I've been on my own, I keep it up however long I want. It's an excellent remedy for the mid-winter doldrums."

"A tree it'll be, then," he promised, reaching to turn off his bedside lamp, "And then I'm out."

"Like a light", Hope assured him. "Now, do you wanna be the big spoon or little spoon tonight?"

"Big," he replied, flipping onto his side, then sliding his arm around her waist when she turned to fit herself against him. Stephen brushed his lips on her ear, "For what it's worth, honey, I hope you have some sugar plum dreams tonight."

"Thanks, Stephen," she murmured, clearly on her way to sleep, "Love you too."

By the time Hope awoke the next morning, Stephen had already worked out a plan to keep his promise. One which would involve him in as little Christmas fuss as possible. A quick online search had yielded a few spots in the Village itself where they could find fresh cut trees. After breakfast, he discreetly portaled the two of them to a side street off of Hudson Street, where they found a popular Christmas market adjacent to a city park.

Hope had been so delighted by his initiative that he had felt it necessary to remind her that this would be his sole contribution to the Christmas decorating. She had batted her eyes prettily with her reply, "As you wish," but to Stephen, it had felt more like she was saying, "We'll see about that."

They settled on a seven foot Balsam fir, which Stephen had insisted on paying for out of his Sanctum Master's monthly stipend. The warmth of the lingering kiss she pressed to his cheek in thanks was absolutely worth that investment, and Hope's happiness was a gift that thoroughly warmed his heart. Being quite pleased by how swiftly they'd accomplished their chore--and surprised that the task felt far more pleasant than he'd anticipated--Stephen arranged to have the tree delivered to Bleecker Street by mid-afternoon.

Hope had wandered over to a group of stalls featuring hand-crafted Christmas decorations, and by the time he joined her, she had a small brown shopping bag in hand. He offered her his arm, "Shall we?"

"Shall we what," she countered impishly.

"Head back home."

"Oh...well...", she bit her lip, mulling over her answer for a few moments, "You go on ahead, darling. There's just a few more things I'd like to pick up..."

Stephen hummed, studying her face for any sign that this was a coy play to get him to stay after all. Seeing only sincerity, he found himself offering to stick around anyway. "Thanks, but no, Stephen," she assured him, "I shouldn't be too long--and I did promise not to bother you beyond the tree. You won't even have time to miss me; I'm sure I'll get there before the tree even does."

Stephen hadn't expected her to be so easily accommodated. "Are you sure, honey? I can spare a while longer if...if you'd like me to."

Hope moved in close, placed her hands on his shoulders, and kissed his other cheek. "I appreciate the offer, darling," she husked, "But how about you get a nice fire going in the hearth in your quarters, so they'll be all toasty for when I decorate the tree this afternoon?" She backed away and beamed him a smile, then turned to explore the market further without a further word.

Stephen stood on the sidewalk, the relief at being let off the expected Christmas hook colored with the surprising disappointment that Hope hadn't even tried to ask for more beyond her promise. She's probably got other plans in mind, he decided; bet she's just softening me up for that. Hands tucked deep into his coat pockets against the growing chill in the air--they'd begun to ache in the way that told him snow was on the way--he headed back to the side street, and portaled back home.

The snow arrived before Hope did, with the tree being delivered about a half-hour later. By then, Stephen had a crackling fire going in the hearth and had even used magic to set up a tree stand before one of the front windows of the living room.

Rosy-cheeked from the cold and bearing two Balsam wreaths decked with red ribbons, sprigs of holly & berries, and mini white lights, Hope appeared to be the embodiment of Christmas cheer. "I figured now that it's no secret that a magical building is part of the neighborhood," she explained in answer to the question in his eyes, "You'd at least want the Sanctum to look a little festive..."

Stephen gave a heavy sigh as he conceded that point to her. And though she didn't ask, he cast a spell to keep the wreaths in place on the Sanctum's double doors, with reinforcement to keep them fresh and green for however long they hung there. He would go on to use the same spell for the Christmas tree awaiting decorating in his quarters.

After lunch, Hope practically shooed Stephen from the room when she began to string lights on the fragrant evergreen. With a vintage selection of Christmas carols playing in the background, she was determined to keep her promise to him. "Besides, I'd like to surprise you with the ornaments I've picked. So go keep busy with whatever wizarding stuff is on your agenda, and I'll come get you for the big reveal."

Lazy snowflakes continued to fall well past dusk, looking pretty and perfectly seasonal outside the Sanctum windows, though little stuck to the streets and pavements. Hope had finally popped her head past the door to his study several hours after she'd sent him away and invited Stephen to come check out the product of her efforts. Her excitement felt contagious--and once he spied the tree, Stephen knew she had good reason for her enthusiasm.

She had dimmed the lights for maximum effect, showing off the slow, steady twinkle of the white lights that graced every branch of the tree. The ornaments were a mix of dark blue and gold bells and balls, variously sized, and many of them sprinkled with golden glitter. Featured among them were larger, glassblown ornaments shaped as suns, moons, and stars, as well as other traditional celestial symbols. The total effect was breathtaking--and a telling reminder that Hope was an Artist, deep down to her soul.

Watching him take in the full picture, her eyes sparkled with joyful anticipation of his response. Stephen's jaw had dropped, and he remained speechless as he circled the tree before he came to stand at Hope's side, pulling her to him with one arm around her back. "This is...marvelous, honey. Fantastic. Beautiful...and...and..."

"And nearly perfect for a Master of the Mystic Arts," she replied, a slight tremor in her voice, "Don't you think so, anyway?

Stephen nodded and laid a kiss on top of her head. "I can't imagine anything more perfect, Hope," he agreed, his voice grown thick with emotion. "You were planning this for a while, weren't you?"

"Only since mid-September," she laughed, then pointed to a stained-glass disk depicting the zodiac circling a stylized sun. "I saw that one at a craft fair, and it just sort of...inspired...the whole thing."

"I should've expected something this..." Stephen searched for the perfect word to describe not only the tree, but the sentiment her gift had him feeling, "...grand...from you, honey. Grand. Grand and perfect."

"It's actually a little short of perfect, Stephen," she confessed difidently.

"No, Hope...honey...it's perfect for me," he insisted, "Both as a wizard and as a man."

"I don't mean in that way, darling. It's...it's unfinished," she sighed, motioning to the crowning branch. "It's in want of a star."

"Aaaaaaah." Stephen let the moment linger before smirking, "And is that by design, or just something you overlooked?"

"I just can't reach it," came her plaintive, honest reply.

"I see." Stephen could feel how hard she was trying not to ask for his help, in light of her promise to him. How dear that was to him! A simple yet lovely truth about this woman he loved. How could he not offer to help? "You know, I wouldn't mind adding the finishing touch, honey. If you'd allow me to, of course."

"I suppose that'll be alright, darling. If you wouldn't mind too terribly."

"Not at all," he told her, truthfully. "Do you have one, or shall I conjure something to match your theme?"

"Hold on," she replied, making a beeline to a dark pink box perched on the side table by the sofa. Hope removed an object swathed in tissue paper, unwrapping it very gingerly when she returned to his side. "This star is over a hundred years old. It came to America with my great-grandmother when she arrived from Ireland back in 1921. It passes to the eldest daughter in each generation..."

"And you're the lucky winner," Stephen observed in a hushed tone, immediately adopting the same reverence with which Hope handled the fragile antique.

"Yes," she sniffled softly. "Mom was the middle child, but her older sister didn't have any girls, so when she passed, it came to me. That was during The Snap years. Once she came back, my mother never really recovered from finding out her sister had died alone, without the comfort of family near."

Stephen's first thought was of his mother, Beverly, and of the colorless Christmases between Donna's death and her own. In the face of Hope's bittersweet revelation, he couldn't bring himself to express his observation; that grief had been his mother's cause of death as well.

Hope took note of the pain that briefly flickered across his features. "Stephen, are you alright? You looked so sad, all of a sudden."

"Oh, honey, I'm just...just so, so sorry for your loss. I know that grief doesn't take holidays, and there are times it hits so hard, it feels like the one we've lost...that it only happened yesterday." Mindful of the crystal star in his hands, he drew Hope into his arms, then rested his chin atop her head. "But the best comfort, I'm told, is remembering the best of times you shared with them."

The smallest voice in his head gave an ironic retort. Doctor, why don't you take your own advice and heal yourself for a change? Share your story with Hope, and by doing so, maybe you can put your own ghosts to rest.

Maybe so, he told himself. But not now; not tonight. I'm not ready to face that kind of pain just yet. And the small voice answered: of course you aren't. It seems you never are.

Stephen shook off that moment of weakness--as he always did. And with the gentlest charm he could manage, he floated Hope's star to the top of the tree and fixed it safely in place. That drew from Hope her prettiest smile, so that he dared a change of subject. "Well, in light of the heavy lifting I've just done, I think it's time we fix ourselves some turkey and gravy sandwiches and maybe watch 'The Grinch'. It's one of the few Christmas movies I actually enjoy."

"Jim Carey or the DreamWorks one," Hope asked as they headed, arm in arm, toward the closer of the two Sanctum kitchens.

"Jim Carey," he asserted with a grin, "The other is far too sentimental for my liking."

[to be continued🎄]

If you enjoyed this little fic so far, you can read more about how Stephen & Hope met and fell in love in my stories 'Friday in the Park with Stephen' (meet-cute, flirtation & fluff), and 14,000,604 (hurt/comfort, angst, passion/smut, lovers reunited against impossible odds).

In addition, I've written a couple of one-shots/prompt fills as part of their ongoing series, The Wizard and the Artist

tagging: @strangelock221b @mousedetective @icytrickster17 @ironstrange1991 @darsynia @ben-locked @hithertoundreamtof23 @aeterna-auroral-avenger @lorelei-lee @stewardofningishzida @thelostsmiles @mrs-cookie @paperclippedmime @groovyqueer

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girl-of-many-fandoms · 2 years

Text

"I don't get jealous."

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Stark!Reader

Summary: In order to get the job done a little flirting is necessary.

Warnings: mention of needles and light smut

NOTE: This fic is set just before the events of Civil War and Doctor Strange where Stephen is a regular neurosurgeon. I've been sitting on this one for some time now.

MASTERLIST

---

"Ignore it." Stephen continued to kiss my neck and jawline, rolling me onto my back in order to keep me from answering my phone that kept buzzing on his nightstand.

"It's important-mhmm.." A moan fell past my lips as he grounded himself against me. Stephen crashed his lips against mine in a lazy kiss; my hands roamed from his shoulders to his chest and using enough force I successfully rolled us over.

"This really better be important."

"Oh relax, we've been going at it for hours." Stephen held onto my thighs, rubbing small circles into my exposed flesh with his thumb. I hugged the white sheet close to my body as I reached over to pick up my phone.

"Tony?”

“Shake your ass sunshine, we’ve got a mission.” Stephen smirked cheekily at me, thrusting his hips upwards which earned him a playful smack on his abdomen.

“I’m sure you’re capable of handling this one yourself.”

“I would if I was able to flirt my way into this man’s apartment to get what I need.” Stephen sat up moving his hands from my thighs to my ass giving it a firm squeeze. His stubble burned against my neck as he left a trail of kisses on my exposed flesh.

“Can’t Nat help you with this because I’m in the middle of something.”

“Kiss the doctor goodbye and let’s get going.”

“How did you- Friday. Fine, I’ll be there in twenty.”Hanging up I threw the phone onto the bed, leaving kisses on Stephen’s collar bone.

“You have to go.”

“I do.” I couldn’t hold in my laugh as he securely held onto me, dragging me down with him as he laid back on his pillow. Stephen ghosted his fingers along my spine leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I don’t want you to leave just yet.”

“I don’t either but just like you doctor, I have to leave whenever my phone rings.” He opened his mouth to make a remark only to be cut short by his ringtone. Reaching over I grabbed it, a broad smile made its way onto my face once I saw the caller ID.

“You were about to say something?” He took the device and answered it, holding it up to his ear. I moved to get off of him but he kept me in place with his free arm. With my eyes trained on his face, I left a sizeable hickey on his chest as well as a few love bites here and there.

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Not a word Ms. Stark.” Hooking his index finger under my chin he tilted my head back to kiss me a couple times before pulling away.

“See, you know I’m right.” Groaning at my statement, he rolled me onto my back; his blue eyes locked with mine. Reaching up, I ran my fingers across his stubble that was surely going to be removed before he goes to work.

“Yes, you were. Now let’s get out of this bed before we never leave. Just do me a favour, be careful.”

“The most work I’ll be doing is flirting my way into some old dudes condo, nothing that’ll land me on your operating table.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Smirking, I pushed on his chest and he got off of me, planting both his feet on the hardwood floor. Stephen stood in all his glory showcasing his entire physique for me to see.

“Oh relax, I’m not going to sleep with the guy.” I threw the covers back and got out of bed. Stephen located his boxers from last night and pulled them up while I was in the middle of slipping on my clothes.

“You better not.”

“Is that a hint of jealousy Doctor Strange?” Stephen towered over me with both hands on my hips.

“I don’t get jealous.”

—

“You know I forgot to say this earlier but you do look lovely tonight sis.” Tony’s voice came through my comms. Bringing the cocktail glass up to my lips, I took a sip of my drink, eyes searching the sea of faces to find our target.

“I’m sure your doctor friend would’ve loved to see you in that dress.”

“What are you doing Tony?” Our eyes locked from across the room, he had a smirk on his face which told me that he was definitely up to no good.

“When do I get to meet him?”

“Never, so please drop it.”

“He makes you happy, that much I could tell. You’re blushing.”

“I’m not, it’s the alcohol. I’ve got eyes on Colin.”

“Go work your magic, just don’t take it too far. I wouldn’t want you to cheat on your lover.” Smiling at Tony I subtly flipped him off as I downed the contents of my glass. Colin walked over to me at the bar with his arms open to greet me.

“Mon ami! It’s nice to see you here.”

“Colin, it’s nice to see you again.” He kissed both my cheeks and took my hand in his, smiling as he took in my appearance.

“You look just as beautiful as I remember.” Colin and I started catching up with each other, well, he was mainly telling me more about his company. Information that I really don’t care about. Colin knocked back his whiskey, snaking his hand onto the small of my back just above the curve of my ass.

Time to get the show on the road Y/N

“I’m really glad to hear about all of that but maybe we could take this conversation somewhere more private?” Colin and I had a thing going on back in college so when Tony briefed me on who our target was I knew this was going to be easy. Batting my eyes at him, I toyed with the lapels of his suit jacket.

“I don’t see why not.” Taking my clutch in one hand I slipped the other into his and followed his lead to the elevator. Colin had my back pressed against the wall the minute the doors shut behind us, kissing every inch of my skin that was available to him.

All I kept thinking about during the ride up to his penthouse was the neurosurgeon who was in the middle of a surgery blocks away from this building. The doors opened and he guided me to his door, thankfully there wasn’t anyone in the hallway to witness me jabbing him in the neck with a sedative. His limp body hit the ground and I grabbed the key to his condo to unlock the door. I pushed the door open and dragged him inside.

“Did you sedate him yet?”

“I did. This part shouldn’t take long.” I retrieved the tiny bug device Tony gave me to place on his computer and headed straight to his study.

“Jackpot! Okay Friday, take the wheel.” I placed the device on his computer and looked at the download bar on the screen.

“So you’re really not going to introduce me to this man?”

“Exactly, I really like this one and you would only mess it up for me.”

“He knows that you’re an Avenger. What could I possibly do to mess it up?”

“I don’t know Tony and quite frankly, I don’t want to find out. Stephen is too good to me, he’s normal and makes me happy. That should be more than enough for you to know about him.”

“I’m running a background check-”

“Tony Stark, do not do that!” All of Colin’s files were downloaded and Friday wiped the computer clean. I grabbed my clutch on my way out of the room and walked straight past Colin who was still unconscious on the ground.

“Well this was fun.”

“Always nice working with you sis.”

—

There was a knock on my front door and I paused my movie to answer it. Stephen’s smile dimmed once his eyes landed on me which made me slightly confused.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?” I stepped aside to let him in and he immediately titled my head to the side to get a better view of my neck.

“Why do you have a hickey on your neck?” Stephen cocked an eyebrow at me pulling his lips into a thin line.

“I told you I had to flirt my way in and no, I did not cheat on you if that's what you were thinking. Hell, I didn’t even kiss Colin.” Stephen shrugged his jacket off and threw it over the back of the sofa.

“I don’t like it.” There was no denying that he was jealous at the fact that another man had his hands on her while he was away.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t get jealous you sure are right now, Strange.” Stephen scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around his waist.

“I’m not jealous.”

“Prove it.”

Stephen wasted no time in crashing his lips against mine, leaning down a bit to lift me off the ground. My legs wrapped around his waist as he circled the sofa to lie us down on it.

“You’re going to regret saying that Ms. Stark.”

---

MARVEL Taglist:

#doctor strange x stark!reader #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange #stephen strange x ofc #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x stark!reader #stephen strange x you #stephen strange #doctor strange smut #stephen strange smut #benedict cumberbatch imagine #benedict cumberbatch

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multific · 2 years

Text

Another Reality (Part 2)

Only The Beginning

Part 1

Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: America found a rather interesting multiverse. One, which Steven never would have believed existed if he didn't see it with his own two eyes.

Stephen looked, he really did try and find her. Just like his alternative-self asked, he tried to find her, to find you.

But no matter where he looked, not even a trace.

Stephen knew you were a witch and from the conversation, he also knew you must prefer the dark arts of some kind, why would the alternative Steven say that her room felt like Satan's lair?

But no luck. Not even the Satanists knew anything about you.

He wished to have asked more questions, got to know you better, so he could find you easier, so he finally could be happy.

Hopefully, he could also have the amazing gift of your daughter, but he couldn’t find you anywhere.

Christine got pregnant, had a baby shower. So he heard.

A year passed, but he couldn’t find you still, even when he stopped looking. He told Wong he didn’t care anymore and if it was meant to be, it would happen, but in the back of his mind you were always there. Holding his baby and smiling at him sweetly.

He dreamt of that place, he saw you in his dreams.

This must be similar to how Wanda felt, Stephen thought. Dreaming away so sweetly and waking up alone. But Stephen was happy, he had America and Wong. He trained America and her powers were growing.

One day, he was having a nice cup of tea when suddenly the ground started to shake, he immediately got into action only to find Wong already at the scene.

"What is it?" asked Stephen but the creature had other ideas.

It was a snake-like being, with huge teeth, Stephen swore he only saw something like this in Harry Potter.

As Stephen and Wong started to fight the thing, suddenly a huge spear with dark energy around it appeared.

And as Stephen looked back, you.

You stood there a couple feet from him, in all your glory, he swore you were shining like the brightest star in the night.

And as if you recognized him, your eyes widened a little. Wong watched you two.

As if old lovers met once again.

"He kept me from you." you said, confusing both men.

"Who?" asked Wong and as you both gave him a look, he knew better and just left the scene to remove the best and look after the injured.

"Your other version, the one with three eyes. I can feel his curse on me now that we met." Stephen had no idea what you meant. And then you moved your arm, he could see the magic. "He cursed me so that you wouldn't find me. I wasn't even supposed to be here. I had to fight my instinct and come."

"But why would I- he curse you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" you smiled, Stephen's heart skipped a beat. "Christine. He didn't like that you wanted to be with me so, he cursed me."

Stephen would never forget the face of that obsessed and deranged man. It didn't come as a surprise that he would do such a thing. Probably because you were too powerful for him to kill you, so he cursed you.

"I'm disappointed!" you said, groaning. "Curses are my speciality and it took me this long to figure it out? I'm getting old!"

"You look breathtaking." Stephen said, but he didn't mean to as he caught himself blushing a little as you smirked.

"Oh, am I?" you asked, stepping closer.

"Was that Wong? I think he needs help!" he said turning and running from you.

"You can run, Love. But you are mine now!" you said laughing behind him."

Stephen smiled as he went to help people, you did the same.

And you just both knew, this was only the beginning.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @paola-carter

~Masterlist~

AO3

Additional taglist: @fantasyfan4life @thewinterpoet2 @xbarrjallenx @zeeader @thebaileybugle @singhfae @endless-starzz @lovecleastrange @rbymoon @24-martie��

#stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x ofc #stephen strange x fem reader #dr strange imagines #dr strange imagine #dr strange #dr strange x reader #dr strange x you #strange x reader #strange x you #marvel #Marvel character #marvel fanfiction #Marvel AU #marvel imagines #marvel imagine

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drstrangefictions · 2 years

Text

What If... Doctor Strange Chose Frigg Lokidottir Instead of His Lover?

Chapter Three

Stephen Strange & Original Female Character

Word Count: 1K+

Spoilers: "Loki" Season 1; "What If...?" Season 1; "i don't want to be saved" fanwork

Basic Warnings + Trigger Warnings: OOC Stephen Strange.

AO3: Link

Master List || Previous Chapter

It was her turn to sit in the sofa chair, watching the reflection in the window at the top of the sanctum. She studied the way she looked; she was relieved that her hair was such a beautiful honey color and that her eyes were emerald and light brown, she was glad her face was round instead of slender. She did, however, hate how she could still see him in her reflections; his smile, the shape of his eyes, his nose… she was nearly a spitting image of him despite what was different between her and that horrible man. The mortals knew who she was. She was the daughter of Loki Laufeyson, she was the daughter of the God who attacked New York and could have succeeded. She was the daughter of the God of Mischief. She wasn’t welcomed on Midgard due to what he did, and yet her uncle Thor was welcomed on Midgard… he was praised as a hero for helping the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes save Midgard from Loki. She was too young to help, and had she been of age, she would have helped and maybe she would be hailed as a hero as well.

She swallowed hard and leaned forward in the chair, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin against her curled fingers. Her reflection did the same, but she was wearing an Asgardian horned helm, no corrective lenses, and she stared back at Frigg with fire in her eyes and a wicked, unsettling grin despite sitting in the same position. Frigg blinked slowly at her reflection, briefly wondering if she was doing that because she was exhausted or if her mind was playing games with her again. The thought didn’t remain for more than a second as she deemed it less important that the growing rift between her and her caretaker of the last five years. She wondered if she was imagining the rift or if it was actually there. He was more distant than usual; her time was taken up by mundane adolescent things as well as important things like practicing her abilities. They stopped eating at the dinner table at the same time and she found herself spending more time with Wong or Mordo than Stephen and Christine. Maybe she had brought the rift on herself by making such a silly mistake…

“I want to help you, father.” She closed her eyes as she replayed the line in her head over and over again. What an idiot she was to let that word slip out of her mouth in a moment of weakness and of desperation. It was embarrassing to know that she said something so silly yet so important to a man who will never fill that role for her because of his own feelings toward that general role. However, he was the closest thing she had to a real father. He pushed her through public Midgardian school, he provides food and shelter for her, he teaches her skills that she will need to know in the real world if she decides to never return to her own kind. Were those not the duties of a father? Perhaps Frigg was confusing the roles of a father with something else, but she couldn’t figure out what she may be confusing it with. She had never known anything else in terms of what could and should be the role of a father—her own biological father was… not a role model, to say the very least. She had heard the horror stories of Mr. Stark’s father, Ms. Romanoff’s father, and a handful of others who have had their fair share of bad dad’s as well as their perceptions on what is considered a good dad.

Frigg looked back at her reflection; it was normal again. She gave a sigh of relief that the wicked witch in the window was gone, her mind had a habit of playing tricks on her, especially so when she felt overwhelmed or stressed. She pushed her glasses up by the bridge with the tip of her nail (she found out that one can extend their nails with something call acrylic and she learned of the various nail shapes that can be done; she is currently in love with the coffin shape, her next nail venture may be the stiletto shape) and focused on the reflection that walked up beside her. She only watched him. She didn’t speak to him just in case it was another trick of her overwhelmed mind. In fact, even if he was real, she didn’t really feel the desire to talk with him as she would just muck it all up further.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sit up here.” Stephen chuckled in bad taste, his small smiled faltered when he felt the side eye of the adolescent. He quickly regained his stoic expression and looked down at her with sad eyes that she couldn’t see because she didn’t make the effort to make eye contact. He set a mug of hot tea down on the little table next to the chair and one remained in his other hand.

She slapped her hands against her knees. “I suppose you want to sit up here?” She stood up quickly and bit the inside of her bottom lip.

“No, no.” He put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down into the chair. “Do you often sit up here when I’m not home?” He asked.

Frigg shook her head and rested her elbows on her knees again. “I don’t sit here at all, actually. I don’t know what compelled me to do so today.”

“I hope you like the salted caramel black tea, that’s what I made you.” He stared at the window in front of them and watched her reflection slowly move as if there was resistance against her ever movement.

She nodded. “It tastes like black tea, but it smells like salted caramel. I don’t think that’s how that should work, maybe I’m just a bit weird.”

Stephen gave another slight chuckle. “I wouldn’t know, I refuse to try it. Doesn’t really seem like the type of tea that I would enjoy.” He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to speak.

“Are you only here because there has been more distance between us than usual?” Frigg essentially took the words right out of his mouth. “If the distance came about because of what I said the other day, I must apologize. In all honesty, it has been keeping me awake at night, it was embarrassing and if I remember, that’s not what you wanted this arrangement to be.” Her voice shook with every word that flew out of her mouth. She pressed herself against the cushions of the chair and curled her fingers around the edges of the arms.

Stephen frowned. “I’m going to stop you right there. I don’t want an apology for that, I actually wanted to apologize to you. You came here for help, and you didn’t receive any.”

Frigg slowly lifted herself off of the chair and turned to face Stephen. “I’m not sure I follow, Doctor.”

“No more formalities, you’ve been here long enough to call me whatever you please. I can’t change what you’ve been through, and I can’t change who you are, all I can offer is a better life for you. I want you to feel at home and I don’t want you to feel as if you have to impress me. I shouldn’t have pushed you away from your natural magic, nor should I have forced you to learn mine. I took away some of your childhood, one you desperately tried to have.” Stephen stepped in front of the chair.

She swallowed and nodded slightly. “That was… an apology if I say so myself. Unexpected, at that. Doubt you have ever apologized to anyone in your life, honestly.”

He pursed his lips. “Why are you critiquing my apology to you?”

“I have no idea what else I’m supposed to do or say. I really wasn’t expecting mister arrogant himself to apologize to a child. And it’s not even that I don’t accept it, I do, it’s just… what now? An apology doesn’t just fix everything or calm the nerves. It almost feels like a lie.” She leaned back in the chair and looked up at Stephen with watery eyes. “I’m not a lie detector. And a most certainly have not learned to read you. You’re always so distant and cold and arrogant. I don’t know who you are, but I want Stephen Strange back, please.” She sniffled.

Stephen nodded. “What I said won’t fix the fact that I pushed you away and hurt you, and I know you don’t like promises. But you can ask Wong, Mordo, and Christine about just how much they yelled at me over this.”

Frigg wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. “I suppose that will work. Look, I didn’t mean to cry or get all weird. I really thought I did something wrong, and I just cannot believe that it was you that did something wrong.”

“I can understand that.” He said.

She laughed through the tears that kept rolling down her cheeks. “Who humbled you?”

“You did.” He handed her a handkerchief. “Being yelled at will eventually humble someone. You were never the problem, and I want you to understand that. I knew what I was getting into when I spoke up and took you home. I even expected you to one day view me as a father—I just didn’t think it would take five years. It surprised me because I haven’t done a single thing to make you think of me in that way in the past five years. I have to be—I want to be—better for you. I was arrogant and I don’t think I understood the severity of your situation.”

Frigg threw herself off the chair and wrapped her arms around Stephen. “Does this mean I can get something insanely expensive as part of your apology?”

“No.” Stephen wrapped his arms around her (the cloak enveloped her as well). He paused for a moment. “I don’t want to see you do anything just to impress me; however, I do want to see you succeed.”

“What a cheap way to say you want what’s best for me.” Frigg said. She pushed away from him and smiled up at him.

As is on cue, to save them both from silence, something—rather someone—crashed through the ceiling of the sanctum and into the staircase below them. Both Frigg and Stephen ran to the edge of the floor and peered down at who had fallen into their home. Stephen jumped the railing and slowly floated down to the main floor. Frigg ran around the top floor and down as much of the staircase that was not caved in. Both peered into the gaping hole in the staircase; the figure started shrinking and he looked around, horrified, and breathing heavy.

“Thanos is coming.” The deranged looking man said.

Stephen instinctively looked up at Frigg, almost asking her if she knew who Thanos was.

Frigg shook her head.

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huxs-waifu · 1 year

Text

10,000 Nights - Final Chapter - Greek tragedy **Smut**

Chapter Summary:

So here we are at the final chapter of this story, We have the Honeymoon enjoy the final smut , as always please drop a comment.

Thank you to everyone who has supported me and this fiction for the last 2 years! It's really been a labour of love and opened so many doors for me. Please do not threat though this is not the end of Chrissy and my strange - I've got an NSFW alphabet and a few extras coming.

AS well as a spin-off/ sequel series - the working title is Norse/Greek Tragedy. So if you want to know what happens to Chalice in the future this will be her story! with a particular Trickster god named Loki ;) along with her relationship with mum and dad but not as you expect.

Part Twelve - can be found here

A03 link - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30666221/chapters/93492631

Playlist - https://huxs-waifu.tumblr.com/post/650653939084279808/via

Masterlist - https://huxs-waifu.tumblr.com/post/670776247958257664/10000-nights-masterlist-the-cloak-seems-intent

After the wedding, we retired to a honeymoon suite that Tony had offered up. Stephen carried me over the threshold traditionally not via a portal, he decided he wanted at least some normal parts of a wedding. That was the whole point of having a second wedding.

Strange practically tumbled me onto the bed and started loosening his tie.

"Woah someone can't wait tonight, relax it's our honeymoon" sitting up and taking his hands in mine gently taking the fingers away from the loosened tie.

"I want to make another one. A baby that is not an interdimensional rift"

"You want another one already. Like literally right now. You know how much trouble chalice caused us"

"Well my little wife. I want to make lot with you. Plus it's a lot more fun making one intentionally ."

"Ok calm down Daddy," I smirked. A pang jolted through Stephen, his blue eyes dilated.

"You finally did it. You called me Daddy!"

"Oh, no little one you will be calling me Daddy from now on. No more of that old man business." Grabbing my ass pulling me into him, as I stood up from the bed. his dress trousers are straining half-mast already. "Do you understand how delicious that sounds coming out of your mouth, wife?"

"I'd been saving it up. Anyway, you ARE a daddy now old man" getting on my knees,

Poking him in the chest. Before continuing to take off the tie.

"Well if I can't continue with the old man routine. What about you calling me little one? I'm not that girl you followed into a wine closet."

"No, you're not. Yes, it does work both ways. You are a woman. A bright celestial goddess. You are all women to me. Every inch of your curves, your pinprick scars that litter your body. Your blood that runs hot and your milk that flows to feed our child. Are all women, My wife" capturing our lips together. “Now Goddess, I wish for you to get back on this bed.”

“In the dress still?” Swaying the skirts of the tulle back and forth. Watching his eyes change to that of hunger, like a snake being hypnotised by the movement. ”Be a shame to waste the lingerie underneath, i know how much you adore your Wife in it”

A low growl escapes his mouth in pleasure, before flicking his hand to the side of him the dress falling off around my ankles and sliding away much as the cape does with its scared. Bared to him the pump this time was attached to my arm hidden by the voluminous sleeves of the dress. “You never fail to surprise me my goddess with your pump-hiding skills”

“Face it it's one of the reasons you like me.”

“Oh its up there on the list with many things I love about you Chrissy. Including your underwear choices.” his hands reach out enjoying touching the golden yellow bra cup, the silk gliding over his fingertips. Not that he could feel it but silk gave his hands a nice cooling sensation. The white lace edges contrasted beautifully, and don't even get him started on the thong that was barely there.

Looking up at him I capture his lips again, his grip tightening on my breast. “It's time to get you undressed too.” whispering between kisses. I grab hold of his wrist though before he can magically remove them.” no magic!” As I discard his suit jacket, he stops groping me to shake his hands in defeat. Getting to work on the shirt buttons. Every Centimetre relieved of his porcelain skin had me giddy with joy. My hand sliding inside his shirt to feel the skin-to-skin contact, making light tracings over this well-toned lean pecs before continuing the shirt removal.

“We're going to be all night if you keep up like this.”

“Paintance Wizard, we've got the rest of our lives together.”

“Well the former supreme has waited 1000’s years , I think I owe it to him to speed this up.” flicking his trousers off to join the rest of the suit. before taking each side of my face and receiving a hungry kiss. My own hands are firmly pressed on his chest as he walks me backwards onto the bed. “Now my beautiful wife do as I say and spread those legs.”

Moving into the centre of the bed, complying with his demands. Coyly opening my legs wide to show off the barely-there underwear.The bed dipped lightly as he sits in front on his knees eys filled with lust before even touching me his hands connecting to my hips all the same. As with his best grip possible the coolness of them glade down the sides of the thong. Removing them “see you don't need magic to do everything.”

“You always say that but I do”

“No, you don't, I love your hands. I love every inch of you. Your amazing magic or not.”

“Darling, you are the most wonderful person in the world.” As strange dips capturing my lips his fingers start to weave in and out of my folds with his fingers. A moan escapes me and into his mouth, causing him to smirk. “Please allow me to give you pleasure before you give me mine. Goddess, I intend to worship all of you tonight. Kissing down my jaw, over the clavicle, across the shoulder and stopped kissing above the pump. “That's every part of you.” fingers enter deeper making a sweet scissoring motion before drawing back out.

A low husky mewl releases from me as they pull out completely. The doctor positioned himself in front letting his ridge member slap a couple of times before finding his placement inside me.The sticky sloppy draw of my pussy dragged up and down Stephens's cock. He looked upon me with a gleeful grin, eyes connecting in the darkness. Before a flash of madness passed through them his thrusts became ploughing movements making the bed squeak with every pump of hips. Making sure to bottom out every time. My body gladly takes every inch of him and more.

Growling sitting up, I hooked an arm around his neck and legs around his waist. The thrusts are deep and lounging as we grind against one another. Lost in the ecstasy of the sweaty lust filled the room. Sweat dripping down our bodies, I closed my eyes only to be met by his forehead against mine. “ Look at me Chrissy, I want you to look into my eyes as I take you over the edge.”Swallowing feeling the change in movement to one of eager pace, hitting the indie of me in that special place. His hands hooked into the hair at the back of my head. Opening my eyes to see my now husband looking so intensely at my face. “Fucking celestial.”

At those words my body broke down into its release, Stephan chasing his own in three more powerful blows. His seed becoming nestled in me, time stopped as if the stone in the eye knew we needed it.

The morning after.

Placing a hand on his chest pushing Strange back into the pillows. The White silk of the honeymoon suite is the complete difference from the sumptuous red of the sanctum four-poster bed. Tracking each mole and scar lazily before giving a soft kiss to the centre of his body.

As I draw back up. His hands grab at the ample and tender breast flesh hanging above him. Kneading the skin."I can feel it. Your heart is beating."

"Beats only for you, Stephen "

"I love you. I can't tell you enough." Moving his hand from my body clutching at my face. "I never want to be lonely again. I'm glad i found you in this universe, makes me almost feel sad for the others in theirs, that don't have you."

Bending over, the style of hair coming unravelled one side. Placing a kiss on his lips. Smooching away at my now husband. Kneed on top straddling him. "I want to tell you how much I love every day. Spend 10,000 nights with you and 10,000 more."

So we spend every night together from that moment on. A good year when by, with love and laughter. Until that one faithful day when, a spaceship crashed and Strange ran after tony.

*SNAP*

@too-short-for-my-own-good @avengershumanresources @fluffyprettykitty @d0ct0rstrangewife @type1diabetesinfandom @strangelockd

#dr stephen strange #Dr Strange #dr strange marvel #dr strange x ofc #dr strange smut #dr strange x reader #dr strange x oc #Marvel multiverse #Marvel Comics #greek mythology references #diabetic fiction #diabetic character #marvel cinematic universe #mcu fanfiction #mcu smut #marvel cinematic universe smut #strangebatch #benedict cumberbatch

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karolamurdock · 10 months

Text

Accidental Marriage Pt.4

Stephen Strange x OFC

Warnings: Implied/referenced sex, light angst and english is not the author's first lenguage

Summary: For the prompt "Accidental Marriage."

“So… Do you put on my last name, or will this get a little Stranger?"

Or: Cassandra Paulssen meets Stephen Strange twice. Once as master and student and once as husband and wife.

Not in that particular order.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4

Notes: It's been so long. There is literally no excuse. I hope you like it. Any comment is appreciated ❤️

PD: I may come back later to edit a couple of words. I'm very tired, but I wanted to publish this before going to sleep. Enjoy!

The book slipped through Cassandra's fingers and landed with a soft thud on the surface of the table.

She stroked, with slow fingers, the divinely preserved ink on the yellow pages, and scanned out of the corner of her eye the long shadow stretched across the library floor: its abnormally elongated form occupying the previously empty space just behind her back.

De Motu Cordis, she read to herself. Contemplating the taste of the other presence in the room; the miasma, thick as cold wax of ancient magic, and the heavy silence that occupied the once serene, earthy atmosphere of the London library.

Would Stephen be interested in something like this? She wondered. She considered the weight of the antique binding, the precious preservation of an original copy, and opted to add it to the pile. He's an avid reader, she reminded herself. Surely he has mastered Latin by now.

And if not... well, Cassandra was used to reading to her children.

The figure shifted, and Cassandra's gaze finally landed on the deep dark eyes of Kaecilius, Ancestral's famous renegade apprentice.

"Master Rama is not at the Sanctuary," Cassandra told him. Turning slightly to check another book on the shelf to her left, her face far away but her senses well oriented towards the dark Sorcerer.

"I know," he replied. His voice was husky, and his words flexed with a certain curious accent. "His presence would not present a setback, in any case."

Stephen's voice is deeper, she hummed in her head.

"Should I be worried?"

"That depends," Kaecilius replied. Cassandra felt his appraising gaze sweep over her profile, noting her plain clothes, her coiled hair, and the lack of artifacts on her person. "What is your role here, woman? Are you another one of Ancestral's blind lambs?"

"Would you believe me if I told you I was the librarian?" she asked, and allowed a slight glance at his wary expression, at his intense greenish eyes, obscured by his scowl and the stern tilt of his head.

"Are you?"

Cassandra's fingers wrapped around a small piece of metal, hidden by the stack of books on her desk:

"Would you cut off my head if I were?"

The sling ring slipped over her fingers with ease, and Cassandra's voice was accompanied by an impassive stare as she turned her body slowly to confront the sorcerer completely.

Kaecilius sneered, and walked in a slow circle around her as she remained immobile, both hands behind her back: "I should have figured that trying to get answers from one of her puppets would be fruitless. None of them have an entity of their own and are incapable of responding on their own account."

"You have come to steal knowledge," Cassandra shrugged, lazy in her movements and sardonic with her smile, "Why should I give it away so freely?"

And from his back emerged two cutting daggers that the shelves around them reflected coldly: "Less painful."

"Your self-preservation instinct is admirable," Cassandra replied, and raised a hand in the air as one of his daggers was thrown into the space between her eyes.

The dagger passed through the portal conjured by Cassandra, and met its end at Kaecilius' feet as another portal materialized above his head.

"But you're right," Cassandra conceded, watching the man's frown through the space between her golden fingers.

"I'm not the librarian. They couldn't afford me."

Cassandra's eyes darted around the room. With a hop, she threw herself out of the way of the projectiles, and rolled down the hallway to take cover behind one of the bookshelves. She heard footsteps approaching behind the corridor, and stood up quickly as the man appeared with two orange, crackling whips in his hands.

She successfully dodged the first whip aimed at her right ankle. The second, unfortunately, wrapped around her waist and sent her staggering a couple of steps forward. She evaded the blow to her jaw and ducked, landing two quick blows to his forearm, opening his hand and breaking free of his grip.

She backed up a couple of steps. Kaecilius looked at her, frowning as he opened and closed his tingling fingers experimentally, and questioned again:

"Who are you?"

Cassandra bent down, picking up one of the thick tomes that fell to the floor with the commotion, and quoted, not looking away from the man's icy gaze:

"Per me si va nella città dolente. Per me si va nell' eterno dolore. Per me si va tra la perduta gente. Giustizia mosse il mio alto fattore: Fecemi la Divina Potestate. La somma sapienza e il primo amore. Dinanzi a me non fur cose create, se non eterne, ed io eterno duro."

"Dante would be proud of all of his minstrels," he replied dryly.

"Do you think so?" Cassandra fanned her face dramatically with her hand, blinking languidly as she replied in a quiet, demure voice: "I practice every day before I go to sleep."

Kaecilius moved forward, and Cassandra lifted the book to stop the descending forearm, wielding a long dagger that the man unsheathed from the straps at his back.

The sharp point buried itself in her shoulder. With a grunt, Cassandra slammed her palm into the wizard's neck, twice, until his hand staggered and Cassandra was able to turn around, turning her back to him and twisting the man's offending wrist with both hands.

The dagger flew away from his grip. She spun around again, and hit him in the jaw with the book's top edge, just before raising both hands and making use of her borrowed ring.

The portal opened behind her back. With a flick of her wrist, the rippling space swallowed them both, and the landscape around them changed to a green field, far away from civilization.

"Running away from your fights like rats on a sinking ship. You really do work according to your master's teachings, non-librarian Miss."

His lip twitched slightly, and Cassandra noted a certain arrogance in his expression. Did the man really believe she would put up so little of a fight? Now, she was fully aware of her simple robes, her lack of weapons and her slim figure. The previous months, hard as they had been, had managed to take their toll on her previously firm and agile body. However, such arrogance was frankly conceited. Cassandra would use it to her advantage.

Nevertheless, Cassandra had to grant some reason to the graveled-voiced, deep eyed and grim-faced man. Eventually, Death was bound to come to her. Immortal Mutant or not.

"To hate her as much as you claim, you sure do remember all of her teachings, don't you?

The instant she perceived his scowl, Cassandra spun around, landed quickly with both hands planted on the ground, and landed a kick that violently threw Kaecilius a couple of feet in the air.

Rising with a twist, she untied with nimble fingers the belt around her waist; she dodged the blows of the sorcerer, who struggled to sit up as he gestured with sparking hands, and, avoiding the circles summoned on his wrists, she quickly wrapped it very harshly around the man's neck.

Then she leapt into another portal, conjured just below their feet.

From the black mountains of Kathmandu, the icy winds of the night were still slipping away when she left her quarters. Her dark form dodging the pools of moonlight, her footsteps stifled by the dense curtain of the night noise.

Emboldened by her apparent mischief, she stretched against the outer wall of the hallway. She hooked her toes into the reliefs of the ornate construction, and, propelling her body with her feet shod in smooth slippers, she soared up the side of the building, climbing with cat-like skill and dexterity. Perhaps, she thought with a hum, she had been wrong about her mutation all along.

Sneaking through the monastery at such ungodly hours of the early morning, with an ear alert for nocturnal students as she climbed the balustrade erected a few rooms above Ancestral's study, Cassandra felt like a wild animal scurrying and hunting in the middle of the night. The dark traces under her pale eyes flashing in the dim light, the shadow cast by her hooded figure...

At the feel of the cold wind against her exposed face, Cassandra smiled slightly, and exhaled softly as she propelled her legs to rise over the low stone pillars and land with a twist on the hidden balcony where Ancestral awaited her.

As Cassandra rose to her feet, the dark hood; blue as the new horizon and warm as Ancestral's brief smile at her wary expression, fell over her shoulders and revealed her measured face, her loose braid and the yellow bruise coloring her right cheekbone.

"Good morning, Cassie," The Sorcerer Supreme greeted. Unlike her, Ancestral didn't look sleepy at all. She looked as fresh as ever.

"Good morning," Cassandra slurred the words, not without affection.

Ancestral's eyes remained in the night sky. Cassandra observed her profile briefly: her tangerine-colored tunic, her clasped hands behind her back, and the knowing glow in her clear orbs. She followed her gaze, as if captivated by the flickers of brightness in the distance, and remembered the warmth of the campfire in the skáli, the crackling of the red wood and the sparks that lit up the dry logs they touched with smoldering wisps.

Cassandra remained at X-Mansion for more than 25 years. While her knowledge of the mystic arts was severely limited, Cassandra was no less than an excellent storyteller, and she was a master at the art of babysitting. Dealing with volatile youngsters and teenagers who could literally burst into flames and shatter windows in an apotheosic tantrum had given her considerable mastery in reading the emotions of those around her. Therefore, ready to dispel the melancholic state into which they were plunged, prey to that almost dreamlike landscape, Cassandra spoke.

"Have you ever witnessed how the sky lights up during the winter in Svolvær? The high peaks of the islands can bring out the poetic side of any warrior. Born of awe at the dazzling beauty, or provoked by the terror that the luminous imposition provokes in the most sorrowful hearts."

Her voice was a feather, dancing with the morning breeze, soft and silent, oblivious to the noise of the early morning, unperturbed in its own space of stillness. A hand rose in the air, and Cassandra drew with an imaginary brush the colorful strokes of the Northern Lights.

"One could not help but wonder... Would those lights be the reflections of the armor of the valkyries, leading the fallen warriors to their king? Or would the dawn be honored as the last breath of brave soldiers who died in battle? I know now, that it is not, in fact, the Bifrost, nor does it blind the unborn children of the pregnant women who gaze upon it.

A smile broke across her face, and she watched Ancestral's serene and pleased expression, attentive, as she asked:

"Would it be wise to think of those lights as the souls of spinsters who danced in the skies, greeting those below? Perhaps! But we, the Raven Warriors, had little or no intention to stop and look at the spinsters and spouses; to divide our feast and hard-earned glory. We were too busy shaping the world and molding its paths to our convenience."

Cassandra interrupted herself, and fell silent as the air brushed aside the unruly locks that clung to her cold cheeks.

She felt Ancestral's hand clasp her own trembling fingers, and squeezed back the soft palm of her old friend.

Was Ancestral older than Cassandra? She didn't know. Sometimes, on occasions like that, it seemed so. Perhaps remaining so oblivious to the tribulations of the mortal world had finally taken its toll on her.

(Or perhaps, she told herself, living with so many children had changed Cassandra a bit, too. What supernatural power could she possess, to disavow the comfort that she herself lent so freely?)

Be that as it may, Ancestral's presence was a valid support for Cassandra's tempestuous emotions. Ever since The Raft, ever since the battle at the airport, ever since those first discords between her companions, Cassandra had felt anxious, on the edge of her seat, as if waiting for the second shoe to drop. Unable to take a step away from the conflict, and unable to look away from the storm.

With a deep sigh, Cassandra closed her eyes , doubtful: her son was safe, her companions were safe at the Mansion, and she would no longer worry about the fate of the Avengers. She knew, for she had been present, that Steve had freed the rest of The Raft, and Tony was taking responsibility for the repercussions of his actions in New York. She had control of her body, and she would learn to pick her battles with more assertiveness.

"I am impressed."

Ancestral examined her at length. Cassandra felt the heat creeping up her neck, and barely resisted the urge to stroke her bruised cheek with her free hand.

"He was your student," she replied, lips pursed as she tugged at the patch of sore skin.

"Well, I am the Sorcerer Supreme, isn't that right?"

Cassandra smiled at her enlightened expression. Ancestral's face gently took on a serious tone.

"I would not impose this battle on you, Cassandra."

"He attacked, and I defended myself," she countered, "Besides... I am not doing a very good job at keeping my distance by getting involved with one of your students."

"Knowing oneself is a virtue," Ancestral laughed. And then she looked at her with an affectionate expression.

Cassandra repressed the urge to cover her face. She prayed to her gods to hide the heat she could feel rising in her cheeks and over her ears as she commented:

"When do you think he will return? Surely our little fight has not deterred him from his ambitious aims."

"There is no way of knowing. Sooner rather than later, possibly. " Ancestral replied, exhaling a soft sigh. "You did a good job containing him, Cassie. I thank you."

"It's unbelievable. Even here, at the Crossroads of the World, trouble manages to find me." Cassandra sulked.

"If it weren't for you, Kaecilius would have stolen more precious books, possibly at the expense of the lives of the sorcerers of the London monastery."

"He was alone," Cassandra reassured, "At least at first. By the time his followers arrived, we were a far way from the Monastery, and his interest in the library had already been diverted."

"And for that, I thank you again, Cassie," her friend answered.

Cassandra finally nodded, accepting her words. They watched the sun rising behind the mountains. The sky, colored in lilac softly turning blue as day took over from night.

Somehow, the wind of that new day felt warmer.

~ • ~

To Cassandra's utter bewilderment, the days passed in the blink of an eye: one moment she was eating quinoa and apricot porridge for breakfast as she strolled through the sacred storehouses side by side with Wong, the next she was browsing the monastery's copious library, the next she was tracing the fine angles of her companion's aristocratic face in the training yard.

Cassandra watched with tempered delight the smooth curve of his short grayish beard. The flutter of his eyelashes; his fine nose, his lips pressed together in concentration. She admired the damp curls that clung to his furrowed brow, and cataloged every crease and wrinkle under the burning blue gaze of her apprentice.

It was during those days that, in an unexpected turn of events, Cassandra found herself looking forward to her scheduled sparrings with the man. She enjoyed their sessions, the various books they argued between breaks, his dry humor and cheeky wit.

Stephen was stern. Cassandra could already predict the sharp reversal of his judgment as if warned by the white sky that heralds the dispersal of thunder. He was a highly intelligent man. She wondered... how much longer he would mourn the loss of his old life, of his acclaimed vocation?

What was it like for him to accept the expansion of his perceptions of reality? How long would he, with his extensive mastery of the arts that heal the body, bow to an invisible wound?

What was the attack on New York City like for him, was he safe, was he in the hospital, in surgery, or did he watch the aliens making their way across the sky from the wide expanse of his window?

Was he with someone else?

She wanted to know him better. She wanted to understand the biting language with which he enunciated himself: his sarcastic manner, his confident movements, and the softness in his eyes when he approached her for directions, for correction and recommendations.

As these ponderings clouded Cassandra's thoughts, she didn't notice the fist until the lapels of one sleeve fluttered inches from her face. Too late to deflect the blow, Cassandra turned her face to the right and staggered slightly as the blow to her cheekbone reverberated across her cheek and rattled her teeth.

She took a step backward. Although she had reduced the momentum of the blow by turning in the opposite direction, she could feel her pulse on the left side of her face.

She caught Stephen's startled expression: torn between a pernicious pride and a very severe mortification that silently delighted her.

Without giving him time to feel sorry for her, (or gloat over his small victory). Cassandra dodged Stephen's outstretched arm, landed a hard backhand to his jaw with her elbow, and came out of his guard to deliver a swift kick behind his knees.

Stephen fell to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut, massaging his chin and holding onto the earthy floor with trembling hands.

Gently groping his stinging cheek with her fingers, Cassandra smiled and held out her hand. Stephen accepted it, after a few brief moments of hesitation, and allowed his wife to support him to stand.

"Good job," Cassandra praised, "I would recommend, however, that you take a bigger step forward when you extend your arm: that little bit of momentum can add even more force to your stroke. And watch your feet.”

Stephen cleared his throat, rubbing his sweaty forehead with his sleeve, and muttered under his breath: "Yes... thank you."

Cassandra smiled. She watched his rosy cheeks, his fast breathing, his narrowed eyes, the extension of his arm: where it connected with her hands, still clasped together.

The sky clouded in shades of purple over their heads. In the distance, Cassandra saw the warm blanket of the sun uncovering the mountains, and watched as the outline of Stephen's figure obscured the red horizon. His eyelashes lit up in pale oranges, and through his shadow-darkened expression, she felt his bright gaze cataloging into her own sunset-colored features.

Cassandra's pale eyes traveled the path of night rising to blot out Stephen's red silhouette against the mountains. Frowning at the sting in her eyelids, she noted the surprise in her husband's clouded expression before becoming aware of the path she traced with her fingers on his wrist. She took note of every vein under his flesh, of the peach skin on his forearms, of the wrinkles in his training shirt: where it folded over his elbow, where the collar brushed against the soft skin of his throat, how his pulse felt against Cassandra's little finger.

Stephen's breath vibrated against her fingers.

Cassandra glimpsed the curve of his Adam's apple, his dry lips, his short beard...

Could Stephen explain to her what it was that made her different? What aspects of magic remained hidden to his analytical mind? Perhaps it would not be rash to attribute the depth of his gaze to the bewilderment regarding his very presence, nor the natural inclination of his neck in the direction of the palm she held over his shoulder..

She felt Stephen's warm breath against her wrist, and the dark canvas of his face remained veiled by the growing night. In profile, with his face turned in the direction of her palm, she watched her husband's clear pupil colored with the last remainings of the afternoon sun: bright blue, intense ink, as if the color of the sky had escaped from the celestial vault and pooled in his eyes. The morning would look pale in contrast to his deep gaze.

The sun faded with a last ripple of red robes over the monastery. The tall lamps placed at the corners of the courtyard were illuminated, and Stephen's face was revealed in the artificial light of dusk.

Cassandra withdrew her hand. Stephen exhaled a long breath, and his dark brows furrowed as Cassandra took a small step backward. Stephen closed his mouth, and massaged his jaw with fingers still wrapped in black bandages as Cassandra hummed to herself and turned to pick up her bottle of water, still on the bench.

She ran her hand through damp, dark locks that fell over her forehead, and took a long drink of water as she gazed out of the corner of her eye at Stephen, mimicking her actions.

Finally, and with a deep sigh, she took a seat on the bench as she fiddled with the edges of the rolled towel over her legs.

Stephen's grave words cut through the silent stupor Cassandra was reveling in as he asked:

"Who taught you to fight...like that?"

Cassandra hummed evasively, tracing with her fingertips the stinging shadow of the bruise she knew would not leave a mark over her cheekbone "Who taught me to fight...?"

Crossing her legs to lean back gently on the bench, she admired her husband's smooth face as she pondered his words:

"Well, I guess... a lot of people, really. I've been fighting since I was born."

Her fists clenched and unclenched, and a numbness unrelated to the cold of the night bristled the skin on her arms as she reluctantly murmured:

"I was raised within an implacable creed. I have traveled the world, over all the roads on land, and I met the war on the other side of the sea…"

She contemplated her own words, and frowned at the blurred memory of more remote times. Squinting at the tall, erect posture of the man in front of her, Cassandra's thoughts wandered. She thought of the roads of Anatolia: tarnished with memories of the crusades. The passage to Byzantium, from Latakia, and the dry skies before the bloody reality under their pale suns.

Cassandra did not enjoy traveling by ship: however, the quickest way from Mersin to Nidge had been a two-week sea route to the Taurus mountain range, and that way had always been easier than sailing over the sand, skirting mountains, valleys and routes through the snows. Cassandra knew the shadows beneath her own mountains as she knew the creases in her hands strained by the years; from the mountain passes that linked the Otta River valley, with its high pastures, to the trade routes that skirted the Lendbreen.

"I know the war." She admitted, unable to hold her husband's sly gaze as she squelched the impulse that urged her to seal her lips, for this man was a stranger to her, and she did not know his ways, and he discovered her name on a document. Cassandra did not know his family, and he did not know anything about her ways, nor her culture.

And yet, against her better judgment, Cassandra traced the thin edges of her husband's lips with her eyes, unable to hold the piercing gaze with which he focused her, as she continued to recount her life as if it had not been a forbidden tale to less portentous minds in the past: "When I left the Northern kingdom, and after several years of stealth and reserve learning more about the societies that were located further south, I participated in a small project under the supervision of His Majesty's army, and for several years I remained as a… consultant member."

She thought about the Avengers, Xavier's school, her time as Temis, the X-men, and she decided to keep quiet about her years as a member of those teams. Her involvement, however, was implicit in the precursors or her new name: "Then I became Eternity."

One detail Cassandra was always going to appreciate about Ancestral's abode atop the Alps was the crown of stars glittering above the black peaks on the horizon. It made her think of her youth: of the library books of Scotland, and she smiled as she contemplated the path Hera traced in the night sky with the coveted drops of her own milk. Nevertheless, and despite her delightful, silent amusement, at that moment Cassandra missed the evening: Stephen's eyes sparkled brighter in the sunlight.

Stephen's wrists jerked. Though the man tried not to look away from her own contemplative face, attentive to the short words she spoke with reserve, Cassandra noticed the man trying to unwrap the black ribbons from his hands, to no avail.

Enraptured by his apparent struggle, she raised a hand of her own, firm and smooth, and touched his trembling palm, first tentatively, watching Stephen's rigid profile and wide eyes out of the corner of her eye, watchful to catch any sign of refusal from her husband. When no resistance was met, she proceeded firmly; spreading her fingers under the taut palm, her flat hands holding the weight of his tremors entirely as she pulled the tape away from her husband's knuckles.

Cassandra felt the strength of his tremors in her arms: with one hand she held his palm still, and with the other she stroked the revealed red lines, thin and hard against her own immaculate skin, feeling his sweaty, warm hand against her smooth fingers...

She heard the halting sigh that escape her husband's lips. Suddenly, Cassandra noticed she was holding her breath. Stephen's hand was large; his fingers long, covered with thin, shiny scars. Black tape hung from his strong wrist, veins running across the path of marred skin and up his forearm, climbing to where they were lost over the crook of his elbow and under his clothes.

"Then I became Eternity," she repeated in a hoarse whisper. Suddenly, she felt thirsty, and noticed the Adam's apple on Stephen's neck bobbing as he swallowed surreptitiously.

"Eternity." He repeated. Stephen's voice was low: it vibrated in his chest and delighted Cassandra's almost numb senses. She wondered how that voice would sound, calling her name, asking her questions, laughing with her…

Cassandra nodded softly, and murmured: "I have learned to fight in many places, at different times, and from different people I have learned something new."

She looked away from his short nails, a bit jagged from lack of skill with the small device that trimmed them, and looked at his stern face. His frown, the deep look in his eyes, his parted lips, noticing how his gaze roamed her own hands still touching his warm skin... And she thought that she didn't know him very well, and perhaps she will never get to share with him almost a millennium of stories regarding her own life, but…

"I wonder, Stephen..." she whispered finally, watching as his face bent over hers, and noting absently that the courtyard had been suspiciously cleared, and they were the only two people in the light of those wavering stars, "What will I learn from you?"

#marvel #doctor strange x oc #dr strange #dr strange x fem!reader #dr strange x original character #dr strange x reader #mcu imagine #mcu #stephen strange x female reader #stephen strange x original character #stephen strange x oc #stephen strange x ofc #stephen strange x reader #doctor stephen strange

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