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mystrangeadd1ct1on · 7 months ago

Text

If you want me, im yours.

Pairing: f!reader x Stephen Strange

Summary: Y/N got into trouble twice and he saved her, TWICE. They soon enough become close and eventually...

Warnings: a little bit of angst, but mostly fluff<3

Words count: 4k?

A/n: hii so this is my first fanfic, hope you like it🖤 (please excuse how bad it is written by times)

You quickened your pace, your heart racing as an unknown man behind you called out again.

“Hey, come on, sweetheart. I just want to talk to you.”

You ignored him, keeping your head down and clutching your bag tighter. The streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement, and the people around seemed oblivious to your discomfort.

“Don’t be rude now,” he said, his voice closer this time. You felt a cold wave of panic wash over you as his hand brushed your shoulder unexpectedly.

Before you could react, another voice cut through the tension, calm but firm.

“Is there a problem here?”

You turned to see another man standing a few feet away, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. He was tall, dressed in a dark coat that billowed slightly in the breeze.

The man hesitated: “No problem. Just talking to her.”

“Doesn’t look like she wants to talk,” the stranger replied, his tone steady, almost conversational. “Why don’t you move along?”

The man scowled, muttering something under his breath before turning and walking away, disappearing into the shadows.

You exhaled shakily, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. The stranger turned his attention to you now, his expression softening slightly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded, though your hands were still trembling. “Yeah, I think so. Thank you. I didn’t know what to do.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze not invasive but observant. “It’s New York,” he said with a faint, wry smile. “Unfortunately, things like this happen too often.”

You managed a small smile in return, still trying to steady your breathing. “I guess so. I just… wasn’t expecting it tonight.”

His eyes flicked to your hands, noticing the way they gripped your bag. “Do you need someone to walk you home? Or somewhere safer?”

You hesitated. He seemed genuine, but you didn’t know him. Still, something about his calm demeanor reassured you.

“I think I’ll be okay,” you said after a moment. “I live a few blocks away.”

He nodded, stepping aside to give you space. “Alright. Just stay aware of your surroundings. And if you ever feel unsafe, don’t hesitate to call for help.”

“Thanks,” you said again, your voice steadier now. “Really.”

He gave you a slight nod, his expression unreadable. “Take care.”

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but call out, “Wait! I didn’t get your name.”

He glanced back, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “Stephen,” he said simply before walking out of your sight.

***

The air felt electric, thick with tension as you pressed yourself against the cold wall of the alley. You couldn’t believe how the day had spiraled. One moment, you were grabbing a coffee, the next, you were being dragged into a hostage situation by a masked figure wielding some sort of strange, glowing weapon.

The villain stood in the middle of the chaos, ranting about power, control, and the destruction of some "order" you didn’t understand. You were now in some alley of the villian, unable to move due to the rope wrapped around you, great.

“Alright, that’s enough,” a deep, calm voice echoed.

Your eyes widened as a man in a flowing red cloak and blue robes stepped forward. He didn’t look like any superhero you’d seen on TV. No flashy gadgets or masks—just an air of authority and… magic?

The villain scoffed. “And who do you think you are?”

“Doctor Strange,” he simply said, his voice steady, almost bored. His hands moved in a fluid motion, golden sparks trailing through the air as glowing symbols formed around him. “you’re wasting my time, let's just get this over with.”

You couldn’t help but stare, torn between awe and confusion. Who was this guy? And how was he doing… that?

The villain lunged, but Strange was faster. The air seemed to ripple as portals and shields materialized out of thin air. His movements were precise, calculated, as if he already knew how the fight would end.

In moments, it was over. The villain was bound, the glowing weapon disarmed and disintegrated. You stayed rooted to the spot, your eyes fixed on Strange as he turned to you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, stepping closer. He began to gently untie you.

“I… I think so,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened, but there was a flicker of something else—recognition?

“You look familiar,” he said slowly, tilting his head as he studied you.

You blinked, suddenly remembering. “Wait… Stephen?”

His eyes widened slightly, and a hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. “The woman from the street,” he said, his tone carrying a trace of amusement.

“That’s you?!” you asked, gesturing vaguely at the cloak and the sparks still fading from his hands. “You’re a… sorcerer?”

He shrugged, the smirk growing. “Basically, yes.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still trying to process everything. “Wow. And here I thought you were just some overly observant guy.”

“I can be both,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes scanning you for any signs of injury. “Are you sure you’re okay? No injuries?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him, still slightly dazed. “Just… a little overwhelmed.”

“That’s normal,” he said, his voice softening. “It’s not every day you’re caught in the middle of a magical showdown.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. “So, uh, do you do this often? Saving random strangers?”

“More often than I’d like,” he admitted, the smirk returning. “But I seem to be making a habit of saving you specifically.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Well, I appreciate it. Again.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable for a moment before he spoke again. “You should head home. Stay safe.”

“Right,” you said, starting to move but hesitating. “uhm.. thank you.” you said sincerely.

His gaze softened again, and he gave a small nod. “Take care, Y/N.”

You froze. “Wait—how do you know my name?”

His smirk returned, and with a flick of his wrist, a portal opened behind him. “I know more than you think,” he said cryptically before stepping through, leaving you standing there in the alley, questions swirling in your mind. Will you even ever meet again?

***

It had been a few weeks since you’d last seen Stephen, or rather, Doctor Strange, and you still couldn’t quite shake the surreal feeling of that encounter. The way he’d casually saved you, then vanished without a trace, had left you with more questions than answers. Was he really a sorcerer? And if so, what was he doing in New York, saving random people?

You hadn’t expected to run into him again, especially not like this.

It was a quiet evening, and you’d decided to take a walk through the park, hoping to clear your head. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, and the park was mostly empty. The crisp autumn air filled your lungs, and for a moment, you felt at peace.

That was until you heard a familiar voice.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You turned, your heart skipping a beat as you saw him standing near a bench, hands tucked into his coat pockets, looking just as composed as the last time you saw him.

“Stephen?” you asked, your voice a little too surprised for your liking. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. “I could ask you the same thing. It’s a park, Y/N. People come here to walk, think, enjoy the quiet.”

You scoffed and narrowwed your eyes, not sure whether to laugh or roll your eyes. “I know what a park is.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You both stood there for a moment, the awkwardness lingering, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just… unexpected.

“So, uh… how’s life?” you asked awkwardly, suddenly realizing you didn’t really know anything about him outside of the fact that he could do magic.

“Busy,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes scanning the park. “You know, saving the world, fighting evil, all that.” He paused, glancing back at you. “And you? What’s your life like now?”

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Same as usual. Work, life, avoiding being caught in hostage situations.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a half-smile. “That’s good. I’d hate to think you were getting into trouble again.”

“I’m trying to avoid it,” you replied, smiling back at him. “But you never know with New York.”

There was a brief silence, both of you just standing there, the sound of distant laughter and rustling leaves filling the air. Then, Stephen stepped closer, his expression a little more serious.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, his voice softer than before. You looked up at him as he was towering over you. The slight breeze flying through his and your hair.

You met his gaze, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “I’m glad you’re okay too.”

For a moment, it felt like the world had slowed down. The noise of the city faded, and it was just the two of you standing there in the park, sharing a quiet connection.

Finally, you broke the silence. “So… do you do this often? Just run into people you’ve saved?”

He smirked. “Not really. But I’m glad we did. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of the moment. “Well, I’m not that hard to find.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, just stating a fact.”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Good to know. Maybe we’ll run into each other again soon, Y/N.”

“Maybe,” you replied, feeling a little more at ease. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

With a final glance, Stephen turned and walked away, disappearing into the park as you stood there, a strange sense of anticipation lingering in the air. Maybe this wasn’t the last time you’d see him after all.

A few days passed since your unexpected meeting in the park, and Stephen Strange hadn’t left your mind. It wasn’t just the mystery of him—or the fact that he’d saved you twice now—but something about him lingered, like a song you couldn’t quite forget.

It was late one evening when your phone buzzed. You frowned, glancing at the unknown number flashing on the screen.

“Hello?” you answered cautiously.

“Y/N.”

You froze, recognizing the deep, composed voice immediately. “Stephen?”

“Good guess,” he said, his tone carrying that familiar hint of amusement.

“How—how did you get my number?” you asked, a little incredulous.

“I have my ways,” he replied, his voice too calm for your liking.

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “That’s not creepy at all.”

“I thought you’d appreciate it,” he countered smoothly. “You did say you weren’t hard to find.”

Touché.

“What do you want?” you asked, trying to sound casual, though your heart had started to race.

“I was thinking,” he began, his voice dipping slightly, “we never really finished our conversation the other day. I thought it might be nice to… change that.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the directness of his words. “You want to… talk?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of dinner,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Unless you’re too busy avoiding trouble.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you managed to keep your tone steady. “I think I can make time.”

“Good,” he said, sounding satisfied. “Tomorrow night. Seven. I’ll text you the address.”

Before you could respond, the line went dead. You stared at your phone, equal parts annoyed and amused. Who just hangs up like that?

***

The next evening, you found yourself standing outside a small, tucked-away restaurant in Greenwich Village. The address Stephen had sent you led here, and you couldn’t help but wonder how someone like him—mystical, larger than life—chose such a low-key spot.

Inside, you spotted him almost immediately, sitting at a corner table, looking far too composed for someone who’d just asked you out of the blue.

“So you came,” he remarked as you approached, standing to pull out your chair.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you shot back, taking your seat.

He smirked, settling across from you. “I'm not. Just impressed.”

The conversation flowed easier than you expected. Stephen was sharp, quick-witted, and surprisingly easy to talk to when he wasn’t throwing portals around or saving the world. You found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks, his dry humor balancing perfectly with your own.

At one point, as the waiter refilled your drinks, Stephen leaned back slightly, studying you with a curious expression.

“What?” you asked, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“You,” he said simply. “You’re different.”

“Different how?”

He tilted his head, as if considering his words carefully. “Most people I meet are either intimidated or overly curious. You’re neither.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Maybe I’m just used to people like you.”

“People like me?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Arrogant,” you grinned

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough.”

The night passed too quickly, and before you knew it, you were walking out together, the cool night air wrapping around you.

“Thank you for tonight,” you said, glancing up at him. “I had a good time.”

“Good enough to do this again?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes serious.

You smiled, nodding. “Yeah. Good enough for that.”

He returned the smile, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn there was something softer in his expression.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said, stepping closer. “But next time, I’m choosing the place again. My way of keeping you out of trouble.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, Doctor Strange.”

He smirked, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he stepped back. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Stephen,” you replied, watching as he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the night.

You stood there for a moment longer, a strange mix of warmth and anticipation settling in your chest. Maybe this wasn’t the last time you’d see him after all.

Recently you found yourself thinking about Stephen more often than you cared to admit. Your conversations had become almost routine now, with texts or brief phone calls between his missions, but something about those moments lingered in the back of your mind. He wasn’t the easiest person to get to know, but the more you spoke with him, the more you saw a side of him that few people ever would.

Tonight, however, things felt different. He had invited you to the Sanctum for what he called a “quick catch-up,” but you had a feeling it wasn’t going to be as casual as he was making it sound.

You arrived at the Sanctum, the heavy door creaking as you pushed it open. Stephen was sitting at the long table, scribbling something down on a piece of parchment. When he looked up, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Y/N, you’re early.”

You shrugged, walking over to take a seat across from him. “Better than late.”

There was a long silence between you two, a comfortable kind of stillness that had settled over your conversations in recent days. You found yourself just watching him, noticing the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of the table.

You decided to break the silence. “You’ve been… busy, huh?”

“Always.” His smile was half-hearted, and there was something in his eyes that told you he wasn’t entirely present.

You frowned, tilting your head. “You’re still working on that spell?”

“No,” he said, sighing softly. “Just thinking, I guess.”

“About what?” you asked, leaning forward.

He met your gaze for a moment, his eyes holding a depth that you hadn’t quite seen before. “My hands,” he said quietly, his voice almost distant.

You blinked, not expecting that. “Your hands?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the table as if the words were hard for him to say. “Yeah. They’re… they’re not what they used to be.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew about his accident, of course—the rumors and whispers about how he’d lost his career as a surgeon. But no one ever really talked about the aftermath, the emotional weight of losing something so central to his identity.

“Stephen,” you started softly, unsure how to approach this, “I know you used to be a doctor. You must have been amazing at it.”

He looked up, his gaze meeting yours, and for a moment, you saw something in his eyes that wasn’t the confident, detached sorcerer you were used to. There was a flicker of something raw, something that made your chest tighten.

“I was,” he said quietly. “I was good at it. I saved lives. I helped people. But now…” He trailed off, shaking his head, as if saying it out loud made it more real. “Now, my hands… They aren’t steady enough. I can’t do what I used to. I’m supposed to be able to heal, but…” He swallowed, his voice catching for just a second. “But I can’t even heal myself.”

The vulnerability in his words struck you harder than you expected. He wasn’t just a sorcerer; he was someone who had poured himself into healing, only to be stopped by something so simple, so… physical.

You didn’t say anything at first, just watching him, letting the silence stretch between you as you processed his words.

Then, without thinking, you reached across the table and gently placed your hand on top of his. The touch was soft, almost tentative, but his eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for the first time, you saw something different in his expression. A softness, an openness.

“You don’t have to heal everyone, you know,” you said quietly, your voice gentle but firm. “You’ve already done more than most people could dream of.”

He let out a small, dry laugh, a sound that held no real humor. “Maybe. But I can’t help feeling like I’ve failed. My hands were my identity. Without them, what am I?”

“You’re still you,” you replied, squeezing his hand. “You’re still the person who saved me that day, the person who showed me kindness when I needed it. You’re more than just your hands, Stephen. You’re the person behind them.”

There was a pause, and you could see him wrestling with his thoughts, as if your words had hit him in a place he hadn’t expected. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping slightly as the tension seemed to ease just a little.

“I didn’t expect you to understand,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe not,” you said with a small smile, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, he simply watched you, his fingers still resting under your hand. It was a quiet moment, but there was something in it—something raw and real that neither of you had expected to find in each other.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he suddenly said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, pulling your hand away, but just enough to let your fingers brush against his in a quiet acknowledgment. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

***

Tonight, there was a shift—a tugging feeling in your chest, as if the pieces of the past were coming together in a way you hadn’t fully realized before.

“You remember when we first met?” you asked quietly, your fingers tracing circles on the back of his hand. You sat on the couch and he was by your side.

Stephen’s gaze softened, and he turned his head slightly to meet your eyes. “How could I forget? You looked terrified.” He smirked, but it was warm, full of affection. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look at me like that. You were practically shaking in front of that guy."

You chuckled softly, the memory still vivid in your mind. The fear, the uncertainty, the way he’d stepped in without hesitation. “I thought I was done for. But then you showed up, and... everything kind of stopped. I didn’t even know who you were, but you were there. And you saved me.”

Stephen didn’t respond immediately, just let the words sit between you. It wasn’t often that he allowed himself to reflect like this—on the past, on how far you’d both come. But tonight, it felt different.

“I never imagined I’d be here. With you. Doing this... whatever this is.” You gestured between you both, a small smile on your face, but there was an edge of uncertainty in your tone.

He studied you for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as though he was piecing together something you hadn’t said. “I never though I'd be so.. drawn to you.”

“and I was definitely a little 'scared' of you. You were this mysterious... sorcerer guy. And I didn’t know anything about magic. You were so... confident. But at the same time, I felt safe around you.”

His eyes darkened for a moment “I didn’t want to be your protector, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to be there for you.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “And now? What are we now, Stephen?”

For a moment, there was silence, as if the answer was too big, too important to rush. He took a deep breath, leaning in closer, his forehead brushing against yours. “I think I’m here. And you’re here. That’s enough.”

“But...” you began, but he cut you off gently.

“I don’t need to label this. I just need to be with you. Whatever that means.”

His words, simple and unadorned, made your chest ache in the best way. You’d gone from a terrified woman, lost in a city, to someone who was here with him, in this moment. You’d gone through pain, loss, fear... and yet, here you were. Together.

“I’m glad we’re here,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around him.

“Me too,” Stephen whispered back, pulling you closer.

And in that moment, nothing else seemed to matter. The world beyond the Sanctum could keep turning, threats could keep coming... but for now, you had everything you needed in this moment. Together.

Stephen pulled back slightly, his piercing gaze meeting yours, and for a moment, the vulnerability in his expression was almost startling. His lips parted as though he was about to say something, but he hesitated.

You tilted your head, your voice soft but firm. “Stephen... what are we doing? I don’t want to keep dancing around this.”

His jaw tightened, his hands still resting on your waist. He exhaled deeply, his thumb brushing over your side as if grounding himself. “You’re right,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I’ve been avoiding putting this into words, but I think it’s time I stop.”

Your heart raced, your hands gripping his shirt lightly. “Then say it.”

He looked at you, his expression softening into something almost tender. “I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone,” he said slowly, deliberately. “You’re not just someone I saved on a street, or someone I’ve spent time with. You’re... everything. And I don’t want to keep pretending this is casual or undefined.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The weight of his words settled over you like a warm blanket, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“You mean that?” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Y/N. I want this. I want you. And if you want me, I’m yours.”

A small laugh escaped you, a mix of relief and joy. “Stephen Strange, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

His lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “I suppose I am.”

You grinned. “Then yes. I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. “I guess it’s official now,” he murmured, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and affection.

“Finally,” you teased, resting your head against his chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through you. “Took us long enough, didn’t it?”

“Indeed,” you replied, your smile widening.

And with that, the uncertainty that had lingered between you melted away, replaced by the steady, undeniable truth: you were his, and he was yours. You felt happy like never.

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