#Doctor Strange x OC

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

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

a Whumped Doctor Strange one-shot

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

genre: whump, hurt/comfort, light humor

rating: general audience

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

word count: 1.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not,” he responded petulantly. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m just trying to help...” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[faithinhome]

Neighbor Next Door - Stephen Strange/ Female OC

18+| minors dni

Summary: anna had always thought the doctor next door was attractive. and one interaction left her itching to get more of him.

Tags: age gap (25F & 40M), cheating (but not in the way you’d think), strong language, smut.

Chapter 16: Doctor Strange.

stephen didn’t have the energy or mental capacity to think about whatever it was that wanda was going on about. all he cared about right now was anna.

he texted sam as soon as he got home.

stephen: is anna okay?

sam responded instantly, which he was grateful for. sam always showed up when he was needed. he was lucky to have him.

sam: she said she was sad because no matter how competent men are they’re always the same 😬

stephen’s brows knitted together as he read the text.

stephen: did something happen?

sam: yeah she’s upset about the whole christine thing. and it reminded her of other bad times in the past that’s probably why she’s so upset.

stephen sighed to himself. there was nothing he could do or say to make it up to her.

stephen: i’m so sorry, sam.

sam: you gotta apologize to her man

stephen: i know. but she seems so distant and i don’t wanna push her. i just don’t wanna add on to her misery and hopelessness about men being a certain way.

sam: it’s probably just temporary.

that didn’t bring him any relief. his eyes stung and tears rolled down his cheeks. he kept his phone aside and cupped his face in his hands, sobbing softly.

he felt so hopeless. he didn’t know what to do.

the more he pondered over it, he realized there was no point in deliberately doing things to try and get her to forgive him. because this was just him trying to satisfy his ego once again. she would have to do that in her own time.

meanwhile, he should be nice to her just for the sake of being nice. because he cared. but he needed to give her space as well.

he needed to respect her and stop thinking about his own ego so much.

he let a couple days pass with no contact with anna, although he kept checking in on her through sam.

eventually, he decided maybe it was the right time to do something, extend a hand of friendship, or just to put a smile on her face.

that afternoon, anna was interrupted as she was working with a ring on her front door. she got up and answered the door, surprised to see a smiling young boy holding flowers.

“ms. anna bailey?”

“that’s me.”

“these are for you. from stephen strange.”

anna’s eyes widened and a soft blush tinted her cheeks. she grabbed the flowers and signed off, thanking the boy.

lavenders.

how did he know? she didn’t remember mentioning she loved lavenders.

she picked out the little card and read his note, a smile creeping up on her face.

beautiful flowers for the most beautiful woman i know. your scent smells of lavender. and i remember you telling me about your favourite lavender lotion and how much you love lavender early gray. so i took a shot in the dark and thought maybe you’d like this. this is not me asking you to forgive me. i just hope this puts a smile on your face.

- hopefully still your favourite doctor, strange.

anna’s eyes lit up and she couldn’t help squeal in delight. she was blushing profusely. how was he so sweet? she only remembered faintly ever mentioning the lavender lotion and tea. it was so quick she didn’t even remember telling him that. and he picked up on her scent?

anna carefully undid the bouquet and snipped off the ends of the flowers before filling up a vase with water and settling them inside. she admired them, a huge smile on her face.

it was pretty sad but she’d literally never received flowers before.

“alright doctor strange” she giggled to herself as she went to his contact. “i’ll unblock you, you smooth talking asshole.”

she loved that he called himself that, referencing to the very first time they’d spoken.

she unblocked the man and typed out a message, but she didn’t want to seem too excited just yet.

anna: thanks for the flowers!

she contemplated whether she should add on more but decided against it and just sent that text over, biting her lip.

stephen was tending to his own flowers. the ones anna had tossed to his feet in justifiable rage. he’d taken them inside that day and put them in a vase, grateful that they were still salvageable. he didn’t want them to go to waste. he too, had never received flowers in the entire 40 years he’d been alive. it wasn’t even something he ever thought about. he’d just accepted that men just didn’t typically receive flowers.

but he loved the ones anna got him.

he checked his phone as it buzzed, his chest fluttering in delight as anna’s name popped up.

he quickly read her e text, his smile growing wider.

it was a small text but definitely better than nothing.

he typed out his message carefully.

stephen: the pleasure’s all mine. i hope you like them. having you been feeling okay since the dinner?

anna debated whether she should respond. she decided not to. she’d gone back enough times. maybe he should do the back breaking now.

but she couldn’t get over how elated she felt over the flowers. she didn’t know he paid so much attention.

“oh stephen” anna sighed. why was he so perfect? but also such an idiot sometimes?

she was a little excited to see what he’d do next but she wondered if she’d still ever be able to get past the fact that he’d gone back to christine.

although in all fairness, she’d gone back to marc, too. they hadn’t had sex but they weren’t exactly being platonic with each other.

which reminded her, she had to get dressed and head to the club with marc tonight.

while anna was at the club, stephen had just left work and was sat in his car. he took some time to pretty much just sit there, decompressing after a long day of work.

he pulled out his phone and spread his legs, laying back as he scrolled mindlessly. it was becoming more and more of a problem.

he clicked on sam’s story. he wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it was definitely not a video of anna grinding against marc in a club.

stephen watched the story over and over, as if what was happening on the screen would change the more he watched it.

he clicked through his stories and noticed what club they were in.

stephen closed his phone and laid his head back, letting out a frustrated sigh. for a moment, he had a crazy idea. and it was to walk into that club and beg anna to take him back.

that was crazy, wasn’t it? crashing into the club like that?

stephen found himself thinking about it more and more.

was he really considering this? but then again, was it really that crazy?

it was absolutely crazy for him to invite christine over. why couldn’t he do something crazy if it meant fighting for anna?

besides, he knew he could treat anna better than marc ever could.

stephen knew if this went sideways, he wouldn’t even be able to blame it on alcohol. he was completely sober.

and yet he still found himself pulling up the club on his phone. it was only 20 minutes away and before he even knew it, stephen was driving.

stephen sighed as he parked his car.

he was too old for this. but anna was only 25. and some things would naturally be …different than they would be with older women.

he’d also realized anna was a lot younger and to be mindful of if her or her friends behaved in possibly immature ways. but despite all the potential differences and challenges, stephen just had a gnawing feeling that this was what he wanted.

stephen eventually stepped out and waited in the queue, straightening out his shirt.

he hoped he smelled decent.

stephen showed his ID and headed inside. the club was relatively smaller and so was the dance floor.

but it was extremely crowded. stephen decided to get a drink or two to build courage.

he eventually spotted sam on his second drink. he downed it and headed toward the corner of the dance floor, spotting marc and anna dancing together, marc’s hands clutching her bum.

and the way the sight of that made his heart sink, was all the confirmation he needed.

this was it.

it was now or never.

with a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, he walked on to the dance floor and grabbed anna’s wrist, turning her around.

anna was taken aback. her breath hitched as she found himself against a tall, strong man. she was about to protest until the familiar scent hit her nose and she looked up to find a tired stephen gazing down at her.

anna was shocked that he was even here. had he been here this whole time? did sam invite him? what was happening?

stephen leant in and tucked anna’s hair behind her ear, “dance with me?”

anna felt shivers run down her skin. she was almost unable to respond. all she could do was nod.

he gently grabbed on to her waist and swayed with her, smiling as he noticed anna’s face redden.

“w-what are you doing here?” anna finallly managed to ask, gazing up at the man. he was dressed in a simple shirt and jeans but somehow still managed to look insanely hot.

“i-i saw sam’s story and i had to come here,” stephen spoke in a haze, the lights too bright against his eyes. before she could respond, he spoke up again, “a-anna?”

“yes, stephen?”

stephen closed his eyes and rested his forehead against anna’s as they moved slowly, even though the song playing around them was upbeat and loud.

but it was as if they were in their own world, and time moved slowly.

stephen was elated that she was responding.

“please forgive me” he spoke, his voice breaking.

but anna couldn’t hear him.

he leaned closer, and anna shivered in response, catching a whiff of his scent. “please forgive me, anna. i want you. you’re the only one i want.”

anna tilted her head into stephen’s warm breath, feeling her core pulsating at how close they were.

“i can’t stand this anymore” stephen confessed. “i wanna be with you. i don’t wanna play any games anymore. you’re all i want. i’m sorry i made you feel any other way.”

stephen knew this would be a lot more romantic if there wasn’t blaring music around them and he didn’t have to practically shout into her ear. but he truly couldn’t hold it back anymore. he’d go insane without her, thinking about her spending the night in another man’s arms. a man that didn’t even deserve her love.

anna only responded by grabbing on to stephen’s shirt and pulling him flush against her body. “w-what are you staying, stephen?”

just say it, anna thought to herself. please just say it.

“i want you to be mine. i wanna take care of you, show you just how special you are. i want to be there in more than just one way. i want- i need you around.”

“w-what about christine?”

it broke stephen’s heart that he’d planted this seed in her head. “i’m so sorry, anna. i- i don’t want her. she wanted me and that… made me feel validated because i thought i’d lost you. but it only made me realize even more how much i didn’t want anyone else but you. i felt nothing. not even the slightest bit of a spark. all i could think about was how much she wasn’t you.”

anna’s heart was pounding against her chest as she listened intently.

“do you wanna know what made me decide to give her a divorce?” stephen asked.

“what?” anna pulled back and looked up at the man

“i couldn’t stop thinking about you” stephen confessed. “you were all i thought about 24/7 and that was when i realized i didn’t love christine. and that i wanted you, badly. but i got scared, anna. i didn’t wanna move too fast and i’m so sorry.”

“stephen, i-“ anna struggled to find the right words. she’d never imagined they would come to this. where stephen would openly express his feelings for her and tell her he wanted her and no one else.

anna was in a trance. all she could do was soak everything in. she hadn’t expected this night to take such a turn. she realized she should probably respond. she stuck with telling him the truth. “s-stephen, fuck, i want you too. but can you give me some time to think about this?”

“absolutely” stephen nodded. “i just needed to tell you.”

he then let anna go but she grabbed his hands and laced them around her waist before cupping the back his neck and pulling him into a hasty kiss.

“whoa!” marc’s eyes widened as he watched the two kiss.

he looked over at sam who looked so happy, as if it was him being kissed so passionately.

“have they always been… a thing?” marc asked sam.

sam shrugged. “it’s… complicated.”

“well, fuck me!”

sam glanced at marc and eyed him. he knew marc was kidding but if he wasn’t… sam would consider it. but that was for another day.

he looked back at the two lovebirds, watching them still engulfed in a kiss and rolled his eyes. but he was absolutely elated for his best friends.

“take me home, stephen,” anna murmured against the kiss, the man’s eyes widening.

“oh r-right now?” stephen pulled back a little, studying anna’s face.

“p-please? or is it not the right time?”

“anytime you ask is the right time,” stephen responded before pulling anna in for another kiss, his hand snaking into her hair. he bunched it up and tugged at it lightly, his pants tightening as anna moaned into the kiss.

“let’s go,” stephen breathed out as he pulled back. “now.”

anna smiled and looked back at marc and sam. “uh, we’re probably gonna head out.”

sam giggled and rolled his eyes. “surprise surprise.”

“sorry,” anna blushed, glancing between the two.

stephen was not sorry.

“i’m just kidding” sam laughed, waving a dismissive hand at them. “go, shoo.”

anna giggled and turned, leading stephen out of the club.

stephen was going to initially ignore marc but he couldn’t stop himself from nodding his way with a smirk as he followed behind anna.

he hoped marc knew his place by now.

they hurried out and into stephen’s car.

anna wanted to just do it in the car but when stephen mentioned that he’d just had a shift at the hospital, she had a whole another idea in her mind.

she wondered if stephen would be up for roleplay?

stephen pulled anna in for a kiss the moment they stumbled into his house, tossing his keys …somewhere. he wasn’t really looking.

stephen pulled back and lifted anna up bridal style, causing her to squeal as he carried her up the stars.

anna giggled as she looked up at the man and how effortlessly he carried her.

“stephen?”

“yes, princess?”

anna blushed. “can i like, be your.. patient?”

stephen looked down at her as he stepped into his bedroom, shutting the door close with his foot. “what do you mean?”

“like, roleplay?” anna bit down on her lip, she was blushing profusely and it made stephen smile.

“oh.” stephen placed her down gently on the bed. “and what exactly are your symptoms, ma’am?”

anna’s eyes widened. were they already…starting?

stephen turned and began to slowly take off his shirt, smirking over his shoulder as he tugged at his sleeves. “i hope you don’t mind? it’s been really hot in here since you walked in.”

anna blushed, biting her lip as she scanned his bare back. he was so toned and so strong. she couldn’t wait to have this man on top of her.

stephen tossed his shirt aside and grabbed a chair, dragging it over to side of the bed, smiling at anna. “well, then?”

anna scanned stephen’s bare torso before looking up at him, arousal pooling in her stomach.

why did he have to be so fucking hot?

“i’ve just been experiencing so much pain, doc,” anna started, her eyes catching the tent in stephen’s trousers.

“where would you say you’re experiencing this pain?”

anna bit her lip thoughtfully before reaching up with her hand and unzipping her hoodie just slightly, as stephen’s gaze followed. “in my chest, doctor. a little in my stomach.” she ran her fingers down her body and down to her thigh, grazing gently against the skin, smiling as stephen’s gaze followed. “and up my thighs. do you think you can help me, doctor strange?”

stephen looked up to meet anna’s eyes, before his gaze fell back on her chest. “matter of fact, i can. why don’t you start by laying down?”

anna obeyed, lifting her legs up and resting against his bed.

stephen stood up and hovered by the bed, scanning her clothed body.

“let’s start with examining the pain on your thighs, shall we?” stephen smirked as he sat down on the bed beside anna, and lifted her knee up gently before trailing his fingers up her inner thigh and underneath her skirt.

he trailed his fingers up to her underwear, using both his hands to spread her her legs farther apart.

anna whimpered at the first touch to her core.

“mm, so wet already?” stephen tilted his head, studying anna’s reaction as he pulled her panties aside before running his thumb against her clit.

“fuck” anna whimpered out. “right there, doctor.”

he grazed his thumb down to her hole before carefully slipping a finger in, causing a soft moan to fall off anna’s lips. “oh, fuck.”

“does that help, princess?”

“y-yes, doctor.”

“good girl.”

stephen thrusted a few times with just his finger before he pulled out. anna was already breathless at this point.

“let’s get rid of any obstacles in the way.” stephen murmured before starting to take off anna’s skirt and tossing it aside.

he moved to start unzipping anna’s jacket. “now, for the chest pain.”

anna assisted stephen in getting rid of her jacket. he grazed a gentle finger against her tattoo, before letting his fingers graze down between the valley of her breasts, against her tube top. “who gave you that tattoo?”

“a-a friend.”

stephen’s jaw clenched. “what friend?”

“angela,” anna spoke up quickly. “she’s a friend of um, marc’s.”

“ah, marc” stephen spoke up, trailing his fingers down anna’s bare stomach. “he’s lucky it wasn’t him.”

anna just stayed quiet as she bit down on her lip. she loved possessive stephen.

“you know what i think, princess?”

“yes, doctor?”

“i think i need to tie you up for this examination.” anna’s eyes widened. her core twitched at the thought. she would absolutely fucking love to be tied up.

“yes, doctor.”

“is that okay with you?” stephen asked as he looked into anna’s eyes, his expression soft.

“oh yes.” anna breathed out. “more than okay.”

“do you wanna choose a safe word?”

“um… clouds?”

stephen smiled. “clouds, it is.”

stephen leant in to kiss anna on the lips before trailing his kisses down her neck and down her cleavage.

he pulled back and helped anna get rid of her tube top.

he stood up to go to his drawer, pulling out a long silk handkerchief.

“this should do,” stephen mumbled as he stretched it to check its sturdiness. “arms above your head and put ‘em together for me, princess.”

anna obeyed, and stephen tied her wrists together before tying them to his bedpost, once anna expressed that she was okay with the intensity.

stephen watched anna as he walked around the bed, his pants uncomfortably tight. “look at you. all mine for the night.”

anna blushed and nodded. “all yours.”

stephen undid anna’s panties and crawled over her now naked body, running his hand down her waist as he kissed her passionately, using one arm to hoist himself against the bed.

anna hooked her leg slightly up against stephen’s, rubbing it against his.

he cupped at anna’s breast, thumbing at her nipple as he trailed kisses down anna’s neck.

anna tilted her head, whimpering as she felt stephen gently biting and suckling at her skin. “oh, stephen.”

stephen loved the way his name fell off anna’s lips, especially when she was so aroused.

he began to roll his hips against hers, earning an even louder whimper.

he continued pressing kisses down her neck and against her collarbone.

he moved lower, leaving kisses down her breasts.

“fuck- stephen” anna whined in arousal, her back arching as he gently lapped at her nipples before biting down slightly.

stephen squeezed at anna’s waist as he moved on to her other breast, giving it just as much attention as anna began to moan and slightly shiver under stephen, feeling wetness trickle down between her legs.

only stephen could have this affect on her.

“i love it when you do that” anna breathed out as stephen almost expertly sucked on her breast, teething slightly.

stephen hummed in response and moved down her stomach, leaving little marks on her skin. “does that help the pain, princess?”

“yes, doctor” anna moaned softly, gazing down as she watched stephen.

her breath hitched as he trailed down to her core, his warm breath sending shivers up her spine.

he tilted his head, pressing soft kisses against the inside of her thigh, trailing it down and back up, before licking at her clit lightly. he locked eyes with anna as he licked up the mess dripping down her opening.

“oh fuck, stephen.” anna oved how nasty he was.

stephen pulled back and started to get off the bed. “wait here. i think have the perfect cure.”

anna noticed the tiny wet spot by his crotch, holding back a smirk. that right there would have been the perfect cure.

she waited patiently as stephen left, shivering slightly.

he came back in with a small tray with a single piece of ice cube on it. he placed it on the bedside table and got rid of his pants, anna watching his every move. her heart beat picked up as his cock sprung free. she could practically drool at the sight of him already leaking.

he crawled back on top of her, grabbing the ice in between his teeth.

anna’s eyes widened as he strategically grazed the ice against her neck. he looked up, watching anna for her reaction as he slowly went lower and reached her breasts.

something about stephen looking up through his lashes at her, ice in his mouth grazing her skin and the single strand of his hair falling against his eyes, it was one of the hottest things on the planet. she could tell he took pride in the reactions he got out of anna.

he circled the ice around her breasts before rubbing it against her already erect nipples.

anna let out a string of moans, her toes curling and back arching slightly.

he trailed it down her stomach, leaving a trail of moisture.

he eventually reached her core, dragging the ice against it as anna moaned loudly, her back arching off her bed. “fuck, doctor.”

he eventually tossed the ice aside before lapping at her folds, earning a gasp from anna.

“mm so perfect, princess” stephen murmured as he pulled back and ran his fingers against her core, slipping one in and starting to thrust it slowly, running his other hand up her body to cup at her breast, squeezing gently.

he added another finger, anna’s whimpers turning into moans as he kept going, and adding a third finger.

“f-fuck. stephen. need you. please.” anna begged, throwing her head back.

stephen pulled his fingers out and licked her wetness off before placing a kiss below her navel. “anything for you, princess.”

he straightened up and grabbed his erect penis in his hand, rubbing his pre cum against his length, anna watching intently.

“did i do that for you, doc?” anna asked, her voice sultry and eyes heavy.

“always, baby” stephen mumbled as he crawled above her, rubbing his cock slightly against her opening. “you get me so hard for you. i could fuck you all day. and it wouldn’t be enough.”

anna almost went to wrap her arms around stephen but ended up tugging at the cloth holding her wrists back, that reminded her she was still tied up.

stephen leant in and kissed anna roughly, biting gently on her lip as he began to guide his penis in with his hand, slipping in slowly.

anna let out a soft moan, “oh, doctor.”

stephen kept pushing in and anna let out a broken whimper, “w-wait.”

stephen stopped, and pulled back to look at her. “are you okay, baby?”

anna gazed up at stephen, blushing at the pet name. “yes. just. just stay there?”

stephen nodded. he leant in carefully and pressed kisses against anna’s face, smiling as she giggled softly.

he was so glad he could finally be more intimate with her instead of having to avoid her eyes everytime they had sex. “you’re breathtakingly beautiful, anna.”

anna blushed, blinking up at the man. “you make me glow.”

when anna was ready, stephen slipped in and bottomed out completely, pausing once again before beginning to slowly thrust into her.

“oh, yes” anna moaned as she threw her head back.

and stephen couldn’t resist, he leant in, leaving hasty kisses against her neck.

he sped up his thrusts, grunting softly against her skin as he felt her walls tighten around him.

“such a good girl” stephen grunted as he shifted slightly and went back to pounding harder into anna, her body being pushed against the mattress as she moaned loudly. “so good for me. you take me so well, princess. look at you.”

“fuck, daddy” anna’s back was completely arched off the bed, her skin flush against stephen’s.

she shivered as she felt stephen holding her waist tightly, fingers digging in.

“s-so good daddy. so big” anna mumbled incoherently between her moans.

stephen quickened his pace and tilted his hips a little so he would go deeper, anna’s moans getting progressively louder and more frequent.

he brought a hand over to flick at her clit, anna’s legs starting to shake.

“f-fuck. daddy. everytime.”

stephen figured she meant he made her come everytime and just chuckled in response.

“look at you, princess. it’s like you were made to take my cock.” stephen let out a soft grunt as he kept going, panting softly and feeling himself near his orgasm as well. “i love it when you’re falling apart on my dick.”

anna didn’t know how someone could feel so good. it was as if stephen had a phd in fucking your brains out. every thrust seemed to hit the spot. she didn’t even care if she looked pathetic completely falling apart beneath him. every inch of her body was filled to the brim with immense pleasure. she wondered if this man was some sort of a sex god.

“oh my god” anna let out a broken moan, the muscles in her abdomen tightening as she felt stephen thrust so deep inside of her.

“that’s right baby” stephen panted, sweat trickling down his face. “come for me, princess. show me how much of a good girl you are. daddy’s little slut. you make daddy feel so good.”

anna screamed out stephen’s name as she came. his dirty talk always sent her over the edge.

her body practically convulsed as stephen kept going, moaning as he finally came inside of her, panting loudly.

stephen almost fell forward, feeling anna’s legs shake underneath him.

“god, i can’t believe you’re mine” stephen panted against anna’s neck, turning his face to place a gentle kiss on one of the many hickies he’d given her.

…

a/n: yay!! no more bullshit pining and arguments. he finally did it! please let me know what you thought! and let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from my tag list. see you all next week as we begin a whole new chapter of the story! (no pun intended, i swear).

index for the fic: Neighbor Next Door

TAGLIST

@kentucky-criedfricken @sherlux @evelynrosestuff @thewinterpoet2 @lokiego @cemak @chocokitty @whore4sherlockholmes @thegardenerofeden @partiallyinfluencial @do-double-g @vi0letdaze @justobsessedwithyou @kezstarzz @444errorr @aphroditesdilemma

[darsynia]

MCU Masterlist

Welcome to my MCU Masterlist! You'll find stories for Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Stephen Strange, and other MCU chars.

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BET YOUR ASS (Peter Quill/f!Reader hatekiss fic) ♥️

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[rainydaycafe]

A Shaken Espresso, Please

Pairing: Professor! Stephen Strange au x OC fem! graduate school student (and barista)!

Summary: Professor Strange has a reputation that proceeds him and a finicky taste for off-campus coffee. Enter a graduate school attending barista. This is their story.

Warnings: age difference (older Stephen), and an inhumane amount of fluff with tumultuous thoughts

A/N: hope u enjoy and hope it alters ur existence- send me prompt requests for this story or others and I'll kiss u !

Chapter 2

Professor Stephen Strange had many reputations. 

All of them were accurate descriptions of his person, admittedly. Even if a few of them were a bit hyperbolic and created by those students who were unable to properly keep up with the academic rigor his courses demanded. 

Regardless of these various titles- arrogant, belittling, hardass, irritable, impatient, demanding, extremely intelligent, omnipotent, and plenty more- he was a damn good professor. 

There was a reason why every semester he had an extremely long waitlist of students praying for a spot within his lecture hall and plenty of emails of students looking for a reason to jump the waitlist. 

His ability to teach and to demand only the best was something that somewhat masochistic college students sought despite their better judgment because he truly was the best of the best. 

Everyone knew that his reputation was hard earned as it was common knowledge that Stephen Strange had graduated high school and undergrad a year early. Excelling high above his elder peers in medical school and in his internship before there was an accident before his residency matching which caused him to settle into the life of a well respected professor at Dartmouth College. 

Those who can’t do, teach. 

Neuroscience was his playground, and the biological sciences department was just what he needed to teach courses full of the select few who would actually do well in their hopeful careers. 

Despite his intolerance for laziness and inability to understand it- Stephen did enjoy teaching. It was always a plus to inspire the newest generation of the scientific community. 

Emilia, however? 

She was completely oblivious to the very existence of Professor Strange and that reputation that followed him around campus. 

Stepping into Professor Barlow’s office on the third floor of the English department, she expected to receive the weekly quizzes Professor Barlow asked her to grade but instead she received the quizzes and a manilla folder. 

“The manilla folder is more of a favor for me,” Barlow said, “Would you be able to take this to Professor Strange? It’s a transfer request acceptance. Since he’s the head of the biological sciences department, he needs to sign off on the approval like I did,” 

“Oh sure,” Emilia said with a smile, “Where can I find him?” 

“Oh shit what time is it even?” Barlow said pulling up his sleeve, “I don’t really know his schedule but if he’s not in his office on the fourth floor then he’ll preparing a lab, I believe,” 

Emilia told him she’d find him and left Professor Barlow with a wave which he returned. 

Professor Barlow was never meant to be the professor she TA’d for considering the fact that she had rescinded her application to be a TA after obtaining a better job elsewhere but apparently her email went unopened because a week before the semester she was the TA to the head of the English department.

He was kind, however, so she didn’t have the heart to just quit and leave him without a TA for a course he so desperately needed one for. 

So she stayed and she was able to find the balance between her job at the cafe and as a TA quite easily since Professor Barlow wasn’t one to rely on TAs too heavily so she just did the little tasks he asked of her. 

The biological sciences department wasn’t one Emilia had ever actually stepped foot in. Or near. So she had to bring up the campus’ map to find where it actually was which happened to be across campus so she made the trek. 

The elevators happened to be commandeered by busy students so she huffed her way up the stairs and took a bit of a break leaning on a nearby wall to gather her breath because those stairs were no joke. 

For a department so well loved and funded a person would assume their stairs would be less steep somehow. 

Deep inside Emilia hoped he would be in his office because she wasn’t sure where the labs were so it would save her some time to find him somewhere that had a label with his name. 

Now that she thought about it as she read the plaques outside of the doors, she had no idea what the man even looked like so she couldn’t even look for him in the labs…

Before she thought herself into a spiral, she read the name Stephen V. Strange PhD & MD on a plaque. 

What could the V be for? 

StephenVery Strange? That got a bit of a giggle out of her but she straightened up because it wasn’t kind to make fun of the names people had. 

Emilia took a confidence boosting breath and knocked on the shut door. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

“Come in,” a deep voice said and Emilia grimaced a bit before opening the door to reveal a man typing away at his computer, not bothering to even glance up at her which was a bit rude perhaps. 

“Are you here to have me read over your lab report for Navigational and Spatial Orientation?” He asked. 

“Uh- no. I’m here for Professor Barlow. He asked me to bring this over to you,” Emilia said, waiting for him to actually look up from his computer to hand him the folder so she didn’t look like too much of an idiot. 

He did, thankfully, and man was he handsome. 

Taking the envelope, Stephen’s gaze lingered on Emilia, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was being studied and she moved her own gaze elsewhere towards the line of books placed on shelf as he opened the file. 

“Mmm, yes, the student who is transferring his master’s from neurobiology to… English,” Stephen said as his eyes glanced at the words, “I got an email about this and meant to respond but I put it off long enough to just forget,” 

Unsure of what to say, Emilia watched him quietly as he read through the words carefully. He had broad shoulders and nice hair. She quickly snapped herself out of those thoughts. 

“You’re not a biological sciences student, are you?” Stephen asked, looking up from the paperwork to pay her his full attention. 

“No, not at all,” Emilia answered with a shake of her head, feeling a bit nervous. 

“I didn’t think so. I would have recognized you. What are you studying?” Stephen asked curiously as his eyes took in her features. Something about the way she seemed to curl under his attention made him want to give her more. 

“English. I’m working towards my masters in English,” 

“English. I never understood the appeal of sitting around and discussing what Keats meant in this poem or what was implied,” Stephen told her with a bit of a smile as he leaned back in his chair, “Seems like an endless discussion,” 

“It’s not for everyone,” Emilia said with a shrug, not finding herself in the mood to defend her chosen career path. 

It wasn’t the first time someone had spoken ill about her career, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“The sciences never caught your attention?” Stephen asked with genuine curiosity since he couldn’t imagine a life where it hadn’t caught his own full attention. 

Emilia thought for a moment, attempting to find the words without being disrespectful towards Stephen’s career and studies as he observed her and got an eyeful. 

“I was never very good. I barely passed high school chemistry and intro to biology in undergrad,” Emilia confessed, “I also don’t do well with math,” 

Stephen huffed out a bit of a laugh, “You just needed teachers who taught well and thoroughly,” He said as he turned to grab a pen to sign off on the indicated line where Professor Barlow had helpfully highlighted in a bright pink circle he knew was meant to mock. 

Considering the fact Emilia didn’t know how to add fractions or any math after long division, she knew she had always been a lost cause but there was no need to have him think she had even more shortcomings so she kept it to herself.

Shutting the folder, Stephen handed it to her. 

“Tell Barlow that I wish Damien the best of luck reading all of those books and poems,” Stephen said, “He wasn’t up to neuroscience, I suppose it wasn’t for him,” 

Emilia knew he was teasing her own words and despite her strong will to avoid it, she blushed and took the envelope and looked down. 

“I will tell him, Professor. Have a nice day,” Emilia said with a smile and short wave that Stephen returned with amusement in his eyes before taking her leave and all but sprinting down the hallway towards the stairs. 

Going down the steps, Emilia sighed a bit to herself. 

There was something almost damning and humiliating when it came to finding someone unobtainable attractive but then adding the fact that they thought little to nothing of your major was really just the icing on the cake. 

Looking up to the pretty blue sky, Emilia took a deep breath and decided she’d dwell on it while walking to work after dropping off the damn manilla folder to Professor Barlow. 

Unbeknownst to her, Stephen was watching her from the window in his office with a smile as she made her way back to what he assumed was Professor Barlow’s office. 

__________

“He actually signed it right away?” Professor Barlow asked in shock, his freshman English student who he had been helping sat quietly watching the conversation, “He usually takes at least two days and even then I have to chase him around,”

“He also said to tell you that he wishes the best of luck to Damien reading all of the books and poems,” Emilia told him. 

“Yeah that sounds much more like Stephen. Curious that he actually signed it, but maybe he liked someone’s company,” Professor Barlow teased, but Emilia just smiled because she knew there was no way her presence in what had to be a holy office in the biology department would be enjoyed. 

_____________

Pinching the bridge of his nose as he exited the lecture hall, Stephen glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was definitely time for a bit of a caffeine trip because he had not had his morning coffee in favor of tutoring a student. 

With two hours until his next class, he quickly made his way through the building without bothering to glance at anyone in the hall since they’d just serve to make his blossoming headache even worse. 

The on-campus Starbucks and other cafes would be chalked full of students and faculty so he decided his expedition would take him off campus to a smaller yet much more reliable cafe he had discovered the year prior. 

Modern enough to have their own versions of lattes but not enough to be a bit too obsessed with coffee for his liking and comfort. 

It was a 25 minute walk at a leisurely pace but he had never been one to walk leisurely anywhere so he made it in 18 minutes as he ran through his 4pm Ethical Conduct of Research. 

This week they’d be discussing the ethics surrounding research on larger more developed animals to say a rat or a guinea pig. 

Pulling the door open, his eyes quickly attached themselves to the menu to consider his options. 

He had always been partial to a black coffee but had come to the realization that espresso had more impact on him and his energy levels. 

Their shaken espressos had always got him through even the most tiresome of days so he thought it’d be unwise to stray. 

As Stephen was so busy weighing out his flavor options, he didn’t notice who was standing behind the bar munching away on a banana as she read through her weekly reading for Comparative Lit and Criticism during some down time. 

Attempting to make sense of Adorno’s criticisms, Emilia was completely focused but she was soon losing her focus when she heard a familiar voice ordering. 

A voice she had heard a few hours ago. 

“Hello, could I have a large chocolate malt shaken espresso? I’ll add a splash of half and half as well,” Emilia stared at him from over the edge of her reading to see Professor Strange ordering. 

Hoping he wouldn’t notice her at all, Emilia kept her head down as Eliza wrote down “Stephen” on the cup and she began pulling the shots of espresso from the large machine. 

Taking the cup from her coworker, Emilia began to work on the drink and willed herself to not even spare Professor Strange a glance because she didn’t want to gather any unwanted attention. 

Thankfully it seemed that he was busy on his phone so she relaxed a bit as she gathered the ice into the shaker alongside the malt powder. 

Stephen however was not an oblivious man which meant after he had checked his work email he looked up to see the barista was utterly familiar. 

The same girl from earlier was working here, as fate had it. He still didn’t know her name, however, as she hadn’t introduced herself and he couldn’t see a nametag on her apron. 

Smiling to himself, Stephen moved closer to the bar where she shook the espresso and ice together with her back to him before turning around, startling when she saw him there. 

“I had no idea you worked here,” Stephen said casually watching her ministrations. 

“Yeah, I’m a modern day jack of all trades,” She said without thinking, pausing when she realized, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude. It was more of a joke,”

“I didn’t think it was rude,” Stephen reassured, “I don’t see a nametag and I didn’t get your name earlier,” 

Pouring the drink into the cup, she glanced up at him with a smile before looking back down, “Emilia,”

“Emilia?...” Stephen asked beckoning for her last name. 

“Pearson. Emilia Pearson,” Emilia filled in before glancing at the cup where h/h was written, “Did you also want milk or just a splash of half and half?” 

“Just half and half, please,” 

Stephen smiled as she grabbed the half and half from a fridge somewhere underneath the counter and poured some in, showing it to him to see if it was enough. 

“That’s perfect,” 

Snapping a lid onto his drink, Emilia willed any caffeine loving God to make the drink good so he didn’t have any other reason to think little of her. 

Stephen swirled the drink around before taking a sip, giving an appreciative nod. 

“This is delicious, thank you, Emilia Pearson,” He said genuinely, “Have a nice day,” 

Waving bye, Emilia watched as he took his exit and she soon turned her attention back to her reading and banana, but her mind was elsewhere. 

She would have sworn that it was like a curse she had to find people that would never give her a second look attractive. 

It reminded her of having a crush on a celebrity that would never bat an eye if they crossed paths with you in real life. But it never hurt to have celebrity crushes either, nobody was at fault for them being so damn attractive. 

It was impossible to deny that the man was handsome, though. His intelligence was evident, adding to his overall attractiveness and she had barely learned of his existence today so she did not want to imagine how bad her crush would be in a few weeks. 

However she knew she could be grateful that she would probably never encounter him again and that she was probably a piece of dust in his overall busy mind and life. 

Of course there was going to be the off chance of encountering him again when he came around to the cafe, but there was no point in getting her hopes up so she turned her attention back to the reading entirely since she had a discussion post to answer before midnight. 

As she didn’t think of him, Stephen pressed the crosswalk button as he took a sip from his coffee and smiled to himself. 

With his work and his overall attitude towards romance Stephen had never been too caught up on dating or finding a partner as he hadn’t ever considered it and it had never been at the forefront of his mind. 

Which isn’t to say he was considering dating Emilia, but as he crossed the street he wondered to himself if she happened to have a boyfriend or girlfriend to whom she went home to. Someone she confided in and felt relaxed around. 

He didn’t think he’d mind being that person either as he began running through the upcoming lecture he had to give, knowing he’d be receiving emails requesting clarifications on this and that. 

____

The following day was normal and Emilia was grateful as she corrected freshman English quizzes during the gap she had between lectures. 

While it wasn’t too fun having three lectures back to back on Thursdays, the gap between the second and third gave her a chance to finish off assignments. Plus it freed up her Fridays so it meant she was able to work 7-4 and have the weekends off. 

Considering the fact that the quizzes she had graded were pop quizzes given as punishment for speaking when Professor Barlow was speaking, she didn’t think they were all that bad. 

In less than an hour she had finished the quizzes alongside the notes Professor Barlow liked to add either commemorating students for doing well or giving some bit of advice if they didn’t do too hot. 

After the quizzes she felt she was on the brink of starvation so she quickly threw together a salad while blasting music as she sang around her kitchen and waited for the chicken to finish up in the oven. 

“Green eyes, fried rice, I could cook an egg on you,” Emilia sang along as she danced around her kitchen, Late night, game time, coffee on the stove, yeah,” 

Sure her kitchen dance moves could use a bit of work but considering the fact that they had never seen the light of day as she had only ever gone to a club once, she thought they were pretty fitting for Music For a Sushi Restaurant

Pausing, she pulled out the chicken and thought about whether Stephen ever danced around his kitchen but chose to push those thoughts aside because one: she didn’t think he seemed like the dancing type, and two: those thoughts wouldn’t lead to a good outcome. 

All said and done, she was comfortably in bed relaxing by 9:30 scrolling through her phone after having checked multiple times that her front door was in fact locked and that it hadn’t magically unlocked itself. 

Living alone was nice, subletting was even nicer when she didn’t have to pay the full amount of rent and she got to live only a few blocks off campus and only three and a half away from the cafe where she felt she spent an equal amount of time. 

Waking up wasn’t ever an enjoyable experience- save for when there was something exciting happening but that rarely if ever happened so Friday morning made her wish she could just roll over and continue sleeping through the morning and into the early afternoon. 

However her job awaited and all things considered, she really did enjoy paying for life’s necessities. 

Despite her lack of enthusiasm, Emilia showed up that Friday and went about her job without too much hassle throughout the morning bustle that eventually weaned itself out into a much more manageable afternoon hum. 

The morning rush was always heavier on Fridays which kept her busy since Maggie, the owner, was manning the pastry and sandwich area and Nora was on cashier Emilia was on her own but at least the rushes made her shift go by faster. 

Her busyness meant she went about making drinks without bothering to think about them too much unless they had an alteration which she made a mental note about to avoid having someone practically slam themselves into the counter because God forbid there was too much ice in their latte. 

Not even a large, malt chocolate shaken espresso with a splash of half and half. 

“Stephen?” Emilia called out, sliding the coffee onto the pickup counter before her thoughts stuttered as it put together the drink and name. 

Looking up for what had to be the first time in at least half an hour, she saw Professor Strange heading over to the pickup bar. 

He had been watching her busily make drink after drink, calling out name after name, not glancing up for a second. 

“Professor. Hi. Hi Professor,” Emilia said dumbly. 

“Hi Emilia,” Stephen greeted, “Your hair looks nice today,” He noted her hair which was pulled back in two… French? Braids aside from a few strands which framed her face nicely. 

“Oh. Thank you. I like your uh- I like your pants,” Mentally, Emilia slapped herself. 

Complimenting pants was for the girls, not the guys. 

“Well thank you, I didn’t know you could see them over this glass you can barely see over,” He teased her shorter stature and she smiled a genuine smile before apologizing. 

“Sorry, it was the first thing which came to mind but I’m sure they are nice,” Emilia said as she walked over to grab another cup her coworker had kindly placed on the cup when Stephen’s next words were interrupted by a woman rushing up to the counter. 

“Excuse me, sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt you two but I forgot to ask for oat milk on my caramel latte. I’ll get back in line to pay for it but I wanted to let you know before you make it,” A woman said from behind him, causing him to move away. 

“Is it for Stacy?” Emilia asked and the woman nodded, “Okay, I’ll make it with oat milk but you don’t have to pay, it’s okay,” She told her as she waved it off and wrote the change of the order on the cup. 

Looking over his shoulder, he saw the line had decreased and it was only the person left who was ordering aside from a couple of drinks left for those waiting. 

“Did you like your drink?” Emilia asked as she turned her attention back to him, “If you didn’t I can remake it. I didn’t know it was for you or else I would have paid more mind to it,” 

Sipping it again, he shrugged. 

“It’s good, but I can tell it wasn’t made with love like it was on Wednesday,” 

“Let me remake it-” Emilia started but he cut her off. 

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” Stephen said with a grin, “It’s grand. Brilliant. You’re a lovely barista even when you don’t know it’s for me,” 

Unable to find something to say, Emilia smiled bashfully and attempted to conceal her flustered complexion but Stephen was quick to see it. 

“I have an undergrad intro course to teach in forty minutes, so I’ll see you soon,” Stephen explained as he glanced at his watch after feeling he had tortured Emilia enough but the flush on her cheeks was something he thought was cute. Sue him. 

“Have a nice day, Professor Strange,” Emilia wished, and he wished her the same as he left with a smile. 

The slight pep in his step made even the most tedious of courses seem not so bad since his coffee was great and he just felt giddy. 

Emilia continued working, but every so often her thoughts would flutter off to Steph- Professor Strange and his presence in front of the bar that morning. 

It had left quite the imprint on her mind and she couldn’t deny that. 

However when she found herself getting a bit carried away with her thoughts and mentally admiring him for any reason, she caught herself and chastised herself for it. 

Not only was the man a professor at the university she attended, she also knew well enough that she had absolutely no chance with him. 

He was a professional and apparently in a league of his own so he wasn’t about to go around scraping the bottom of the barrel to date her or even consider dating her. It was useless to even think about it because it would only serve to disappoint her. 

Professor Strange would never even think about her in such a way, she was just fooling herself with these tiny spurts of thought. 

It wasn’t even funny to think about how little chance she actually stood. 

But regardless, she still found herself smiling to herself when she thought about his smile and his teasing comments. 

Work went by just a bit faster with that, and Emilia was grateful she was able to enjoy her weekend without a shift dragging on too much. 

__________________

All things considered, Stephen did enjoy his profession. Regardless of the seemingly painstaking hours, faculty, and students it was truly as close to his dream as he would be able to get and it was one which commanded respect nonetheless. 

Academia had never been his initial pursuit since right out of high school he did everything he could to be admitted into his top choice of medical school with as little delay as possible. 

This was possible with both his work ethic and his eidetic memory at play, setting him well ahead of his peers and setting a good yet arrogant head on his shoulders because he was more than capable of succeeding in the medical world. 

Internship had flown by, and as he had known since he was fourteen- he was meant to be in the neuroscience speciality specifically as a neurosurgeon. 

That was until his car was flipped over at the age of 29 and his entire life was also flipped on its head like he found himself that Wednesday afternoon on his way to buy groceries. 

Oftentimes when the accident had just happened and he was in recovery unable to bear the thought of looking at his hands he thought about what would have happened if he had just stayed home and made a sandwich with what was there. 

But, like anything, it wasn’t enough and he needed more than what was already there. 

Stephen knew that his accident sent a shock through everyone and he was soon in physical therapy attempting to overcome a tremor when he began deciding what was next. 

Never having been wealthy, he needed to work somewhere but he knew it wouldn’t just be anywhere because someone with an MD and a PhD needed more than just a high school biology teacher. 

There just wasn’t any way that he would allow years and years of painstaking work and sleepless nights go to waste all because one path had been blocked off by unforeseen circumstances. 

Being a professor was his chosen plan “b”, but he had opted away from medical school because he knew that even medical school professors needed perfectly steady hands- especially in neuroscience. 

While John Hopkins had been his home for a while, he didn’t want to stay there and just be a model of what happens when things go wrong. 

It was true: those who can’t do, teach. 

Stephen knew he was the perfect example of that but that didn’t mean he wanted to be needlessly reminded every 15 minutes by a curious freshman or an uppity colleague. 

More than qualified, Dr. Strange became Professor Strange at the age of 29 (only a couple of months before his 30th birthday, but he still bragged) and he earned his reputation quickly and it was well deserved. 

Stephen had never suffered fools, and becoming a professor was not going to change that.

The reputation soon began and followed him only a week after his first day when he had a student leave his classroom in tears after she was unable to recall what the hippocampus did as a future neuroscientist.

However Stephen had worked hard and he had encountered his fairshare of possibly demonic professors but they also happened to be the ones which shaped him into the surgeon he almost was and the professor he now was, so he stuck to it. 

“I expect the discussion post to be answered by everyone tonight by midnight. I won’t accept late work. Have a nice day,” Stephen dismissed his lecture hall, praying to some force out there that nobody would stop to ask him about his opinion towards their drafted discussion post because he just wanted to get coffee before his next class. 

Time was limited as when he checked only moments beforehand he only had an hour before his next lecture in an hour. 

18 minutes to walk there and 18 minutes back needing to consider time to set up a couple of minutes before class… 24 minutes to get his coffee in between the two restricted times. 

Thankfully he was able to make his exit painlessly and he found himself pulling the door to his favorite coffee shop only 15 minutes later, shaving off an entire 3 minutes. 

Impressive. 

Ordering his usual, Stephen was almost surprised to see Emilia out from behind the barista bar sitting at one of the tables with a few sheets of paper in front of her as she evidently corrected something. 

A bit disappointed it wasn’t Emilia making his coffee, it soon disappeared as he went over and sat across from her, startling her. 

“You’re out from the inside of your box,” Stephen said with a smile. 

“Hi Professor Strange, I have a 20 minute break so I’m using it to finish off these quizzes for Professor Barlow,” She explained,  “Freshman English is tough,” 

Peeking over, he saw she had written a 62% in green marker at the top of the last test. 

“62? Holy hell. I sure hope he isn’t a sciences major if he’s failing freshman English,” Stephen said, a bit of his arrogance slipping through, and for the first time in a long time he wished he had kept his mouth shut. 

“It’s up from last time. He’s a good writer but he doesn’t test well,” Emilia attempted to defend with soft eyes, knowing that the transition into college level work was tough for some. 

“Or he plagiarizes,” Stephen debated, “But I don’t think we should spend this time debating whether or not a freshman is using his brain. How are you? How has your day been? Any plans?” 

This earned a smile from Emilia who set down her pen and rested her chin on her knuckles as she paid him his full attention which he really found himself enjoying. 

“I am well, a bit tired, but my day has been pretty average. I’m off at 2 so I’m going to go home and take a nap because I couldn’t sleep well last night. After that I’m just doing some homework. Nothing crazy. How about you?” 

Stephen pondered it as he looked at Emilia who waited patiently for his answer. 

“I am also well and my day has been going well so far, although the lecture I taught before coming here dragged on a bit as early morning lectures tend to do but I have no complaints, much less now. After my last lecture which ends at 3 I’m going home to get ready for his PhD faculty dinner that I’m going to with Professor Palmer. Do you know her? She’s a microbiology and immunology professor,” 

The intent listening expression Emilia had fallen, her hands dropping to the table where she grasped at her pen for the sake of doing something with her hands. 

“No uh- I don’t really know anyone that’s a part of the science faculty aside from you,” Emilia told him as her gaze went down towards the table and for some unnameable reason, she felt out of her depth and foolish. 

Stephen had noticed her change in demeanor and he didn’t know how he could change it back to how open and happy it had been just moments prior. He wasn’t given much time to think about it as his name was called from the pickup counter. 

Taking this as her opportunity to leave, even if she still had 5 minutes left of her break, Emilia began cleaning up her papers as Stephen went to pick up his drink. 

“Is your break over?” Stephen asked as he returned to see Emilia organizing her papers. 

“Yeah, I have to get back into my box,” Emilia said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, placing the quizzes back into their folder before standing. 

“I hope you have a nice time at the dinner and with Professor Palmer,” Emilia told him and Stephen felt desperate in a way, desperate to get down to the bottom of what had gone wrong and how he could fix it but time was not in their favor as they both needed to get back to work. 

Stephen told her he’d return the next day but she wouldn’t be working. He settled onto Friday when he knew she would be working. 

Again, Emilia smiled but it wasn’t that genuine smile he’d grown to enjoy but either way she bid him goodbye and turned to head back to work and he left to do the same although with a nagging feeling that wouldn’t go away.

The walk back to campus was thoughtful as Stephen tried to pinpoint the exact moment the conversation between them had gone to hell and how he could have been so foolish. It had been going well since Emilia had been open and smiling at him, paying him her full and devoted attention which was nice and suddenly like a book snapping shut; it was over and she had stepped back into her shell. 

Placing the folder back into her backpack which she kept in the break room, she zipped it up with a bit more force than necessary but she needed to find a way to get rid of the stupid whirlwind of emotions that were overtaking her. 

Grabbing her apron and retying it around her waist, she let out a deep breath because even if she felt frustrated she knew that at the end of the day, she was just really sad. 

Ever since Professor Strange had come into the cafe and had made conversation with her, despite her better judgment, a part of her hand actually got her own hopes up about it all. 

“What if” was a dangerous road to travel and Emilia had traveled it nonstop it seemed.

In an ignorant way, she had convinced herself that it all meant something. That he had been coming around because he wanted to talk to her and that he felt that little spark she felt between them but she couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Of course, as an older, well respected, well educated professor he was going to be into people who were also on the same playing field. Not some graduate student who was working two jobs and spent her nights alone in her apartment. 

Heading back out to the bar to relieve Maggie, Emilia thinks about how far out of her league the man is and how it’s actually a bit painful to think about again since it isn’t the first time she’s come to this realization. 

New Hampshire was home to countless intelligent and beautiful women 

Stephen wanted someone who was his equal, not an English master’s degree student who wore an apron to work and whose career path he evidently didn’t think much of.

Emilia’s career path was for her own sake because she loved the possibilities higher education in literature offered and she wasn’t about to start feeling remorse or as though it weren’t a good enough career path because of a ridiculous crush. 

Even though she knew she was successful and was making her way in the world- it was still as disappointing to know that your feelings were not reciprocated both equally at 13 and 25. 

Regardless of her emotional turmoil, however, drinks still needed to be made and caffeine was still a necessity so she got to work. 

_______________________

By the time Friday rolled around and Emilia began getting ready for work she convinced herself that the way she was meticulously picking out her outfit for work was not because of any particular reason. 

Okay. 

So maybe the way she had pulled her hair back into a half up half down style with a clip that just so happened to perfectly match the light cardigan she was wearing which matched her shoes which had the jeans that made her ass look fantastic… 

It was for her own sake, Emilia told herself because when she looked good she felt good. 

It also did not hurt to look great when Professor Strange was going to come by. That was just a fun little addition to it all.

The assumption that he would come in around the time he had last time was correct and Emilia began pulling the adequate shots of espresso as soon as he began ordering, pretending to be nonchalant and feigning ignorance. 

This wasn’t her strongsuit it seemed because Stephen had caught her glancing at him as soon as he stepped foot in the place but he thought it was sweet so he smiled to himself as it gave him the extra boost of confidence he needed. 

Walking over to the bar, Stephen greeted her and watched as Emilia grabbed the shaker bottle. 

“So if someone were to make you a coffee, what would it be?” Stephen asked. 

“What?” Emilia asked in a way she found stupid because the question was clear. 

“You know my coffee order,” Stephen said with a casual shrug, leaning his hip against the counter ever so slightly, “It’s only right I know yours as well,”

Emilia paused her movements as she thought about it.

 The taste of coffee itself wasn’t all too appealing to her, and it had never been. A bit ironic with how she worked at a coffee shop but she did enjoy coffee drinks when they were creamy, sweet, and didn’t make her gag with the strength of the coffee. 

From their own menu and, despite her support of small businesses, Starbucks- she always got a brown sugar shaken espresso with extra oat milk.

It hadn’t disappointed her yet and it was the perfect, most delicious- 

“Look,” Stephen said with a nervous strain in his voice Emilia had never been privy to, watching as he shifted his weight uncomfortable, “I’m trying to ask you to dinner,” 

Jesus Christ. 

Who knew a person could be so dense?

“So, Emilia, will you go to dinner with me?” Stephen asked, “I’d like to talk without a counter between us or a time limit,” 

The world seemingly narrows to the man standing in front of her. The professor she had encountered by just the chance circumstances life provided was all she noticed for that moment, even if in the back of her mind she knew that the cashier was watching intently and a few other lingering customers were watching because really, who didn’t love gossip? Plus Stephen had been exactly whispering. 

The world is Stephen- tall, handsome, intelligent, confident Stephen who could probably have any person he laid eyes on wanted Emilia. Small, shy, thoughtful Emilia who often goes unnoticed but not by him it seemed. 

Emilia opens and closes her mouth for a moment but she tells herself to get it together. 

“I- yes,” Emilia finally said, “I would love to,”

The happiness that painted Stephen’s face was enough to light up a city block. 

Was it weird how crazy she was about him considering she didn’t even know him? Maybe. But this wasn’t the time to dissect the inner workings of her affections. 

In another world, perhaps a romantic comedy of sorts, Emilia would have left her shift right then and there to go out with Stephen. Stephen would have also abandoned his Friday lectures and office hours and they would have gone out together. 

A lovely dinner would be shared with them where Emilia would open up and Stephen would also open up, breaking the ice and shaking off the seemingly permanent arrogant exterior he wore with everyone but her for the night. Maybe even forever. 

But this was not that world. 

“Do you live here or something? Can I have your number to contact you?” Stephen asks with the same smile. 

“Yeah I live here under the counter next to the milk fridge,” Emilia responds without thinking, smiling as Stephen laughs but she’s grabbing the Sharpie from her apron and writing her number on a nearby napkin because cliches are cliches for a reason, sometimes. Practicality and all. 

Emilia’s handwriting is neat, it’s cute, and it’s perfect. 

Stephen’s fingers brush her own as he takes it, and they both somehow know it’s intentional so they both share an inside joke smile before Emilia readies his drink by snapping the lid on, sending him on his way with a promise to call. 

The rest of the shift is spent with Emilia attempting to ignore her phone and pretending to ignore the seemingly unrelenting temptation to just sneak into the back like she knows everyone does to check her phone. 

When given the opportunity to check her messages Emilia tries her best to ignore the cold disappointment when there are no missed calls or messages from a new number. While Emilia doesn't think that Stephen is the type of person to ask someone out and then ignore them, she also knows that she doesn’t really know him aside from his drink order and his profession. 

Stephen could very well have plenty of phone numbers to pick and choose from as he pleases. 

This thought dims her mood so she chooses to let it go in favor of wiping the counter off. Again. 

Emilia couldn’t possibly know that Stephen had been staring at the napkin every opportunity he had gotten; saving the numbers on his computer, phone, and even writing it down on a sticky note he stuck into his wallet before his next lecture just in case. 

The same number he had already successfully memorized. 

It’s during her walk home after work when Emilia is planning out her evening’s dinner when her phone begins to vibrate in her backpack, excitement bubbling in her chest as she sees it’s from an unknown number. 

“Hello?” Emilia answers, hoping she didn’t speak too quickly. 

“Hi. Is this Emilia?” The familiar voice which is just slightly changed by a phone call asks, “This is Stephen. Boundary crossing professor and customer,” 

“Hi Stephen,” Emilia says with a grin she can’t stamp down painting her face as she presses the crosswalk button. 

“I hope this is an alright time to call, I just couldn’t wait any longer so I’m calling between lectures,” 

“Oh,” Oh. “No, no that’s fine,” Emilia feels she’s capable of doing a cartwheel at that moment. 

“I ended my last lecture early with the promise of it being so they could prepare for the midterm but I knew that they wanted to get of out there as much as I did so I did us both a favor,”

Emilia imagines Stephen rushing students out of his lecture hall as quickly as possible in order to call her seconds sooner. 

“I’m glad you called,” Emilia confesses, briefly missing someone distracted from crashing into her. 

“I am too,” There’s a pause and Emilia listens intently, “I don’t know your personal schedule but I know you don’t work tomorrow but are you free tomorrow afternoon?” 

Tomorrow!! Emilia thinks. Less than a day away. 

“I’m free,” Emilia has work to do for school but she knows she’d find time during finals week for Stephen. 

“Perfect. There’s this restaurant, it’s a brewery as well. It’s on Wheelbridge. I’d like to take you there,” 

While Emilia knows the area, not the restaurant. It’s not too close to home, but it would be okay. 

“Okay. That sounds nice. What time?” 

“Let’s do 2? I don’t want to interrupt you sleeping in and relaxing. Is that okay? I thought we could have lunch and then somewhere else not too far away,” 

“That sounds lovely,” 

“Great. Perfect. I will let you go because I’m sure you have things to do and I won’t be the reason you are distracted,” 

Stephen didn’t know he was Emilia’s favorite distraction. 

“Tomorrow, then?” Stephen asks, “2?” suddenly sounding hesitant, nervous almost. It didn’t suit him as he sounded unsure as if he needed to make sure it was happening and set in stone. 

“2pm I’ll be there,” 

“Okay. See you then. Bye, Emilia,” 

“Bye-bye” Emilia says before they both hang up and she wants to body slam herself through the Earth’s crust because who says “bye-bye” unironically? 

Instead of dwelling, Emilia saves his phone number carefully and there is absolutely nothing that can ruin her mood. 

Not the way that the leftovers she was planning on having were spoiled, or the way she had forgotten to revise an essay, or even when she couldn’t sleep out of sheer excitement.

[dino-fart]

Happy New Years Eve!

First of all I want to thank everyone for your support on my work. In a short matter of time I am now at 900 followers, something I thought would never happen. I never thought I would have so many people interested in my work. 

I love you all and wish you an awesome new year! 

I’m still visiting family but I will be back at my house tomorrow evening. 

My goal this coming week is to get the following done:

Requests for Raffle Prize Winners

Namor x Reader:

Washed Up - Chapter 2

Uncharted Waters - Chapter 2

The Perfect Storm - Chapter 2

The Missing King - Chapter 1

Call to Action - Chapter 1

Mi Reina Mi Paal - Chapter 1

Stephen Strange x Reader:

Shriek or Die - Chapter 1

Stephen Strange x Female!OC:

In the Dragon’s Lair - Chapter 1

Sinister Strange x Reader:

My Scruffy Wizard Cat - Chapter 1

Heaven’s Light - Chapter 1

The Swan and The Spider - Chapter 1

Strange Supreme x Reader:

The Wendigo Forest - Chapter 1

The Dark Guardian - Chapter 1

Supreme Strange x Reader:

The Zealot - Chapter 1

The Hero’s Doctor - Chapter 1

Defender Strange x Reader:

A Helping Hand - Chapter 1

Multi Strange x Reader:

The Red Ribbon - Chapter 1

The Lovers - Chapter 1

Sherlock x Reader:

The Phantom of Wincrest Pines - Chapter 1

The Hunt - Chapter 1

Pedro Pascal x Reader:

The Fall of A Kingdom - Chapter 1

Mandalorian x Reader:

The Sith and The Mandalorian - Chapter 1

[lostgirl1428]

I'm doing a thing...

This is completely different from all my other Doctor Strange fan fictions. Less multiversal bullshit and 100% more grounded. The OC is a witch basically... kinda... it's different.... and way less graphic. Still some dark topics but really tame compared to my other three stories.

Update…I changed the name because it was annoying me 🙃

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

OC Masterlist

[annesthaeticc]

Sweet November | Dr Strange x Fem!Reader

Sweet November : Chapter Seven-November 15

| Series Summary: “One month.” Stephen said, his gaze intense. He raised his hand, offered it for you to shake. “One month.” you agreed, and shook his hand. The sign of a closed deal. Then he smiled at you, and from that instant, you realized, you just broke rule number one; no falling in love.

| Chapter Warnings: fluff to make up for the angst last chapter!! and some domestic stephen cause i love a good malewife

| Word Count: 2813 words

| A/N: hello hello! how are you! hope you enjoy this chapter! sending you some much needed love, anne 😘

“Flowers.” 

“What?” Stephen asked as he was pulled back into reality by Billy. 

Said man was sitting right across from him. He was busy encoding something and Stephen was lying on the couch, his hand absently flipping and twisting his phone. 

“Send her flowers, or better, give her flowers,” Billy suggested, eyes still trained on the screen. 

“How is that any different?” Stephen replied and sat up. He ran his fingers through his hair, probably for the hundredth time that day. 

"And why would I do that anyway?"

"Because she's not calling you back." Billy chuckled and finally looked at his boss. 

It had been three days. Three long days since Stephen saw you. And the last time you did, he feared you walked out on him for good. Sure he could survive a few days without seeing you, without even thinking about you. But that was then. 

Now, it's different. 

He struggled to understand why you were in his mind. Constantly reminding him how this mess was all but his fault, that always led him to thinking, he must do something. He needs to do something. 

So he tried calling you and God only knows how many missed calls and voicemails he sent you. After his surgery the other day, the very first thing he looked for was his phone to check if you called back. But you didn't. 

You were giving him the silent treatment, something he had experienced before, yet this time, he wasn't backing down and letting you go without another word said between you. 

"She told me," Billy said. 

"What?"

"Oh you're on form today, you keep zoning out," 

"Oh fuck off," 

"That's the spirit!" Billy cheered and laughed. Stephen, on the other hand, was not pleased at all. 

"Uhm, when I called the other night to check up on her, she told me most of it," Billy said, clearing his throat. 

"You really messed up this time, boss." 

"I know! I just— I didn't mean it! I said that because Evans got her number and I didn't know what the fuck was I gonna do with that," Stephen rambled, not stopping for breath. 

"Whoa whoa whoa, you were jealous of Dr. Evans?" Billy asked and Stephen groaned. 

He sat back on the couch, bowed his head and sighed. The fuck was I supposed to answer to that? Stephen thought. He stared at the tiled floor, his eyes following the lines of the marble, thoughts still buzzing in his head. Should he follow Billy’s advice? And why would he? It’s not like him to chase after the girl, beg, and look desperate, but something inside him makes him want to. 

He wants you back. Even if that needs him to grovel and be on his knees. 

“Do I have anything scheduled this afternoon?” he suddenly asked and stood up, making his way to his office. 

“Uh, just a department meeting.” Billy replied, looking at the calendar. 

“Tell Ray I’m unavailable.” he said before closing the door behind him. 

The next time Billy saw his boss, he was dressed, ready to leave; bag slung on his shoulder, lab jacket tucked on the crook of his arm. The assistant smiled to himself, basking in silent triumph. 

“Why are you smiling like that?” Stephen asked as he clicked the door open, ready to step out of his office. 

“You’re buying her flowers,” Billy teased. 

“No, I’m buying and giving her flowers.” 

“Huh, so you’re going to visit her. Do you know where she is right now?” Billy challenged him. 

“I know exactly where, now shut up before I cut off your bonus completely,” 

“I think you should give me a raise, Stephen. My dating advice needs to be compensated.” 

“Nice try.” Stephen finally said and left. 

Next thing he knew, he was holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand, waiting for you to come out of the building. He leaned against his parked car, the delicate bunch of flowers was in his right hand. He watched the school doors open, the children piling out and running down the steps. 

He raised his wrist to check the time and he cleared his throat. His saliva kept on getting stuck by his throat, a sign that he’s uncomfortable and nervous. He doesn’t get nervous, never. Not even during the most complicated surgeries. He carried himself in confidence and built himself to be tough. 

But this simple act of waiting for you outside of the daycare where you volunteer, a bouquet in his hand, and an apology at the tip of his tongue makes him nervous. Stephen knew himself completely, but the moment you entered his life, he started to doubt that. 

He was different man around you, and that scares the fuck out of him. 

“What are you doing here?” he heard the familiar tone of your voice; sweet yet there’s an underlying menace in it. It shook him out of his reverie and he stood up straight. 

“You weren’t answering my calls.” he simply replied and watched you as your brows deepened. 

You tutted and looked away before saying, “That was a clear and sure sign that I was avoiding you and I don’t want to talk to you, Stephen.”

“Well that ends now,” he replied, the words out of his lips before he knew it. He heard you scoff and instantly regretted it. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Diana, Diana!” he chased you down the street as you angrily stomped down the pavement. 

You dodged the look from strangers as Stephen followed you. Silently fuming, you started to practice your breathing as you quickly walked down the path that leads you home. 

He caught up with you, and walked beside you. You didn’t dare to look at him. He was apologizing, flowers still in his hand. You looked ahead, maintaining a stony facade. You feared that if you gave him the slightest glance, you would break down, accept his apology and move on from the misunderstanding. 

“Why do you even bother, Stephen? You made it a clear point that we’re not dating and I’m not that important to you, so why? Why do this?” you sighed as you stopped in front of the steps of your apartment building. 

“Because I need you, Diana.” 

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.” 

“You don’t fucking need me, Stephen.” 

“Yes, I do, Diana.” he sternly said, hoping you’d believe him. 

“You need me because you need a pretend girlfriend? Is that it? Flash news, Doctor Strange, you can look for another girl—”

“I need you, Diana. I just do. Whatever arrangement we have, I need you and I want you back,” he said and you stood there, eyes wide in shock. 

“I know you don’t believe me, I don’t believe it myself. The point is, I’m sorry and I need you, please? I don’t expect you to do anything right now, but here, at least take the flowers,” he offered the bouquet to you and you gingerly accepted them. 

It looked so pretty and fragile. 

You nodded and took a step, ready to enter your building. But as you planted your foot on the second step, you turned back and said to him, “Do you want to come up?” 

Stephen gave you a smile and you couldn’t help but do the same. You swear, his smile is infectious yet rare. If he did it more often, you’d have more smile lines. 

The two of you silently made your way to your place. You instructed him to keep his shoes by the door and he quietly acquiesced. You proceeded to your kitchen to find a vase for the bouquet, quickly spotting your mom’s antique that you only used once. 

“Shit,” you quietly muttered to yourself as you looked at the contents of your fridge. A few beer bottles. A carton of eggs. Milk. A container of grapes. A bottle of maple syrup. It dawned on you that your fridge looks so sad. 

“What’s wrong?” Stephen looked up curiously and started to make his way to the kitchen. 

“I have nothing to feed you,” you sighed and pulled two bottles of beer. You offered him the other bottle and he nodded in agreement. 

“Don’t bother, it’s fine.” he said and took a quick sip of his drink. 

You continued to rummage through your cabinets, in hopes of whipping up something. “Fuck it, let’s have breakfast for dinner,” you said, pulling out a box of flour before closing the cabinet. Stephen, who was sitting on the breakfast stool, quickly leapt up and offered you help. 

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want you to ruin your shirt,” you said as you started gathering the ingredients. 

“We’re not ruining my shirt, we’re just making pancakes,” he rolled up the sleeves of his turtleneck up to his elbows and you had to stop yourself from gawking at him. 

After you expertly poured the ingredients to the bowl, he slid the bowl up to him. You just lost your chance to mix it all together as he gripped the whisk in his hand. Before you knew it, you were looking, really looking at him. Your eyes were trained on his arms, his hands. It was hypnotizing, and you wondered what his arms and hands could do other than expertly mix pancake batter. 

He caught you looking and smirked, and he just knew how to make you snap out of it. He dipped his finger in the batter and wiped it on the tip of your nose, the sudden contact breaking you out of your trance. Stephen saw you cross your eyes and a chuckle escaped his lips, he set aside the bowl and bent down so that you were face to face. 

“You were staring,” he said, slowly leaning close to you. 

“How could I not?” you whispered. Your eyes met for a second and you watched as his gaze started to travel down from your eyes to your lips. 

“You’re staring,” you said, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“How could I not? Besides, it’s all I could do for now,” he replied. 

You raised your brow for a moment and an idea struck you. You swiped off the batter from the tip of your nose, and slipped it into your mouth, putting on a show. He took in the scene and he couldn’t help but part his lips to suck in a breath. You even closed your eyes, eyelashes fanned against your cheek. 

He could’ve backed you into the counter behind you and kissed you hard, just like what he did the other night. And remind you that it’s best you don’t tease him like that, especially with your complicated arrangement. 

When you opened your eyes, his eyes were on you, except this time, you could only see dark blue rings surrounding his pupils. Stephen wanted to tell you that your eyes looked just the same as his, darkened by desire. 

“How does it taste?” he asked to distract, slowly standing up straighter. 

“Like an uncooked pancake. Good job,” you replied with a smile and he laughed. 

He helped you cook, insisting that he should. Every now and then, the two of you would play with the batter, at one point his shirt got stained and you offered to give it a quick spin in the washer. It was a good thing it happened after the batch of pancakes finished cooking, otherwise you would have burned your hand, looking at his toned back as he slipped off his shirt. 

You quickly excused yourself to grab a spare shirt from your room and load his shirt in the washer. You found him sitting on your couch, shirtless, setting two plates of pancakes on the coffee table. You couldn’t help it but smile, and silently wish that you could relive this scene every night. 

He curiously looked at you when you passed him a black t-shirt and you rolled your eyes, “It was my step-brother’s,” you explained. “Was?” he asked and you nodded. 

“Car accident,” you said as you sat on the carpet. He nodded and quickly slipped on the shirt. 

You were on your third bite of fluffy goodness when he suddenly asked, “You know, I never got to ask what you’re studying.” You smiled and tucked the stray piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Masters in counseling, specializing in art therapy,” you said and he hummed. “That explains the books, and the paintings.” 

Your eyes followed his, trailing towards the canvases; some blank and some painted, some were halfway through, the bottles of paint, and the brushed. “Can I tell you something?” you asked him and shoved a forkful into your mouth. He nodded and did the same. 

“I really want to be a painter, an artist. And not just paint, I want it as my career, have my works hung in galleries and in museums, all the works, you know? But I’m happy with what I do for now, psychology and art, it’s pretty cool,” you said. 

“But do you love what you do?” he asked you and you answered him with your eyes trained on his, “I do… sometimes.” 

“Sometimes?” he probed and you hummed, “Yeah, I easily enjoy and love what I do but sometimes, I want more.” 

“If you want more, then you’ll have more. You’ll just have to wait it out and work it out, I guess,” he said distractedly. You agreed and finished the last remnants in your plate. 

The clock struck nine when the two of you finished eating and cleaning up. You let him settle on the sofa as you comfortably stretched out on the carpet. You turned on the tv to choose a film as your background noise, Stephen not minding your choice at all. 

“Do you mind if I ignore you for a bit? I just need to scan my notes real quick, I have a quick test tomorrow,” you confessed, slightly turning to see him reclining on your sofa. 

“Not at all, go ahead.” he replied with a smile. 

“You can leave if you’re bored, I don’t mind,” you suggested. 

“Do you want me to leave?” 

“No.” you admitted, your voice small. 

“Then I won’t leave. Just do what you have to do, I’m sure I can entertain myself for an hour or two.” The two of you exchanged a smile before you turned to your book. 

The sofa silently squeaked as Stephen shuffled again, so you closed your book and said, “Come here.” He sighed and let himself crawl down the sofa, you planted a pillow on your lap, hoping he’d get the hint. Lucky for you, he did. He let out a breath of relief, stretching his legs fully, his head resting on the pillow on your lap. Nothing was said, the silence of the room was filled by the tv show you put on. 

He was on the verge of sleep, hypnotized and lulled by what you were doing to his hair. His hand drifted upwards to his hair only to find it in little braids. “I’m sorry!” you chuckled and quickly started to undo the braids. He laughed and assured you it was all fine. 

“You’re being too agreeable tonight, Stephen. Are you sure you’re not sick?” 

“I’m fine, thank you.” he snapped his eyes open to see you smiling down at him. 

“Can I ask you something?” he asked you and you nodded. 

“When I said all those words, things that weren't true and I didn’t mean, you believed it easily. But when I told you the things I told you early this evening, you didn’t believe me. Why is that?” 

“Because it’s easier to believe a lie, Stephen,” you said, “and it’s all I’ve ever known.” 

He sat up and sat next to you, your thighs lightly touching. Your bodies instinctively leaned in towards each other, slowly meeting in the middle, but before your lips could meet, before you could get a taste of a sweet kiss from his lips, a loud ringtone broke out, echoing against the walls. 

“You really should get that,” you chuckled and drew away from him. 

He pulled his phone out his pocket and read the message and checked the missed call. “Everything okay?” you asked as he stood up. You followed suit and watched him gather his things. 

“They need me for an emergency surgery. I’m sorry I have to leave,” he explained as he slipped on his coat. 

“It’s okay.” you quickly reassured him and opened the door as he started lacing his shoes. You held the door open for him, understanding he had to leave, ready for him to leave. 

You expected him to cross the door and leave altogether but he leant down and kissed your temple. When he took a step back, he said, “I’ll see you.” and parted from you with a wink.

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[yaranaikagmail1]

I want to tease him ///👀🫦👀///💦

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Wrapped Up In Christmas Memories

a Stephen Strange x Hope Collins fic

Part One

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

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

word count: approximately 3.1k

moodboard by the very generous @strangelock221b 💙🩵💜

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shall we what," she countered impishly.

"Head back home."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[to be continued🎄]

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

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

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

[faithinhome]

Neighbor Next Door - Stephen Strange x Female OC

18+ | minors dni

Summary: anna had always thought the doctor next door was attractive. and one interaction left her itching to get more of him.

Tags: age gap (25F & 40M), cheating (but not in the way you’d think), strong language, smut.

Chapter 15: The Same

anna had possibly the horniest dream she’d ever had in the longest time.

her brain was hooked on stephen even while she was sleeping.

they met. there was tension, so much tension. and then, they pretty much had sex the entirety of the dream until she woke up.

“jesus christ” she mumbled to herself as she awoke, hissing as the sting of the tattoo returned. she looked down “oh right.”

anna finally dragged herself out of the couch and headed to the bathroom, checking out her tattoo in the mirror. “shit, that’s actually really good.”

she bit her lip, grabbing her phone, contemplating.

she eventually gave in, groaning to herself as she headed to her bedroom and closed the door, as if there was anyone else in the apartment. she grabbed her vibrator with a sigh and went to stephen’s profile. “alright brain, i officially hate you.”

there was something about stephen. she could swear he was a part of some sort of an experiment god had going to test out some special pheromones because she was absolute obsessed with this man. not just mentally and emotionally. but physically and sexually too. everytime she was away from him, it was as if her body screamed out to be close to him again. she just wanted his skin on her at all times. she thought about all the times he was on top of her, the way his strong arms gripped her waist. the sounds that would leave his swollen lips as he thrusted into her. the feeling of him filling her up and hitting nerves like they’d been there just for him.

the way the sweat glistened down his skin, and everytime he called her a good girl.

“oh fuck” anna whimpered softly to herself, feeling her legs shake as she arched back slightly, gripping her bed sheets. “fuck stephen. fuck fuck fuck.”

anna lay there panting once she came down from her orgasm, looking back over at his picture, sighing. she eventually drifted right back to sleep, her muscles relaxed and eye lids heavy from the orgasm.

anna stirred later at noon, whining as she felt a headache coming on. alcohol may not impact her too much but sleeping in too late surely did.

she woke up and looked at her phone, tapping on it. it opened to a picture of stephen and she blushed, swiping away from his profile. maybe she missed him a bit too much.

she felt filthy and decided to get up and take a shower.

after her shower, she put on a tube top to make sure the tattoo didn’t rub against anything and healed properly. she also pulled on a pair of shorts and headed to the kitchen.

her damp hair fell down her shoulders as she started to make breakfast.

as the door bell rang, anna ran to it, seeing that it was stephen waiting on the other side.

she probably shouldn’t be so excited, she was still mad at him, but she couldn’t help the giddiness.

anna opened the door, trying her best to show no emotion.

“anna, i- oh.. h-hi” stephen fell short of words as his eyes landed on her. she looked absolutely ethereal. he swore she was the only person that could look good with wet hair.

“hey” anna blushed a little. she could feel and, clearly see the way stephen’s gaze was glued to her.

“i… i thought i’d come in person to explain” stephen mumbled softly, looking away so he’d be able to form words. “i just need you to know nothing really happened.”

anna shook her head. “and what does that mean? nothing really happened implies something else did happen.”

“okay, i” stephen sighed. he had to fess up and it didn’t seem like he was going to be invited in. “christine had been bugging me for a few days and i just uh. i guess i was lonely that night when she texted me again. and i did ask her to come over. and we um,”

fuck, he hated this.

“we did make out but that was it” he mumbled, still unable to meet anna’s eyes. “it just… it didn’t feel right. i realized i didn’t want to do it. it didn’t feel… good. so we just ordered take out and ended up talking, trying to see if we could patch things up but it led to a dead end. all we really did was that she insisted to stay the night and wear my shirt. and it honestly felt like she deliberately went out to answer the door and offer no explanation when she saw it was you that was outside.”

anna wanted to protest but wondered if it was fair for her to keep being mad. after all, they weren’t exclusive and he technically didn’t owe her anything.

“okay” anna’s voice was quiet. it still hurt to know that he would so easily crawl back to christine. she knew she was no competition for her. “i… i just. i don’t know. i know it wasn’t my place to say anything but i can’t help the way i feel. i can’t stop the… jealousy. it’s so stupid but i feel it.”

“no anna” stephen shook his head and met anna’s eyes. she’d always been honest about her emotions up front and maybe it was time that stephen did the same. “i feel the same. i should’ve told you this before. i feel exactly the same. i’ll be honest. the reason i left early was because i couldn’t stand seeing you with marc. and when you told him you wished that they could be more as well i thought i’d lost you. and that was the end of it. i felt so pathetically lonely and fucked up anna. the only reason i asked christine over was because i just i felt so pathetic. so i did the pathetic thing. she wanted me and i gave into that constant need i seem to have for validation. all to forget the pain gnawing at my chest. it’s so, so wrong but that’s the truth.”

anna let the words sink in as she watched stephen talk, he appeared so…small. she almost felt bad for him. she had a feeling being vulnerable like this was probably very hard for stephen. he couldn’t even hold her gaze anymore. she could tell he felt powerless.

“that’s what i did too” anna whispered. “when i went out with marc yesterday. but uh, nothing happened there either. and i… i, okay.”

she sighed loudly. “i said that to make you…jealous? i just… i’m sorry too. i didn’t think it would work. it just seemed like i was always the jealous one and i just wanted it to seem like well, not so pathetic. ”

stephen finally met her gaze. “it’s okay. i haven’t made any of this easy for you.”

anna looked down. “you- were you really that afraid of losing me? you know i’ll always be your friend.”

stephen stepped closer, aching to reach out but he felt like he’d lost the right to. “i know. but it scares me to think that that’s all you’ll ever be.”

anna bit down on her lip. “what do you mean?”

her voice was so small, it made stephen’s heart melt. “i can’t stop thinking about you, anna. and not just when it comes to hooking up. when i’m alone, i find myself wanting to be with you. to listen to you talk, to hear your laugh. you have one of the brightest most creative minds ever. i love listening to your ideas, your jokes. any time spent with you feels like quality time. i like you a little more than a friend might.”

anna looked up to meet his gaze. “i just… i’m sorry, it’s a little hard for me to believe.”

“why is that so?”

“it was just so easy for you to have christine over yesterday and it just… doesn’t make sense.”

stephen stepped back, feeling immense guilt. “i know. i’m sorry i screwed this up.”

“well thanks for coming over to explain” anna spoke softly. she so badly wanted to wrap her arms around him and call him hers. she wished christine never happened. she wished none of this was ever an issue. part of her just wanted to say fuck it and take him back.

but her ego held her back. she felt like she had to do this just to preserve her self respect.

“yeah… yeah no problem” stephen’s heart dropped. he figured there was no mending this. “um, i should go. thanks for hearing me out.”

“of course” anna smiled. “always. and stephen? we’re still friends, okay? i just need some time.”

“of course” stephen smiled sadly. “thank you.”

they said goodbye and anna closed the door, watching him leave through the peep hole.

she turned and leant her back against the door, sighing to herself.

“why does this have to be so complicated?”

a thought nagged at her, questioning if she should even believe him about christine? but she found it easier to believe stephen. she felt he’d always been honest, even if it meant hurting her. so that wasn’t necessarily something that she thought was worth pondering over. she went back to making her breakfast, and all she could think of was the sad look on stephen’s face when she turned him away.

***

stephen decided to reach out to sam.

usually, this would be nearly impossible for him to do. he felt like he’d progressed as a person ever since he’d been around anna. he was more open to expressing himself and letting people in.

asking sam for help had still felt really hard but after the way he’d poured his heart out today, he knew this wasn’t as intense.

and it really helped that sam seemed more than keen. he offered to come over.

stephen felt like anna had given him so much unknowingly. she didn’t deserve to hurt because of him.

to his surprise, sam brought over some snacks and gave stephen a hug as soon as he came over. “i’m so glad you reached out. let’s talk, buddy.”

they sat down on the couch, snacking on chips as stephen opened up to him.

“i get how tough this is” sam mumbled. “i don’t think she’ll be upset for long. she doesn’t let go of people and friends that easy.”

stephen nodded. “yeah but it’s more than that. i don’t know if she’ll ever trust me again.”

sam thought about it for a moment and spoke up. “stephen, can i ask you something?”

“go ahead.”

“do you wanna be with anna, like really be with her in an exclusive relationship?”

stephen found the courage to meet sam’s eyes. there was no use hiding from the truth. he’d already admitted it to himself and he’d practically admitted it to anna as well. “i- i do, sam. i really do.”

sam smiled. “sorry.” he grinned. “i just. i can’t hold it in. i’m trying to be unbiased and professional here but. oh fuck, you guys would be so cute together.”

stephen chuckled at sam’s enthusiasm. “i doubt she’ll ever trust me again.”

“it might take some time to build trust. but i should really tell you this. i think she wants to be with you too. but she’s confused, just like you were. this isn’t a conventional situation at all. but the more i talk to her, the more it seems like she…she really seems to like you, stephen.”

stephen’s eyes lit up. “you think so?”

“i’m trying not to give too much away about her feelings but” sam smiled. “i know so, stephen. i think you should pursue this. try and win her trust over again. okay, how about this? i’ll see what she has to say about this and i’ll give you the green light. but i’m pretty sure she wants to continue pursuing this. or well, you’ll have to pursue it a bit more because you gotta win her over.”

“i was planning on taking the lead, anyway.”

“oh yes!” sam clapped his hands excitedly. “okay buddy i know this feels like absolute shit right now. give yourself time to feel it, but when you feel a little light, try and see this as an opportunity to be even more romantic. swoon her. to be her knight in shining armor.” sam sighed dramatically. “oh, i love love.”

stephen laughed softly at that. “you’re making a lot of sense, actually. i’m already feeling better.”

“i’m glad i could help, buddy.”

“and i’m glad you’re my friend” stephen smiled, feeling extremely thankful for sam’s companionship.

“me too” sam smiled, winking at stephen. “gotta thank anna for being a total slut, or this wouldn’t have been possible.”

stephen’s brows shot up, he didn’t really know how to respond. “oh?”

“it’s cool” sam laughed. “she doesn’t mind. it’s a thing. but don’t you ever call her that. unless… she wants you too” he elbowed him suggestively.

stephen blushed and shook his head, laughing. “please for the love of god, stop talking.”

the two burst out into laughter.

***

stephen had received the “green light” as sam put it. he wondered what anna had said to sam precisely but sam hadn’t specified. he’d just said stephen was “free to pursue anna without coming off as a creepy weirdo.”

sam was totally right about seeing this as an opportunity. stephen was always a bit traditional, despite how he’d been behaving for a while with anna. he loved being a romantic. he loved being the one to ask someone out, to spoil them, to romance them.

he got to thinking. what should he start with? he didn’t know if he could ask her out yet. buying her something would just give the wrong impression.

it was probably better to give her some space to start with. some time to cool off and then he could try to get them to hang out again. he really hoped anna would forgive him soon. everything he’d told her was absolutely true. he always missed her company and was already starting to feel her absence.

stephen kept himself busy for a week or so. he wondered if it would be best to get together with sam and have anna be there? this way it wouldn’t be too overwhelming for her. and he could prove through his actions and the way he treated her how much he truly cared for her.

he would check her account regularly, his heart pounding as he anticipated any more posts with marc. thankfully, nothing popped up. but that didn’t mean nothing was happening behind the scenes. stephen was hoping nothing was going on. he didn’t want that son of a bitch getting to anna before he did.

on thursday night, after work, stephen made himself a bowl of cereal because he couldn’t be bothered with anything else. he was sat in front of his tv as he texted sam if they could hang out so he could be around anna.

sam’s response was quick. ‘i’ll think of something.’

stephen bit down on his lip as he contemplated his next question. would it be pushing a boundary to ask?

stephen: i know it’s really not my place to ask but is anna seeing marc?

the 5 minutes it took sam to reply felt like forever.

sam: sorry buddy. they’ve been hanging out a lot. but it doesn’t seem like they’re dating or anything.

stephen wished sam had added some extra detail, assuring him that they hadn’t… hooked up.

but he’d lost the privelege to ask.

that is, if he even had it in the first place.

sam: don’t worry armani suit. she still has the hots for you. i walked in on her scrolling through your profile yesterday. don’t tell her i ratted her out.

stephen laughed as he read sam’s text. was that how sam referred to stephen behind his back, too? stephen was a tad bit relieved to find out anna did exactly what stephen did as well. he just wished marc would go far far away from them.

stephen: thanks, man. take care of her. and yourself, too.

sam: you too. i’ll let you know if i hear something about marc.

stephen thanked sam once again, returning his attention to the TV, but the exchange was still running in the back of his head.

after some incessant rumination, stephen decided there was no use overthinking this. he would only find out anything once he got there.

stephen suggested that he take everyone to a nice place to eat and sam relayed the information that marc was probably going to tag along as well.

stephen hated the idea but he was willing to do whatever it took to make it up to anna.

he made a reservation at a nice italian place and also offered to pick everyone up on the way to the restaurant. however, sam told him that anna was probably going to arrive with marc.

now stephen didn’t know if this was happening because anna wanted to get back at stephen, if they were hooking up or if they were just back to being friends.

he just hoped what sam said was true and that he still had a chance.

this time, he wasn’t going to fuck this up. he was going to put his ego and self pitying aside and do whatever it took to get anna back.

her absence made him realize just what he was missing when she wasn’t around.

he always felt so … happy with her around. she was caring, and sweet. she was the best company he’d ever had in a while.

being around her always felt incredible. she had a way of making you feel really good about yourself and just happy to be there.

she was smart, funny and adorable. he loved her wit and the things she said. he could listen to her and gaze into her eyes all day.

he wanted to know so much about her and her deepest thoughts.

it was odd. being around her was comforting and yet he always felt this incredible rush. she was so beautiful he could never look away. her skin was so smooth, her smile so pretty, and her curves…

stephen snapped himself out of his thoughts. it was friday night and stephen had to get dressed to go pick everyone up. so as much as wanted to, he didn’t have the time to think about how hot anna was.

and then he thought about marc.

lucky fucking bastard.

stephen began to get dressed. he settled on a black button up and a pair of slim fit black pants. he unbuttoned the top button and rolled up his sleeves, checking himself out in the mirror.

he’d heard that women loved rolled up sleeves and anything black and he hoped anna would feel the same way.

he fixed his hair and left to get to his car, heart thumping in his chest. he was so excited yet anxious to see anna. he’d missed her and he knew she’d look fantastic tonight.

stephen swung by wanda’s place to pick her and sam up, since she was the closest to him. he recalled the time wanda had snooped in on him and told anna. he knew they were best friends but he’d found that kind of behaviour quite disrespectful. but he’d decided to let it pass this one time and address it if something like that happened again.

“stephen, hey!” sam flashed a smile at him as he opened the door before getting inside the passenger seat. wanda got in at the back and greeted stephen, thanking him for picking her up.

“you guys look great” stephen beamed before making sure everyone was seated and comfortable and driving to the restaurant.

they arrived at the place and saw that anna and marc were already waiting. he admired her as they walked toward the front door, quickly checking her out before they approached.

she had a beautiful pink dress on. it hugged her waist and then flowed down to her knees. the dress was low cut, exposing the tattoo she’d gotten a week ago. it was so hot.

stephen smiled as he approached the two. and all he could say was “hi.”

anna looked breathtaking. her hair flowed down to her shoulders and the red tinted gloss on her lips had stephen feeling all sorts of ways. he then noticed marc’s hand around her waist and it made his blood boil, but he kept his composure.

anna responded with a simple hi before walking over to hug sam and wanda. she seemed a lot happier to see them than she was to see him.

what he didn’t know was that anna was absolutely floored by how handsome stephen looked. the all-black look, the rolled up sleeves and the little peek of his chest, it was all way hotter than anna could handle.

it literally hurt to know she couldn’t reach out to touch him. but she had to seem a bit offstandish.

stephen tried his best but he couldn’t keep his eyes off anna. he kept stealing glances in her direction. when he ordered food, while eating, while he poured everyone water. anna had caught him a couple times, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t help but look in her direction once a while even though she wasn’t even engaging in conversation with him or looking in his direction.

it bothered him that she was ignoring him and paying so much attention to marc.

at one point, he watched them talk and noticed how in the middle of anna talking, marc got distracted by a woman that passed by, completely ignoring her. he noticed anna’s smile falter a little and looked away.

maybe now he knew why her and marc were never exclusive.

poor anna. it made him even angrier with marc.

what was he even hanging around her for if he couldn’t even pay attention to her when she talked?

was it not worthwhile to listen to a woman when she talked and give her your full attention? he didn’t understand why guys did so many not too subtle things that were actually really disrespectful. maybe it was because they always got away with it.

knowing that, he couldn’t stop himself from what he did next.

“marc i think anna’s trying to tell you something” stephen cleared his throat. anna glanced over at stephen and then back at marc, her cheeks warming.

“what? oh yeah yeah” marc turned and looked at anna. “he was listening to… what was it? an old album?”

“i said he was reading- never mind.”

“oh come on, tell me. don’t do that.”

stephen rolled his eyes and looked away, catching sam looking at him.

sam raised a brow at him and gave him a thumbs up, mouthing, “daddy.”

stephen smiled and shook his head, trying to hold back a laugh.

anna was still blushing from the way stephen swooped in and demanded attention from marc. he was such a man.

she looked over at stephen, quickly looking away when their eyes met.

stephen gazed down at his food when anna looked away, upset that she refused to even hold his gaze for more than a second.

“so stephen, how long have you been working as a doctor?” wanda spoke up.

stephen was a little surprised because wanda hardly ever spoke to him.

“oh, uh…for like a decade?” stephen murmured. “i’ve been doing it for a while now.”

“oh that’s cool. what made you want to be a surgeon?”

“oh um” stephen put down his spoon, his demeanour changing. “i just wanted to… help people.”

he didn’t think he could talk about his sister here in front of everyone.

“that’s so honourable” wanda smiled and stephen looked up, returning her smile. “i’m just curious, what’s the process for the kind of cases you get? because from what i know, you’re one of the best doctors around.”

“usually i get extreme cases” stephen responded thoughtfully. “or even cases deemed impossible. but i also do basic surgeries. really depends on our schedules.”

wanda nodded. “you ever… refused a case?”

stephen’s heart dropped at the question. it reminded him of a time he was even more arrogant than he was now. he would refuse cases that were too “simple” for him only because they brought him no glory. he would also refuse cases that were too risky so he wouldn’t mess up his perfect record. he’d lost his way down the line, forget the real reason he was in this profession to begin with.

he’d been too swayed by external attention and media validation. but he finally found his way back to himself, and worked on becoming a better person.

now that he was reminded of this, a disturbing thought occurred to him.

he wondered if anna would even want him if she knew?

“i uh… yes” stephen said. “again, sometimes there are… schedule conflicts. or sometimes i’m not the best fit for that particular situation.”

“hm funny” wanda nodded. “i just know you as the best of the best.”

stephen smiled, nodding. “you’re very kind. i’ve gotten a lot better, but i wasn’t always this way. it took a lot of practice.”

“i’m sure” wanda nodded.

anna was listening as well, trying to hold back a smile.

he really was the best of the best, huh?

was there any flaw that this man had? he seemed so… competent at everything.

everything except maybe keeping it in his pants.

and then it occurred to her.

all men were the same, weren’t they? no matter how “perfect” and accomplished they were.

the thought saddened her. she just didn’t want to be here anymore. she couldn’t believe she thought she had any chance with stephen even though now that she looked at it, he never gave her any signs that he wanted to be with her up until a week ago.

stephen noticed anna’s energy change. he wished he wasn’t sitting so far from her. she was on the opposite side, a seat to the left.

okay, maybe not too far but far enough.

he wanted to text her and ask if she was okay but he was still blocked and he didn’t know if texting her on her social media would be too much.

he decided eventually to try and engage her in conversation.

“how’ve you been, anna?” stephen asked her softly, gazing at her with adoration. he hoped she was okay.

anna looked up, surprised that stephen was talking to her.

she wanted to have an attitude with him but she also didn’t want to embarass him in front of everyone. “i’m okay.”

“how’s work coming along?”

“it’s good” anna smiled and nodded and stephen could tell it was fake. how had he let this get so out of hand?

“actually i think i’m gonna head out early.”

stephen blinked, his eyes widening. “oh? are you okay?”

“nooo stay!” sam protested with a pout.

anna laughed.

“my tummy’s a little upset” anna lied. “i’m just gonna head out. i’ll just pay my half-“

“don’t worry about it” stephen spoke up. “tonight was my treat.”

“i can pay for myself” anna stated, a little more firmly than she should’ve.

stephen was pretty embarassed. “i just wanted to give you all a treat.”

“okay yeah s-sorry.” anna spoke shakily. “thanks stephen. i’ll see you guys later.” she smiled at everyone and got up.

the vibe at the table had turned extremely awkward really fast. no one seemed to know what to say.

except for maybe sam.

“c’mere, give me hugs” sam extended his arms and stood up, hugging anna and wanda followed after, telling her to feel better.

marc just waved at her and said goodbye.

“that was weird” marc raised a brow.

stephen nodded and looked down.

marc glanced at him. “did you guys have a fight or something?”

“uh” stephen hesitated, letting out a soft chuckle to make it seem less serious. “a little argument. nothing too bad.”

“oh i’m sorry. i’ll try and calm her down when i speak to her again.”

oh because you know her so well.

“thanks” stephen faked a smile.

he couldn’t stop feeling bitter toward marc and the guy was nice to him.

sam tried to engage everyone in a conversation and all stephen could do was think about anna. he’d obviously blown this.

everyone seemed happy enough as the dinner came to an end and stephen dropped everyone off, including marc because he’d had some drinks.

at the very end, it was just him and wanda and the silence got really awkward.

“how’ve you been, wanda?” he decided to make some light conversation. he didn’t know too much about her. “how’s work coming along?”

it turned out he only had 2 questions up his sleeve to break uncomfortable silence. how are you, and how’s work?

“good and good” wanda smiled. “i mean work does get hectic sometimes but it’s been good. i enjoy it.”

“that’s good to know.”

“can i ask you something?”

“sure” stephen murmured, not sure what was coming next.

“how were you so okay with me and anna hanging out… despite the fact that you know, we hooked up?”

stephen blushed. “i’ll admit i felt jealous for sure. but i knew how important your friendship is. and i decided to deal with appropriately.”

“you’ve changed a lot, hm?”

stephen raised a brow. “what do you mean?”

“something tells me you weren’t always this…mature.”

“oh?” stephen‘s brows shot up. he didn’t know where this was heading.

“let’s be honest, why did christine cheat on you in the first place?”

stephen was taken aback and the question cut through his heart like a knife. “what do you mean?”

“i mean, women don’t just cheat for no reason.”

“are you implying it was because of something i did?” stephen was shocked at how insensitive wanda was being.

“i’m not implying anything, just curious.”

stephen stayed quiet, his jaw clenching. it seemed more and more as if wanda had it out for him. “i don’t want to talk about this.”

“why? what are you hiding?”

stephen was growing frustrated. what was with this interrogation? what was he hiding? what the fuck did that mean? he breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled up to her house, “good night, wanda.”

he didn’t look at wanda and didn’t see her smirk as she undid her seat belt. “goodnight, doctor.”

stephen finally looked at her as she walked away, his heart racing. what was with the tone?

what the fuck had just happened?

…

a/n: a little bit of stephen pov for you all :) i hope you all enjoyed the chapter. at least anna didn’t get drunk this time! please let me know what you think. i’ve been super sick this week and completely out of it but i did my best !! :) see you all next week!

index for the fic: Neighbor Next Door

TAGLIST

@kentucky-criedfricken @sherlux @evelynrosestuff @thewinterpoet2 @lokiego @cemak @chocokitty @whore4sherlockholmes @thegardenerofeden @partiallyinfluencial @do-double-g @vi0letdaze @justobsessedwithyou @kezstarzz @444errorr @aphroditesdilemma

[karolamurdock]

Accidental Marriage Pt.4

Stephen Strange x OFC

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

Summary: For the prompt "Accidental Marriage."

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

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

Not in that particular order.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Should I be worried?"

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

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

"Are you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who are you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I am impressed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Somehow, the wind of that new day felt warmer.

~ • ~

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he with someone else?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stephen's breath vibrated against her fingers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rainydaycafe]

A Shaken Espresso, Please - Ch. 2

Pairing: Professor! Stephen Strange au x OC fem! graduate school student (and barista)!

Summary: Professor Strange has a reputation that proceeds him and a finicky taste for off-campus coffee. Enter a graduate school attending barista. This is their story.

Warnings: age difference (older Stephen), and an inhumane amount of fluff with tumultuous thoughts

A/N: feel more than free to send me prompts for this story regarding what you'd like to see, what you think would fit, and any thought u have up in that sexy mind of yours!

Chapter 1

Time seemed to bend in differently for both Stephen and Emilia. 

Their perception of time differed as the morning of their lunch date time seemed to extend itself to an excruciating length even when Stephen did his best to distract himself with work and emails. Time seemed to pass by as quick as a gust of wind when Emilia woke up that morning feeling jitters, unable to formulate an outfit that was good enough. 

However they perceived it, time still passed and as was her habit- Emilia was early to the restaurant. 

It turns out Stephen is even earlier than her, waiting outside on a nearby wall looking as handsome as ever. It’s the first time Emilia’s ever seen him wearing black jeans which he’s paired with a dark blue cardigan overtop a casual gray button up. 

Looking so well put together with his straight posture and confident aura, it’s unimaginable to think of this man having been the one in his apartment checking and rechecking everything about his appearance multiple times before finally leaving his place. 

Only to check himself in every available window and mirror, but that’s besides the point because he knows he looks good. 

Emilia glances down at her own outfit which took her longer than she’d admit to pick. The entire idea of picking this outfit almost sent her into a fit of inescapable nerves.

 It took her a lifetime to pick a pair of dark blue jeans that clung to her thighs and ended at just the beginning of her shoes, and the beige cardigan with orange flowers with a cream tank top. 

The jeans may make her ass look fantastic, but that’s not the reason she chose them. Really. That would be presumptuous of her. 

While Emilia doesn't have the financial freedom Stephen has to spend on clothes, she knows she did well choosing her outfit when Stephen catches sight of her and bites back a smile by biting his lower lip. 

“Emilia,” Stephen says, pushing away from the wall and walking towards her. 

Emilia doesn’t know whether they’re supposed to hug, wave, or shake hands but Stephen makes the decision for her as he leans in quickly and presses a kiss on her cheek. The breath she had catches in her throat and she flushes a bit, looking just about anywhere other than the man before her. 

“Hi. You look really nice,” Which isn’t an empty compliment because Stephen does look nice. 

“Thank you. This is my favorite cardigan,” Stephen says as they begin walking towards the door, Emilia pulling open the door for them, “You look beautiful. Those pants are-” Stephen swallows and Emilia watches in genuine surprise as he flushes a bit, “They look nice on you,” 

“Thanks,” Emilia says as she wrings her hands together because he noticed! 

“I already got us a table so I hope it’s okay we eat upstairs on the roof?”

Emilia spends plenty of time indoors. Work, school, home, etc. So she’s plenty happy to be outside. It’s a lovely day to spend outside since it’s just warm enough to avoid being too cold, but it isn’t hot. The breeze is cooling but not strong enough to blow away their napkins which is nice to have when Emilia feels she needs to cool down when Stephen looks at her. 

In all honesty, Emilia can’t remember the last time she went on a date. The previous dates having been a daunting experience with men that really weren’t her cup of tea but they managed to get her to agree when she was fumbling with how to say “no”. 

This, however? 

This is easy. 

It’s easy to simply sit across from Stephen on a sunny afternoon on the roof of his lovely restaurant. Their knees aren’t knocking, but every so often their feet bump into one another and every time Emilia feels her breath stutter. But either way she leans her chin on the heel of her hand and gazes at Stephen, making him feel as though everything he says will stick to Emilia and will never be forgotten. 

Stephen makes it easy with his gift for conversation and his infectious smile. Emilia is very content to just listen as Stephen speaks about his job, where he went to school, what he studied. Everything is nonchalant- all that he’s done and all he still wants to do. There is pride as he speaks, but there isn’t any of the usual arrogance Emilia knows he carries at times. Stephen talks about himself as though he’s just any other person but Emilia thinks Stephen might be the most interesting person she’s ever encountered. 

And Stephen draws out bits and pieces of Emilia’s own private story, unhappy with the way Emilia shrugs away her own life as though there’s nothing to actually speak of. The wide eyed wonder Stephen shows when Emilia speaks of her life, her education, and herself is enough to keep her speaking as she fidgets every so often when the attention makes her shy. Emilia continues to speak even when she knows she’s told Stephen more than she’s ever told anyone. 

They’re both quite certain that they could speak to one another well past lunch, into dinner, and well into the late hours of night and into the early hours of the morning. For as long as the other might want to stay without even an inkling of boredom between them. 

There is a quiet hope simmering there that hopefully the other will also want that.

A bit of doubt is bouncing around the back of her head and she can’t completely relax unless she’s clarified it. 

“Is it- is it okay for us to be here together?” Emilia asks, nervously folding and refolding her napkin, Stephen pausing mid chew in confusion, “I mean since you’re a professor and I am a student,” 

“You don’t need to worry about that. I looked through the faculty handbook the day you came into my office,” Stephen answers as though he’s telling her his favorite color with genuine ease. 

It might not mean much to him, but it caused Emilia to pause to take what he had said. 

Had he been interested in getting to know her and have her sit across from him from the moment she stepped foot in his office? 

Stephen noted the surprise but he just smiled in the way that was now becoming familiar to Emilia, and she couldn’t help but just smile back. 

“What are you teaching this semester? How are you liking them?” Emilia asked and Stephen contemplated. 

“I’m teaching Navigational and Spatial Orientation, Ethical Conduct of Research, Neuroscience of Mental Illnesses, Sleep and Sleep Disorders, Neurobiology of Social Intelligence, and Neurobiology of Learning and Memory,”  

The impressed expression on Emilia’s face was enough to have Stephen feeling superior and like he was an impressive individual since the courses he taught were a glimpse into his vast intelligence

“I mostly enjoy them but there are pros and cons to any profession,” Stephen added.. 

“What are the pros and cons of yours?”

“It’s just a bit difficult in a frustrating sense when we have to backtrack multiple times to a topic or a particular section because some students are have a harder time understanding,” Stephen explained, catching Emilia off guard, “I never had a problem understanding things in school so I don’t have a lot of patience for the redundancy of the slow students. Especially the Learning and Memory since it’s more of an introductory course we get a lot of students who aren’t sure of what they’re really in for with neuro, much less achieving a level of education like my own. They follow my courses since I’m obviously the head of the department I am the best,”

Emilia had been the student who needed the extra help when it came to her science and math classes since it just didn’t click for her right away, often leaving her confused and with a headache. 

Read a book in a day? Easy. Memorize a few dates for history class? Fine. But when it comes to the world of math and science Emilia always felt out of her depth and it had always been due to feeling stupid when she did reach out for help with teachers and professors who shared the slightest bit of Stephen’s attitude. 

If Stephen thought his own students were “slow” students who had made it into the highly competitive science department were “slow” she didn’t want to imagine what he thought of her. 

Stephen’s arrogance had always been something women enjoyed, finding it impressive how confident he was in his skills; but it seemed to be having the opposite effect on Emilia as she seemed to be shutting down right in front of her.  

That arrogance had been a part of his personality for as long as he’s known he’s gifted and it’s what people notice immediately after meeting him. 

“I’m sorry if I came off as a pretentious asshole” Stephen said suddenly over the silence that had stretched out due to what he knew was his fault, “I’m not some huge asshole who just goes around belittling students. I am good at what I do but I don’t want you to think that’s all I am. I just- I just wanted to impress you but it seems to be having the opposite effect on you,” 

Emilia visibly relaxed and she listened to him ramble until he came to his own natural end. 

“Stephen, I’m not here with you because you’re head of the science department or because you have all of this professional success,” Emilia confessed, “I’m here to be with the Stephen that goes into the coffee shop and is pleasant to be around and converse with,” 

“I really sounded like an asshole, didn’t?” Stephen asked with a self deprecating chuckle. 

“Not… not really. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be confident and proud of yourself but like I said; I like you for who you are when you’re relaxed and are yourself, I don’t need you to prove to me you’re intelligent,” Emilia explained because anyone who came across Stephen could understand that he was an intelligent person. 

When around Emilia, Stephen realizes he hasn’t been the belittling asshole with a superiority complex at all since all he wanted was to know her, to have her, and his genuine self has been more than enough to win her over. 

Arrogance is just a mask for the feeling of having to prove yourself  

That was something Stephen had heard time and time again after his haughtiness had gotten under the skin of someone, and perhaps on some level they were right but apparently he hadn’t felt the need to prove anything with Emilia up until he became all too self aware and self conscious almost. 

There was safety between them; it seemed Stephen could be his most genuine self. There was nothing to prove to her since he was enough, he didn’t need additional padding. 

However Stephen did choose to push the thought of confessing exactly why he had become a professor when he was very much qualified for more demanding professions. 

It was still a subject that was sore enough to have him avoid it, especially when Emilia was looking at him with genuine affection within her gaze and he just couldn’t deal with it switching over to pity and sympathy because of what could have been. 

The only other slight hiccup is when the check comes and Emilia attempts to pay but Stephen quickly pulls the bill out of her reach. 

“I asked you so I will pay. If you’re so eager to pay, you can ask me out next time,” Stephen says with a smile, nudging at her ankle with his foot. 

Next time. Emilia thinks, and the helpless wonder and hope bubbles inside of her all that much more, hoping Stephen feels the same anticipation when it comes to the phrase “next time”. 

________________

It turns out that the second location Stephen wanted them to go to was a farmer’s market a few streets down which was held every Saturday afternoon from 2:00pm-7:30pm. 

Emilia figures out where they’re going about two blocks into their walk as she sees people walking around with tote bags full of fresh produce, baked goods, and whatever else they sell at the farmers market but she keeps quiet. 

They’re busy chatting or, well, lightly debating about whether classical music is superior to jazz music but there’s not an ounce of heat behind either of their words. 

Walking side by side, their hands brush every so often and Emilia wonders what it would be like to hold hands with Stephen. To have his larger hands encase her own, or to thread her own fingers through his but she doesn’t dwell on it too long because she doesn’t have the courage to reach out and grab his hand. 

The curiosity surrounding holding hands isn’t one Emilia lives with for too long as they arrive at the impressive farmer’s market and Stephen asks where she’d like to start. 

Stephen asks where she’d like to start, but Emilia tells him she doesn’t really mind so he directs them towards the hand made soap when he suddenly takes hold of her hand as though it were the most casual and normal thing. 

There’s a jolt that goes through Emilia, and she’s tempted to look at their interlaced fingers but she doesn’t and instead relishes the warmth Stephen’s hands provides. 

Perhaps there’s a part of her that is afraid of acknowledging it because Stephen will also acknowledge it and pull away, noticing that it’s meaning a bit too much to Emilia for his liking. 

A glance is stolen when Stephen is busy debating the kind of honey he most wants, but Emilia quickly looks away from their hands and confesses to him she’s of no help because she doesn’t care for honey. 

Their walk around the farmer’s market continues and Emilia finds herself comfortable and content, hoping there’s another day like this awaiting her, just without all of the first date nerves that consumed her beforehand. 

Letting their gazes linger towards stalls that might interest one another, Emilia locks eyes with an ice cream vendor dishing out delicious looking ice cream. 

“Ice cream,” Emilia says not without childlike wonder that makes Stephen smile, directing both of them there where he smiles wider as Emilia genuinely debates the flavors. It seems to be a serious contemplation as she weighs her options, going through a pros and cons list in a matter of seconds. 

“What are you going to get?” Emilia asks when they’re finally in line after Emilia has made a decision on her flavor choices. 

“Brownie chunk and pistachio. What did you settle on?” 

“I’ve settled on butter pecan and vanilla caramel crunch,” 

They both order, Stephen opting for a cone as Emilia goes for her ice cream to be in a cup, Emilia beating him to pay as she had her card ready to go the moment they got in line because she couldn’t let him pay for everything. 

Stephen had been distracted looking at her side profile, but he admits defeat as they wait off to the side, not waiting too long before their order number is called. 

“There’s a bench over there,” Stephen gestures, “It’s a bit further away so we can have a bit of privacy,” 

Emilia nods and before long they’re sitting, chatting away about anything that’s under the sun which is a relief to Emilia who had been plagued with the fear of Stephen finding her boring. 

The natural curiosity between them doesn’t cease, both of them wanting to know more and more about the other without feeling as though they’ve hit the mark for casual first date knowledge. 

“This place is here every Saturday,” Stephen explains proudly, “I know it’s a bit busy and touristy but it has some really nice things as well- what? What’s that look on your face?” 

“I live nearby, Stephen,” Emilia says, attempting not to laugh at the affronted expression that crosses Stephen’s face, “I live about 2 blocks away and I come here on the Saturdays I want to get out of my place for a bit,” 

“Fuck,” Stephen swears, “This is so boring for you, isn’t it? I just can’t seem to pull anything off with you, can I?”

“It’s not boring,” Emilia says sincerely, glancing towards the people shopping away, “I’m not bored because I’m getting to know you,” 

The smile that Stephen gives him is so genuine and delicate that Emilia swears something rearranges inside of her in that moment. 

“You’re so sweet,” Stephen says, and suddenly when Emilia looks towards him from where she was looking at some kids playing with sticks Stephen is leaning in and kissing her firmly. 

It’s warm and sweet, and so intimate it makes Emilia feel like she’s off kilter somehow even though she’s sitting down on a bench at the farmer’s market she frequented as often as she’s wanted to. 

Emilia’s been kissed before, sure, but not like this.

 Not like she’s something precious and wonderful, like she’s something meant to be cherished. She can feel the intimacy and the sincerity, the way Stephen isn’t trying to impress her in that moment. 

It’s the ice cream he tastes like, the softness of his lips, and the hand he has pressed to the back of her neck. 

“Are you guys kissing?” A voice asks a bit too close for comfort and Stephen feels Emilia pull away quickly as though she’s been burned, leaving him mentally cursing everything worth cursing in the universe. 

Turning, he sees one of the little monsters- kids- who had been playing a ways away standing in front of them waiting for an answer. 

“Why don’t you go back to playing with sticks before I give you a lobotomy?” Stephen asks in a fakely sweet voice, the child unsure of what to make of the comment turns and goes back to her friends. 

Emilia, embarrassed at being caught and interrupted is blushing bright red covering her face with her hands but Stephen is quick to peel them away, bringing her close to his side with his arm over her shoulder. 

“I can’t believe you threatened to give her a lobotomy,” Emilia chastised.

“Well you were busy hiding your face so I had to get her to go away,” Stephen defended.

Indignant, Emilia turns to look at Stephen who looks at her expectantly but instead of giving in she turns back around, still unsure of what’s okay and what isn’t. 

Stephen answers her by cupping her face with both hands and pulling her into him, pressing his lips to hers again, stemming that warm feeling that builds up in her chest and seems to expand to anywhere Stephen is touching.

________________

A/N: Hope you enjoyed and I hope you want to read more from me

Taglist for people who asked for a second part (ily):

@diabaroxa @vi0letdaze

[darsynia]

Animate Objects Masterlist

Stephen Strange/OC, 'suspicion to lovers'

Amista Cairn is a pragmatic, hard worker whose job in emergency management has maybe dragged her a little too far from appreciating the fanciful things in life. Thanks to a well-earned promotion, she has enough time on her hands to walk the city during lunch, and that's how she runs into (literally) a tall, handsome man wearing a cape. Despite herself, she's intrigued.

Stephen Strange is settling into his new post as master of the New York Sanctum, and he's noticed quite a few people are hanging around the building lately. Is someone sending them or are New Yorkers just enjoying the spring thaw? Somehow the pretty loiterer he confronts is chosen by a Babylonian relic within minutes of stepping into the Sanctum. Is she a spy trained in the mystic arts?

Trust is hard enough to build from such disparate viewpoints, but it seems like their imprinted relics might know something that Amy and Stephen don't.

Status: Ongoing, posted in pieces

If you're interested in being on the taglist for this series, please let me know!

(Day Eight: Covers their first meeting, relic imprint)

Part I

Part II

complete image found here.

(Diminished Seventh: initial training to first kiss)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Complete

art found here: duttaayon14008

Coming soon! (tbh this is on hiatus due to severe lack of interest)

[lostgirl1428]

Currently writing a Doctor Strange x OC fan fic…I did this for funsies and never planned on posting it but now that I’m literally on chapter 11 I’m genuinely contemplating it 💀

Shits REALLY fucking dark as per my OC. But idk anyone interested?

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

2022 (Fanfiction) in Review

Fics Written This Year

One-Shots

In the Morning (Doctor Strange x OC)

Not a Date (Doctor Strange x OC)

Desperate Times (Doctor Strange x OC)

Rough Day (Doctor Strange x OC)

What Are We Doing? (Doctor Strange x OC)

A Date You'll Never Remember (Steven Grant x OC)

A Moment You Won't Forget (Jake Lockley x OC)

Laundry and Taxes (Doctor Strange x OC)

I See Queen Mad Hath Been With You (Eddie Munson x OC)

Welcome to Hellfire (Eddie Munson x OC)

Pretty Girls and Ice Cream (Eddie Munson x OC)

Jealousy and Scrunchies (Eddie Munson x OC)

Will You Miss Me? (Hob Gadling x OC)

One Day I'll Hate You (Goncharov x Reader)

Drabbles

asking you on a date (Doctor Strange x Reader)

tending to your wounds (Doctor Strange x Clumsy!Reader)

peter setting you up on a date (Doctor Strange x Reader)

strange finding confident cassandra kinda hot (Doctor Strange x OC)

kissing top of their head (Clone Trooper Kix x Reader)

touching their elbow to get their attention (Din Djarin x OC)

"I want you to tell me something you've never told anyone else." (Poe Dameron x OC)

Old Family Cure All (Doctor Strange x OC)

Why Am I So Romantic (Doctor Strange x OC)

braiding the other’s hair (Hawkeye Pierce x OC)

Who I Was Before (Doctor Strange x OC)

bandaging/stitching up an injury (Poe Dameron x Reader)

kissing their bruises and scars (Bodhi Rook x Reader)

“I’ll help you study.” (Loki x Sigyn)

hug (Thrawn x Reader)

dancing with each other (Conqueror!Sigyn x President!Loki)

steven protecting you (Steven Grant x Reader)

watching steven sleep (Steven Grant x OC)

bumping noses while kissing (Steven Grant x OC)

"I've had a miserable day at work" + "kissing your lovers wounds" (Din Djarin x OC)

forehead touch (Steven Grant x OC)

It’s Been a Long Day (Doctor Strange x OC)

stargazing (Steven Grant x OC)

At Sunrise (Doctor Strange x OC)

You Wanna Kiss Me So Bad (Eddie Munson x OC)

"No way, you're ticklish." (Eddie Munson x OC)

holding the other’s jaw (Thrawn x Reader)

shielding the other one with their body (Thrawn x Reader)

"We'll face this together" (Matt Murdock x Reader)

dancing with each other (Doctor Strange x Reader)

falling asleep on the other's shoulder (Hawkeye Pierce x OC)

never enough (Captain Gregor x Reader)

taking the other’s hand to look for injuries (Thrawn x Reader)

massages them (Loki x Sigyn)

relieved kisses (Eddie Munson x Reader)

a kiss on the hand (Loki x Sigyn)

life or death kisses (Thrawn x Reader)

passionate kisses (Thrawn x Reader)

a bout of humility (Morpheus x OC)

to every end and every beginning (Morpheus x OC)

comforting hug (Bruce Banner x Reader)

kisses for a cover (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go (Din Djarin x Reader)

Other

5 Sentence Fics

Hope of Morning Masterlist (Morpheus x OC x Hob Gadling)

The Witch of Hell's Kitchen Masterlist (Doctor Strange x OC)

Lost in Moonlight Masterlist (Steven Grant x OC)

Lucy x Eddie Headcanon Masterlist

Takeaways from reflecting on your kick-ass writing, or kick-ass lack of writing: 

I wrote a lot more than I gave myself credit for, even if I haven't really been posting much the last few months. I guess because I haven't been getting the engagement I used to it felt as if I wasn't posting enough. The amount of writing wasn't the problem. I guess that's what I get for focusing on OCs.

I really do prefer writing OCs over Reader Inserts. Reader Inserts can be fun, but I think playing around with a full character allows for more specific and therefor more fulfilling situation and interactions, at least for me.

Most surprising fic you wrote this year:

Eddie Munson took me by the god damn throat. Stranger Things has been one of my favorite shows for 6 years and it's this asshole that finally gave me the inspiration to write a character for it. The sheer amount I wrote for him and Lucy in the span of six months is frankly obscene.

How you grew as a writer this year: 

I think speed was the main thing. The simple fact that a thousand words in one sitting became the norm for me for a while is really impressive. Now I just need to put that energy into an original work.

What’s coming in 2023:

I really am going to try and write something original. I'll likely continue with OCs and mostly write for myself than requests. I've found it more fulfilling and frankly, I think a lot of younger/new users don't know how to give prompts without giving a summary of a fic. I'm not here to get "tumblr famous". I'm just here for a good time.