#dr strange angst

[futureplayboibunnie]

‘Good Girl’

Dr Strange x fem!reader

- i got a request for a forbidden love type fic and fuck me this took long. but this inc the best smut i’ve written in a while so bon appetite. enjoy sluts x

You caught onto Stephen's stare, he was glaring at you with that severe look you've come to expect from him on nights like this. It was like he was testing you. Teasing you. Punishing you for something neither of you could have freely. But all you could do was meet his cool breezy eyes that were filling to the brim with a near calculated hubris and undignified jealousy. The kind you haven't seen since all of this started

-

You found yourself tossing and turning over thoughts you shouldn't have about a person you shouldn't even be focused on. What was it about Stephen Strange? The man was an anomaly, you don't think you've ever seen him smile let alone blink. Stephen was interesting, you wanted to know more about him, uncover all the secrets wrapped up like a movie reel but he'd never let anyone come close. His trust was always compromised and he had to protect his peace, he was the ruler of self preservation but...you wanted to wreck the bubble he lived in. Before a mission briefing, he held the door open for you, his face was hard and expressionless but his eyes bore into yours with a certain sincerity that made you halt in your tracks.

You had an inkling about the way this made you feel, and you didn't like it. Why? Because it was against the rules, the rules that were designed to be adhered to or you'd get the boot from this team that you worked so hard to get onto. Though it was difficult for you to deny that there was a weird spark settling over your heat everytime you were near him, what made it all the more embarrassing and terrifying was that you were sure he caught onto it

These thoughts buzzed your brain awake. Constantly glancing at your clock didn't do yourself any justice either, for fucks sake it was 1 in the morning and you still couldn't sleep. It was suddenly becoming too hot. You flung the covers off of you and sighed into nothing. Your mouth turned dry and to your dismay you had no water left in your bedside bottle. You hung your head and groaned into your pillow, though it was surprising to see your feet had finally found the floor. Grabbing your bottle, you trudged into the light praying that this was all just a fleeting whirlwind that would end soon

You were good. You were a good girl. You listened to the rules, you were happy in your position. All you needed to do now was stay good. Not matter if the void was calling you

Stephen wasn't an angel. He was blinded by his own self importance and he's made a few albeit questionable decisions that could have put the others at risk. He looked as if he'd seen every single aspect of life-the good, hopeful and the downright ugly. He was experienced...you weren't

All you had to do now was avoid him, no matter the expense.

You left your room and padded down to the kitchen to fill up the bottle, maybe grab a midnight snack in the process- you more than deserved the treat. Although to your suprise, the lights leading to the kitchen were still on. It was probably Natasha or someone else that didn't care about your appearance at this moment, you were counting on it. You approached with caution, however.

And suprise fucking surprise. It was him- the one you had planned on avoiding.

Stephen darted his head up, he was fixing himself a stiff drink at such an unholy hour. You stopped in your movements, stilling at the sight of him like a deer in the headlights. Your heart stopped and pounded against your chest when you finally regained the breath that fled you. Why the fuck was he here? He's not supposed to be here

‘’Oh. Hey.’’ Stephen regarded you with a thick heavy voice. It was so incredibly jarring to see him wear normal clothes, your wild eyes scanned to see he was wearing a plain dark tee and some sweatpants- that clung onto him like a second skin.

"Hey. Aren't you supposed to be at the Sanctum?’’ You found your way around the counter to the sink.

To Stephen's shock, you attempted to keep your cool. He wanted to laugh. He had never seen you ty so hard to act normal- it was amusing and slightly endearing.

Hm.

‘’I just needed to pick up a few things. Most importantly this bourbon.’’ Stephen's gaze was unflinching as he surveyed your every waking move, committing it to memory as a means to figure you out. His eyes were fervently observing what you were wearing. A button down, the kind of dress shirt a guy would wear under a tux, a quite literally nothing else.

Stephen raised a discerning brow at your purpose. You were so subservient yet you were freely showing your bear legs shamelessly. What a twisted inclination, so out of character. He liked it.

You scoffed. ‘’The difference between us is you're drinking alcohol, I'm drinking water at this hour.’’ A ghost of a smile landed on your lips. You turned the tap on and started filling up the bottle.

‘’Well aren't you the poster woman for sobriety.’’ Stephen joked and you stilled at the words landing on your ears, Strange joking was like a lunar eclipse, it rarely happened and it was kind of magical. You turned your head and bit your lip playfully as your eyes locked with his.

‘’I'm happy being healthy.’’ You smirked and he paused for a beat to study you.

‘’Not healthy enough to join me for a drink?’’ He offered. It would be prudent not to take him up on it but your heart rate was kicking into overdrive and you were slowly getting addicted to the rush he was giving you in such a shot amount of time. Fuck. This wasn't good.

‘’Sure.’’ You replied bashfully and he took out another glass and started pouring, you haven't even had alcohol in you and you were starting to loosen up already. You were finally coming out of your shell. It was rejuvinating to Stephen.

You inched closer to him as you leaned agains the cool marble counter, you were close enough to feel his air and to smell his rich cologne. The sensation of it was heating your blood tenfold. Stephen could feel your eyes raking him up and down- like you were checking him out. It boosted his ego indefinitely.

If he had to describe you, a litany of words came to mind. Shy. Intelligent. Flirty. Hotter than the core of the fucking sun. Sometimes reality is stranger than fiction, he wouldn't have guessed he'd have an actual conversation with you.

‘’Whose is that?’’ Stephen pointed a pinky at your shirt before he passed the glass to you. Your face blushed a muted red and good Lord you looked incredible. Traces of desire were evident on you but he had to keep himself composed. You quickly hung your head and glanced at what you were wearing.

‘’Uhm.’’ You pondered momentarily. "You’re assuming that this is someone elses? That's presumptious of you.’’ You sneered with a certain flirt in your voice, it was fun. Cute. He chuckled lowly before taking a sip.

‘’I was actually going to ask who the lucky guy was.’’ Stephen declared very matter of factly and it made you splutter into your glass, Stephen smirked like an asshole and you had to regain your posture and square you shoulders to retain some sort of dignity.

‘’Lucky guy? There's no lucky guy Stephen.’’ Your eyes bore into his scorchingly, wildfire swirling against wildfire- completely uncontrollable and heady as fuck.

‘’Any red blooded male would want you in their bed.’’ Stephen flirted deadly serious in his inflection but you looked at him through challenging eyes.

‘’Including you?’’ You blurted without thinking.

‘’Mhm.’’

Oh?

‘’But you're a good girl.’’ Stephen's eyes darted away from yours in dismissal as he focused back on his bourbon.

What?

‘’Good girl?’’ You repeated like a dumb parrot, it was impossible to contain the shock in your voice.

‘’There is actually a difference between you and I: you're good, I'm not. I don't think you want me to ruin whatever sunshine cocktail you've got going on here.’’

‘’Maybe I've been silently begging you to.’’

He paused to regain a breath.

‘’The things I'd do to you-‘’

‘’Why don't you do it?’’

‘’Don't you always follow the rules? Stephen raised a condescending eyebrow at you, completely knowing of your true nature- you didn't exactly hide the fact that you were a goody two shoes. He traced a fleeting finger around the underside of your jaw, you practically melted into such a cursory and short lived touch before he pulled away. ‘’Isn't that your whole shtick?’’

‘’Don't you like that?’’ You shot back and he was disarmed once more, it was written all over his face. If only he just opened up his eyes and shut his mouth to just see what he's been missing. ‘’Or do I have to put it in words that make it easy for you to understand?’’ You took a swig of your drunk and Stephen just stared down at you like a dumbfounded idiot.

‘’I don't want to taint your perfect record.’’ Stephen grumbled heavy, his eyes turned pale as they alight with a real candor and earnestness that made you loosen up a little more.

Stephen took your pause as a means to drink you in like the bourbon in his hand. Except you weren't fiendish or burning his throat like the liquid courage, you were sweet- so sweet you could throw up. Fresh, full of light and wonder, completely entrancing and you didn't even realise it. But after a while of studying you, you were everything that he wasn't. You were good. A good girl and to be honest he felt like the big bad wolf in your presence. His curiosity could be countered with that of a cat, you were just so different than all the other women that wanted him. Stephen thought that you wouldn't be his type, but he could completely understand how your heart and turnons could be multilayered. What a cliche. You were interested in the older more experienced guy and Stephen would be lying if he said he wasn't so damn pleased about it. He glanced at your shirt and his mood soured slightly, he didn't like the idea of you wearing someone another guy's dress shirt. It should be his. No one elses.

Slow down, Strange. Let's not be hasty here.

That look on your face though made his dick twitch in his pants. Your eyes were wide and guileless yet flirty and playful, Jesus.

‘’Do you want me to put it crudely?’’ You bit your lip, your mouth already running a full course marathon to the man that was already making you wet with his words

‘’Go for it.’’

‘’I want you to fuck me.’’

Stephen looked a little disappointed with your response.

‘’Is that how vulgar you can go? Damn, you really are a goody two shoes, aren't you?’’ He quipped and you were slightly offended, but he want wrong. The fact that you were talking like this to one of your teammates was making your nervous system kick into a hyperactive overdrive. You could lose everything because of this...but it seemed that none of that mattered now. ‘’I mean have you even fucked before?’’ Stephen asked genuinely. He was actually wondering for real this time, have you even considered being adventerous in bed before? Have you ever even been to bed with another man before? Did that mean he would be your first fuck? Your first proper orgasm? Shit, he'd better make this good then.

Calm down. You both aren't doing anything right now...you're just talking...like normal people. That's it.

Stephen took a minute to bridle his thoughts and act like a proper human being. You probably haven't even said the word 'fuck' out loud and it made him want to laugh.

‘’My own fingers don't count, do they?’’ You bit sarcastically, a snarl forming on your face alongside the twist of your lips. Oh you weren't happy and it was easy to see it

‘’Did I strike a nerve?’’ Stephen gave you a look of faux sincerity and you scoffed at him.

You just glowered at him through heavy lidded, lust clouded eyes- the outlines of a plan briefly forming in your head. You took a step back from him and his gaze followed you. You hands slowly fell upon the buttons of your botton down, you teasingly unbottoned the the top botton...then the second button…and then finally the third button. Stephen's eyes watched your ministrations intently and he was goddamn hypnotised by it all; he was also getting slightly annoyed at watching you tease him. You stopped before going any further so it was only your cleavage that was on show. No bra? Stephen thought that was pretty ballsy of you considering how sunshine-y you were.

‘’Is this heading somewhere or am I just wasting my time? Or am I gonna get myself into trouble for something that isn't even worth it?’’ You breathed as you crossed your arms in defiance. So tired of the fact that he was dragging this along...but was the risk worth the outcome? You weren't sure- but you were aching to know.

’We're both asking a lot of questions. I mean if Tony or Fury finds out then-‘’

You cut Stephen off from his words with a searing kiss, you grabbed at his face like it was the last thing you would hold. He was startled at first but he melted into your embrace fairly quickly...Lord, he was yearning for something he wasn't allowed to have. He couldn't have this freely. this freely. No. But he didn't give a fuck when you tasted that good.

‘’I don't give a fuck about Fury.’’ You gritted against his lips.

-

You couldn't give a shit about him. You wouldn't give a shit about him- not here, not now, not when everyone was prying and wandering eyes saw what everything has come to. Stephen and you were both far too intelligent to let get something as stupid as emotions get in the way, but fuck, it was getting in the way - everytime you looked at him you could practically see the sparks explode in a line from your gaze to his.

You were both private, closed off people; you were both getting good and pretending like Stephen was just another teammate, just another random guy you had to work with professionally, it never had to be too friendly. If anything you would avoid it in most social situations but this was different. You were at a party. Stephen hated parties, you knew damn well. Pillowtalk can actually be helpful. You tried conversing with other agents but you could feel Stephen's stare burn into the right side of your skull, when you quickly peered you saw him with Wong and fucking Tony...it was like the world was against you today and you attempted to surpress your frown. Your fingers tapped at your glass in order to aid in dealing with your scattered thoughts.

Even your fucking drink reminded you of him.

Stephen's glare was that of a lingering one, he couldn't fucking take his eyes off you when you looked so sweet and delicious- he thought you looked incredible in dresses but he preferred you in his shirts, or more specifically nothing at all. He had to conceal the smirk that was so obviously forming on his face; all of the experiences he's had with you seemed to play like a movie reel in his mind and it only made him that much more restless. His scowl formed inwards to himself. He hated being bound by rules and he hated himself for letting it dictate when and how he can see you, it was tampering with his rational steady head.

Stephen was eyeing you like an animal starved of a meal, like a wild salivating dog with rabies and even when you flashed him one simple look, the urge to just grab you and fuck you hard in the bathroom seemed like a less and less insane idea.

Don't be stupid, Strange. She's not all yours to have whenever you please.

Stephen felt indefinitely embittered and apprehensive over the male agents fawning over you and being sycophantic in your presence. They couldn't say no to you even if they tried, but Strange couldn't help but agree with them entirely- you looked lovely...and he was the only one that could actually see you naked. Feel you. Touch you. Kiss you all over, wherever you wanted. Though it does dampen his spirits because he wished he could just grab you and show all these people who you belonged to. He was being quite literal when he said that these agents were chasing you like boys in a schoolyard. Stephen's temple thrummed with an easily identifiable envy, it pulsated in a frisson of annoyance and irritation. Fuck. Your gaze lingered and you didn't back away this time. It was fixed. It was intent. It was an incentive. Stephen just threw his head to the side a little bit as an indicator to follow him in the direction he was pointing to. He excused himself between Wong and Tony and headed through the halls You kept a stiff upper lip and your non chalant and placid character seemed to work to the outside world, but as your feet hit the ground towards him, your inhibitions were fleeing you like ashes from wildfire.

Stephen found a quiet sleek hallway that no one was inhibiting and waited around for you, his hands went into his suit pockets as his primal urge remained the strongest of them all, stronger than the jealousy, stronger than the envy. He wanted you so bad, it reminded him of the first time he truly realised it in the kitchen. His mind was frenzying, he had a thought that startled him: was he in love with you? He felt like a madman but the tension didn't ease when you were here...right in front of him.

You melted into his immediate embrace but you stilled once you realised that anyone could be watching.

‘’Not here.’’ You mumbled but you weren't in any hurry to push him off.

‘’I hate pretending like I don't want you.’’ Stephen grunted before he met your guileless eyes once more, his hand cupped your face and his finger smoothed out the skin of your cheek. ‘’And all those boys think they have a chance with you, they're practically undressing you with their eyes and I fucking hate it.’’ His voice was bitter and angry, the way he said it made your knees turn wobbly. ‘’If only they knew I was your first fuck, that I was there before all of them and I was the one that made you cum so hard-‘’

‘’That would be quite an interesting predicament, yeah.’’ You cut Stephen off with a tongue in cheek remark and he wasn't loosening up in the slightest, your feet inched closer to his and your lips were only a few inches apart. ‘’But, doesn't that make us special? Doesn't it make you feel special? That you're the only one that makes me so fucking dumb for you...that you're the one that makes me make a mess for you. that you are the only one capable of making me feel good? I mean just looking at you tonight made me wet.’’ You breathed against his lips sensually, and he was already giving into you and your perfect machinations.

‘’I've made you bad. You've turned bad. I like it.‘’ Stephen smirked and his eyes lit with a pale fire.

‘’You got your sling ring?’’

‘’Always.’’

‘’No-one will be at the Sanctum, take me there and do whatever you want.’’ You smiled brazenly and he was already forming a portal to his bedroom...a twisted part of him wanted to fuck you in public...yeah maybe next time. Stephen always had to juggle being brazen and keeping his composure, it was a difficult pairing to say the least. ‘’Or you could just death stare at the boys like you've been so callously doing all night? You know they're afraid of you, right? They think you're intimidating, they wouldn't mess with you.’’

‘’But they'd mess with you, and I don't like it.’’ He declared before grabbing your hand and walking you through the portal with a strut you only saw when he was annoyed.

You've only ever been in Stephen's room once but the bed appeared bigger than you remembered- you couldn't wait to christen it in a night of deep throes of passion, you were desperate for it at this point. But then again, when weren't you desperate for him.

‘’I don't have to admit that I'm a jealous guy because I'm sure you've figured it out already, but I feel like I'm blind and tortured on this. It's childish of me to give into my primeval urge of being the coldest, apathetic guy in the room but with you-‘’ He couldn't even finish his sentence, his big hands just grabbed you by the waist and you fell into him, faces barely inches apart- a fucking sheet a paper wouldn't even fit betwen your bodies, you could sense the heat radiating off of him.

Stephen's words were setting your heart on fire, when he embraced you again your insides were about to explode. His eyes were scorching and wanton and you could only reflect it, you've never seen him this short fused and rousing before.

‘’I'm yours. Only yours.’’ You breathed against his lips before you ducked your mouth to his jaw and neck and planted soft reassuring kisses on his skin. ‘’And I don't want you to not be near me.’’ Your whisper was barely audible and his hands flew up to cradle your face in response. ‘’God, these past few weeks I've had to use my fingers and imagination just to get myself off.’’

With that, he instinctively spun you around and bent you over the front of his bed- using your hair as a personal leash.

Stephen's hands were careless, his fingers pinched you as he worked to get your pretty little dress off, the one that all of the other agents were practically stripping you of with their own wandering eyes. The unwelcome thought only fuelled his roughness, his indifference- the first time Stephen had you, he made sure to be gentle with you because he knew you'd break fairly quickly...but you actually proved him wrong, you were more insatiable than he was. You were a certified freak in bed. He wondered where all of this came from, where you actually got it from specifically. It was unanticipated and prodigious. Your dress turned into a pile of scraps on his bedroom floor, he smirked when he saw you squirming against his sheets.

You only had your underwear on, lacy, classy, cute. After, Stephen ducked down and made quick work of getting rid of your heels and his own suit jacket.

You heated up every room that you walked into.

‘’You gonna tie me up?’’ You questioned bashfully, your cheeks turning a pretty pink.

‘’You want me to?’’

‘’Mhm.’’

You moaned when he grabbed your waist and slammed you further up the bed, tossing you around like you were his own personal rag doll- it only made you that much wetter.

Stephen grabbed your wrists and you raised them above your head, he took his tie off and the silk wrapped around your wrists; he looped the fabric over your wrists in an infinity motion and tightened it around your skin, you stuggled against it and it only bit into your skin even more- just how he likes it.

He then looped the remaining fabric of the restraint over his iron bedframe so you were quite literally attached to the bed, your arms were already about to go limp. As silence settled through the air, a hard smack on your ass cracked through the air and you moaned at the sheer idea of him leaving his imprint on you. He always had to avoid leaving hickeys and bites on areas that were visible but he had full reign all over all the other places.

‘’Fuck, you're so beautiful.’’ He gaped at you and it only made tour blush that much more apparent

Before he could respond, he viciously grabbed you by the waist again and flipped you over so you were face up, so he could watch you while he made you feel good. The thing only he alone can do. You were a panting pathetic mess already and the urge to remain composed fleeing you the longer he spent with you.

He took off his shirt and then he suddenly ducked down so his eyes were in view of your thighs and glistening heat, fuck you were soaked and it was a beautiful sight to behold.

‘’Stephen...please just touch me.’’

‘’I'm gonna explore you...just like I did the first time.’’ He reassured almost drunkenly, his words blurred by the desire he's spent so long harbouring for you. ‘’Tell me you want it.’’

‘’Yes. I want it bad.’’ You reaffirmed so eagerly it was designed to make Stephen's ego soar. ‘’Fuck...I need it.’’

‘’You seem greedy for it princess.’’

You couldn't even give him a snarky remark, his large hands smoothed up and down your thighs and you felt liquid electricity shoot down your body. Stephen's eyes searched yours as he gawked up at you like a salivating animal. His curious fingers hooked onto your panties and shimmied them down your legs and ended up like scraps on his bedroom floor just like your dress. You were naked in front of him like so many times before and you were just begging to be touched. Stephen planted a few kisses up your thighs as a means to tease and make you squirm.

‘’You say you're bad but here you are...saying yes so easily.’’ Stephen taunted and it only made you whine.

‘’Finger me or eat me out you prude.’’ You bit back harshly and it only made him chuckle lowly, the sick bastard was laughing at you.

He reached out and gripped you by the jaw. A threat and a warning all at once and when you looked him in the eye it dawned upon you. ‘’I'll take however long I please. Now spread your legs wider for me. Yeah?’’

To your dismay, you obliged and his fingers meandered from your chest to your stomach, tracing and moving in torturously slow for you liking- Stephen surveyed the expressions contorted on your face so intently it was like he wanted to burn a hole into your face. His lips pressed down to where your heart laid, then his mouth and tongue flew to your tits. He bit and sucked on them ferociously and your breathless pants seemed to spur him on. He was being intensely methodical and you hated him for it- all you wanted him to do was ram into you already

‘’Shit...I'm so fucking wet.’’ Your voice was like a slur, so drunk off of the pleasure he was giving you.

'’All for you.’’

‘’Huh.’’ Stephen scoffed in pure awe and pride. ‘’You're just have to be perfect, don't you?'’

You smiled in response. Fuck, he was going to destroy you. Stephen's mouth travelled south and his head ducked to your sloppy heat, the sweetest little pussy. The scene was filthy. He kissed your clit and it made you throw your head back and tug on your restraints.

‘’Stop squirming or I won't make you feel good, got it?’’ Stephen gritted with a voice thick with gravel and seriousness. You nodded all wide eyed.

His tongue started working its magic, he licked and sucked on you as if you were the last meal he would ever have. He was obsessed with the sweetness of your arousal, it only motivated him that much more. You always provided for him and now he was the greedy one to take it from you. He grunted into your pussy and it sent vibrations up your body, sparking its way back to your core, you whimpered violently, your mouth agape. Stephen was devouring you, feeding off of your light, consuming every inch of you until you understood that you were his alone. You were clenching around him already and he didn't approve of it and he suddenly unlatched his lips from you to glare at you.

‘mIf you dare think about cumming.’’

‘’I can't take it.’’

‘’Well, you're gonna take it.’’

‘'The other agents wouldn't be as mean.’’ You smirked and it made Stephen's blood roar. His mood darkened instinctively at the idea of them seeing you like this.

‘’Oh if any other man thinks of touching you, they'll be in pieces and you won't get my dick stuffed in you for months.’’ His threat was horrifyingly genuine and you didn't want to take any chances.

Your eyebrows tensed at his eye-opening intimidation and before you could even register anything else, you could hear the clank of his belt and the unzipping of his fly.

‘'Stephen..I-‘’ He slipped the head of his cock inside you before you could finish your plead.

His cock was angry and steel hard as it pulsated inside of you. A whimper escaped your mouth and it shot right down him. You looked borderline pornographic which completely underscored that once light niavete and innocance. Once he got his hands on you, he made you a filthy mess for him. Broken for him. Stephen was selfish and cruel enough to take you with him when burned the world to ashes at your feet- for you. He made sure he was face to face with you, eye contact was so important to him while he did this. He fisted your hair and then tugged it back until you stared straight up at him. He thrusted in and out of you and your legs wrapped around him relentlessly.

‘’That's it...look at me. Look at me while I'm ruining you.’’ Stephen instructed before he engulfed your lips in a searing kiss. ‘’Remember who you belong to.’’

‘’Yours... You... Fuck it's always you.’’ You stammered out pitifully and it was such an endearing thing to hear.

He was making you feel so damn good, he was reaching depths you knew no one else could. He was an expert at his craft and it was paralysing you

Your shaking legs stilled as your heart began to burn with an overwhelming determination to just explode. And you did. With abandon. With euphoria. You gushed onto him and it was a design for perfection, a moan ripped at your vocal chords and you felt your throat turn raw. Stephen's chest started to hurt and his cock throbbed harder, a wash of hot shudders rippled through his entire body once he saw the view on your face. The thrumming of his ensuing grunts travelled all the way up your spine once he started dragging you through your orgasm. Faster and faster until the only sounds of that were ragged breaths, flesh slapping against flesh.

Stephen was so rough and he was half expecting for you to tap out, but you never did. And it made him cum so hard into you, painting your insides a thick white it would be leaking out of you. He was an incredible interior decorator and the thought made him smile which you hastily caught onto when pulled out.

‘’What are you so happy about?’’ You asked softly as he was beginning to take the restraints off you.

‘’Nothing.’’ Now he was the one that was blushing with arousal, he threw the tie away and fell back into bed to envelope an arm around you. To hold you. Embrace you. You'd both clean up later, you just wanted to enjoy your post coital bliss.

Stephen's head hit the pillow and he turned his head to look at you in those pretty eyes he'd spend the rest of his days losing himself in.

‘’You're eyes always glaze over everytime you cum.’’ Stephen remarked and it made you scoff.

‘’Hm, your compliments are always so inventive.’’ You let his big arms engulf you into his embrace and you laid on his bare chest feeling his warmth coat your skin. Stephen stroked your hair rhythmically and you nuzzled further into his neck. Although, Stephen turned serious for a moment and his lips thinned and his gaze narrowed- the silence muffled his eardrums.

‘'I don't like hiding.’’ He said impassively, holding onto you that much tighter. The twisted bedsheets curling up alongside you.

‘’We'd lose everything.’’

‘'I know. I just want to want you freely.’’ Stephen seemed forlorn but he knew it was stupid to be bringing this up again but it was the one thing on his mind.

‘’I think I've gotten used to this little routine of ours.’’

‘’Why?’’

"Because it's ours. No-one elses."

[charg3rs0ck3t]

“Just a pawn.”

Stephen strange x reader/ Bucky Barnes x reader

Hurt / comfort

Tw: angst, emotional abuse, emotional manipulation, self deprecating, mentions of death, just strange being a flat out asshole in this to get to Christine because he is capable. Happy ending for (Name) this time though. Once again getting (Name) the therapy they need.

Strange is kind of intentionally an ass here, my bad guys, I’ll make it up in another story

———————————————————————

Never had he thought he could lose the love of his life and his soulmate all in one day.

———————————————————————

Stephen Strange had met you through the avengers, a newer recruit hidden from the media. He hadn’t known where you had come from or why you were there, it was just where he found you.

He could sense your power, a hidden blurb of Energy manipulation and wonder working. But he could also sense your downfalls, your side affects.

One side affect in particular drew him to you, luck of others but not of yourself. It was a realm of supernatural being he’d sure he’d never reach, but it mustn’t have been easy for you.

Imagine a child growing up in a world where in which they seem unlucky, purely as they are unwillingly gifting the others luck and success. It is a gift and a curse all in one.

But a power like that made his mind wander into places it should never go. Christine, he wondered, would he and Christine have a chance if he was graced with your luck. He shook of the thought and it’s selfish nature as he finally went to greet you.

But the thought never truly left his mind, and so he started to unconsciously formulate a plan. A plan he’s sure would demote him and discredit all he’s worked for if he was ever found out.

———————————————————————

Stephen was more than kind to you, kinder, even, than all the others. Except from Bucky, your new room neighbour with a hardened glare but a soft demeanour. The same man who’d wish you a “good morning darling” just rough enough to make you blush every morning.

But there was something different about Stephen, he wanted you, wanted you close all of the time.

You’d catch him dragging you to fancy restaurants and small quaint coffee shops, you’d enjoy yourselves, laugh and talk for hours but you’d always leave abruptly.

It got to a point where you had to question his strange actions and how he’d always stare just beyond your face and behind you.

There was always a woman with longer brown hair and a light voice wherever you went. Of course however, so caught up in Stephens love bombing you never put two and two together, chalking it up to a coincidence, as he’d always manage to capture your attention once more.

———————————————————————

The longer you went on with Strange and the closer the two of you became, the more Bucky would pull away.

You two took to spending more time away from the compound, as if you and Stephen spent time together within it, Bucky was sure to spare a glare at the two of you.

You didn’t understand what had happened, he was your best friend and now he seemed a bitter child. Why couldn’t he just see you were happy and be happy for you?

Why did he have to knock on your room late at night and leave cryptic warnings?

Why couldn’t everything go back to how it was?

Bucky had taken to grabbing your shoulders when you’d bump into each other alone, he’d stand there with an iron grip and stare deeply into your eyes.

His multi toned hues searching into your soul and trying to slip in answers and reasons you’d never understand. He was searching for something, and you weren’t sure why he hadn’t found it.

Bucky began to scare you with his odd ways and strange glances. He would leave deep bruising imprints of his fingertips, one’s that you decided would be best left unknown to him.

You couldn’t understand what you had done wrong.

Stephen comforted you, he was all you had, he was all you needed, and so you pushed away everyone else for him.

It was within his advice that he suggested you isolate yourself from them, that you come stay with him.

He told you he loved you and you believed him. Because somewhere you were sure you loved him too.

Living with him was a dream come true, and yes, you fell for him deeply. But he was odd, there where irrational moment where he’d drag you from your bed in the middle of the night and mutter to himself next to you, or he’d drag you outside in your pyjamas at 2 in the morning to some late night event where that woman would be again. The same brown hair, the same hazel eyes.

You thought that maybe, maybe this was how he showed love, maybe he was just trying to be spontaneous. But you knew something was wrong, deep down something was wrong.

———————————————————————

The answer came to you one night.

Did you know that guilt can make people sleep walk, sleep talk? As in the case of lady Macbeth and her stained damned spot, Stephen began to be active in his body as he was in his dreams. As active as he was in his guilt.

He muttered her name, ‘Christine’, for nights on end, he muttered her name and you let it slide. But it only got worse

The muttering had transformed into loud chatter. He said things that his waking mind would dare not.

Then finally, he said what he had done. His dreams must have been plagued of you confronting him, and he proclaimed his apologies and then his selfish plans.

“You were a pawn” he said

“I’ve never loved you” he said

“Your power was meant to be used” he said

“I’m sorry” he began to cry

“Forgive me” he sobbed.

That night you slept on the couch.

———————————————————————

Stephen knew you were catching on, he knew you were drifting away from him. But he also knew that he had stripped you of anywhere to run to. He was your only hope.

It hurt him to treat you how he did, but he always was brought back to the greater cause. In the end he needed Christine, he didn’t need you.

Stephen knew he was being selfish and abusive. But it was at a point where he no longer cared. He was too infatuated, too close to getting what he wanted.

Guilt followed him into his dreams, he’d wake up more tired than when he had fallen asleep. Your betrayed face plaguing his dreams.

When he woke up to you gone, he had to keep himself from going insane. For a split second he could see his world crumble around him, only to rationalise and find you downstairs asleep on the couch.

He draped a blanket over you and smiled. He thinks he could have loved you, if only Christine hadn’t stolen his heart first.

“I’m sorry (name)” he muttered under his breath. “But at least once I’m done, you can find someone who deserves you.”

But you couldn’t, he knew that, because he had taken you away from society and placed you into a fantasy land of false security and love.

For a while, you pretended everything was normal, you tried to forget what he had admitted to.

You hoped he’d fall for you if you just understood what he was going through, if you just stayed with him.

———————————————————————

Finally, he had had his fill, finally, Christine had agreed to go on a date with him.

He abandoned you at the first hurdle to winning her back. Your luck had been used up.

“Please” you had begged, “what did I do? Why was I not worth your love?”

He had shaken his head at that point.

“Who even are you again?” He had asked mockingly. You were a stranger to him now, used and abused and thrown away. He didn’t want you anymore.

For the first time in a long while, he looked at you and your heart didn’t flutter, you gazed into each others eyes, and you felt nothing but resent, nothing but pain. Because all you were was a pawn in his game, never enough for him.

So you left, you left his home, you left his life, and you found yourself a nice corner in the hustle of New York, and that is where you laid your bed and, you hoped, your grave.

———————————————————————

You must have fallen asleep at some point because the sun was now setting and the crowds had changed. Far less children wandered the streets and now partygoers and criminals made up the sea of faces.

You were still exactly as you where, hidden in a dark corner of New York, between a brick stairwell and a building. You were heartbroken, but not stupid enough to go down an alley.

You hoped for the world to take you away, the cold to strip your warmth and to be embraced in all those dead, all those who had left you alone in such a big cruel world.

You prayed it could happen before an avenger on their night patrol found your pitiful state, you knew how thorough they were. You knew that despite his rant about his lack of use for you, Stephen wouldn’t let you die. He would have reported your missing state to tony. You were too good of a pawn to lose. To much of an asset.

Tony wouldn’t get the full story, Stephen needed to protect his image. So Tony would get some explanation about your power causing irrational behaviour, that you ran off and want to go rogue, that you want to become a villain.

You knew Tony would be sceptical, but protocol called they drug you up and lock you away.

You couldn’t stand it, you hated it, you hated Strange. You wanted to go back to those movie nights you’d spend bundled in Bucky’s arms or laughing with Natasha, normally over Steve smashing his face into the ground after Tony tripped him up. You missed your family.

So you fell asleep, you dreamt of those warmer nights. Because your dreams were all you had anymore.

———————————————————————

Waking up in a bed wasn’t your plan. But it was soft and smelt familiar.

You could hear water gushing into a bath from a distance. You didn’t want to open your eyes though, they stung, but everything felt so peaceful, so homely.

“Good morning darling.” You knew that voice, you knew this smell. It was him.

———————————————————————

Bucky hadn’t known how to react when he found you asleep and shivering in a dirty corner. He almost overlooked you as a drug addict or homeless person, you had just looked so desolate and abandoned.

He only turned around once he heard a small whimper, it was you. He took a step closer and saw your form curled up, still, and yet lost among the city.

Picking you up, you felt lighter than before, he cursed Stephen in his head. He hated him.

Tony had received that message from Strange. But he had known better. He had hacked into your phone before he did anything radical, had found those rants on your notes app. The emotional manipulation he put you through, all of it, right there.

Bucky had to prevent himself from hunting the bastard down and publicly gutting him, then and there. But he reeled in his anger when he finally saw you.

He loved you. But it had taken him too long to protect you. Now you were hurt, and he blamed himself.

———————————————————————

Living with the avengers again was strange, everything felt far too normal. It was exactly the same as when you had left. But Stephen had convinced you they had forgotten about you, that they hated you?

You were confused, but not unhappy.

You weren’t able to do any missions again unless you were brought into ‘mandatory therapy’ as Tony had put it. But it did help.

You soon got over Stephen and came to loathe how he treated you. Once again returned the soft cuddles of movie nights and the infectious chortles of home. Everything felt right again.

It took Bucky more time than he’d thought it would to admit his feelings to you though.

He had been walking through the hallways of the compound when he came across you. You gave him a smile and a wave before trying to walk away again.

It was in that moment he realised he never wanted to see you turn away from him again, not without knowing how he truly felt. So, he grabbed your shoulder, you flinched and he took a moment to reel back, softening his grasp.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you how I felt, I never wanted to hurt you.. I just couldn’t find a way to tell you his true nature, not when you seemed so happy with him. Then you moved away, and he isolated you from us and we- I- missed you. We shouldn’t have let him take you. I shouldn’t have let him hurt you- I’m sorry.” You look up into his eyes and see nothing but sorrow, adoration and genuine love. He began to tear up, taking a deep breath as you placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled.

“I love you.” He whispered.

———————————————————————

Everything wasn’t as perfect as Stephen thought, he missed you. It took him all that time of neglecting you, and now neglecting Christine to realise.

He watches ,who he considered his one true love, scream at him, tears flowing down her cheeks. She pushes him from her house, throws his bags and slams the door.

He had truly fucked up everything good in his life.

But he did love you.

And so he found himself a corner, somewhere in the streets of New York, a corner where he could sit and rot.

———————————————————————

[vinamari]

How it feels going to bed after reading some words

It was angst

[whoppert]

i love writing first kiss scenes fuck

Sunna 7 (stephen strange/reader) (loki/reader)

◂ previous chapter first chapter ▴

3969 words

warnings: the after effect of mind violation

AO3 Master Fic List

Despite the gaping hole in my memory, I'm confident that I've never felt like this much of a burden before. A few days ago I wouldn’t have batted an eyelid at the staircase, but now? Now it’s an impossible mountain to climb.

Most of the world is contained to my room now. 

Wong had mentioned struggling to cleanse the space of mystical markers that had been left behind, but I couldn’t even tell. The power that flowed through me, albeit slight compared to Stephen’s or Wong’s or even this goddamn house? It’s gone. The purple energy that used to flicker around my fingers, forming shapes almost of its own will was gone. I'd tried to call it, but I almost threw up. My body is at odds with my spirit right now and I hate it.

AO3

Stephen brandishes the worm, dropping it into the palm of my hand.

“What the fuck is that?” I ask, trying to ignore the pool of slime it extruded.

“Excuse you, ” said the worm.

The flick of my hand was involuntary, and I fling the worm onto the rug.

Stephen, who had been trying to tell me to be careful, squats down and plucks the worm out of the carpet fibers. “This is the frontier in magical psychology. Its name is Gorron.”

“It’s a worm.”

“It’s a grub, thank you very much, you ungrateful mammal,” the worm had an accent that I couldn’t identify. “You’re lucky I’ve already been paid or I’d march right outta here! Worm? What am I, a nematode?”

Stephen sighs and shoots me an apologetic look. "I know it's strange, but it's actually very good at it's job."

"I'm really sorry, I don't usually do bugs. I'm sorry if I offended you and for... throwing you," I wince. “So… do I just lay back and tell Gorron my problems? Care to summon me a chez lounge?”

“It is much more simple than that. Look, I recognize that this is going to sound really gross, but-”

“Stick ‘im in ya ear, baby, lemme have a look at that mind!” Gorron interrupts.

So stark was the silence after that statement, that I almost decided that I might have a limit when it came to finding a cure. I look from Gorron to Stephen, who nods in confirmation and then back at Gorron whose little mouth had fallen open and was licking his lips. If grubs have lips. “Absolutely not.”

“Look doll, I’ve got a job to do, so open your ears and shut ya mouth, capeesh?”

Stephen snaps his hand shut, muffling the grub’s yells of displeasure. “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t get out much," he continues, obviously with the intention of Gorron overhearing, "and he hasn't updated the way he speaks to women since the 1950s ap-pa-rent-ly."

I talk over Gorron's slew of deadened swear words. "You're joking, right?" I hear how desperate I sound, but- "In my head? This is a joke? To lift my mood?"

Stephen is right in front of me. Really there is a-step-and-a-half between us. “He’s crass, but if anyone can figure out the next steps, it’s Gor-”

My stomach bottoms out in my gut, a wave of panic hitting me with such force that I literally stagger. “I’m not-”

His free hand steadies me. Stephen says nothing, taking his bottom lip between his teeth, his gaze flitting back and forward between my eyes. I don't understand, what his expression is conveying, concern, and sympathy and pain all together perhaps.

“I can’t,” I want to sound strong, but my voice betrays me, cracking. “I’m sick of this, I’m sick of having shit shoved into my head. I’m sick of it, I’m sick of it. Please.” My breath comes fast and sharp.

“I know,” Stephen eases into the space between us, his empty hand still grasping my upper arm gently, the warmth seeming to loosen the knots in my body. “I know you’re scared. You have every right to be. Does it change anything if I assured you that Gorron can’t hurt you? He can only see what’s going on in there, he can’t change anything.”

My bottom lip wobbles, and Stephen’s gaze shifts to look at it, before snapping up to look me in the eye.

"Would it change anything," Stephen's voice soft, "if I told you that Gorron's basically my shrink?"

"Huh?"

"Do you remember after I found you and we were sitting in my office? And I told you I've been... having trouble sleeping, and you joked about therapy?" He pauses for confirmation. "Well, Gorron's my therapist. Wong makes me see him."

Excluding fighting lessons, Stephen and I are never this close, but lately I appreciate his sparing touch. There is something inviting about him when he isn’t trying to hit me, something comforting. I guess this is his job. I've seen him behave similarly for the people that seek out his help. “Does it hurt?”

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “not at all, it can be a little uncomfortable, but it doesn’t hurt, no. After your injury you might be a little sensitive though.” Glancing around the room, Stephen adds, “I’m right here, you know. Right by your side, I won’t leave you. You are always safe with me.”

His gray eyes hold no hint of a lie.

I nod. “This is coercion though.”

“I know.”

“And if it goes wrong, I’m holding you accountable.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Stephen opens his hand. Gorron, who had spent the last few moments remarkably silent, opens his eyes in mock surprise. “Glad to see you haven’t forgotten about me! I have a waiting list ya know, I could be getting ignored by far more important people than the pair of you!”

Stephen grasps the grub by its tail.

“Do you trust me?”

“I guess. Yes. I do.”

His gloved hand lightly grasps my cheek, tilting my head, my right ear skyward, before dropping Gorron right into the shell of my ear. Gorron's rolling and wriggling sent a shiver through me. There was a little resistance, culminating in a wet plop, and then he was inside. There’s a grub in my brain, there’s a grub in my brain, there’s a grub in my- I shudder. I feel bad about thinking it's gross, Gorron's a sentient being after all, but I don't do bugs.

Stephen tilts my head back to my midline and then removes his hand from my cheek. I feel its absence keenly.

“Wow, Strange, ya weren’t wrong, something’s destroyed it in here,” Gorron’s voice is too loud and it vibrates in my skull.

I swear, instinctually jerking 'away' from the sound and I feel Gorron brush up against something, strings that bring the spots back to my vision. I grasp Stephen’s hands.

“Wow, talk about a household in denial,” Gorron mutters, quiet enough that I wasn’t sure Stephen could hear, but I was too dizzy to ask what he meant. “And your powers have gone too. That’s a knock to the balls for sure.”

“Can you give us any insight?” Stephen asked.

“Yes, but you’re not gonna like it.”

“Out with it.”

“Firstly - lass, gotta commend ya on having the cleanest brain ever. Not a single mind mite to be found. I have literally never seen that before. Secondly - whatever Loki did, it broke that enchantment that you were under.”

“That enchantment ?” Stephen and I say in unified confusion. There is a yellow and green blob floating between us and it makes the sorcerer look like he's got a bad case of jaundice.

“You heard me. I’d ask if you knew who put you under their spell, but I can see you don’t remember at all. Hey, have you considered renting this space? I know a few parasites that could use a place to live.”

“Gorron.” It was Stephen's last warning.

“Non-lethal of course.”

“Wind it back up a sec,” I demand, “what do you mean Loki broke the enchantment? What enchantment?”

I can feel Gorron squeeze it's body through some tight spot and the spots in my vision cleared.

“Has she always been this slow?”

“Mind your manners, Gorron. I know some bugs that lay their eggs in live prey,” Stephen threatened.

“Jeez, it was only a joke, man. Learn to take a joke. Hmm…” inside my brain, Gorron trailed off. “Your oldest memory is meeting Strange… because that was the day the enchantment was created. It’s got a magical signature that I don’t recognize, but boy did they hide it well.” 

“And my memories, my life before that?”

“My best guess is that whoever put this enchantment in place didn’t account for Loki going for a trip through ya head, and it broke the enchantment differently to the way it was supposed to be broken, it severed your mind. Separated the before-the-enchantment from the after-the-enchantment. Your memories from before then might still be here, but as a result of the spell or the unorthodox way in which it was broken, yeah, I wouldn’t know how to find them. The block on it can only be reversed by the creator. I’d say your best shot would be to find them.”

“Wait, so our best chance of finding out who put the block in place is to find out who put the block in place?”

Gorron sighs like I'm wasting its time, “yes. That’s what I said. Look, if there’s no mites in here, you’re gonna have to tip me, Strange, I didn’t come all the way out here for nothing.”

“For nothing. My whole brain has imploded and it’s nothing to you,” I whisper, my cheeks tight from my uncomfortable smile, before falling into a stunned silence. Everything feel so far away.

“Gorron, what can we do to figure this out?” Asks Stephen.

There's a whoosh, and I feel the grub slide out of my ear, the opposite ear to the one it had entered. “Seems to me, your next step would be finding someone who knows memory magic like the back of their hand and get them to have a look. See if they can recognize the signature. Maybe even see if they can locate where her memories have been hidden in there. Once you know that, I’d go and ask-” Gorron almost fell, but Stephen catches it, “thanks doc. Anyway, figure out who put the enchantment in place and get them to remove it. Easy as pie.”

Without missing a beat, Stephen crushes Gorron in his hand. The sound had a surprising crunch, like the grub had more bones than expected. I gape at the sorcerer.

“Sorry,” he opens his hand to reveal that it is empty empty, no fluids or bug guts in sight, “I was getting really sick of him, and the only way to send him home is to 'kill' him. He’s fine, I’ll see him later about his tip. How are you? That’s a lot to process.”

“If I wasn’t so overwhelmed, I’d probably be angry. Yeah. Probably angry.” I look down to find that Stephen is still holding one of my hands. I recount what we have learned, “so there’s a block on my memories, created the day I met you, probably not by you, because then Gorron would’ve recognized the signature? Correct?”

Stephen nod.

“And the only way to find out who it is that cursed me, is to let someone else have a look? I'm assuming it's a very similar type of magic to what Loki did to me.”

He nods again.

“Even though the last time someone did that it gave me the magical equivalent of a severe concussion?”

One final nod.

My heart pounds. “That voice- from my dream told me what a disappointment I was. I don’t even know who I’m letting down. And my powers are gone, and yeah they weren’t big and dramatic but they were mine. They belong to me, it’s like I’ve had a limb sawn off and I can’t even walk up the fucking stairs without my body giving up on me so I’m just trapped in this room. Is this my life now? Someone just put a spell on me one day and for what? I’m not important, I’m not powerful. Whoever did it must have had a reason but I have no idea who- or what? Except it’s got something to do with you? It must do, or maybe it’s just a coincidence that we met that day, I don’t know.” I'm spiralling.

Stephen doesn't say anything, just squeezes my hand tighter and like a toddler having a tantrum, I try to wrench it from his grasp, but he has a stronger grip than I’d anticipated. I poke a finger into his chest, but he doesn’t flinch.

“And you! You have the nerve to stand there, all sympathetic and concerned, ‘cause I’m just another pathetic-”

“You’re not pathetic-”

“Maybe I’m not, but who’s to say because I don’t know who I am! I couldn’t tell you my favorite food! I don’t know who I am and I feel so stupid. I’m barely a person.” Tears well up in my eyes and I hate them. I try to brush them away, but Stephen still wouldn’t relinquish the hand he held. He was swimming in my vision, and I was glad because then I didn’t have to look him in the eye as he beheld my tears. I’d never cried in front of him before. 

It was the second time he had ever embraced me. The first time even through the wave of nausea and the bright lights, I could feel his relief that I was safe, but this time? Stephen pulls me in, his arms wrapping around me, no relief, only release as I bury my eyes in his shirt and sob. He doesn’t say a thing. Doesn’t move, just holds me, one arm around the small of my back rubs small circles and the other grasps my shoulder firmly. I can feel the ridges and stitching of his glove through the fabric of my shirt.

After a while, I couldn’t tell you how long, I manage to stop crying, taking deep breaths to get myself together. He smells like earl grey tea and lemons.

“You are a person,” said Stephen, finally breaking the silence. His low voice rumbles through his chest. “Look, I’m not the most open person in the world, but,” he takes a deep breath, “I… care about you. You're not stupid and you are certainly not pathetic. I promise we will get to the bottom of this, but until you get everything you’ve lost back, you’re still a person. You're no burden to me.”

My arms are around his neck, our bodies pressed together. “I’m scared.”

"I know."

"I'm scared I'm going to be like this forever."

“I know,” his lips skim my temple, and goosebumps raise down my limbs. “I felt the same way when my hands were crushed. But we have no evidence to suggest you won't make a full recovery. And worse case scenario, we’re going to figure this out. Do you believe me?” His breath is warm on my skin.

"I believe you.

The air is charged, the question is charged, and Stephen holding me is the only thing keeping me together. I get the distinct impression that I should feel embarrassed, humiliated for sobbing in front of Stephen, as though a proper lady might have done it more demurely. I don't though. I like it. I like how caring and attentive he has been since I was injured.

"What do you need? What can I do for you?"

I glance around my room. It seems especially small with another person in it. The green wallpaper is still bright and the iron bed below it is a mess. The room itself is mercifully, not too messy. The curtains are mostly drawn now, blocking out the harsh light of the sun, and leaving only a thick stripe that cuts the room into unequal halves. The room itself is cozy, but after all the time spent in it the last few days, and what had happened there, it's suffocating me. 

"Take me somewhere else. I need to get out of this house."

Stephen clears his throat, and created a portal. Through the golden circle is the stark night. The chill from the cold air radiates through, prickling my skin. We manage to detangle.

The wind is mild and the sky clear. I have no memory of the world so dark. Back in the city the night is never dark, polluted with bright lights and fluorescence and color. But here, the sky is a sheet of black, with hundreds, no, hundreds of thousands of stars of every hue. The world is so quiet and there are no tell tale signs of humanity around. All this space and only the two of us.

"Where…?"

"New Zealand." His robes had shifted into casual wear. That grey sweater again. Stephen stores his hands in his pockets. "Aptly named by the European settlers as the South Island, due to the fact that it is the Southern Island."

"They sound creative." When the portal went, so did all of the light and my eyes tale a moment to adjust. "It's beautiful."

"It is. And it will only get better."

I look at him surprised, eyebrows raised though he probably can't see it in the darkness. The tracks my tears have left behind feel particularly cold in the icy air.

“From a scientific point of view, auroras are the result of charged solar wind particles caught in Earth’s magnetic field. These particles ionize oxygen and nitrogen molecules in the upper atmosphere, a chemical reaction creating light. The indigenous people of this land saw auroras as the campfires of their ancestors.”

“Are they? The campfires of their ancestors?”

Stephen stands at my side, and passes me the sweatshirt that had been hanging on the end of my bed. “Yeah, they are. And if I’ve timed correctly, they should be just about to…” He trails off.

Nothing happens. There is only blackness around us.

Stephen chuckles, “that would’ve been really impressive. This area has been having an increase rate of solar storms-”

The dull cloud twists into a ribbon of white which begin to curl across the sky. Then it's yellow. Red, green, blue - a nebulous glowing arc ornamenting the sky and I look on in awe. The lights of New York had been overstimulating, but this is- "beautiful."

“Yes.”

The dam inside me breaks and energy floods me. Even being out in the fresh air had invigorated my soul a little and I take off marching towards the slab of rock on the edge of the cliff. I dig my fingers into the top and hauling myself up.

"Jesus Christ, be careful!" Stephen's at my side in half-a-second, clamoring up to stand at my side.

"You're worse than Wong," I complain.

"At least sit ," Stephen's hands find my shoulders and gently push.

I groan but comply, letting my legs dangle off of the edge. He joins me. I could see our breath in the air, and pull my sweatshirt tighter around my shoulders.

"What made you want to be a doctor?" I ask finally, breaking the prolonged silence.

"Do you want the PR answer or the truth?"

"Either."

"Well," Stephen runs his fingers through his hair and I wonder what it feels like, "what I used to tell people was that I wanted to help. We are the world type of bull," he laughs and it cuts through the cold, warming my chest. "But the truth is that I wanted to be the best at something with a lot of status."

Stephen digs through his pocket and pull out a chocolate bar. He hands it to me and I snap it in half, letting him choose which piece he prefered.

"Well, I've been thinking about why I must have chosen anthropology to dedicate myself to. I have three possible answers."

"And they are?"

I chew my chocolate thoroughly. "One, knowing how big of a motivator spite is for me, someone probably told me I couldn't do it."

Stephen laughs again, "sounds about right."

"Two, it's just so damn interesting! I was reading through my doctorate thesis and I seemed really passionate about how teeth could tell you so much about someone's social status.” Cupping my hands I blow warm air into them. My knuckles are bright red. "Three, and probably the most boring of all the answers, maybe it was related to my powers. I didn't really ever figure out the origin, maybe I thought it would be linked to something else, something bigger."

"Well, it's looking more and more like you are a part of something bigger."

"Now that I know what 'bigger' entails, maybe I should have wished for a more simple life." I finish my half of the bar and suck the last of the melted chocolate off of my fingers. The aurora crackles around us like radio static. “The way the light flows… It reminds me of the incense that Wong burns. You know the stuff, lotus and patchouli.”

I look at Stephen, his face bathed in colored light. “I know exactly the one. Gives me headaches, but he still insists on it.”

“That’s because it gets you out of his hair once in a while.”

“I suppose, yeah. It does.” Then he adds, "metaphorical hair."

It's nice to laugh with him. “Why did you choose-? I mean, I said I needed to get out of the house, why was New Zealand the first place you thought of?” I shiver, my sweatshirt is not holding up against the winter breeze, I twist my hands in my lap trying to increase the friction.

“Ah, I don’t know,” his eyes levelled against my gaze, the grey taking on the colors passing overhead. It's mesmerizing. “Just popped into my head, I guess.” His voice gets quieter and quieter and I have to lean in to hear him.

There's a magnetic pull between us. Something strong have sucked us into its current, it wasn’t just this moment, it's everything, it's the universe deciding our fate and pushing us together. Everything since we had met had just felt so right, like we were made for each other.

“Aren’t you cold?” I whisper. “I’m freezing.”

For the moment he looks so relaxed. He's only inches away from me now, and his hand covers mine, his warmth permeating through the yellow leather, and I look from his eyes to his mouth, pink lips from the cold slightly parted and bordered with his dark beard. “Stephen?” I couldn’t get my voice to work properly, my breathing had gotten shallow, heart clanging in my chest.

My eyes flutter shut, as he comes close enough that his nose brushes against my cheek, and he murmurs something I can’t make out, cut off when I press my mouth to his.

Stephen tasted like the chocolate we had shared and for a moment everything in this dark world, with its vibrant skies slowed, until he kisses me back, energy flowing through us at the places where we connected, his hand gripping the back of my neck to deepen the kiss, his tongue running over my bottom lip.

He's gone.

I've lost my breath.

Twisting around, I find Stephen standing behind me. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, I was just- trying-”

Heat floods my cheeks and for once I'm at a loss for words.

A portal opens to my room and I flinch at the sudden piercing light.

“I should go,” Stephen hurries into my room, disappearing into the hall.

In his haste, he left the door wide open.

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AO3 Master Fic List

[fandomnerd9602]

My Tears Ricochet

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

Warning ⚠️ ANGST AHEAD ⚠️

Pain, trauma, grief, all things that can manifest itself in an instant if you’re not careful enough to treat it. For your doe mate, it all came back to her in an instant.

It all began when you and Wanda arrived at the Sanctuary to a whole commotion going on. You ran up to Yelena, Natasha’s wolf sestra, her tail swishing happily.

“What’s going on?!” You asked the blonde haired wolf.

“Natasha went on a solo op,” yelena smiled, “she caught Dreykov. Hauled him right into the courtroom”

“Dreykov?” Wanda asked. You noticed she went pale white, she started stumbling a little.

“Bambi?” Yelena asked before jumping and helping you to catch your die from falling.

Wanda was breathing heavily, her heart rate jumped as the world around her was blurring. She knew that name. In her mind, she was back in that horrible place.

The lights became too bright. The noises became too loud. Tears flooded Wanda’s eyes.

“Wanda?! Bambi?! Baby can you hear me?!Get her out of here!” The voices of you and Yelena seemed to intertwine as Wanda tried to focus herself. She couldn’t focus herself. It was all too much.

“Get away! Get away from me!!!” She shouted, throwing her arms around. You felt a slam of her hand and arm to your face and chest, you fell to the ground in total shock.

Wanda’s vision cleared just enough to see what she did to you. “D-detka? Baby I-I didn’t mean to…”

She bolted. Running down the hallway of the place she had started to see as home.

The only thing that echoed in her ear was you calling after her. “Wanda! Baby it’s okay! I’m fine! Wanda!!!”

Wanda practically locked herself in the supply closet. Curled up in the fetal position, Wanda tried again to steady her thoughts but the memories, the pain, the torture, it all came flooding back.

“Wanda?” Natasha’s calming voice called out to her.

“G-go away” she cried into her long sleeve shirt.

“We’re not going anywhere, my doe” you answered back. You sat there on the ground outside of the closet.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered against the wood of the door.

“Baby you have nothing to be ashamed of,” you reassured her.

It took a few days but Wanda found herself and you sitting in the waiting room of one Doctor Stephen Strange - the only doctor your doe trusted at this point. But even with that, she found herself shivering just being there.

You tried to reach across to take her hand and calm her but she retracted her hand from yours. It wasn’t that she didn’t yearn for your touch. In her mind, she had hurt you too much already. The red bruise on your face was still evident. Just seeing it caused Wanda’s heart to shatter again.

In truth, the bruise didn’t bother you. Sting a little at first but you knew it was a defense mechanism and your doe could never hurt you intentionally. So you put on a brave face and tried to make sure she still felt loved. But she kept her distance from you still.

“Wanda?” Doctor Strange wandered into the waiting room, his honey badger tail waving side to side.

Wanda got up and you followed suit.

“Sorry (Y/N) this is just Wanda.” He offers you a sad smile. Wanda turns to you a little worried.

“I’m not going anywhere, my doe” you reassure her.

My doe. That phrase once gave her such comfort. Now it almost seemed like a cruel joke after the way she hit you. Wanda felt she could never forgive herself.

She gave you a solemn nod and walked off with Strange, leaving you alone in the waiting room.

Doctor Strange guided Wanda into his little office. She took to sitting on a couch while he took his favorite red chair.

“Wanda, first things first, this is a safe space,” he began softly, “ you can tell me anything and I won’t tell anyone outside of here. So what brings you to my office today?”

“A couple days back, I-I freaked out on my detka.” She tried to explain.

“A panic attack. Okay”

“I-I hit my detka. I-it was an accident! I-I didn’t mean to hurt my…”

Strange raised a hand up, “I know. It was an involuntary reaction to a traumatic memory.”

“Yes.” Wanda took a deep breath and laid her head against the couch’s arm.

“What do you feel triggered it?”

“Dreykov.” The answer came out as a mere whisper as the memories came flooding back again.

The story of her past. It kept her up in the early hours of the morning. The only thing that brought her a soothing balm was the feeling of your arms around her and now even that held a bad memory. All because of her actions.

Her story. The one she laid out for Doctor Strange was as followed:

Wanda Maximoff was born to her momma and poppa along with her twin brother Pietro. At a young age, she and her brother were called freaks for the antlers they had. She did everything she could to hide them, file them down, wear hats, and yet the humiliation continued.

Eventually, at only twelve years old, her home and parents were destroyed in an accident, leaving only Wanda and her brother to survive together. They were on the streets until age sixteen.

That’s when the facility, actually known as the Red Room, found them. The doctors and staff promised room, food and board. It was all a trap.

Countless hours of torture and near death experiences haunted them. Eventually Wanda and Pietro were separated.

Wanda felt truly alone. And then she met another deer hybrid by the name of Vision. He seemed to be from the British forests. He was nice, kind and caring.

Wanda found his kindness and compassion really endearing. She found herself falling in love with him.

Eventually she fell pregnant by him. But then the facility separated them too. And then came the needle pricks, the doctor’s probing, the loud noises, the heavy medication that kept her docile and unable to focus.

And then they came into the world. Her boys. Two of them. She whispered their names in their ears. Billy and Tommy. She was in love the moment she saw them. They were her hopes, her future, all wrapped into two small bodies.

The boys were with her for less than three months when the facility and its director Dreykov came and snatched them away from her. She begged and pleaded but they refused. She hadn’t seen her boys since.

And then came the task force. Natasha, her eventual wolf pal, led her team on the raid of the facility Wanda was trapped in. Natasha was stern yet motherly in all the right ways. A scientist was about to kill Wanda when Natasha burst into the room and slashed the guy to ribbons with her wolf claws.

“Hey there Bambi,” her eventual friend said, “wanna get out of here?” Wanda couldn’t get out of that facility faster.

Wanda then went on to explain how she met you and get butterflies instantly. She didn’t know what it was at the time but she knew she wanted to never leave your side again.

“And now I feel like I messed it up! All because of Dreykov.”

Strange looks to her, “Wanda you are NOT the villain here. You are a survivor. And a brave one at that”

“How do I move on? How do I learn to live again?”

Stephen chuckles, “seems like you’re doing a fine job already with (Y/N).”

“But I feel that I messed that up too!” Wanda buries her face in her hands.

“What would you hope to say to your boys?” Strange asks her gently. “Some day”

“They won’t hurt you ever again. Your momma and poppa will keep you safe. (y/N) is a good mate they will protect you” Wanda hugs her legs to her chest.

“Use that. Make it your mantra.” Stephen gently replies. He takes off his glasses and puts down his notepad, “you are stronger than you know. Smarter than you realize. And braver than most people.”

Tears begin to make their way down Wanda’s porcelain face. “Thank you Doctor Strange.”

“Only speaking the truth.” He gives her a sad smile. “Just take it slowly. You got yourself a wonderful support system with you. (Y/N), Natasha, and the rest of the staff at the sanctuary.”

Wanda gave it some thought. She had Natasha. And at the end of the day, she still had you. A small smile made its way across her face, “I do”

Wanda left that appointment feeling tired and yet a little confident too. You were right there in the waiting room, waiting on your doe.

She came right up to you and hugged you tight. “I love you so much” she whispered in your ear. You rubbed her back reassuringly, making sure that she felt every bit of love that she deserved.

“I love you, my doe” you kiss her shoulder affectionately, “I’m not going anywhere”

It was a long road ahead. But Wanda was confident she could face it. She had you. She had Natasha. And eventually she’d have Pietro and her boys back in her arms.

Tags @lifespectator @olsenmyolsen @julieromanoff @revanshand @russianredassassin @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7

[aanthonyvb]

More good vibes

[stupidthoughtsinwriting]

Glimpse of Us

Summary: Years after the faithful night, reality brings the two back together, with all the years of unresolved pain, feelings and comparisons

Warning: Angst is all the warning I can think off ehehhe, Hard core Angst

Note: ehehehehe the long awaited sequel to She use to be mine is finally here! After what? nearly 2 years. its finally here! I'm so sorry for the long wait and thank you to those who encouraged me to continue on with the next part. I won't dawdle on and let you lot enjoy the concoction i seem to have mustered on. ehehe again sorry for the months delay.

oh and i almost forgot, the italics are best imagined as her singing

P.S. I drafted this post 7 or 8 months after the first part and dear god, how time has passed. Looking back at the story, I'm not really too proud of this one and ended it because I really have no idea how to continue it. I have an idea for a next part (dangerous words coming from me) but I'm not gonna set a date for when I post it because we all know how the last part turned out. Anyways enjoy

😊❤️💛💚💙💜🖤😊 -T

‘Hey, you’re up in five’`

‘Yah sure, just touching up’ you say as you smacked your lips after applying a bit of lip gloss.

‘You don’t need it’ he replied.

‘Still. I can’t believe I agreed to this’ you scoffed, fiddling with your hair for the hundredth time.

‘You’ll do great’ he smiled ‘Now your hair is fine, you look amazing, and I have to go. Break a leg’ he bid before getting on stage to rouse the crowd. Admittedly, you are nervous. You wouldn’t call yourself a singer, but you do have a good enough voice and can hold a tune. You knew it was a mistake singing in front of Harvey and you were only doing this as a favor. God. You checked the mirror one last time before finding it was good enough.

‘Now for tonight’s performance, A very dear friend of mine has agreed to perform tonight, though with a little bit of persuasion.’ Harvey mumbled the last part, getting a laugh from the crowd and a chuckle from yourself ‘She has a voice made by the gods above, though I don’t remember Thor being much of a singer. She can lure you in better than a siren, but I think that’s the other mythology’ he said cheekily.

‘Now, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome a dear friend of mine, Y/N Y/L/N!’ he introduced, that being your cue to emerge from the curtain, you stepped on staged and made your way over to the middle where he and the mic was, the spotlight following your movement. You waved and smiled at the crowd, glad there wasn’t much. Grasping the mic, you chuckled as the small crowd continued to clap.

‘Hi everybody’ you began, getting a hello in response from the crowd ‘Wow, thank you for the warm welcome and thank you Harvey for that unrealistic introduction’ you chuckled with the crowd, turning to Harvey who waved you off.

‘Now, taking something off of Harvey’s speech, I am made by no god or am one. Nor am I a siren from the Greek mythology. It did take some persuading to get me to do this and hopefully I don’t regret it.’ You laughed sheepishly.

‘I don’t normally sing on stage or in public really unless it’s karaoke with friends, which by the way is how I got tricked into doing this, so pardon me if I seem a bit nervous’ you smile shyly. Glancing back at Harvey, with a smile on his face, he nodded, pushing you to continue. Pulling out the rest of the confidence you still had stored, you turned back beaming at the crowd.

‘Now to not keep you waiting any longer, Paul if you will’ you gestured to the man on the piano and he nods before gliding his fingers along the keys, playing the start of the song. Letting out a breath, you closed your eyes, feeling the rhythm of the piano before singing the lyrics. Grabbing hold of the mic, you opened your eyes and began.

He'd take the world off my shoulders

If it was ever hard to move

He'd turn the rain to a rainbow

When I was living in the blue

You let your eyes flutter to a close as you gripped the mic firmly. Swaying your body occasionally to melody.

Why then if he is so perfect

Do I still wish that it was you?

Perfect don't mean that it's working

So what can I do? Ooh

Opening your eyes, you scanned the crowd, completely surprised by how the much you can see of the crowd seemed entranced.

When you’re out of sight

You saw you’re your friends in a booth over on the corner, the people entering the establishment.

In my mind

Then the bar where you found him, staring at you. You locked eyes with those beautiful ocean blue orbs that you love loved so much. Stumbling over your words, you nearly forgot about the song but once the piano keys hit the right note, your lips continued in autopilot.

Cause sometimes I look… in his eyes

And that's where I find

A glimpse of us

Eyes leaving contact, you scanned his entirety. The grey streaks at his temples have grown longer since the last time you saw him. The old clean-shaven face he used to don had a goatee. Prominent lines and creases were evident in his features and really the years have aged him well. He wore a suit, complete with a vest, a red handkerchief in the breast pocket and everything. A glass of whiskey at his side and he was still as handsome as the day you left. 

You closed your eyes once more, willing this to just be another trick or hallucination by your imagination. Though it was a horrid idea as memories of the day came back crashing onto you, you let them stay shut as you continued.

And I try to fall for his touch

But I'm thinking of the way it was

There you stood, as beautiful as the day he met you, if not more. In all your beauty, and the signature grin you adorned, you were radiant. Though the spotlight might have something to do with it, you were still a ray of sunshine through the darkest of clouds.

The rest of the world faded out to him and his mind finally faltered. There you were. Standing a few feet away as you introduced yourself. Your hair’s cut short, or at least shorter than the last time he’d seen you. Earrings hid behind your curls and the lightest bit of make-up was applied to your soft features. Though that didn’t hide the blossoming pink tint gracing your cheeks. Your lips glistened with the lip gloss you had on just like you use to. Smile lines drew at the corner of your eyes as you chuckled over your own words, explaining how you ended up in your current situation.

You always smiled, even when you were feeling down, you always smiled. Whether to hide what you were truly feeling or to just be nice to people, you always smiled. He nearly forgot how beautiful that smile was, with only his dreams used to recall that charming grin, since it has been a rarity for him to look you up or even open the box full of pictures during your years together. Even with the picture he kept in his nightstand, he rarely opened the drawer. Funny how this photographic memory of his nearly forgot the most beautiful piece of art he’s ever seen.

He listened to every single word you uttered as he looked and committed every single detail he could of you to memory. Your hair curled into soft waves, parted and pinned on one side. Your frame, fuller since the last time he saw your thin, nearly skeletal figure on that fateful night. You wore a wine-red wrap top that reached down to your wrists, paired with simple jeans and boots, you looked divine. The dip in the neckline of your shirt revealed the top of your cleavage but the gleaming gold necklace is what caught his attention. It was a simple gold bar plate though engraved with a heartbeat on one side. Common and a bit of a cliché now adays but what was special about that was it was an actual heartbeat. His. He gifted it to you when you both got accepted at Metro General. He explained that it was how his heart beat whenever he thought of you. As you tried to find the words to thank him, he made you turn it over to the other side to another engraving. You know I love you so, it said. A line from one of your favorite songs. He remembered how tears brimmed your eyes as you leaped to him, capturing his lip with yours.

What came as a shock to him now was that you were still wearing it. As he continued to look you over, the sound of your chuckle registered in his ears. God, he loves that sound. A sound he hasn’t heard long before you left. Looking back up to your face, he sees the girl he met all those years ago, buried under piles of books in the library on campus. The very same girl that chuckled at his horrible attempt at a flirtatious first introduction. A small smile tugged at his lips both at the memory and the sound. He hasn’t heard that sound in so long, it was a wonder when he heard it last. He just knew it was long before he fucked up and just chose to relish in the sweet sound now.

Now focusing and giving his undivided attention to your voice now, he listened.

‘I don’t normally sing on stage or in public really unless it’s karaoke with friends, which by the way is how I got tricked into doing this, so pardon me if I seem a bit nervous’ you laugh timidly. A chuckle bubbled at his throat as flashes of you singing whilst cooking in the kitchen of your tiny apartment came into view. Wearing nothing but his shirt as you flipped pancakes, singing from Coldplay to Queen at the top of your lungs or humming to Ed Sheeran whilst you worked and studied case filles.

He knew you enough to know that you were nervous, you didn’t have to say it. After all these years he still knew you better than the back of his scarred hands, heck better than he knows himself.

He saw you look to the side and his eyes followed, landing on the host from earlier. With a smile on his face, he nodded, giving you the reassurance you needed to continue with your performance. And it did, he saw how you pulled the last of your confidence before turning back to the crowd.

A pang of jealousy shot through him as he watched. I mean what did he expect, for you to be alone after all these years. A stupidly selfish part of him even hoped that you’d be waiting for him. To get his act together and you’d be back together. It was incredibly stupid; he knew that but that didn’t stop the creeping grip of jealousy from grasping his heart. As much as he knew how selfish the thought is, that didn’t stop the pain and hurt he felt seeing you look for reassurance in another man. Even after all these years.

The smile he had drawn up earlier had faded to a look of melancholy. It was good you had someone, he thought. Someone to be there for whenever you needed them the most, unlike him.

He watched as you turned and gestured to the pianist who nodded and started to fiddle with the keys. He watched as you took a breath, closed your eyes and began to sway to the smooth melody of the music. A small grin was itching at your lips. You were always more comfortable whenever listening to music and this was evident, unbeknownst to you.

Then you started to sing. You opened your eyes, took a firm grip at the mic and the lyrics just came dripping smoothly from your lips. That melodic voice of yours that he loves so much reminded him of the early mornings in the kitchen, the concerts in the shower and the lullabies to the kids under your care. Little did you know but the sound of your sweet voice always comforted him during the hardest times. He didn’t ask you to sing directly but he always listened whenever you hummed a simple tune or sang a song from some Disney movie to calm the kids in peds ward.

He took in every word that came from your lips. From what he’s heard so far from the first verse, it was about how the man lightened and took away the burden and sorrows the singer felt. The way you sang the song, it was beautiful. It was as if you were truly meaning the words that left your lips and he couldn’t help but feel the envy creeping back up at him, though at the same time, he’s conflicted with relief. He didn’t know if you’ve had someone during the past couple of years but as hurt as he is at the prospect of you with somebody else, it sort of gave him a sense of comfort thinking that you were getting taken care off. It eased some of the weight he felt and often times he thought maybe it was good that you separated. All he'd done with you the last few months of your relationship was hurt and neglect you and if you ever found someone that remedied that, maybe it was for the best that you left.

He watched your eyes flutter to a close again. The way your body moved to the melody of the music completely hypnotized him that his drink was deemed long forgotten.

Why then if he is so perfect, Do I still wish that it was you?

At those words, for some reason that gave him hope. He didn’t know if it was just the song but really, just the way you sang it made it seem all too genuine. He still loves you; he knew that very well. He also knows that he had a better chance in coming up with a new strategy in defeating Thanos (despite the many but one failed attempts he saw using the time stone), than ever getting back in a relationship with you.

You are the most kind, caring and understanding person he knew but you were also stubborn. He might have the chance in getting to apologize and to ask for forgiveness, but a relationship was a billion to one cosmic fluke. Though that didn’t stop him from wondering if you meant those words.

You opened your eyes and continued with the song. He noticed you looking at the growing mass of people watching. From the corner booths to the door, he knew from that growing look at your face that you were surprised to say the least at how many were captivated by your performance.

Then you met his gaze. Those soft blues meeting that beautiful shade of your own eyes. God, how much he loved those shining y/e/c orbs could never be put into words. How they twinkle in the light. The comfort and understanding they held and how they always seem to know he felt.

When he woke up from the crash, the first thing he longed to find were your eyes. The warmth, comfort and security they held, he ached to see those beautiful orbs because for the briefest moments he forgot everything but you. You were his main thought. He forgot about the fight, the neglectful months before, the pale, emaciated figure of yours that haunts his dreams, everything. Only the kind, gorgeous face of the woman he fell for all those years ago stayed in his mind because whenever he thought of comfort, the only thing that formed in his head was, no… is you.

He was hurt, in pain, his body ached, he could barely see let alone open his eyes. He needed comfort, he needed you. But when was life ever nice.

Instead, he was met with the fluorescent lights of the hospital room and the horrific sight of the mangled hands that once led a successful career in medicine. There was no warming gaze to be greeted with, only the sad sympathetic ones he now knows to be from the wrong woman and a cold, sterile room.

Cause sometimes I look… in his eyes

You stumbled over your words as you continued to look at each other. You continued singing but your eyes were locked together. Neither of you could look away. Your mouth moved on autopilot as your eyes lost the spark of a flame you had earlier, just like that night all those years ago, replaced by a reflection of the pain and grief he caused. The very same one that haunts his dreams.

A glimpse of us

You finished, your voice fading as the lyrics came to an end. As soon as the piano tuned out, you smiled and gave a little bow at the crowd who erupted in applause before leaving the stage in a hurry. Welled up tears spilled down warm cheeks as emotions and memories continued to riot your mind. After all these years he still managed to make you cry. Why can’t you move on?

You were quick on getting your belongings from the small prep area behind the stage however your plans of a speedy getaway were quickly ousted by the very same gentleman that perpetrated this whole ordeal.

‘You were amazing! The emotion you put in the performance…’ He continued to ramble on, looking past the curtain and to the roaring crowd cheering on for an encore, completely oblivious of his friend’s distraught state. ‘I mean the teary eyes, come on. Doctoring ever not work for you, acting could be something to con…’ he paused after finally getting a glimpse of you, swiftly wiping away tear streaks that ran down your cheeks but the growing redness in your eyes were dead give aways. ‘Shit’ finally piecing things together, he cursed, his attention fully set on you now. ‘It was real. Fuck, are you okay?’ he asked, finding it difficult figuring out what to do, yet a hint of urgency too as he still had to go back on stage.

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.’ You swallowed, lying through your teeth. ‘I just… have to go’ you mumbled quickly, giving him a grin in hopes to resemble something as composed as the friend he knew. Though he knew you enough to know you were not ‘fine’, with great reluctance he let you go, rushing to the stage shortly after exchanging goodbyes and promising to check with him later.

As your friend went back on stage, you quickly took a survey of your appearance on a nearby mirror, making sure you didn’t look as dreadful as you felt. The bit of makeup you had on survived, however your eyes weren’t as forgiving being red. Nevertheless, you sped out to leave.

Considering your options, your only available exits were the front or back door and wanting to avoid individual who has left you in this state (just by being present), you turned to the corridor that lead to the back door but as unfortunate as you were, the exit was blocked by men hauling in delivery shipments and by the looks of things they weren’t going to be done any time soon.

You were antsy enough as it was and waiting by the second for them just added to your agitation. You really needed to leave now.  A lump was lodging itself on your throat and the air around you seemed to be thinning. You need to leave NOW.

Swallowing all the anxieties you had, you had no choice but to rush out the front. You stayed on the side, avoiding the patrons and the one in particular perched up at the bar but unlucky you (your luck really seemed to have vanished really), the man saw your abrupt departure, unbeknownst to you.

You made it out to the street and the open air was a fresh welcome, letting you finally breath, whereas the establishment you had left felt suffocating.

You thought it was done. That the lump in your throat would finally dissolve as you walked down the street, thinking that you had successfully avoided the now famed sorcerer of New York. The hero, Doctor Strange…

but when was life ever good to you.

‘y/n…’ he breathed out, catching the sight of you sprinting toward the doors he entered only moments before. It pulled him out of his reverie, wondering if he should talk to you, what he’d talk to you about, an apology perhaps, contemplation of your years together, however the sight of you pulled him out like it always did, especially in the beginning. He sometimes had the tendency to be too deep in thought, he’d ignore everything and everyone in his surroundings, but he always caught you. Your scent, your voice, let alone your image, it always drew him from his stupor. 

Now the sight of you cemented his thoughts.

Downing the last of his drink, he pulled a bill from his wallet and slammed it down the counter without so much as a look onto how much it was before he scurried out, chasing after you. (Like he should have done all those years ago)

He called out your name once he reached the sidewalk, turning left and right in search for you. The street wasn’t crowded much so it was easy to spot the figure stood still a few yards away to his right. With the last few rays of the dying sun and dim streetlight, he made out the curled head of hair the same shade as yours the figure had, and he just knew it was you.

‘Y/N!’ he nearly shouted, causing a few heads to turn in his direction but not yours. You kept your back to him as he sprinted your way. He knew you heard him. You would have kept on walking had you not.

It only took a second to reach you and when he did, he hesitated, not knowing what to do. He wanted to reach for you and plead for forgiveness. On his knees if he had to. Instead, he opted for another call for your name, hoping you’d finally face him.

And you did, after dropping your hands to your side, he heard a small sniff before you turned to him with your gorgeous smile and said (in a somewhat forced cheer in your voice)

‘Stephen. Hi’

‘Hi’ he replied densely. You idiot, he thought at how stupid his response was.

A silence fell over you both as Stephen canvassed your entirety now at a closer distance. He took in every graceful line, freckle and strand of hair he saw to memory. Every little detail he took in was as important as every breath he took. How bloodshot your eyes were didn’t go unnoticed though. Puffy around the eyelids from crying, red possibly from -he guessed- how hard you were rubbing them just before he reached you.  

Surprising thing is, it still broke his heart seeing the distress you so clearly were trying to hide. The thought of tears running down your cheeks, was illegal. They had no business in gracing your face yet, he can’t help but realize that he just keeps being the reason you were left in that state. Where were all these sympathies back then? He asked himself, the very night flashing through his mind.

‘Stephen’ you said again, taking him out of head again. He missed that though. His name coming off your lips. It brought him back to all the mornings with you in bed, tangled in sheets as the morning glory woke you up and you woke him up with that honey sweet voice with the say of his name. Stephen

‘Sorry, um…’ he coughed, trying to piece a sentence, words, anything really that didn’t end in three syllables.

‘You were wonderful’ he finally managed, okay that’s five ‘Back there at the bar…. you were amazing’ like always, he wanted to add but stopped himself, pointing back to where he just left.

‘Thank you’ you muttered, nodding your head before leaving it down to look at your shoes. The way you responded lacked any sort of confidence, as if you didn’t believe his words or yourself. Truthfully, you were never really the most confident, even back then but always did step up when the situation needed. Either that’s the reason or you didn’t believe him, which considering his case, why should you.

Your hands were fidgeting, he noticed. Running and marking the bones of one hand with your fingers tips before your nails would start to pick on skin. This was something new to him. A new nervous habit of yours he hadn’t known before, so it was most likely picked up after your separation.

The person in front of him wasn’t the same one he knew all those years ago yet, still so similar and the same. He remembers everything about you, so if anything of the woman he knew back then was still in there, he knew by how you were acting that you were uncomfortable, agitated.

‘Really, you were amazing’ he affirmed, really wanting you to believe him, or at least to believe how wonderful you really are. ‘Truly, but are you okay?’

He’d done it. Ask that stupid question and that’s what broke the dam, causing the river to run past it with no mercy.

He heard a laugh at first, your hand raising towards your face. The sound bordered on maniacal, nothing like the one he loved but familiar enough to know he has heard it before. Slowly, your head rose, your hand half covering your mouth, half wiping away the rivers that flowed down your cheeks. The sight finally triggered the memory he was looking for. It was all too similar to that night, it felt like déjà vu.

‘um’ you started, finally managing to say after that little fit ‘I could lie but what’s the point? No. I’m not. I’m not okay because you’re here. Fuck, I actually thought that I could get away from this but no, evidently not.’ You tried to reason, looking him straight in the eyes ‘Christ Stephen, I was okay. I was okay when I was singing, I was okay ten minutes ago but then you just came out of no where and now I’m not okay. I’m never okay whenever it comes to you. Not anymore.’ You spit like venom, unrelenting in your streak to get out all your pain because of him. ‘I thought I could be civil but… I-I’m tired. I’m sorry, I’m gonna go. Enjoy your night’ you hurried, saying your goodbyes and turning your back to him to walk away. You would have gone had he not called you back in such a pleading tone.

‘please’ he begs and for some reason and it compels you to listen. You halt your steps, you don’t turn around, but you do wipe away your tears and he takes that as his chance to apologize for everything. 

‘I’m sorry.’  He starts, his own eyes teary ‘I’m sorry for everything. You didn’t deserve what I did to you and it…’ he swallows that lump in his throat, trying to get the rest of his words out ‘it haunts me every day. You’re the kindest person I know, and I took you for granted. I was an arrogant piece of shit, too self-absorbed to even notice that the woman I love was working herself to death.’ You start to turn around ’You were the purest thing I knew and you didn’t deserve the monster I was. And I am so sorry for who I was then. I’ve changed or I’m trying to change, to be better than- than that monster that hurt you and I could only hope for your forgiveness because, you were always someone I never wanted to lose, and I did. By a stupid mistake and horrible decisions.’ His tears start to run, and you finally face him ‘I never wanted to let you go but I was hurting you more than I was loving you and I understand if I don’t get your forgiveness but, I am sorry. I am so sorry for hurting you. For taking you for granted. For not treating you how you deserved to be treated. For everything. You didn’t deserve what I did to you and hearing myself admit this… really just proves I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know that I am sorry. I’m really sorry for what I did and that… that you deserve.’

You stare at him with tears running down both your eyes and he sees the same urge to wipe them away, in you. The hesitant twitch of your arm as if by instinct, to move and act on the need to clear away his tears and comfort him. At least that’s what he interprets the move of your arm because that’s exactly what you would have done, that’s exactly your character and he wants to do the same. To dry away your tears and take you in his arms in respite.

But you act against those thoughts, only balling your fist as some form of control. You stare into him, as if gauging to find the lie in his words yet there is none and he sees something in your eyes that he can’t explain before they dart away. He watches as you scan your surroundings, looking at the people likely to be watching you both but he didn’t care for them. He only cared about you.

When your eyes turned back to him, you closed them immediately, face scrunching as you desperately tried to hold back to tears but to him, it was as if you were so pained by the mere sight of him. He’d be lying if he said that it didn’t chip away a piece of his heart. 

Your head bowed for a bit as you tried to compose yourself but the words that left your lips once you rose again, only broke more of his heart.

‘You’re forgiven’ you were quick to say before turning back and walking away from him. He watched with wet cheeks, as you sped away from him, and he kept his gaze on you until you disappeared around the corner and then you were gone.

For what seemed like forever, he kept his eyes on that street corner, hoping for something that won’t happen. He knew that whatever he wanted wasn’t going to happen, but a man could hope, right? Though hopes are as easy to diminish as they are to ignite. Grief and disappointment, they tend to last.

The sun had set and streetlights and buildings are all that lit the side walk where Stephen stood. A man well known to the people and thus, there were those who were bound to watch the spectacle put on by the hero. Small crowds had formed over time as they watched the powerful sorcerer confess to the dreadful things he’s done to some doctor from before his fame, asking for forgiveness to all the terrible things he’s done.

To new passersby, they’d wonder why a hero of the city stood so stiff, looking at oblivion. They’d wonder for a minute without context before walking away with a shrug, figuring much more important things to think of.

Eventually, the crowd thinned to a trickle, til the lone man was all that remained the lone street, wondering what he had done to deserve you.

A/U: I've read this way too much to do a final proof read so sorry for all the grammatical mistakes and spellings and all that. Thanks for the read though

I'm hoping that the people who asked to be tagged don't mind me tagging them this late in the game and I hope you liked it. Hopefully it was worth the wait @strangesweetheart @evelynrosestuff @vesta-ro @doodle-cat16 @nabiilahadid @evansmusk @circe143 @dracoflaco

[leviathanspain]

he’s got that fire

doctor strange x reader

synopsis: you have an unusual relationship with your mentor/boss, and when he asks you to be his date to an important awards ceremony, you can’t help but relish in his fire

a/n: stephen strange is so lana del rey coded omff, so heavy sad girl vibes. i haven’t proofread and it’s longer than any of my usual works i think.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

he always told you how much of a gift it was for him to choose you. it was always like that, he chose you, like some god. that he had made your life better by choosing to be in it. he repeated that to you whenever you became ‘insubordinate’.

you never really argued though. you knew that it wasn’t ever the right thing to do, especially with someone so arrogant, you’d be wasting a breath and your career if you did so.

but you learned to live with his narcissism, he was the best surgeon in new york, and arguably in the states. his credentials are why you’ve never argued back.

this day was not any different.

“i said that we should do the shunt.” stephen stared at the films. he was cross, had been since the morning and was now profoundly irritated but hadn’t stated why.

“you’ll kill him. think about it, what if we do another approach in a few days? give him enough recovery time so that when you actually do the surgery, he won’t die on the table.” you explained your decision, but stephen had already stopped listening. he was shaking his head, clearly none of this was going as he wanted.

“stephen-“ you closed your eyes, already preparing to apologize for undermining him, when he shushed you. “i-“ you scoffed but didn’t say anything else.

“we’ll do it tomorrow. it’ll be the first surgery of the day, i want it to go well.” he recycled your idea, and turned around with a nod, “get me dr. palmer. i want her to be in there.” he demanded.

you looked up from your notepad and raised your eyebrows, “you don’t want me in there?” you were his student, his resident, you were assigned to scrub in on all his surgeries-

“no. i want dr. palmer. that is final.” he stalked over to the door, pulling it open and letting it shut behind him without another word.

you couldn’t lie and say you were disappointed. you had hoped that after last night, that you and stephen had finally come to an understanding. but this had just proved that he wasn’t capable of listening. and that he was still hopelessly in love with christine.

“dr. l/n.” a nurse had stopped you as you walked around, moping about stephen kicking you off the surgery. she handed you some papers, “dr. strange has requested you in his office. and he needs to sign these papers for the patient in 203.” she smiled thinly, clearly making you do part of her job.

you shoved the papers back, and stalked off.

you had swiped a salad on your way to his office. you had learned from the first few times that stephen requesting you in his office was like attending a lecture, all about him. and you wouldn’t starve if you were going to be stuck there.

you knocked on the door once before pushing it open. stephen was sitting at his desk, an untouched piece of salmon and greens was in front of him. he didn’t even look up when you walked in.

“what’s up?” you set your salad down, including some of your patient files. you took the chair opposite of his, and cracked open your salad.

“i hate it when you speak like that.” his eyes remained glued to his computer screen.

you looked up, rolling your eyes, “one of the nurses said you requested me? might i inquire why or are we just going to stare at each other and pretend like last night didn’t happen?” you were angry.

he could tell.

your voice shook with a twinge of rage that only he could be the reason behind. it was always the same twinge, it was the same twinge earlier when he had requested christine for the surgery.

his eyes broke away from the screen for the first time since you had walked in. he stared at you, as if trying to calculate this moment in his head. he paused, silence taking the both of you as he stared into your eyes.

“i- i didn’t want to have to do this-“ stephen sighed, “we’re at work. when we’re working, i’m your boss, you are my resident. we can talk about us, later.” he sounded so professional that if you didn’t know him so well, you’d probably throw yourself on the floor and beg for forgiveness.

“just tell me why you picked her over me. that’s all i want to know.” you challenged, your eyes boring into his.

stephen scoffed, “i chose dr. palmer because she is a more experienced surgeon than you. you would just-“

“fuck it up?” you finished his sentence and rolled your eyes, “if you don’t have faith in me than that is a reflection on your abilities as a teacher, as my mentor.”

“no it is not. because if you actually did what you were told, you would be on your way to making an incredible surgeon. but you aren’t. you’d be mediocre at best.” his words cut hard. he hadn’t blinked, and you didn’t dare to look away.

it was weakness to look away. you had to be able to continue to stare him down, if he was going to listen to you.

“i do exactly as i am told. last night was the perfect example of that, wasn’t it, doctor?” you raised your eyebrows and incredibly, stephen broke the eye contact.

“get out.” he returned his gaze to the computer screen and you were taken aback.

“what-“

“i said get out. get your shit, and get the fuck out of my office.” stephen didn’t hesitate to yell at you, which made you want to cringe.

you stood up, sighing as you collected your things, you had almost made it out when you stopped, hand lingering on the doorknob, “this is why christine left you. you’re a fucking asshole, and no one will ever love you.” he had turned, but you had already left before he could yell anymore.

you knew you shouldn’t have slept with your boss. clearly, as you sat at home instead of scrubbing in on a surgery, that it wasn’t working out well.

you had left the hospital after your little outburst with stephen. your pager kept going off, but you had ignored it since they were all from, unsurprisingly, stephen. you tossed and turned in your bed, not having the energy to do anything else.

he had ruined you. he had ruined you from the moment you had entered the program.

but yesterday, he had really ruined you. he ruined whatever perfect balance the two of you had. you knew him, and he knew you, but now you were too involved, too emotionally attached.

you couldn’t even curb your jealously. it wasn’t about your abilities or her abilities, it was the fact that he wanted his ex-girlfriend to scrub in with him, and not you.

stephen stared at the wall. he had been staring at it since you left. assumingely, you had gone home. all of his pages went unanswered, and he knew that he had really, really fucked up.

there was a knock at the door and stephen turned, “come in.” he had hoped it was you, but he never had to welcome you in. you’d always just waltz in, carrying food and random case notes.

“i’ve been looking for your resident all day. i heard she’s the expert on the case?” dr. palmer had graced his office for the first time in a long time. stephen didn’t have the best poker face when it came to surprises, and he couldn’t hide this one.

“uh-“ he laughed slightly, blinking as he focused on her, “yeah she wasn’t feeling well today. she might’ve gone home but the case is at the nurses station.” he didn’t smile, he never did at her anymore.

christine nodded, “hey, stephen.. why did you ask me to scrub in with you? if you already have a perfectly capable resident-“

stephen shook his head, “i- i just wanted you there. i don’t know why- but,” he shrugged, “i cant trust residents, can i?”

christine laughed awkwardly, her attempt at trying to get out of this was already shot to the ground, so she just exited.

you wanted to quit. you had spent all night practicing how you’d do it. you were going to go to his office, set the resignation letter down on his desk and walk out without saying anything.

but you couldn’t even gather the courage to print your letter out. you had left the paper jammed in your printer, half inked, as you left to go to work.

“good morning.” stephen greeted you at the nurses station. it was time for the early mornings rounds. you nodded, but didn’t say anything as you walked off.

stephen chose to ignore the fact that you ignored him, and walked after you, “i am going to need any and all case notes on that patient today.”

you scoffed, “why? you never read any of my notes.” which was true. he always thought your notes were just annoying little scribbles.

“they’re for dr. palmer. she requested that she get any notes relevant to the surgery today.” he responded.

“oh, okay. i’ll drop it off at your office along with all the respect i have for you.” and you turned a corner, leaving him in the dust for rounds.

you were sitting in the cafeteria, head in your hands over your tray of food, you hadn’t even noticed the people gathering around your table.

“dude- long time no see.” you looked up to see one of your old friends that you had met during your internship, thalia. before all of this, before him.

you smiled, a real one in a long time, “we’re residents. we’re lucky if we even have clean underwear.” you joked. she smiled, “i heard you’ve been working closely with dr. strange. how is it? he’s got the hands of a god, you know.”

you blinked, almost happy to be able to get through a conversation that wasn’t plagued by stephen strange.

you blinked, hesitating with your words until it all came spilling out. “we slept together. multiple times.”

thalia’s jaw fell, practically hit the floor as she stared at you in disbelief.

“and we’re fighting right now so i’d really love it if we could just move on-“

“dr. l/n.” you turned at the sound of that voice, abruptly ending your conversation with your friend, you couldn’t hide the shock on your face to see stephen standing in front of you.

he never came to the cafeteria. he was always too good for it, and it was evident that even just his presence was shocking enough. all other conversations seemed to quiet down to complete silence.

“stephen-“

“you’re scrubbing in. dr. palmer has another surgery that will run late so-“

you nodded, “understood.”

your unwillingness to say anything more was evident, and stephen would not open that can of shit right in the middle of the cafeteria for all the underachievers to hear.

he nodded, leaving as quickly as he came.

you stared at his hands moving gracefully in the patient. he was a god, it was clear in his work, that’s why he was the way he was.

“suction.” you immediately brought down the tube in your hands, sucking at whatever he pointed at.

his glove caught on the tube, the air trying to suck up his finger. he pulled back, just as you pulled the tube away.

“oh my go-“ you stared at the tube, and turned back to stephen. he raised his eyebrows just as you dipped your head back to laugh.

stephen looked around at the rest of the staff but didn’t say anything as you finished laughing by yourself.

you let out a sigh, your laugh turned into a quiet chuckle, even as you met his eyes, you still couldn’t stifle it.

“i’m sorry.” you apologized, “that was unprofessional and it won’t happen again.” you blinked, head bowed as you waited.

but stephen didn’t say anything, he looked up to stare at you once before going back to work.

stephen asked you to meet him in his office after the surgery. you had to practically throw yourself up each step to get to his office, exhaustion weighing heavy on your bones.

you didn’t even bother to knock this time, you just pushed the door open and dragged yourself in. stephen was sitting at his desk, but he had the case files in his hands.

he looked up once he saw you, and you took a seat across his desk. “you wanted to see me?”

stephen nodded, throwing down the case files, “this is good stuff.”

you blinked. hardly did stephen ever freely give compliments. you had thought you were the worst resident until he had called you “okay” once during an assistive surgery. another surgeon had said that meant you were good.

clearly stephen knew what you were thinking, and he grimaced, “christine suggested i read them.” you hummed in acknowledgment, “and she also told me to apologize.”

you looked at him expectantly, eyebrows raised.

“i am sorry for not calling you, or texting you after..” he mumbled off, “and im sorry for kicking you out of my office, it was rude and i am so-“ he faltered and you sighed, standing up.

he watched as you strode over to his side of the desk, hips swaying in your tight scrub pants. your hand gripped the leather of his desk chair, pulling it back as you positioned yourself on his lap.

stephen watched you carefully, watched as you dragged a finger across his cheek, smiling coyly, “i accept your apology, stephen.” you hummed again, “and i am sorry for what i said.”

stephen held your hips, his large hands tightening around them so you wouldn’t fall. “it’s okay. it’s okay.” he assured you, hands moving to caress your neck, he planted a kiss on your collarbone, just underneath your scrub top.

you shivered at the contact, but you were eager for more. stephen was hardly affectionate, especially at work. it made you wonder how it all even happened in the first place, as he was always so clipped with you.

stephen kissed your neck, sucking hard on the skin that you were sure they’d bruise.

“come away with me.” he whispered, “put on a slutty little dress and come away with me tonight.” he gripped hard on your hips, and you laughed, “what? where?” you were surprised he hadn’t mentioned anything about a trip to you.

“i was nominated for an award in california. the ceremony is tonight and i was hoping that you would accompany me.” he didn’t smile, but there was a hint of one.

“publicly?” you drew your brows together, hand on his shoulder as you looked into his eyes.

“well- people would only assume that we work together. but yes, publicly.” he nodded, and you felt your stomach drop to your ass.

“uh-“ you scoffed, “yeah. sure, i’ll go.” you couldn’t hide your hesitation. the last person that stephen ‘worked’ with was christine, and people would notice.

stephen nodded, “okay. i’ll see you tonight, kid.” his lips brushed past yours as he planted a kiss on your cheek. “tease.” you commented, gripping his shoulder as you hopped off his lap.

“i’m the tease?” he grabbed your wrist and you looked at the tent in his pants. a laugh escaped you, even as you strutted out of his office.

waiting was unbearable. you found yourself glancing over to the clock hoping hours would roll by until it finally did, and you were gathering your things to head home and prepare.

stephen said that he had arranged a private flight to california, and that he and a driver would be at your apartment by 8.

“are you out of here?” thalia, standing at the end of the hallway, broke you out of your thoughts, “i heard you’re going with strange to that ceremony?” you nodded, as you met her at the end, you couldn’t hide your smile.

she nudged you, smiling, “aw im so happy for you. especially after we all thought dr. palmer would go with him.”

your smile fell immediately and you stepped back, “what? why would you think that?”

thalia shrugged, “because he asked her. i heard them in the attendings lounge, when i had gone to find my-“ she continued to ramble on but you had stopped listening. you walked past her and slammed the double doors open. she called your name, but you were already in the wind.

all you could do was practically run out of the hospital, dashing past the front desk and out the doors. you panted, feeling the ache of a sob in your chest. you walked now, breaking down in tears on the way to your car.

how could he have asked her, before he asked you?

you realized you couldn’t go home now. stephen would be there soon to pick you up, to take you to an event that you weren’t supposed to be at.

stephen paced the apartment lobby. your doorman said that he hadn’t seen you since the previous morning. your car hadn’t been parked in its designated spot either, evident of your absence.

“fuck..” stephen muttered, his fingers breezing on the screen as he tried to call you. thing was, you always called him, never the other way around so he couldn’t remember the numbers to even dial.

he scrolled through his call list but it was a sea of unknown numbers, and stephen didn’t remember the last time you called.

stephen walked back up to the doorman, “can i go look in her apartment?” the doorman raised his eyebrows and stephen sighed, “i’m her bo-“ he paused, unsure of what to call himself, he grimaced, “i am her colleague. i just-“

the doorman nodded, there was a look on his face as he looked at stephen up and down, “yeah..i know who you are.” as he spoke stephen realized that it was disdain that this doorman held for him.

but as the doorman let stephen up, he didn’t even care how you talked about him, it was that you talked about him at all.

the apartment was messy. of course it was. you were a fifth year resident who clocked in more hours at the hospital than all the combined time spent at home. but it wasn’t dirty messy, it was a barely moved in, hadn’t had time to unpack messy. the stack of broken down boxes in the corner was evident. he pursed his lips at the sight, but continued in.

your bedroom was close, he could see the edge of a mattress through a cracked door. it was barren, besides the bed and dresser, it was filled with packing peanuts and a box of hospital scrubs. he hummed, stepping out and deciding to check out the next room.

he pushed the door open, revealing a very organized office space. there was a long desk along the wall, a chalk board took up the entirety of another wall, medical scrawl was all over it. pictures of anatomy were hung up, including unknown jars of specimen.

stephen was more than intrigued, he was impressed. the rest of your apartment was messy, barely lived in, but your work was your life, and your office was clear of that.

he trailed towards the desk, a dim light shone from your desktop, and he nudged the computer mouse to turn it on.

dear stephen,

i am writing to formally tender my resignation as a fifth year resident under your tutelage…

there was a mix of worry in his mind that he hadn’t felt in a long time. the rest of the letter was just professional bullshit on your decision to leave him. you weren’t leaving the hospital, you were leaving him.

but he had to get the truth.

it had been hours since the award ceremony. hours since it would’ve started at least, looking at the clock, you knew that it was time to return home.

stephen probably didn’t even make it to your house, since you hadn’t received a single call. the area you had gone to, outside of the city, still got decent cell service, so you knew he didn’t even try.

you no longer felt the rage of being overlooked in your career and in your relationship, all you felt was the regret of believing him. you tightly gripped your steering wheel, and silently drove back home.

stephen waited silently. he had looked through your pantry, trying to find something to snack on until your arrival; he knew he’d be there all night.

but didn’t take anything, deciding that he wasn’t even hungry, just restless and angry, and as soon as he heard keys jingle at the door, he stood up.

“stephen.” you were breathless, your hand was clutching hard on your doorknob as your bag hit the floor. it landed upright, but you pushed it to the side with your foot. stephen didn’t move, watching as you cautiously stepped forward.

“what- what are you doing here?” you swallowed thickly, hands feeling clammy against the rough fabric of your hospital scrubs. you looked at him up and down, eyes lingering on his sharp suit, hands positioned at his side. “i’ve been waiting for you.”

you nodded, “i’m sorry if you missed the award-“ you felt your voice shake, afraid of how this confrontation would proceed. you kept your eyes glued to the floor, afraid to look again into his striking face.

“you think this is about that?” he scoffed incredulously, his eyes narrowing at you. you could just feel the edge in his voice, it was the same edge that had haunted you nearly all of your residency.

he took your silence for shame, and continued, “i found your letter. when were you planning to hand it in? hmm? after you assisted on a major surgery or after i was presented with an award with you by my side-“ it was your turn to scoff. you looked up, walking towards him at a speed that had you now nose to nose.

“you think that i’m proud of being second choice?” your voice broke, and you sighed, knowing just exactly how this would end. stephen’s face fell, and he looked speechless at your emotion.

you inhaled a breath, trying to calm yourself down as you fought to say your piece. “i- i had to hear from thalia, of all people, that you had originally asked christine to be your date tonight.” you felt a tear fall down your cheek, “you come in here, into my apartment, look through my things and accuse me of what? riding your success?” you spat, your voice still wavered, but you carried on, “i’ve had to be second to the greatest love of your life. and i will not continue to be.” you sniffled, looking at stephen right in the eye, “i quit. i don’t ever want to see you or that fucking hospital again.”

stephen was absolutely wordless. he didn’t even know what to do with it, and as he watched you strut down the hallway to your bedroom, he found himself following you.

you sniffled, and noticed he was right on your trail, “get out, stephen. get-“

he stayed firmly planted, and instead raised his eyebrows, “christine is not the greatest love of my life- i thought she was.” you rolled your eyes, not wanting to hear his speech, “until i met you. and i’ve been selfish. i’ve been keeping you from your potential. so you should quit, be a better surgeon under someone who-“ he faltered, and his features softened, “who doesn’t love you.”

you felt your face get hot as you tried to speak. stephen strange just told you he loved you…

“it’s okay.” he stepped forward and you found yourself stepping into his embrace. he kissed your forehead, “it’s okay.” he repeated, assuring that it in fact, was okay.

as bittersweet the moment was, you had to release all of the truth, even if you knew it would only hurt him more.

“i love you, too.” you whispered, hands gathering up his suit fabric, gripping it tightly you didn’t want to let go. but he didn’t say anything, the two of you continued to hug until you practically fell asleep in his arms.

[softestqueeen]

I need a Stephen strange x reader! Where the reader is Tony starks daughter! Please!

but daddy i love him

pairing: stephen strange x fem!stark!reader

summary: Tony Stark – your father – finds out about your romantic relationship with the infamous Stephen Strange. How will he react to you dating someone who is almost 20 years older than you.

warnings: age gap (about 20 years), a little bit of fighting, spoiler: happy-ish end

wordcount: 954 words

a/n: hey @expensiveinnocentgurl, thank you sm for requesting something, i hope you like this!! finally getting to some requests on here! I will probably write all my open non cm requests, then continue writing for criminal minds. It’s probably my new addiction i fear (sorry not sorry) but now lean back and enjoy while i dive back into my marvel obsession.

The communal area was quiet, only a few team members were spending their free time here reading or watching TV. Your father calls for you, his voice on edge and he didn’t look too happy either. “Can I talk to you? Alone?“

You gulped at the tone. This definitely won‘t be a nice conversation about how your day went. For a second you were questioning what you could have done wrong. And then it dawned on you.

Face paling you though about your apparently not so secret relationship with the sorcerer supreme Stephen Strange. He is not just almost 20 years older than you but also a close friend of your fathers. You and Stephen met your relationship a secret, quietly testing out the waters if the two of you were even a good match.

And you were. The last few months were the happiest of your life. Stephe was the perfect boyfriend. Attentive to your needs, taking care of you in all the right ways and of course always the gentleman. Which is why the two of you had discussed about making it official to the team in about a month or so. You would maybe announce it at Christmas or New Years. Or you would just attend one of your dads’ famous parties together and let everybody be a witness to the PDA the two of you kept to yourselves so far.

But all your plans were chucked out the window when your father led you into his office. You knew exactly what he wanted to discuss one you saw you boyfriend in a chair in front of the big mahogany desk, an apologetic look on his face.

“Please, have a seat,“ your father proses it as a question, though you knew you had to obey his demand.

He takes his seat on the other side of the desk, while you sit next to Stephen.

“When did you think about telling me?” he asked the two of you, even though you know it was aimed more at you. The frown that is slowly appearing on his face is making him appear older than he actually is.

“Tell you what,” you tried to play dumb, even though all three of you knew why you were here. Tony was not having it.

“Are you kidding me? When did you two plan on telling me that you’ve been what? Going out? Seeing each other? Fucking? However, you want to call it,” he almost screamed at you.

“Calm down, Tony,” Stephen told the billionaire with a calm voice.

“Don’t you tell me to calm down when you’ve been with my daughter doing God knows what, behind my back. I want an explanation, and I want it now!”

Stephen reached over and took your hand in his shaking one. He let his fingers run over your knuckles – your father watching the interaction with a clenched jaw – before explaining.

“Tony, I deeply respect you and our friendship, but you have to understand. I am desperately in love with your daughter, and I have been for some time. I promise to take the best possible care of her. You and I both don’t want anything to happen to her. I promise she will have everything she could ever need and more. But you have to trust me in that,” you were fascinated with how calm Stephen stayed. You were a nervous wreck, thinking about all the ways Tony could sabotage your relationship.

“With all due respect Stephen, this is not about a mission or anything this is about my daughter. I know how you’ve been with women in the past and I do not want you to repeat this kind of behaviour with my daughter,” oh your dad was pissed.

“Dad, Stephen and I have been going out for a few months now and he has never treated me bad. Of all the partners I had he is the most attentive, caring, and loving person I have ever come across. We are well aware of the age cap, but it doesn’t matter to us. Don’t you see, we love each other,” you tried to reason with him. He was slowly cracking, and you all knew it. Tony’s eyes wandered to your now interlocked fingers again and you could see his face harden.

“I’m still not happy with this. And what do you mean a few months? How long exactly has this been going on?”

“Next week it would be six months.”

Tony now stood up from his chair and paced the room.

“We wanted to wait until we are ready, you did not. What do you want to do now, dad? You want to forbid me from being with him? Good luck, because I don’t intend to leave him anytime soon. I love him, he loves me. He treats me well and I’m really happy, dad. Shouldn’t that be all that matters?” Stephen squeezed your hand. He admired how you spoke up for him, as he knew how much you valued his opinion.

Tony sat down again, the expression on his face moving into something different, something more tired.

“You know I just want you to be happy, sweetpea. And if that is with a party trick magician then so be it. You are right, I have no right to interfere with this relationship. But you know, I’m worried about you. And Stephen, you hurt her I’ll kill you, is that clear?”

A smile now spread over your face and Stephen answered. “Of course, Stark. No need to worry.”

With that Tony dismissed you both. Even if this was not ideal, you were glad the cat was out of the bag now.

“Wait, how did he even find out?”

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

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taglist:@silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@BigBananaa

[basilthesnakingthing]

The original book The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is gothic and horror. The Musical took the concepts from that and turned the horror into tragedy. The Glass Scientists webcomic took them and turned the horror into a mix of angst and whimsy. My cartoon would take them and turn the horror into wholesome sillies and angst (in the background.) That is all.

(I am referring to this)

(Edit: AND NOW THERE’S MORE)

[xtarotdollx]

Hey do you ever think about how the entirety of The Strange Case is told in the past tense. So when the books says “I let my brother go to the devil in his own way, he [Utterson] used to say quaintly” to us this is the beginning of the book, but to Gabe he has already been through everything. Do you ever think that he stopped saying this little phrase of his because of Jekyll. That he USED to be kind and trusting of everyone, and non judgmental of peoples faults, but Jekylls crimes and betrayal changed him somehow? That’s after the events of the book the greif and trauma changed him and he actually is no longer the lovely perfect comfort man we know and love but someone much colder, jaded, and isolated??? Anyway I’m doing great thanks for asking

[futureplayboibunnie]

‘Sincere’

Dr Strange x fem! reader

- OH MY FUCKING GOD. this is the longest smut fic i’ve ever done and i think it’ll remain my fav forevermore. dom!Stephen has me feral no joke. enemies to lovers is my niche. it’s my baby and i’m feeding y’all bc i spent so damn long on this one. enjoy u sluts x

he’s so fine i just wanna bake for him

Who's fault was it?

No one really knew.

It was simply one of those things the universe designed even though it was completely manufactured by you and Stephen alone. Resentment is a funny thing, it was a hilarious thing when you and Doctor fucking Strange were involved - how can two people who work together hate each other on such a cellular level? You weren't even sure how he even had the grounds to hate you, to be so sure of something when you couldn't even place how he even got to this conclusion. Well...that's a lie. It was something that you couldn't even get into. It wasn't even about petty insults or arguments anymore. Stephen was seriously messing with your head in ways you simply didn't have the time to comprehend.

Stephen was always so fast. Obnoxious. Relentless and an aphrodesiac.

He honestly thinks he has the skill set to fuck every woman he sees, it wasn't unheard of. Stephen Strange believed himself to be this sauve master of pulling women, knowing what makes them tick, knowing how to get them down and dirty for him. Prince fucking Charming...well…without the sunny personality and gentlemanly persona. Did he even know what object permanence was? Stephen was never one for relationships, this was something everyone knew and believed. His work, his duties always came first but he was prone to entertaining sometimes. Everyone knew he wasn’t one for relationships.

He literally believed that himself. Relationships were never really on the cards for a guy like him. But now, you were the card counter, skewing his game, cheating the game he himself made up.

You were stubborn. A tick under his skin. Born to hang on, born to win, born to never give up or change your opinion and the one he's come to expect the most from you- you were born to never finish an argument. Arguments between you and Stephen can brew out of lot of things, stupid things, casual things- anything. Mission plans. Choice of weapon. Coffee. Fucking laundry. You would bicker like an old married couple and it was becoming distracting to the point where it would make people talk- at Kamar Taj, the Sanctum and the Avengers Compound. You both weren't safe anywhere. The last time he fucked you over it had gone too far, he exploited his photographic memory to point out every single thing you did wrong on the battlefield. Stephen can mock you, judge you for your rotten personality but he could never ever insult the way you carried out your work- he couldn't take that away from you. What made it worse is that he literally did it infront of everyone, your friends, peers and the people you respected.

The whole situation made you frustrated. And when the frustration builds and you think you could explode- you take a deep breath. You want to shout at his face, have a tantrum and beat your hands on the ground like a spoiled brat or rich kid that always get what they want. You want to vent, find the softest parts of him and just twist the knife. But do you really want to stoop to his level? It's just so easy to be cruel in the moment and then after that the damage is done- but that's the pussy way out, something someone with better judgement would obviously do. You weren't feeling warm and fuzzy about him at all, it was time to turn the tables on Stephen.

It was your turn to do your own sleuthing. It was more than he deserved.

Stephen was out of the Sanctum and you had nothing better to do...so you decided to do some snooping. A man always hides his secrets in his room and Stephen was no ordinary man so whatever he's hiding will defintely be worth your while.

Angry isn't a rational look on Stephen. He felt that there was a ghostly cord hanging upon his spine and pulling him back like a puppet on a string. You were the puppetmaster. As with most primitive emotions, when anger is directed by the logic, empathy and creativity of the higher brain, it becomes an element of the hero personality. Stephen often questioned if he was a hero sometimes, he definitely wasn't the hero in your story...he couldn't be after everything you've both been through. Women weren't a mystery to him. You weren't a mystery, you were a whole goddamn conspiracy. It's weird and it's like you took a small bite out of his brain and it sent him in a permanent zombie state. Stephen was at his wits end.

The Sanctum was like a barren landscape, no one was there and a sigh of relief escaped you. You were at Stephen's bedroom door and you actually felt a twinge of anxiety sever your nerve endings. He was so cunning, you were sure he could jump out at you at any moment.

The door was fucking solid, etched in ancient oak and runic markings. You were surprised when you tried for the door handle and it opened, creaking it open you were happy to see that he wasn't there. Your first thought when you viewed his room that it was so fucking Stephen. Perhaps you had paid a little more attention to him than you had realised. The thought was startling. Spellbooks were strewn all over the room, did he even take care of his sacred relics? They were priceless. The walls were artifact adorned and priceless paintings were hung and championed like trophies, you couldn't stifle your eye rolling at his pompous nature. It was like he was dedicated to being pretentious. Other than his books, his room was immaculate. He was such a clean freak and it obviously it had to come out in a place that he was supposed to be the most comfortable in. Stephen's bed was massive, it was so regal and royal. You wondered how many women he fucked in this very bed. The kind of positions he put them in, how many times he made them cum. You frowned at the thought.

Why should you even care?

Your legs instantly gravitated towards his bedside table. Men hide all sorts of things in their bedside table. You had to be quick, you had a mission briefing in like twenty minutes and you were sure the rest wouldn't be happy if you showed up late. Stephen's bedside was neat but it was freakishly neat, too neat- you knew he was hiding something. You opened it up and you damn near stopped breathing.

Your heart stopped. Full throttle.

The drawer was full of sex toys? You scoffed, eyes paling at the sight. Your fingers traced over the velveteen and you had to bite your lip to conceal your shit eating grin- now this was interesting. You pulled out and examined the silk blindfold. Blindfold? Jesus Christ. Stephen was into kink? Of course he was, it was glaring, clear as day but you couldn't really contain the extent of your surprise. Why was this pleasing you so goddamn much?

It's so telling.

What really caught your attention was these silver metal balls that were strung together by a thick woven string. Oh? You were curious as to what these did...how did Stephen- what did he….? Absolved in your own thoughts that you simply couldn't bridle, you couldn't even hear that Stephen was at the door.

He was stood there, bewildered at first to see you in his space, in his room. Stephen should've been mad- seething actually especially at you but he just let you do your snooping. You were such a curious little thing, curiosity was your on button and he honestly thought it could get you killed. But in this case he'd allow it, considering that look. He was pleased.

Very pleased indeed.

Why isn't he angry with you right now? Why isn't he screaming and yelling at you to get out? He was gawking at you like a fool but he was enjoying it, seeing you come to so many new revelations about him and what he was really like and what he really wanted.

‘’What are you looking for?’’ Stephen finally cracked through the silence with a condescending question. He knew what you were doing and you felt like you were being scolded by the principle for cheating.

‘’Uhm…dirt.’’ You said with a fake plastic dazzling smile.

‘’You find anything?’’ He raised a quizzical brow, already knowing what you were looking at.

‘’I'm finding out things about you that you'd rather go unseen.’’

‘’Are you blackmailing me?’’ Stephen asked as he was treading over to you, hoping to intimidate you slightly but you weren't backing down.

‘’No. I'm threatening you.’’

‘’Oh you're cold.’’ He smirked down at you, attempting to pysche you out to make you feel off your game but you were at your wits end, you were simply not prone to his mind games anymore.

‘’And you're a masochist. You get off on this?’’ You smirked at him as you dangle the silver balls inbetween your faces.

Stephen scoffed. ‘’You're probing on my private life and now you're morally policing me?’’

You had a puzzled look on your face and Stephen revelled in it. He took the time to look at you in this resolve and he simply couldn't resist applying a label on you- stunning- when you weren't pelting him with insults and ransacking his room, but it did build his adrenaline when you finally saw the real him. Passionate. Rageful. Intimate. You had a pretty face, a banging body...why not make you squirm and have fun in the process.

‘’What even are these?’’ You recoiled as you held them, genuinely confused as to what they did. How did you even wear them? What did they even do?

A devious idea was mentally forming in his head, although he wasn't sure if you'd agree to it, especially considering your feud. But you were here, peacefully discussing the use of sex toys. You'd definitely leave if you didn't want to be here. You were smirking up at him and he let a sly smile form on his face. God. He wanted to fuck that stupid smirk off of you. It'll happen soon enough.

‘’What, you want me to give you a crash course or something?'’ Stephen stared down at your glassy eyes, so unclear of what you were thinking.

Come on, you needed to give him some sort of direction, you were awfully distracting. He didn't have the time to bend you over now.

Your mouth was running itself before your brain could even check it.

‘’Yes. Actually.’’ You confirmed and Stephen couldn't really fathom you saying those words. Yes! ‘’Surprise me.’’ You chided, you seemed way too chipper about this idea.

Fucking hell. You felt the density of the air changed immintently, it thrummed against your brainwaves. Flirting? With Stephen Strange? Now he was going to show you...whatever those balls do.

Shit. He could make or break you right now.

‘’Open your mouth.’’ Stephen ordered softly. Your face paralysed in shock at his request and you found yourself mindlessly obeying his command-your curiosity outwon you again.

Your mouth popped open and Stephen was satisfied that you actually did what you were told for once.

Fuck, that mouth of yours. Your lips. Your body. He had blinders on it before but now you were flaunting yourself off for him, only him- even if you were disguising it at as an educational opportunity.

Stephen thought that you were as dirty a he was. He slipped the balls in that sweet wet mouth.

‘’We need to get them wet. Suck.’’ Stephen hummed, completely satisfied with himself. Although that was shaken when your eyes just widened and you weren't actually doing anything.

‘’I'm not gonna ask again.’’ His head tilted down, eyes darkening as he warned you again. He didn't have time to. You actually took his warning though, wich he was equally as surprised by.

You began suckling on it, they were smooth and cool and your mouth had a bizarre reaction to it. Jesus Christ. Images of you down on your knees sucking him off, choking and gagging around him made his dick twitch in his pants. What was he, fourteen? You flashed him a brazen look, giving him those fuck-me eyes, batting your lashes as if you were this innocent little thing- all lies. Sweet lies. Stephen dragged them out of your mouth and you let them go with a pop, letting out a shaky exhale afterwards.

‘’What was that for?’’ You asked and blinked up at him dumbly. You didn't even realise how pathetic you sounded.

‘’You'll see.’’ He quipped and that just made you even more nervous. ‘’Now turn. Bend over.’’ He said under his breath, attempting to conceal his obvious smile. You tensed yourself when he thought of you as that breakable. You were not breakable. Hell no.

Stephen Strange asked you to bend over. Fucking bend over. What was he going to do? What did he want to do? You never once imagined yourself doing what he asked, but once again you did. Lust can be fun, not trustworthy, but you didn't have time to think it through properly, no time under that dark deceptive gaze.

You bit your lip and perched yourself on his bed, arms holding you up. Wiggling your ass too to show that you can flirt. You shot him a teasing look and Stephen just wanted to take you now but you both had a mission briefing in about ten minutes.

Watching in pure disbelief, Stephen lowered to his knees and it was such an unexpected sight- you were sure you were dreaming. He had this stupid smug look on his face and it was so irritating, the anticipation and suspense was killing you. It was driving you mad. You shivered when Stephen pulled down your pants, it was fairly easy- you had no objections. He was face to face with your sweet ass, your underwear was cute, black, simple. Stephen wondered what you would look like in fine lingerie and sky scraper Louboutins. Nothing but Louboutins.

"Stephen... what-?’’ You were shaking, you couldn't even get out what you were trying to say without stammering like a jittering fool.

‘’Shh…Keep still for me.'’He cooed at you as he brought the balls up against your skin and it made goosebumps break out in hives.

Stephen pulled your underwear to the side with one finger and positioned the balls on your clit. You let out a breathy gasp as you felt him put them there, it was such a different sensation. It felt so heavy. So good. Your eyes widened at the feeling, mouth agape like a pathetic idiot. Any other day you would've reprimanded yourself for acting like this...but today was different. He was basking in the glory of the sounds you made, whimpering and whining even though you were trying to bite them back.

Stephen smiled when you let out a dry chuckle, he planted a kiss on your asscheek to show his appreciation. He pulled your pants back up and you were honestly feeling faint, the sensation of those metal balls on you finally showing up.

‘’Stand and turn around.’’ He demanded again.

You swallowed as you picked yourself back up and turned around. The look painted on his face told all, sly smile, bright eyes- he was up to no good. He hasn't even told you what they do yet. You let out a shaky exhale as the proximity between you was growing smaller and smaller.

"So Dr Masochist...floor me.’’ You teased.

‘’Oh just you wait and see.’’ He taunted and you frowned.

What the fuck? Was he seriously about to hold out on you? You had a fucking mission briefing in five minutes.

‘’Are you kidding?’’

‘’Let's see how you feel after the meeting's over.’’ You wanted to bash his face in.

You let the words settle in you and even then it never fully registered. this had to be some sort of practical joke, just another way to embarrass you. Now that was something he got off on. When you stared back into his eyes, it only confirmed he was deadly serious- but then again when was he not serious? Even when he was trying to flirt he was all serious and hard features.

There's no way this could end well...but you wouldn't be you without taking a few risks.

‘’Stephen, you can be so obtuse sometimes but I didn't think you'd be actually fucking crazy. For all I know, maybe this thing you put on my pussy is actually a fucking bomb or something.’’ You said breathlessly, contemplating whether or not this toy was actually a secret torture device- it would just twist the knife within you and you wouldn't be able to live it down.

Stephen would be able to hold this against you forever.

‘’A bomb? I haven't reached that level of kink yet but I'm sure we'll get there eventually.’’ He bit his lip as his eyes thinned down on you, completely enjoying himself and how these events may actually unfold.

Stephen grabbed your arm after conjuring a portal to the Compound and his touch made you shiver, your body had a viceral reaction to his touch and it honestly just left you confused as he pushed you through the portal alongside him.

‘’We?’’ You questioned as you raised an intense brow. The gall. The cheek he had to say we. It surprised you- in the best way.

‘’Mhm. Let's see how you fare.’’ Stephen muttered as the balls of your feet hit the Compound marble, trodding your way to the meeting room to be briefed for tomorrow.

‘’You really have no faith in me and I think that's the main reason why we don't get along.‘’

‘’That confidence is going to shatter soon. See, I'm being nice and I'm warning you about it.’’ He scoffed and you honestly felt everything within you shaken up.

Stephen couldn't wait to see the look of excrutiating arousal on your face during this whole debacle; he'd simply treasure the moment and taunt you for it later but for now he just wanted an outline of what your beautiful face looked like when you came. Just a morsel of what's to come, this switch in dynamic was...different. Heavier than hate. He liked it. A lot. When other people and other agents in the Compound saw that you and Stephen were walking together. You weren't arguing or having a screaming match you were both just walking. Their mouths were agape in shock and any other day you would have been joining them in their disbelief, he was smirking and smiling at you like an idiot and that was more than enough to make other people think and question.

‘’Stop smiling at me. You look like a psycho.’’ You mumbled at him under your breath but you couldn't say anything either, you were smiling too. You let out a giggle and your pussy started clenching, a gasp fell through when you felt the balls actually on you. You swallowed and Stephen obviously caught onto it.

You entered the room and you were met with Tony's incredibly unsatisfied frown- you were both late and you felt like you were being scolded at by the principle for your tardy behaviour but Stephen didn't find it in himself to care. However, Tony's frown dropped and his mouth popped open in shock: you and Stephen were sitting next to each other. Like, actually next to each other without clawing each other's faces off. How fucking high are you two right now? Tony had a rule for this shit- no drugs before meetings, get high later preferably with him. He wondered if you had been smoking a fat blunt or took some shrooms or something- there's no way this could possibly be happening, it was simply one of these things that shouldn't be happening.

‘’Oh thank you for finally showing those cheery faces, we all missed you. Now pay attention: this is important.’’ Tony reprimanded but you genuinely couldn't pay attention. Perhaps you had underestimated Stephen's word, the thought was startling.

Throught the meeting, you were just in this zombie like trance, all hypnotized, you couldn't pay attention to any word uttered by Tony or Steve, Natasha or whoever. Your eyes were just fixated on the plain beige wall, lips parted as you gazed off into the distance like you've just been hit in the head with a baseball bat. Stephen stole a few glances at you, you were finally beginning to crack and he had to pretend to be devastated even though it was something he was expectant of. He could barely contain his delight; Stephen was right, he was always right and this was just another example of that- he didn't like the way you always doubted him, he'd show you soon enough. He just had to keep a straight face, but he let himself slip up a little: the corners of his mouth were tugging up slightly and he was trying his hardest to surpress it. You looked so whistful, so pretty, so restless and he was enjoying every second of it; Stephen had never felt himself be lazer focused on any woman but it was always different with you. Always. His eyes widened slightly when your perfect lips parted and you let out a shaky exhale, your breathing was becoming heavier and you obviously tried to hide it by the way your head was darting off to the side, your palm met with the back of your neck and it was heating up so quickly, so rapidly.

Stephen watched intently as you ran your hands along your thighs, he didn't think you'd break apart so quickly. What really did him in though was when you bit your lip to conceal your shallow breaths. It pleased him to an immeasurable degree, although he could read your body, he wished he could read your mind.

You couldn't hide your shaking. You were actually giving in and you hated it, you couldn't embarrass yourself like this. Especially infront of everyone.

You were so damn horny. So fucking wet and tense. Aching for a release.

What exasterbated things though was the way Stephen was looking at you, it was like he was waiting for you to slip up, to catch you out and prove that you were weak. Impatient wasn't even in the ballpark of what you were feeling, so many emotions and sensations were coursing through you, thighs clamped and feet thrumming on the ground. Your leg was jolting up and down and you couldn't control the way your body was reacting.

So that's what those silver balls did.

Washes of arousal throbbed at your pussy and all you could think about was Stephen fucking Strange. You couldn't lie to yourself any longer, you'd be cheating yourself if didn't want him so bad right now. So so impossibly bad. Pain stakingly bad. So bad it's good.

You knew you were done for when Stephen put his large hand on yout jittering leg. His hands were actually on you. In that moment that's when you knew you wanted him to fuck you dumb. Fuck you dizzy. Fast. Hot. Rough. Intimate. Crazy. You were seriously about to lose your mind.

Shooting Stephen a startled look, he knew he got through you and with that in mind he clamped onto your thigh harder. You darted your face away and then you met Natasha's cool and inquisitive expression. Shit. She was onto you. You stifled an agreeable smile but it made her raise an eyebrow, though she finally looked away. Stephen was amused by it all, mostly with the fact he got you like this. So uptight. So tense.

Stephen leaned into your ear and mumbled at you. ‘’Relax. You're going to give yourself away.’’

You wanted to scream a very needed 'Fuck you! I know!' but you couldn't.

When you looked at the clock, only seven minutes have passed. Seven measly minutes. Fucking seven. This fucking meeting was fourty-five fucking minutes fucking long.

It was like fucking was the only word in your vocabulary. You couldn't help yourself, all you could think about was fucking. Preferably fucking Stephen.

Time went on. Time ticked by, it's clicking becoming louder and louder as it pounded through your eardrums. Focus wasn't on the cards for you, but that was a good thing- you didn't realise that the meeting was over. You were thanking the God you didn't even believe in, praising the lucky stars above you for this heavenly moment of mercy. You were about to explode. It wasn't healthy. Heart hammering beneath your heated skin.

Everybody scattered out and now you had Stephen all to yourself, you'll deal with the confused looks and the tangled web of outside judgement later, needing him was the only thing you felt. Stephen made you hang back from the others when you exited the room, his hand on your forearm as he gave you a cunning calculated look. Tingles electrified your body and your heat pulsated at the minor touch- God you felt so pathetic but it was all his fault.

You sighed in relief when he twirled his fingers and made a portal back to his room; Lord, the yearning was impenetrable, unbreakable. It was all so secretive and provacative. Sexy and desperate. Stephen tugged you through the portal as if to hide you away from the rest of the world, shield you from wandering eyes and gazes from men who didn't deserve to even look at you. After finally getting you through safely and closing the portal back up, Stephen loosened his grip on you and let you stand alone as he leaned on his bed frame.

Now. What to say to you? What to do to you? Stephen had you all to himself now and he felt like a kid at Christmas. What a shame, you were so confident you could get through this but yet again he proved you wrong.

He always wondered what you looked like all fucked out and desperate and on days like this, he was so goddamn grateful to have a photographic memory. You stood there, breath shallow and heavy all at once and you were waiting for him to do anything but Stephen's eyes bore into yours intently. Waiting. Watching. Observing. Imagining the array of things he simply could do to make you cum- which wouldn't be too hard to do after what you were experiencing. Stephen got the hard bit out of the way, getting you all horny for him but now he was overthinking the easiest bit: what to actually do.

‘’So. How'd you feel?’’ Stephen's face brightened and you weren't happy. He was just pandering now and you were way too impatient for that- it was clear enough.

‘’Restless.’’

‘’Expected.’’

‘’Impatient.’’

‘’Getting closer.’’

‘’Hot.’’

‘’And?’’

‘’Wet.’’

You gave in, you gave him what he wanted: the cracking, the breaking, the realisation that he shattered you, Stephen was trying to draw this out and it finally dawned on you. Although, you began to question that fact when he made his way over to you, you beat him to it however when you charged at him like a raging bull and just wanting to feel his hands on you. Stephen smirked when he caught onto your wrist in your trajectory and tugged you into him. Your breathless gasp was palpable.

‘’Very determined to fuck aren't you?’’ Stephen pointed out the obvious and it made you roll your eyes.

He gripped onto your jaw to make you realise how serious he was. What kind of man would that make him if he tolerated such rude behaviour! Absolutely not.

‘’Don't be dumb. You're smarter than that. Being dumb won't get you anywhere. So if you want me to put you out of your misery don't be callous and hard-hearted.’’

‘’Are you hard?’’ You asked sensually, already knowing the answer, eyes big and wide and so desperate.

Stephen scoffed down at you.

‘’I said don't be dumb. You're asking the obvious.’’

‘’Don't patronize me.’’

‘’Don't make me punish you for that snotty little attitude’’

‘’I'm not impressed.’’ You scolded even though you were simply on no grounds to.

‘’You're not impressed? Really?’’ You were shocked to see that he was offended.

You nodded at him and it made Stephen's jaw tick, you could hear the bones crunching and grinding together like grit and sandpaper.

‘’Your body tells me otherwise.’’ His voice was low and husky- as if he had never been sure of anything else in his entire life.

‘’You cheated that's why.’’ You stepped closer to him and his grip on your wrist tightened.

‘’Touche.’’ A keen and entirely true obsevation, disarming as always and but he couldn't even care. ‘’You want me to take those balls off or keep them on and edge you?’’

The latter scared you. Him fucking you with them on would make you hornier than ever and to edge you as well? Out of the question- you weren't in the mood for glute jokes.

Your mouth shattered into his, lips capturing lips to capture each other's essence and to say it was bliding and heady was an understatement- you tasted bountiful, fruitful and excessive. There was too much of you, too much sweetness to comprehend, too much sweetness to taste. You were rotting his teeth beautifully. Your distinct taste was making him drunk and it only reinforced that when your tongue tangled with his. Stephen's arm loopholed and travelled around your body when he let go of your wrist, you smirked against his lips when his hands were wandering down the planes of your back to the curve of you ass. You fit his hand perfectly it was insane, like you were designed just for him.

‘’I wanna know what kind of torture you've been going through this evening. You really held your own during the meeting.’’ Stephen was mocking you when you ripped your lips away from his.

‘’You know exactly what.’’ You breathed tirelessly.

‘’Tell me or I'll go slow.’’ Stephen's threat made you pout slightly. ‘’I don't think that'll be fun for either of us.’’ He smiled and you just had to give into his incessant requests.

‘’You. Stuffing me full. Making me leak for you.’’ You exhaled before you leaned in and bit his lower lip and tugged it back. Hard. Stephen was surprised by your gall, you were so desperate to get in his pants you were actually doing what you're told. ‘’ That explicit enough?’’

Fuck this.

Stephen thew you on the bed careless of where you landed, so rough and hasty with his movements; like the need outweighed the practicalities. His body dominated against yours as he fawned over you, he looked like a God. He quite literally felt like a God: omnipotent and omnipresent in his stance. His mouth instantly went to your jaw and he bit down on it so hard you were sure he left teeth marks on you, it made wildfire zip down your core. Fucking hell. This man.

Now… what to do with you.

Stephen grabbed at your shirt and ripped it in two, the fabric tearing apart in both hands and he was happy to see you weren't wearing a bra. Your tits spilled from your top and he threw the discarded remanents to the other side of the room. You clawed and barbed at his back to get his shirt off and for once, he took you by law and did as you motioned. You relentless, tireless thing. Unyielding. Remorseless. He pinned your arms above your head and he ducked down to ghost at your lips.

You were at his beck and call. Under his mercy.

‘’You know what? I never really got the chance to scold you for rummaging through my things. Going into this very room, being perspicacious and then having the gall to threaten me.’ ‘

‘’If it get's you like this then maybe I should do it more often.’’ You bit your lip as you whispered against him.

Stephen didn't like that. At all.

No, no baby.

He had to put you in your place.

Stephen let go of one of your arms and his thick fingers clamped around your neck.

‘’You do not disrespect me, okay? I've been lenient today but you were actually being very impolite. I can't have that.’’ His voice was heavy, gruff and severe.

‘’An astute observation.’’ You sneered up at him. ‘’So you expect me to be under your thumb?’’

‘’Yes.’’ Stephen stated simply, so casually.

‘’You're so brainy Stephen. You're right all the time. I'll wake you up with breakfast and a blowjob. But right now I need you to fuck me. Hard.’’ You vilified and it made time stop in his palm. How dare you? He was livid. He was indignant. Stephen clamped onto your waist and he suddenly flipped you onto your stomach and spanked you.

‘’I don't think that was very sincere.’’ Stephen rebuked as he straddled your ass, his dick pressing into you and it made those silver balls act up again. ‘’You wanna try again?’’ He gave you the chance to redeem yourself and be polite.

You turned your head and looked him dead in the eye as you mouthed the words that would set your course. ‘’No.’’

Stephen's face contorted into an exasperated scowl, you bit your lip trying to be cute and flirt but he simply wasn't in the mood anymore. As a response he just shoved your face back into the pillow as he worked your pants off and discarded them to the floor. Your skin was flawless. Not a single fault on that perfect body.

‘’Stephen…’’You whined as you wiggled your ass against his clothed crotch.

He didn't respond, he just ripped your underwear off and you gasped at the feeling.

Fucking hell, the feel of his hands on you were too much to bare; your brows tensed when he finally pulled those silver balls off of you, your sigh of relief wasn't even one of relief- it was of pure freedom and unbridled bliss. The amount of wetness he had to work with was making him so insanely happy, you were soaked and so ready for him. He smacked your ass again and it was becoming difficult to control the direction of your whimpers and whines- you didn't even know what you were begging for.

The sound of him undoing his zipper made an absurd amount of electricity fall through you, like a number of concrete blocks falling upon you. The air was so heavy and dense- all you could do was wait for him.

‘’You look...pretty almost...like this.’’ Stephen chuckled to himself and head around and you shot him and angry glare.

‘’Fuck you!’ You screamed, voice going hoarse in the process of forming

‘’Isn't that what you've wanted me to do all day?’’ He cocked his head to the side as you smirked at his depravity. You opened your mouth to speak but you genuinely couldn't get the words out.

Stephen registered your silence as a response and he couldn't help but laugh down at you. How cute. He shoved your face back down again and it made you whine into the pillow.

He tugged his cock out and you felt him slap against you...and...uhm. Wow. You didn't even have to look at it to feel how big he was, you were actually worried he would split you in half with something like that and you wondered how you'd be able to walk after he was done with you. Stephen was pleased with your reaction: it was clear you were excited.

‘’Show me how much you missed something you never had.’’ You lifted yourself up again to challenge him and he was more than willing to oblige.

‘’You're dangerous.’’ He whistled and you honestly took that as a compliment. It made you blush.

Stephen was rock solid and he slid into your pussy with an ease he was hoping and striving for. You clenched around him so perfectly, so tight, so well fitted. You felt as good as you looked. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, moaning as he tugged you back into his torso- it was like he was a wall of pure muscle. He liked that you squirmed beneath him, to make you clench around him harder he bite down on your shoulder blade and peppered delicious kisses on that unimpaired skin.

He rutted into you relentlessly, with passion, with a hunger and ferocity you'd only wish other men would have. You were feral for him, a wild cat under him as you arched against him, he clenched his teeth as he saw beads of sweat fall down your back. A symphony of sounds erupted in the dense air surrounding you both, you felt so lewd and naughty- you could only imagine what the others would think if they walked in on you like this. You smirked at the insane thought.

The hopeless amount of pleasure you were feeling was insurmountable and overwhelming, a cyclone of desire began building within you and it was idomitable to bear. Unconquerable. Stephen felt invincible, of course all this hate had to lead to this- fucking you crazy. It was such an intense realisation. With that thought, he pinned your arms behind your back. Shit. He was going faster, brutal, he was unbeatable and it made you whine like a lunatic. How did he do that? How could he do that?

‘’Come on, baby. Be sincere, no one else can see you break...just me.’’ He cooed.

‘’S-Stephen…..Please...I can't h-hold on any longer.’’ You stammered like a jittering fool.

‘’Oh, you can't? Didn't think that was in your vocabulary.’’

"You're w-wrong! Just shut up!'’

‘’Come on rocks, buy my silence. Cum for me.’’ The baritones of his voice sent you into overdrive- his voice alone could make you cum.

The sheer grip in which he held you was enough to drag you to the edge, you couldn't keep it in anymore, your body had given out. Stephen felt your warmth coat him entirely, you were so wet and slick and it made him so happy that he was the cause of that- well, with the help of those balls of course. And with that delighful sound you made as you came undone, he filled you up entirely in thick white ribbons. Jesus Christ, this was the fastest he'd ever came; he was embarrassed by the way he felt like a teenager- he was really questioning his stamina, you wore him out and he wasn't sure if it was for good.

He panted as he rolled off of you and tumbled next to you, completely spent and done for in a matter of sheer moments. You went limp as your body lay flat against the bed, trying to bridle the thoughts swirling in your head.

‘’Did I buy your silence? Was that sincere enough for you?’’ Your mouth was running itself a whole goddamn marathon, honestly just trying to keep up with the brutal pace he set beforehand.

‘’Yes. But be snippy with me like that again and I'll keep those silver balls on you for months.’’ Although he was completely serious of his threat, he did have to admit, he loved your smart mouth- it was so disarming and incredibly charming. He liked this flirtatious banter, he wanted it to continue.

‘’They did all the work for you it seems.’’ You insulted with a bashful smile and a blushed face, already going against his threat.

‘’Oh…that mouth. What am I going to do with that?’’

[xenocorner]

I bring yall more white haired Stephen from my ironstrange AU

I had this one gathering dust in my wips since January. I didn't go into as much detail with the clothes rendering as I originally wanted to, but I honestly just wanted to see it done already xd

In this AU Stephen's initial journey and appearance is very similar to the MCU's, but... He goes through some extra shit later on. Because of course he does :]

Maybe I'll share more of this AU in later posts :D

[saylorsaysstop]

Scared | Stephen Strange x Fem!Reader

a/n: i needed a lil bit of angst and also wanted a first-time dad!Stephen fic so... i combined them. here you go 😭

warnings: bit of angst, talks of childbirth (nothing explicit), anxiety

The hours seemed to tick on forever. Another few nerve-stricken paces and Stephen Strange was positive he’d burn a hole into the linoleum floors. 

As a surgeon, he had never been nervous performing a procedure. He was the greatest neurosurgeon out there and no one could take away his title. His calm reserve, his steady hand. He was quintessentially perfect. Anxiety didn’t grip him in its vice. 

Until the accident. He finally was made aware of his emotions and how delicate he truly could become. He discovered his unwavering ability to exhaust emotion; tears, sadness, happiness, love. It all came like a tidal wave upon his metaphorical shoreline when you happened. When you walked into his life, he discovered that he could feel all of those emotions, sometimes all at once. But fear was the least felt. 

Until today. Today he felt fear. He never wanted to experience such a cruel emotion but as he watched you writhe in pain and cry for him to make it stop while knowing this was one problem he couldn’t solve with the wave of his hand, that nature must take its course, he grew scared. He had been waiting for this moment ever since those two lines appeared on the pregnancy test, after the initial shock of oh wow, I’m going to be a dad after not wanting kids, and today in the delivery room, mournful that he couldn’t be more for you than just a hand to squeeze and a shoulder to cry on… and bite. He wasn’t expecting teeth marks on his skin today, but he’d let you do it a million times over if it meant he could get you through this.

“You’re doing so good, baby. I promise. It’s almost over.” he had encouraged you with both hands clasped through yours, his body leaning over the edge of the bed as you worked through every single ache and pain. You held him like a vice until you were dizzy, his voice the only thing holding you to the bed. You blocked out the voices of the doctors, nurses, you only desired Stephen’s encouragement through such a trauma as this.

And when the pain ceased and you felt a sudden emotion of emptiness, the one thing that only you had held on the inside for nine months was extracted from your being, you felt numb. 

Stephen held you tightly, awaiting that glorious sound all parents mewled about. His hands were trembling in yours as he waited, and waited, and waited. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Cry.” Stephen whispers to a little girl who couldn’t hear him. “What’s going on?” he demands, using the voice he reserved for the operating room. 

He hears the doctor and nurse's correspondence. 

“Fluid in the lungs” - “Can’t breathe” - “Lips are blue”. 

Quickly, his mind whirred and he knew what was happening. His baby girl had entered the world essentially lifeless. He turns to you, feeling as you force yourself up in the hospital bed by way of his arm. You clutch his forearm in a death grip despite your strength having been drained, the wave of adrenaline pulsing through your veins as you struggle to overhear. 

“What is going ON?!” you scream at the top of your lungs, pain surging throughout your limbs. You were a brand new mother who hadn’t got to see your daughter’s face and more importantly hear her cry. 

“Honey, I need you to lie back down,” Stephanie coaxes, kissing your forehead that was slick with sweat. You look up at your husband whose eyes are fixated on you. “Take some breaths for me, alright?” He knows you’re on the verge of panic so he quickly reaches above the hospital bed to grab the oxygen mask. 

“Stephen!” you exclaim, lungs aching. He shushes you and closes his hands around yours. He wouldn’t dare let his resolve down, not now. You needed him more than ever and he couldn’t let you see him fall apart, even though he wanted to bombard those working on his baby and the cause. 

“She’s going to be okay. We’ve got to let them look at her.” He smothers his face against your hair, reaches up, and strokes your scalp, “That’s my girl, nice deep breaths. I need you to stay calm for her. Can you do that for our little girl, sweetheart?” 

You nod your head. Your ears were ringing so loud after she came out that you didn’t overhear what Stephen did. 

“I-I’m scared,” you blubber. 

Stephen can feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes. I am too, baby. I am too he thinks to himself. 

“There’s no need to be scared. I’ll be scared for us both.” Stephen kisses your temple before moving to your lips, tasting the saltwater tears that had fallen to your mouth. 

That was hours ago. Stephen continued to pace the floors. The last he heard was that his daughter was being taken to the NICU for further observation and to be stabilized. Fortunately, Christine had stopped by a few times to check in. She of course had no updates for the two of you, but she was there as a means of emotional support. Each time she snuck in quietly, she’d find a pacing Stephen who she only sighed at. 

“Have you sat down?” Christine whispered, seeing as you were finally asleep. Stephen shakes his head as Christine grabs his hand, forcing him to stop. “Stephen. You need to sit.” she leads him to the chair but he shakes his head.

“No, Christine, I need–,”

“To be a supportive husband and great father. You can’t do that when youre footprints are embedded into the floor.” she chuckles quietly but turns serious upon seeing his wary expression. She licks her lips and sighs. “If that little girl is anything like you? She won’t give up. She’ll be a fighter. But she needs a father who can remain strong for her… You can’t stay strong if you’re exhausting yourself. The same goes for her,” Christine looks over at you. “She needs you to lean against during this which means she needs you relaxed and alert. But pacing won’t do anything.”

Stephen draws in a sharp breath and finally takes a seat upon Christine’s pushing of his shoulders. She smiles at him and pats his shoulder. 

“Everything’s going to be okay, Stephen.”

He sure hoped so. “Thank you,” he nods his head, appreciative of her friendship despite their past. He squeezes her hand just before she removes it from his shoulder. 

“Try and squeeze in a cat nap. You’ll feel better.” 

He chuckles, knowing sleep was out of the question entirely. But rather than arguing with her, he nods his head in agreement. When Christine left and Stephen was left alone with his thoughts, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine him finally holding his daughter, and how relief would wash over him the moment he could see her. That’s how he managed to close his eyes and relax. He did it for his two girls. You and that precious little one fighting upstairs. 

An hour or so later, when the door to your room opened, Stephen’s eyes bolted open and he was up on his feet in seconds. The woman who delivered your daughter enters the room, pushing a tiny glass cart. Stephen’s heart thudded wildly in his chest, realization washing over him at just who this sweet little visitor could be.

“Hi, Dad,” the doctor whispers. 

Stephen gasped quietly at the sight, that relief he clung to after Christine left washing over him. “How is she?” he asks. 

“She scared us there for a little while.. she came so fast that she swallowed some fluid on the way out, but she’s perfectly healthy. I didn’t want to wake Mom up. I know she’s been anxious, but would you like to hold your little girl?”

Stephen felt a rush of emotion. He never wanted kids. He thought they were irritabilities, tiny humans who would annoy him forever. He was one of those people who when the kid ran around the dinner table in a restaurant after being told to stop, would smirk when they finally smacked their forehead against the surface. Christine normally always kicked him in the shin under the table and then you started doing it when you began dating. But that all changed the morning you approached him with trembling hands and a positive pregnancy test. 

“Yes, please,” Stephen whispers, looking over at you. He was grateful you had finally succumbed to the clutches of sleep. He wasn’t sure how much longer you could keep going, as you were nearing 48 hours of no sleep at all. 

The doctor smiles and motions him to sit in the chair beside your bed. She rolls the glass cart over to him and looks down at the sleeping bundle. “She didn’t get to have skin-to-skin with Y/N so would you like to do that? She can do it also when she wakes up, but we find that skin-to-skin holds many benefits.”

Stephen nods his head as the doctor lists the positives such as bonding, regulation of body temperature, and heart rate, among others, tears burning the corners of his eyes. He quickly unbuttons his shirt and pulls it open, his heart racing even faster when the doctor carefully picks up his daughter and leads her to his chest. She rests the baby on top of him and immediately, Stephen feels like a brand new man. The softness and warmth of her skin against his made his serotonin level skyrocket and caused more tears to freely fall. 

“Congratulations, Dad,” she whispers in the dimly lit room. “We just fed her in the nursery but when Mama wakes up, we’ll let her try feeding her. Call if you need anything,” 

Stephen nods his head and watches the doctor leave, gently closing the door behind her. He looks down at the new life snuggled against him. Her eyes peel open, naturally blue irises glassy as she moves her lips. Stephen could already see you within her. Her sweet little nose, the curl of her lips. He took a small peek under the hat, the tiniest wisps of brown hair visible, sending the new father into a chokehold. 

“Oh, my darling girl,” Stephen coos. “You gave Mommy and I quite the scare today… Yes, you did. But I’m so glad you’re here. Do you know who I am? You’ve heard my voice every single day… Whether I was telling you and Mommy how much I love you or bickering with Wong. You’ve heard it. I’m your Daddy,” the words fall like water from his mouth and his chest tightens as he dubs himself with the title. Daddy. He’s a father. 

The baby girl gently closes her eyes, lips smacking as she remains rested on his chest. Stephen ran his fingertip up and down her spine, bewildered by how soft she was. He glances over at your sleeping form. He smiles, being the proudest he’s ever been since the day he proposed and the day he wed you. He had you to thank for all of this. His little family. The only family he’s known other than those he’s encountered on his journey. 

“My sweet Tessa… Yes, you’re my special girl, aren’t you? I promise. I may not do everything right in life but I’ll do right by you. Thank you for changing my life,” the tears flow without warning as Stephen presses his quivering lips to the side of her head, squeezing his lids shut as he snuggles her closer. You stir gently and awake to the sight of your husband holding your newborn, your heart fluttering. 

“She’s okay?” You ask hoarsely. 

Stephen’s head lifts at the noise and a smile of relief greets his face. He looked exhausted and you felt bad that he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep except for his small power nap. He wouldn’t dare miss out on anything. 

“She’s perfect, sweetheart. You did it.” 

The look of utter pride glows on his face. You feel your lungs refill with fresh air as you wince, moving to sit up gently. “Can I?” 

Stephen chuckles quietly. “How could you ask me something like that? Of course, you can. Tessa, let’s meet your beautiful Mommy, yeah? I know, I know,” he shushes her as she starts to pout her lips, a pitiful cry on the verge of slipping. Your body felt like electricity had just been shot throughout it, the excitement bubbling. 

“Here, let’s unbutton this,” Stephen holds Tessa in one arm while he helps you unbutton your hospital gown. Once your chest is exposed, Stephen places Tessa on you and you fall apart the moment you touch her. Your lips quiver and the tears spill.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, kissing her. You drew in a deep breath, Tessa’s scent making you cry even more. Stephen slips into bed beside you and carefully puts one arm around you while holding his other hand over yours that’s currently on Tessa. “S-she’s perfect,” you cry. 

Stephen wipes his eyes through a sniffle. 

“She is,” he can’t help but agree. “I’ve never seen someone so little,” 

You giggle softly, kissing her head as you lean into your husband’s chest. “We’re parents, Stephen. We have a daughter.” 

He smirks, his eyes resting on you. He leans in and kisses your lips tenderly, savoring the taste. As he pulls away, both of you turn your attention down to your newest addition, your hearts soaring over the moon.

[angel-anachronism]

Hi can you do a y/n x jekyll mlm oneshot

The Assistant (Dr Jekyll x male reader)

"Thus...my next experiment will hold his name...as to never seperate Jekyll from Hyde."

CW: Jekyll's POV, both Jekyll and (Y/N) are in their 30s, REALLY ANGSTY, The story happens before the events in Stevenson's novel, reader's name is (Y/N) Hyde for plot reasons (HE'S NOT EDWARD HYDE OR RELATED TO EDWARD HYDE/JEKYLL THOUGH, JUST KEEP THAT IN MIND WHEN A CHARACTER SAYS "MR HYDE"), DEATH (UH OH), Kind of rushed (sadly).

It was no lie that I certainly am an ambitious man. Ever since I was a young lad, I did everything possible to make the elders I respected praise me. As much of a blessing as that was, I wanted to have as much fun as my peers... They were able to play tug of war, while I was a labourer to my own studies. Not much changed even once I became a strapping lad, as my peers still had fun but in different ways. Instead of skipping rope, they were now drinking like mutts for the night. Yet I was still studying medicine, never even thinking of a life for myself. I mean, that's what I used to regret, but now I'm a doctor who will change the world once and for all. And what did those foozlers become? Exactly, nobodies.

My thoughts were immediately interrupted as the door to my laboratory opened.

"Master, Mr Hyde arrived." I nodded at Poole as I signalled for him to let the man enter. (Y/N) Hyde was the assistant for my various experiments. He used to be my colleague back in college, and with him, I finally felt...free. Once we finished our studies, he decided to become my assistant and help me create medicines and various experiments for the greater goodness of humanity.

"Why hello there, Jekyll!" He greeted me as he came to the table, inspecting the liquid in the Erlenmeyer flask which I made earlier. "Why, what have you been brewing lately? It smells like ginger!"

"Oh, it's just a simple nausea-reducing elixir. Nothing complex." I chuckled. "I tried finding a more excellent solution for ways people wouldn't become sick!"

"Well, depends on what kind of sick. Either someone with an awful malady or just someone getting tipsy! You have to be more specific, pal!" (Y/N) joked, which made me laugh, but at the same time feel a little regretful. I have never experienced getting tipsy like other gentlemen, as I need to hold up a perfect image of myself... but how I wish that I could feel ecstatic... If only I could turn into someone else at night, like a werewolf...

"Hyde... did you ever think of how'd it be to turn into two... never mind..." I caught myself simply talking without thinking, and I mentally groaned, embarrassed that I let my heart talk out once more.

"Do go on." (Y/N) seemed quite intrigued by what I was saying, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. The way he looked at me could simply make a lady swoon in my place. I had to admit, (Y/N) had quite a "beau regard" as the French would say... I never admired a man, or even a woman more than him. But I know it's only because of what a loyal friend I am. He gained my friendship after all!

"No, it's rather silly to admit..." I sighed. But (Y/N), being the stubborn man he always was, kept insisting

"Come on, Henry, mon ami!" he even put his hands on both of my shoulders as I was sitting on my chair, looking at the rainy night outside of my mansion.

"You're acting exactly like a juvenile, Hyde. insisting so much like a child tugging their mother's skirt to bring them to a sweets shop!" I joked. (Y/N) began chuckling, finding the situation I gave as an example rather giddy. "But if you insist... I just had a somewhat foolish thought as of currently... how would it be to split yourself into two people... I personally find that-"

"You know that great inventions are created from a rather 'silly' idea, as most would put it! Like, was it a silly idea that somebody created anaesthesia for patients to not feel pain? I don't think so, and neither does your idea have to be thrown to a ditch for how 'absurd' it may sound!"

"You should've become a philosopher, Hyde. You really know how to make me think twice!" I smiled at the man, which made him smile back even more.

It has been a few years since we had that conversation. Hyde has been helping me a lot, bringing me various herbs and various other ideas for how I could create another version of myself, a version which could be free from the grasps of society.

But as free as I could be...I'll never actually be free from his lovely platonic gaze...how I wish I could make him look differently towards me.... I wish he would look at me as I look at him... but it's all so very wrong... I can't possibly feel these kind of feelings for another man! What will the fellow higher society think of me!?

"It's done..." (Y/N) said, looking at the mulberry coloured liquid in front of us. It's odor was quite disgusting, as if it was rotten flesh, but it's colour was truly pleasing.

"But we don't have anyone to assess it..." I responded. I was quite proud with what we've created. My smile immediately diminished as (Y/N) put the liquid in a vial.

"I'll be the one to assess it. It's for science after all!" He smiled at me, but I didn't smile back.

"(Y/n)... You can't possibly test it... it might kill you!" I said in a serious tone, but (Y/N) didn't listen... forever, eternally stubborn Hyde

As (Y/N) drank the vial before I could act, he seemed fine...at first. He then fell to his knees, holding his stomach.Oh no NO NO!

"HYDE!" I kneeled next to him. Hopefully it was just a temporary effect from the liquid, but my hope died down as he didn't seem to change appearance in any positive way, or even look healthy.

"Oh...it didn't work...You know...Jekyll...I always wished you were a lady...so that we could be happy... maybe above the sky, we'll finally be...together"

I felt tears coming down my eyes. I CAN'T JUST LOSE HIM, NOT LIKE THIS!

"I'm...so so sorry..." was all I could say before his eyes closed one last time. I hugged his now limp body. It was all my fault...ALL MY FAULT!

Thus...my next experiment will hold his name...as to never seperate Jekyll from Hyde.

If you liked this story, please reblog, I'd appreciate it a lot!

[awhoreintheory]

Welcome to the Circus

check tags / here / ch2 / ch3 / ch4 /

ao3 link

Summary:

As Peter lay there, gasping for breath and trying to clear his mind, the green haze persisted, swirling around him like a sinister fog. He coughed and sputtered, wiping the remnants of the acrid goop from his mouth and eyes, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself up, his muscles protesting with every movement. His head throbbed with a dull ache, and his vision swam as he tried to take stock of his surroundings. This wasn't Queens. This wasn't home.

Good ol' Peter Parker in Gotham trope, for those interested ;)

Drowning. 

Peter was drowning. Why was he drowning? 

He was just with Doctor Strange… Why was he with Doctor Strange? It was important. It was important… 

Why is he drowning? 

Panic surged through him as he thrashed, inhaling mouthfuls of something thick and acrid. It wasn’t water—it was something worse. The green liquid filled his mouth, his lungs. It was inside him, choking him, suffocating him. Peter was drowning in it.

getoutgetoutgetout

His mind screamed as he flailed, desperate for something solid, something that could save him. His hand grazed a surface, something cold and unyielding. He fumbled, but his limbs were heavy, numb, uncooperative. His legs felt like they were made of lead, sinking him deeper into the suffocating green.

Peter’s fingers searched frantically along the surface, but there was nothing—no hatch, no ridges, no sign of an escape. Just a smooth, cold wall that offered no mercy.

Green panic swirled, Peter’s search for an exit becoming desperate. 

The green panic inside him swelled, his thoughts scattering as his need for air became unbearable. Trembling, Peter cracked his eyes open, hoping for a miracle. Instead, he was met with a blinding, searing pain. The green liquid burned his eyes, his throat, his lungs—every breath, every swallow, was agony.

Jesus fucking Christ, that hurt.  

His body convulsed as the burning intensified, the green liquid seeping into every part of him, robbing him of breath, of thought, of hope. The idea of finding an exit, of escaping, slipped away as the pain consumed him. The burning in his lungs was unbearable, and his mind grew hazy from the lack of oxygen, from the relentless assault of the green.

He was going to drown. He was going to die here, suffocated by this toxic green hell.

GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT

Desperation took over, and Peter thrashed wildly, slamming his fists and feet against the smooth walls that confined him. The space was too small, too tight, the green pressing in on him from all sides. His movements were frantic, uncoordinated, but he didn’t care—he couldn’t stop. He had to fight, had to find a way out, even if it meant tearing himself apart.

Cracks spread, spiderwebbing outwards. 

Peter heard every crack of the glass and every vibration. It was overwhelming. 

As his vision spotted and his arms grew sluggish, the glass shattered. Peter was all but thrown out, catching on more than his fair share of jagged glass on the way out. 

He hit the ground hard, the impact jarring, but the adrenaline kept him moving. Peter shivered violently, his body reacting to the sudden cold as he felt around in a panic. For what, he wasn’t quite sure—something solid, something familiar, something that wasn’t green. Someone. He was looking for someone, he thought. But the thought slipped away as quickly as it came, drowned out by the all-consuming need to breathe.

He gasped, sputtering, and suddenly he was retching, hacking up mouthful after mouthful of the thick, acrid green goop that had filled his lungs. It clung to his throat, slimy and suffocating, and he damn near passed out before he finally managed to draw in his first breath of air. The taste in his mouth was revolting, a nauseating blend of bile and chemicals that made him gag.

Greedily, Peter gulped down the stale, musty air, his chest heaving as he lay there, too exhausted to move. Jagged pieces of glass dug into his skin, new homes found in the raw flesh exposed by his shredded clothes. The smell of stomach acid mixed with the pungent odor of the green liquid, a stench that made his head swim. But despite it all, despite the pain and the filth and the cold, he was just so tired—

getupgetoutGO

The command sliced through his haze of exhaustion, dragging him back to the present. He’d been operating on pure instinct, his eyes tightly shut against the world. But now, blinking rapidly, Peter tried to force his vision to clear.

Hissing, Peter rubbed his eyes harshly, only seeming to aid in the green water’s goal of burning his poor eyeballs. 

“Son of a—” he choked out, but the words were a mistake. His throat was still coated in that vile sludge, and the effort to speak sent him into another fit of coughing, each spasm more painful than the last.

Tears welled up, slipping down his face and mingling with the green, but they at least helped to wash some of it away. Slowly, painfully, his vision began to clear.

His sight cleared, but the green did not. 

Peter shakily sat up, taking each breath as though it were his last, he tried to clear his mind and make heads or tails of his situation. But the green haze persisted, swirling around him like a sinister fog. He coughed and sputtered, burning his throat as he wiped the remnants of the acrid goop from his mouth and eyes. 

Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself up, his muscles protesting with every movement. His head throbbed with a sharp pain, and his vision swam. 

badbadleavegonow

It took a moment for the fog of confusion to lift, but when it did, Peter's heart sank like a stone in his chest. 

He was supposed to be in Doctore Strange’s sanctum right now. They were doing something important, Peter thinks. 

Except… He wasn't in Doctor Strange's sanctum anymore. He wasn't anywhere familiar at all. Somewhere badnotgoodleave.

The room around him was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of decay and neglect and green. Crumbling concrete walls surrounded him, and the hum of machinery reverberated through the air. It was some sort of lab, or at least something resembling one, judging by the various bits of scientific equipment scattered around. Peter's stomach churned with unease.

He staggered to his feet, the adrenaline coursing through his veins driving him forward despite the pain and disorientation. With each step, he struggled to shake off the remnants of his ordeal, but the memory of drowning in that thick, green substance lingered like a nightmare he couldn't escape.

Peter stumbled, hands flying out to steady himself, making contact with glass. He stuck himself there as his limbs shook with the effort it took to hold himself up. Letting out a breath once he was stable, Peter looked up. 

Straight into the eyes of a corpse. 

Peter froze, the air catching in his throat. The body in front of him was that of a girl—maybe nineteen or so—floating lifelessly in the same green liquid that had nearly drowned him. Her inhuman green eyes were open, staring unseeingly into the void, her skin pale and tinged with the same sickly green hue that filled the tube. Horror gripped Peter as he forced himself to look away, but everywhere he turned, he was met with the same sight—tube after tube, each containing a body suspended in the green liquid. All of them a teenager of younger, and all of them were silent, unmoving, trapped in this grotesque display.

And then he saw it—the one empty tube. The tube he had broken out of.

Peter panicked, and the more he panicked, the greener everything became. This— this wasn’t the sanctum? Why was he drowning? Where was Doctor Strange? Why were all these people in these tubes? What was happening? Where was he?

notsafebadleave

As Peter's panic threatened to overwhelm him, the green haze seemed to intensify, enveloping him in its sickly embrace. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing loudly in his ears as he struggled to make sense of the horrifying scene before him.

The girl in the tube floated eerily, suspended in the green substance like a macabre display. Her expression was serene, almost peaceful, but Peter couldn't shake the sense of dread that settled like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach.

With trembling hands, Peter reached out, his fingers hovering over the glass of another nearby tube. Inside, he could see the outline of another person, their features obscured by the murky liquid that surrounded them. They had a small silhouette— a child, barely seven, by the looks of it. 

A wave of nausea washed over him as he realized the extent of the horror that surrounded him. These people, trapped in these tubes like specimens in some twisted experiment... what had happened to them? 

Peter forced himself to listen, straining his enhanced senses to detect any sign of life within the room. But there was nothing. No shallow breaths, no muffled heartbeats, no sounds of movement. Only the cold, oppressive silence of death, punctuated by the relentless thumping of his own heartbeat, the only one left in this chamber of horrors.

Panic clawed at him, the walls closing in as the green haze began to blur his vision. His breathing grew ragged, his chest tightening as the realization settled over him—he was alone here. Whoever these people had been, whatever had happened to them, they were gone. He was the only one left.

But why? Why was he here? Why had he survived when they hadn’t?

The questions swirled in his mind, but he had no answers. All he knew was that he had to get out. He had to escape this place before whatever nightmare had claimed these lives claimed his as well. The green, the tubes, the dead—it was too much, too overwhelming. He needed to breathe, to think, to live.

Peter stumbled back, looking frantically around. Shards of glass made themselves known as Peter made his way toward a bin filled with— clothes? 

One sniff made it apparent they were dead people’s clothes. Peter glanced at the clothes, then to the bodies suspended in green, then at his own similarly undressed form. Man, that was… that was fucking dark. They— whoever was running this shitshow— kept a bunch of dead kids’ clothes? 

The realization fueled a surge of disgust and rage, a combination that made his skin crawl. His hand clenched around the edge of the counter, the metal creaking ominously before snapping beneath his grip. Peter barely managed to pull himself back from the brink, forcing deep breaths through clenched teeth as he counted backward from ten. But even that brought on a fit of coughing, the green sludge still clinging to his lungs like poison. (Jesus, Peter was going to be coughing up the green stuff for the next week.) 

Peter sighed, resigned in what he was about to do. 

He… He didn’t have any clothes. And there were clothes right in front of him. If Peter hadn’t vomited up everything he had in his stomach already, he’d have thrown up again. 

Gingerly sifting through the pile of clothes— they were clearly taken with no care, haphazardly ripped and thrown onto the table— he grabbed a shirt and a pair of sweats. They were big, way too big, swallowing his frame like he was a child. The shirt enveloped him, and he’d pulled the drawstrings on the sweats as tight as he could. In all honesty, they were hanging onto his frame by a thin piece of string and a prayer. 

Which was odd, because they were only a men’s medium. 

As he dressed, he made a silent vow. He’d give these poor souls a proper burial as soon as he could. Fresh, new clothes. A casket. A headstone. Flowers. Everything they deserved, everything they had been denied in this nightmare.

Peter fumbled with the glass in his feet, ripping them out, uncaring of the blood that came gushing out. That didn’t matter. He needed to get out and find Doctor Strange. And maybe alert the police. And… Something. He was forgetting something. 

Using the wall as support, Peter made his way to the only door in the room. He only stopped because he caught sight of something shiny hidden beneath some of the bloodier clothes. Upon looking closer, it was two red metal bracelets. Specifically, the red bracelets that made up the Iron Spider. The green in his chest reared its ugly head, mixed emotions swirling that left a sour taste in his mouth. 

With trembling hands and hope fluttering in his chest, Peter reached out, picking up the bracelets and clutching them tightly, as though they’d disappear. The bracelets were a reminder of who he was; a symbol of the hero he had become. And more importantly, they were the last thing he had to remember Mr. Stark by. Peter’s lip trembled as he slipped them on. At least he had this— a reminder he was Spider-man. He used that reminder to cool the green. He was Spider-Man.  

“Kar—” Peter delved into another coughing fit, his body convulsing with each hack.

“Karen?” A hoarse whisper was the best Peter could manage, staring hopefully at the bracelets. 

No response. 

Unsurprising, but it hurt nonetheless. 

Peter huffed, placating the green that had settled in his chest for the umpteenth time. He needs a working computer, with an outlet. Something to get Karen online and powered up. It’s unlikely the arc reactor powering the Iron Spider gave out that easily. Karen probably just needs a kickstart. 

Continuing the trek to leave this nightmare building, Peter stopped to listen every so often. No heartbeats. No people. At least, no one alive, anyway. He heard the faint sounds of a bustling city, as well as the hum of electricity in the room with the… tubes, but that was it. It was like this place was abandoned. Not that Peter is complaining! He was barely coordinated enough to walk while leaning on the wall, there was absolutely no chance he could have fought his way out. 

Small mercies, he supposed. 

The building was trashed, but not in a deliberate sense. It was dusty, clearly abandoned, with paper and trash littering the floor, but it was not like there was mold or signs of a struggle. It looked closer to a hasty evacuation than a subsequent abandonment. The paper looked vaguely important, but when Peter tried to read them, it all jumbled up into nonsense in his mind. He huffed in irritation, ditching the papers in favor of his first task: finding an exit. His Peter-tingl— spidey-sense quieted down after he left the green room, for the most part, mainly just a low hum of cautiouscarefulwary.  

After who-knows-how-long of wandering, (Karen would’ve known), and a near endless staircase, Peter finally stumbled upon a door through which he could distinctly hear the aforementioned sounds of the city beyond. He only hesitated for a second before pushing this door open. 

A gust of city-polluted air rushed in, replacing the previously stale air. The light left Peter momentarily blinded, his sensitive eyesight taking the cloud-covered sun as though it were a flash grenade. 

Wincing, Peter covered his eyes until they adjusted. Cracking them open, Peter looked out onto a city.

A city that was not Queens, New York. 

nothomenothomenothome

Granted, the door had opened into an alleyway, which was absolutely disgusting, if all the smells Peter was bombarded with were what he thought they were, and he was pretty sure it was. The nasties. 

Peter promptly slammed it shut. His head swam, ears rang, and green swirled. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck? Where was he? Why was he here? Wherever here was, anyway. 

Peter ran a hand down his face, massaging his temples. Fuck, shitballs, ok, this is fine. (Read: not fine) He’d survived being dusted. He died, he actually, legitimately, bit the dust. He could handle this. Until Strange found him, at least. Strange? 

Why was he here in the first place? 

He was forgetting something…

Braving the door, Peter stumbled down the stairs, glancing up at the sky. It was noon? Maybe? The gray clouds made it hard to tell, but that was Peter’s guess. 

Peter couldn’t explain how he knew this place wasn’t Queens, but he just knew. He had been in nearly every alleyway in New York, every corner and street and rooftop. This just… This wasn’t home. He knew it. He felt it. Peter feels like he’d earned the benefit of the doubt when it came to his feelings. They were generally right, not that Peter listened to them as often as he should’ve, but semantics. 

Peter made his way to the end of the alleyway, towards a not-quite bustling street, but it wasn’t empty either. It still grated on his ears. He was almost tempted to crawl his sorry-ass back into the nightmare-lab. So, definitely noon. Another reason this place wasn’t New York, because the street would’ve been packed to the absolute brim. 

The closer he got to the end of the alleyway, the louder his spidey-sense seemed to get. Which was odd, because weren’t these all just civilians? Why was his spidey-sense going off for civilians? Well, more than average. One does not simply live in New York, they survived New York. 

Stepping out, Peter got several snide looks from passing people. And was it just him, or was everyone… really tall? Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, looking down at himself, then back up to another passerby. That’s… Huh?

He called out to a couple passing people but was oh-so kindly told to fuck off. Three times! One was even in Spanish, although butchered by the local accent. Diversity! 

cautiouswaryunsure

Peter chewed on his lips, tasting the dried remnants of green on his lips. He tried not to think about that. Looking around, Peter played a game of “Will they shank me?” with his spidey-sense, trying to find someone who looked less… stabby than everyone else. And would maybe, actually answer a question or 10 without telling him to get fucked by a three-legged chair. 

This wasn’t Queens, so Peter needed to find somewhere they'd let a grimy, homeless looking adult touch their mediocre computers so he could get Karen online. Peter doubted a computer cafe would even let him get through the doors before he was shooed out— or shot— so public library it was. 

He settled on a young lady— she was around 19 and lifeless, suspended in the green— minding her own business on the blockiest phone Peter’s seen in years. He decided against touching her, instead hesitantly waving in her peripherals to get her attention. 

niceokgood

She leveled him with an unimpressed glare. “What, kid?” 

And wow, was that an accent? Sounded Jersey to him, which, gag. Why was he in Jersey? Also rude, they were basically the same age, no need to call him a kid. Condescending much? Clearing his throat as best he could, Peter asked his question.  

“S—sorry, could you, um, point me in the direction of the public library?” Peter haorsley whispered, ducking his head, all the while giving her his best “I-mean-you-no-harm” eyes. His throat burned as he spoke, and he bet good money his breath smelled like that goop. He could feel his hair drying with the green, leaving it uncomfortably stiff and crunchy. Not to mention he was wearing dead people’s clothes. So, in short terms; he smelled and looked like death. 

She didn’t appear moved by his puppy eyes but answered anyways. “Go down this street as far as you can see, twice, then turn right. It’s the big building that doesn’t look like shit.” She put her earbuds back in, walking away, mumbling something about “Fucking New Yorkers,”.

Peter blinked. Those were certainly… directions, he supposed. Weirdest directions he’s ever received, but who is he to not listen to them? Peter rasped a small “thanks” as he hesitantly made his way in the direction she pointed, decidedly not acknowledging being called a New Yorker with the same amount of emotion Peter would’ve had about wet socks. 

Peter estimated where a normal person’s eyesight would end, and then walked (Read: stumbled) his way there. Halfway there, Peter had to stop to catch his breath, coughing up the equivalent of green phlegm. Wiping his mouth, Peter looked up, eyes catching on a decently reflective window.

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck. 

Head wiping around, Peter looked for the half-dead kid in the window, which couldn’t have been him. Because… What? 

The green swirled in his chest. There’s no fucking way. 

Why the fuck did he look like his twelve-year-old self. 

Peter had dried off, for the most part, the green substance leaving his hair crunchy and dry, and a faint, greenish sheen on his skin. He looked sickly and pale, dwarfed in clothes that should’ve fit Peter. His hair was darker— basically black— with a big ol’ chunk of white hair right at Peter’s widow’s peak. 

Which, sure, this weird substance could’ve damaged his hair, and changed its color like the world’s shittiest dye, except Peter’s eyes. They were green. And not a pretty, natural green. Peter looked like he was some sort of Danny Phantom fanboy. 

Peter… Peter didn’t even look like himself. Sure, the facial shape of this body would eventually grow to be familiar, but what the fuck? You don’t just— deage! With noticeable changes to characteristics that are otherwise unchangeable! Because last Peter checked, a spider bite may have changed his DNA, but he didn’t look any different! It was all internal! 

Peter shook his head in disbelief, trying to make sense of the bizarre situation he found himself in. It was like a twisted nightmare came to life, leaving him feeling disoriented and unsettled. As he stared at his distorted reflection, a surge of frustration and anger welled up inside him. How could this be happening? Where the hel was Strange? Was he the cause of this? Was he part of this? 

With renewed vigor to get to the library, find Strange, and then throttle him, Peter pushed away from the window. Except, he must’ve pushed a little too hard, because Peter’s hand went straight through. The sound of glass shattering abused his sensitive ears. 

Peter paused, only momentarily, before very quickly moving on. Thankfully, it appeared this place was just another abandoned building, but Peter didn’t stick around to find out. People gave him odd and warry looks but otherwise did nothing. He hoped it was abandoned. He’d feel bad if he just broke some poor person’s window. 

Speed walking away, Peter shoved his hands in the pockets of his stolen sweats. It was freezing, and it hadn’t helped that he was still kind of damp when he’d stepped out. Hopefully the cold wouldn’t trigger a premature hibernation. That could land Peter in some trouble.  Peter’s walk didn’t have any more disruptions, aside from a couple people trying to pickpocket him, but since Peter literally has nothing, all they got was a handful of empty pockets. 

Coming to a stop, Peter looked up at the library. He could see what the girl meant. It really was the least shitty looking building around. 

Looking down, Peter flushed slightly in embarrassment. He looked and smelt like death, had no shoes on, and was wearing bloodied clothes. Maybe the library would kick him out… 

Worth a shot. Worst-case scenario, Peter… entered in less than legal ways after hours. 

Walking up, Peter got the sense of deja vu looking at everything. The green haze was still present in the back of his mind, and everything looked so big and overwhelming. And he felt off. Really off. Probably because he was, like, seven inches shorter than normal, with changed characteristics, and was in a completely different city. 

awaresharpwatch

Pushing open the door, Peter appreciated the blast of warm air and the relative silence of this building. Hesitantly walking up to the abnormally tall front desk (not tall— Peter was now just short, he reminded himself) Peter hesitantly waved to get the red-haired lady’s attention. She set off his spidey-sense, but she was also the only person upfront, so he took his chances. 

“Um, hi, can— can you point me in the direction of the computers?” Peter mumbled, throat protesting, eyes darting around before looking back up at her. He swallowed a cough that made his eyes water. He did not want to choke up a green loogie on this poor civilian-librarian-lady. 

The librarian turned to Peter with a smile, but it faltered slightly as soon as she saw him. She stared in… disbelief? Shock? Anger? Resentment? The green was not at all helping Peter decipher facial expressions and emotions. Did news of Peter being Spider-man reach Jersey too? Was that why? But wasn’t Strange supposed to… 

Strange was supposed to… 

“Sorry about that! I’m Barabara, the Librarian. Please sign in here, and then the computers are free to use until we close. They’re over there,” Barbara points over to a comfy-looking corner, with a couple of college students typing away like their lives depended on it. Probably did, in this economy. “And can I… help you with anything else?” 

It felt like there was more behind her question, but Peter wasn’t sure. 

Peter cleared his throat. This green phlegm was gonna be the end of him. “Oh, no, um, thank you, Miss Barbara.” Peter ducked his head, offering a small smile that felt more like a grimace. 

She was, quite literally, the first nice person Peter had talked to. Which only accounted for like, maybe seven people, but still. Reaching for a pen to sign himself in with, Peter fumbled for a second, his hand and brain not cooperating. It took him a couple of tries to read the sign-in sheet, and even more to get his hand to cooperate on the writing department, but he (probably) got the gist of it. He thinks. (He signed his name on the phone number line with the legibility of a seven year old.) 

She sent him a kind smile as Peter walked away. Peter wrung his hands together anxiously, glancing at the clunky computer, then back to his sleek bracelets that housed Karen. 

Dear Thor and Loki, and any other gods or demi-gods listening that might hold a smidgen of favor for him, he hoped this worked. 

— 

Barbara was in shock. 

Actually, shock might have been an understatement. Disbelief? Utter disbelief might have been more accurate. Yeah, yeah that sounded accurate. 

She’d felt a stab of sympathy first. This poor kid— Peter, read the sign-in sheet, on the wrong line— looked like he’d been to hell and back. Thrice. He was small, in the malnourished sense. Cheeks caved in, thin wrists and arms, a sickly sort of sheen to him, as well. He was tan in a way that was foreign to Gotham’s consistant cloud covered skies. Dark hair, that was probably wavy, if how it dried was any pointers. Baggy clothes that clearly didn’t fit him, blood dried on them, as well as the various cuts that marred his arms, with a good chance of even more injuries hidden under his weather-innapropriate clothes. She hadn’t seen his face too clearly, Peter’s eyes practically glued to the ground, but she thought they were green. A boyish face with freckles— he fit a certain broody man’s adoption criteria. 

Most notably, though, was the shock of white hair at his widow’s peak. He vaguely resembled Jason when he was that age. What with the matching tufts of white hair, which was a problem if it was what she thought it was. 

Barbara pursed her lips, watching Peter fiddle with the computer. His eyes darted around the room, never staying in one place too long.

Skittish. Unsure. Scared.

It was a conclusion not many would have jumped to. “This skittish kid must have died!” But she was god-damn Oracle, okay? She’d honed her senses over many years—along with dealing with this batshit family. She’d been around the block.

She’d thought Bruce had taken care of all the Lazarus Pits in Gotham. And, hell, he could’ve! Maybe that white streak is natural, but the odds of that were as slim as Harley turning in her hyenas for a pair of poodles. No, there was something about Peter Parker that didn't add up, and she wasn’t one to ignore her instincts.

It was something in the kid's nose, his eye shape, his face—hell! Even the dimples Barbara had caught a glimpse of screamed familiar.

Barbara pulled out her phone, typing furiously before deleting her message.

If she texted Bruce, he’d rush down here from the very important JL meeting he was peer-pressured into going to, and definitely overwhelm the kid. He’d try to immediately interrogate Peter, find out where the Pits were, and figure out how to dispose of them.

It would absolutely demolish any chance of Peter trusting them. And from what Barbara spied, he was a runner if the record of one Peter Benjamin Parker proved correct.

Thankfully, Peter had looked around the library when he walked in, straight into a camera. Face ID brought him up as one of the many missing kids in Gotham.

No one she texted in the manor would keep silent from Bruce, either. The poor kid would be ratted out within twenty-four hours.

(Probably adopted. The man is a genuine addict, and the kid fit the bill to a tee. Black hair? Check. More-than-likely traumatic backstory? Barbara was near certain.)

So Barbara messaged someone who didn’t live in the manor—and, more importantly—wouldn’t immediately run to Bruce with this information. Was it born of stubbornness and a desire to be an ass? Absolutely.

Barbara took a quick photo of Peter sitting at the computer, deep in concentration. His shirt was a little bloody, with a suspiciously knife-shaped hole on the side and random cuts along his forearms.

Hoodlum   [1:12 PM]  

Babs: I need a favor. 

Jason: I’m not interested in doing your dirty work, Barbie. 

Babs: It's about the Lazarus Pits in Gotham. 

Jason: Didn’t B say he wiped those out? The hells happening?

Babs: [Image attached]

Babs: I’m not so sure about that anymore.[read 1:27 PM]

Jason: Is that a kid? The hell happened to him?

Babs: Yeah. I know. 

Jason: If this is some kind of joke, it ain’t funny. Babs, the kid looks like he’s been through hell.

Babs: Trust me, it’s no joke. He came into the library looking like that.

Jason: Shit… Has B see this yet?

Babs: No. And I’d like to keep it that way for now. He’s too skittish. If Bruce charges in, we’ll lose him before we get any answers. [read 1:34 PM]

Jason: Good. 

Jason: You think he’s been in a Lazarus Pit?

Babs: It's possible. Something about him doesn’t add up. I don’t want to risk scaring him off before we know more. 

Jason: I’ll keep an eye out for the kid. Try to see if I can dig anything up on my end. Keep me updated. 

Babs: Thanks, Jay. I appreciate it. (Read at 1:42 PM) 

Barbara sighed as she put her phone away. If anyone could handle this without Bruce finding out too soon, it was Jason. He might be rough around the edges, but he understood what it was like to be young, lost, and scared. More importantly, he knew how to approach someone like Peter without spooking him.

He liked to deny it, push it off on Dick, say he was the emotional one. But Jason is a liar.

Underneath the sarcasm and the tough exterior, Jason had a heart that bled for people like Peter—kids who’d been through the wringer, who wore their trauma like a second skin. Jason could relate to that in a way none of the others could. Maybe it was the Lazarus Pit’s influence, maybe it was just who he was at his core, but Jason had a softness that he kept buried deep under layers of anger and bravado.

He’d scoff at the idea, roll his eyes and crack a joke to deflect, but Barbara knew better. She’d seen the way he was with the strays—human or otherwise—that crossed his path. He wasn’t as callous as he liked to pretend. And when it came to a kid like Peter, someone who was clearly in over their head, Jason’s protective instincts would kick in whether he admitted it or not.

Barbara knew she could count on him. Jason had a way of making people feel like they weren’t alone in their pain, like they had someone who truly understood. And that was exactly what Peter needed right now—someone who could see through the cracks in his armor without trying to pry them open.

She glanced at Peter again, noticing the way his hands trembled ever so slightly as he typed. The kid was barely holding it together, and any wrong move could send him spiraling. Barbara wasn’t going to let that happen. Not on her watch. 

Jason might act like he was all guns and gritted teeth, but he had the ability to reach out to the lost and the broken in a way that even Bruce couldn’t. And that, more than anything, was why Barbara trusted him with this. Peter needed someone who wouldn’t judge him, who wouldn’t push him too hard or too fast.

Jason could be that person, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

Barbara just hoped it would be enough to keep Peter from slipping through their fingers before they could figure out what had really happened to him—and what it meant for Gotham.

Bruce would come down like a hammer eventually, but until then, she had to make sure Peter felt safe— at least as safe as anyone could feel in Gotham.