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selfcestmovies · 8 days

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To say that Kate Bishop was frustrated was putting it mildly.

She and Yelena had decided to join Wanda and Natasha on a "working vacation" to Kamar-Taj — the ancient, mystical sanctum in Tibet where Kate had hoped she and Yelena could reignite their blossoming relationship. Things hadn't been hot and heavy between the two of them for a while; Yelena insisted they weren't to be labeled and things had to stay casual, at least until the pace of her missions slowed down. Even in Kamar-Taj, Yel seemed fully preoccupied working with Nat and Wanda to untangle some of the Red Room's aftermath, leaving Kate "theoretically single" and trapped in a bizarre foreign compound with far too much free time.

Not to mention the BOREDOM that came with it. There was no Wi-Fi here, no decent snack food, and she had to leave Lucky at home. Other than exploring the vast compound, her days were slowly becoming excruciatingly dull. And to make matters worse, Wanda had asked her to stop snooping around the dark corners of the sanctum. She said it wasn't a place for a young woman of Kate's curiosity.

It was her ninth afternoon trapped at Kamar-Taj when Kate decided to take herself for a long run through the grounds. It would eat up some time, but more importantly, it would hopefully blow of some steam and some much-lamented tension that she had hoped Yelena would have helped her release. Being sex-less with Yelena just out of arms reach was frustrating beyond belief, but Kate knew she couldn't start seeking out other girlfriends while Yelena hemmed and hawed about the status of their relationship. Kate needed patience, but that wasn't her strong-suit.

These thoughts flooded her brain during the long afternoon jog — so much so that when she recollected her wits, Kate had no idea where in the compound she had wound up. She recognized the central library, though — a corner "fully off limits" by Wanda's orders, but surely that edict wasn't absolute, and Kate was in need of a shortcut back to her dorm.

The library was cool, too. Shelves of artifacts and mystical books with seemingly limitless magical potential. Kate took a meandering route through the dusty stacks, idly fingering the spines of some of the fancier books she passed. It wouldn't hurt to take a look into some of them, right? Or to read out loud the first line of ancient script that piqued her interest...

The swirl of violet light from the books pages made her instantly regret the impulse, but it seemed too late as the magic enveloped her — before the aura subsided, finally, leaving Kate unharmed... but not alone.

"Woah." "Woah. Jinx!"

She was standing face to face with what seemed like a living mirror, identical to Kate down to the strands of hair dangling from her messy ponytail or the beads of sweat on her brow.

"Holy crap, this is freaky," one Kate murmured, reaching out to touch the hem of the clone's sports bra.

"You're telling me," the double repeated the gesture. "So you're really me? I mean – we're really us? This is freaky."

Kate nodded, confused and entranced. "I think... well, yeah. We're both us. Both Kate."

Decoding and reversing magical phenomena was not in Kate's wheelhouse, but reaching out to Wanda for help after blatantly violating her policies seemed like a non-starter. So the Kates got to work trying to re-read and undo the script they had read from the book, to little success, so they started scanning other pages of the tome, looking into other nearby books, anything to try and find a solution.

"Look at this, um, other Kate—" it felt weird to say her own name out loud, "At least this page is in English." The clone hustled to Kate's side. "It says that these enchantments are designed to last two hours, so at least..." she cast a glance at her double, "It's not permanent. We just have to kill some time."

"Thank fucking god," the second Kate huffed. "I mean, I'm not upset that you're hear, but Wanda would murder us if she saw us like this."

"The entire Kamar-Taj army would kill us, Kate," the other smirked. "Not to mention Yelena flipping out — she thinks one of us is a disaster, let alone dealing with double."

They laughed in tandem. "I've got to say," Kate put the book down on its shelf, "Speaking of Yelena, and having the chance to finally, you know, examine myself from a new perspective," she gestured head to toe at her twin's body, "Yelena is missing the fuck out."

The other Kate smiled and raised her eyebrows. "I'd say the same thing! We're hot, Kate, no dancing around it." It was fun to finally have a chance to give voice to the thought, after it had been swirling around her head since the moment she had been duplicated. They took turns complimenting the little, superficial things about each other – they looked especially fit after just completing their 10-mile jog, plus they liked their hair, their eyes, their smile. Kate avoided saying out-loud that she liked her own ass, but she presumed the other Kate was on the same page. She had checked it out probably a half-dozen times already anyway, ever since the two had started looking through books side by side.

But when Kate bit her lip, so did her reflection. They didn't need to say it the rest out loud.

One Kate quickly checked over her shoulder down the library corridor, while the other Kate did the same towards the rear entrance. "All clear," she spoke, her voice starting to waver.

"Can you imagine if Yelena walked in on us?" The other laughed. "All clear over here, too." She swiftly closed the distance between the two of them.

The first Kate had barely turned to face the twin before the other grabbed her by her wrists and pinned her from behind to the book shelf. "Fuck, Kate," the woman whispered into her ear. She traced her hands down Kate's back, to her hips, squeezing their bodies close. "I'm so glad we're on the same page."

"Was there ever any doubt?" She asked cheekily, bucking her hips backwards against her clone's body. "If Yelena refuses to get us off—"

"I'm happy to help myself," the other Kate finished the thought, taking the chance to spin her twin's body 180 degrees so the two were face to face. "I'm gorgeous," she whispered, running her hands up the other's body.

"You could say that again," Kate cooed, leaning forward to capture her clone's lips with her own. The kiss was only cautious for an instant – both Kates concerned for that split second that the universe might implode at their touch – but the moment all seemed safe and stable, the dam broke between them. Their mouths opened wide to battle for supremacy, biting and sucking at each other's lips. Their hands were just as aggressive, finding purchase on each other's ass, then chests, then abs, all eager to explore.

"Our body—" she'd gasp. "Fucking amazing—" the other would finish.

The sex was messy and quick, but electric, each woman knowing precisely the points on the other's body that spun her quickest into ecstasy. Within just a handful of minutes, the two had fallen to the floor, their backs against the stacks of books, panting for breath, leaning on each other for support.

"Holy hell, you're good at that," Kate exhaled.

The other brought a hand to her clone's knee and patted her three times. "Right back at you Kate. That was something." She checked her phone. They still had more time to kill. "Round two?"

"Yeah," Kate raised her eyebrows. "But I think we should crack open another book first."

The first Kate cocked her head to the side before the notion hit her. "Pretty and brilliant," she smirked. "Seems like we both agree—"

"—The more, the merrier."

#kate bishop #fake movie poster #mcu #hawkeye #selfcest #hailee steinfeld #ai art #ai generated #ai artwork #ai image #wlw #mcu headcanons #yelena x kate #kate x yelena #incorrect bishova #bishova #mentions of wanda and nat #kamar taj

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 9 months

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Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight

a Stephen Strange x OFC Romance

genre: pre-Infinity War, slow burn romance, older man/younger woman, teacher/student to friends to lovers characters: Stephen Strange, Wong, Teyla of Hadeeth (OFC), Moraine of Hadeeth (OC), additional OCs as Kamar-Taj staff rating: general audience to begin with, later chapters contain 18+ material

Ch.One | Ch.Two

Chapter Three

Normally, Masters conducted training in a variety of disciplines, in the main courtyard, or in the smaller open air spaces of the Kamar-Taj complex, regardless of the weather--for sorcerers-in-training required preparation enough to utilize their skills in unpredictable or adverse conditions. Even during monsoon season, this policy was seldom suspended, with the occasional rare exception; and by long-standing tradition, outdoor sessions were canceled only at the discretion of The Ancient One. Since her loss, such a situation had not yet arisen—so it was inevitable that such should fall in a week where Stephen was in residence there, far from his place as Master of the New York Sanctum.

From June through early September, Kathmandu saw rain daily, with intermittent evening thunderstorms. Steven Strange felt every day of that rain as a heightened ache in nearly every joint of his hands. He hadn’t needed to check Doppler radar online to know that a doozey of a storm was headed their way; he’d felt the drop in barometric pressure several hours in advance, and the damp in the air announced itself spectacularly in a persistent, bone-deep throb that did it’s best to distract him from every task he set himself to. Adding insult to injury, his tremors had intensified to the point of equaling those of the beginning months of his recovery. Meditation helped to some extent, but the discomfort remained a constant, like white noise in the background as he moved throughout his day. He kept to himself most of the day, focusing in the later hours on preparing himself to meet with Teyla for their first “lesson”, scheduled after the evening meal.

The winds lashed the rain against his back, while he crossed a courtyard lit by the flash of lightning, the peal of thunder distant enough to inform him that the worst of the storm had finally passed overhead.

She was waiting for him in the library, as they’d arranged, engrossed in a text he recognized from his own early studies, and scribbling notes in a hand that would rival the worst of any doctors’ that he’d known.

Stephen cleared his throat to announce his arrival, but Teyla’s eyes remained cast upon the book in front of her. “Come here often?” he quipped, vying for her attention, swiftly realizing she probably wouldn’t get the humor of that old, banal pick-up line. He set his rucksack on the table, then took the seat opposite her.

She looked up with a start, then smiled sheepishly, “I’m sorry, Doctor Strange—I got a little lost doing the translation here.” She slid the book across the table to him. “It’s the third passage down. I can’t tell if it’s require or recommend.”

He read the passage through, recalling the difficulties for Novices, of translating Sanskrit on sight—made doubly hard, he reckoned, as she might need to translate it first to English, and then into Hadeethan. “It’s ‘pay no heed to’,” he told her, pointing to several words proceeding it, “You need to look at it in context to get the true meaning.” He slid the book back to her.

“Oh—of course! Now it makes sense.” She crossed the incorrect word off her notes, than laid her pencil down, “Thank you, Doctor. I have been stuck a while, trying to work it out.”

Strange reached into his rucksack and pulled his tablet out. “I’ve found this indispensable for translating ancient languages—saves a helluva lot of time.” He handed it to Teyla, who looked immediately perplexed by the device. “I don’t suppose you’ve got one of these,” he asked. She shook her head solemnly. “Okayyyyy—well how about I leave this with you for the evening? It’ll make the hours ahead much more productive for you.”

“That is very kind of you, Doctor Strange, although…well…I have no idea how this thing…”

“This tablet,” he told her.

“Oh. This…tablet. I have no skill with such a tool.” She offered it back to him.

“Well, this one isn’t difficult at all. Let me run through its functions for you, and I’ll bet you’ll be breezing through it in no time.”

Stephen went over the basics, and then showed her how to access various websites pertinent to her studies, including a translation site that he had relied on to get him through his early training. Once she got over her initial distrust of the technology as a sufficient aid for study, Teyla adapted readily, and proved to have a defter hand with it than he had anticipated

Next, he removed several books from his pack and set two of them in front of her. “Now, these texts provide an introduction to clairvoyance and divination. I want you to take some time over the next couple of days, read them through.” Teyla picked one up, and then the other, running her fingers across the titles embossed on the covers. “I’ve bookmarked some sections that I think have a direct bearing on what we’re trying to accomplish here,” he told her, “And if you feel ready, I encourage you to try what exercises you find worth your efforts.”

“I will do my best,” she nodded, “Master Salma said I will be mapping unchartered territory.” She looked down, quietly admitting, “I find it all…very…intimidating.”

“No one will be judging you, Teyla.” She met his eyes at that, searching for assurances. “I promise,” he added, “And if we’re lucky, Kamar-Taj will learn as much from you, and you from us.”

Relief dawned first in her eyes, and then spread softly across her face, “I must admit my mentors on Hadeeth were frustrated when they could not provide teaching enough for me to harness and refine my raw ability for divination. I pray that your efforts to guide me will not be a waste of your valuable time.”

“No effort to teach is wasted when the student is sincere in their desire to learn,” he assured her, his voice low and persuasive, “And that is something I’ve learned as both a student and a teacher myself—and not just of the mystics arts. My medical training was more than a decade long process.”

Strange pulled a plain, leather bound book and pen from the side pocket of his rucksack, “One of the simplest things you can do is keep a record of your dreams. The texts advise you do so nightly—or at least as often as you are able to recall your dreams upon awakening.” He slid the items across the table to her. “Whatever details you can remember without concentrating too hard—otherwise your waking mind will try to add definition to things that don’t make sense…”

Teyla nodded, growing excited, “Why yes—immediately record the images and the events of my dreams. How have I not thought of this myself! To keep a…a dream…”

“…journal,” they finished together. She grinned at him, “Your wisdom has already surpassed that of my Hadeethan teachers.”

He chuckled, “As much as I’d like to, I can’t take credit for the idea, Teyla; it’s a basic beginning in most of these texts. Keep in mind, your best results will come from writing down your first thoughts, no matter how confusing or jumbled they may be. Don’t give your mind a chance to filter or rearrange them in a search for meaning.”

“Yes, yes,” she murmured, “I understand…”

“And your feelings, Teyla. How you felt throughout the dream—and how you feel upon awakening. Even if you wake mid-dream, or in the middle of the night,” he stressed, “Write it down. This should help us see patterns in your dreaming, and eventually enable you to distinguish normal dreams from the prophetic ones.”

And there it was: that light in her eyes and upon her face that reminded him of the simple joy of having an avenue of learning open up before him. As exacting as his medical studies had been, there had always been the deep satisfaction of just knowing he was on the path to knowledge meant for him. And again as he began his studies at Kamar-Taj. As a physician, Stephen had seen that light from time to time, in his best student interns—and had forgotten it could be equally satisfying to the teacher who invoked it in their charges. From a task he’d initially dreaded, he was suddenly glad the situation had forced him to become Teyla’s mentor.

Pleased that he had actually given Teyla something concrete in the way of guidance, Stephen asked how she was faring in her other training. Though she maintained that she would have no need for the physical defensive skills when she returned to Hadeeth, she admitted she was impressed watching the Masters of those disciplines at work—and that she felt every moment of her own workouts in the aching muscles that followed in the aftermath.

“Oh yes, they can hurt like hell the first week or so,” he laughed, “But I guarantee you’ll feel fitter than you have in your whole life by the end of the second.”

Eventually, their conversation made its way back to the subject of her studies with Stephen. “The texts I’ve read so far--I have to admit that they’ve left me curious, Teyla. Would you mind telling me what it’s like?”

“The…the dreams?” She seemed surprised he had asked so plainly.

“Yes. How do they work, exactly?”

Her face scrunched and her eyes took on a faraway look as she considered how to answer. “The dreams have always been with me, as…as far back as my memory goes. As a child, I had no idea they were any different from the dreams of others—and so I found no need to speak of them aloud.”

Quietly, Stephen prompted her, “So when did you realize that they were different?”

Teyla’s voice and manner grew solemn as her recollection came to life. “I was…hmmm…seven years of age. Seven Earth years. And I had dreamed a dream for three nights straight—of my closest friend, Meandra. It was a simple dream, and I had no inclination to question it.” She closed her eyes, enrapt in the pictures her mind created. “Meandra slept beneath a midnight, moonlit sky. Fast asleep; she lay upon a bed of moss beside a small creek.” Her mouth drew into a small, fleeting smile. “My child’s mind believed the dream arose from anticipation of a nature walk our teacher had promised to us. I would never have guessed it was a dream of warning.”

“Teyla,” he murmured, “Whatever happened, I’m sure you shouldn’t have blamed yourself.”

She sighed and looked back to him. “Child that I was, it could not be helped. When Meandra wandered away from the group, nobody noticed until we prepared to leave the forest. The adults searched well into the night, but found no sign of her. We all feared that she was lost to us.”

Stephen remained silent, considering the weight of guilt she may have borne, and at so tender an age. Seeing his concern, Teyla shook her head, “No, good Doctor, it was not a fatal loss—though if I had been less afraid, I might have ended everyone’s woes all the sooner.” She shrugged, and cast her eyes away shamefully, “Through a bitter night, I struggled with my fear that a simple word of warning might have spared Meandra losing her way. And even worse, I fretted that through my dreams, I had worked some sort of dark magic as I slept, which might have cost my friend her life.”

Compelled by sympathy, Stephen took her hand—gingerly, for the continuing discomfort in his own. “You were just a girl; surely no one could expect more of you,” he reminded her, “I hope someone was wise enough to tell you so.”

“Indeed,” she nodded, “With the dawn, I sought my mother out, and revealed my dreadful secret. She bid me wait but a little, so that she could give the searchers a description of where Meandra might be found—and when she returned to me, she gave me only love and comfort.” Teyla’s pretty eyes were soft with that memory. “Meandra was not too worse for wear, and was swiftly reunited with her family. And after I had rested a while—still afraid to sleep, lest I might dream dreadfully—Mother explained the nature of my gift. She called it a blessing, and told me it promised a noble destiny if I could learn to use it for the good of my people.”

Resisting the urge to tell Teyla that laying such a charge on a seven year old was extremely poor parenting, Stephen ventured a guess, “I suppose she feels you’ve come of age to fulfill that destiny?”

“Even so,” she admitted, “But know, good Doctor, that this is my hope as well.”

“Of course,” he told her, “I would expect no less.” Strange withdrew his hand from hers, beginning to gather up the few materials which he now judged too elementary for Teyla to find of use. He winced as he lifted one of the heavier volumes, cursing under his breath as he lost his grip and it landed on the table; the thud echoed through the quiet of the library.

Teyla met his eyes for only seconds, but he read her clear understanding in that brief moment, before she looked to his hands. There was no hiding the tremor in them, but he tried to make light of the moment; sighing with feigned exasperation, “I need to remember this sort of heavy reading requires both hands to be effective.” His self-deprecation fell short of lightening the moment.

“It is the rain, is it not,” she asked cautiously, although Stephen was sure she knew the answer already. Teyla’s eyes lingered once again upon his hands, as though committing the network of scars to memory.

“Yes,” he shrugged, downplaying the degree of his discomfort, “Nature’s little way of keeping me humble.”

“Yet the magic you have worked with them is already legend among the students here.” She smiled at his surprise, “Did you not know?”

Stephen clucked his tongue, “Yeah…well…legends are usually half exaggeration anyway. At least here on Earth. You should take those stories with a grain of salt, Teyla.”

“As you wish, Doctor Strange—but their unstinting admiration of your deeds is genuine.” Demurely, she cast her eyes away and added, “A true hero I have heard you called; one who single-handedly battled one of the darkest forces in the multi-verse.”

Stephen waved her praise off (the simple movement enough to set the joints in that hand throbbing again), “Honestly, Teyla—I only did what any Master here would do if faced with such a catastrophic threat.”

The tilt of her head and her sympathetic little smile spoke her response well enough, leaving Strange feeling a bit self-conscious. Standing up to leave, he would have changed the subject, but that she asked after his hands again. Irritated at her dogged attention to his private pain, he tried his best to answer impassively, “I appreciate your concern, Teyla of Hadeeth, but this is a topic I’d rather not discuss.”

“Forgive me please, Doctor Strange. I would not, for all the world, bring you further pain in this regard.” Teyla bit her lip, looking uncertain for several moments. “Please, do not be angry—but as we have discussed my dreams—and as I am under your tutelage in this regard--there is something I must share with you.”

Between the fresh flare of pain in both his hands—and Teyla’s seeming obsession with his wounds—Stephen’s patience was nearly frayed; he inhaled sharply, “What must you share, that cannot wait for another day?”

The young woman from another world blinked several times, her eyes misted over with unshed tears. “It is only that…that…”

“Yes,” he asked through gritted teeth.

“I have dreamt of your hands, Doctor. And not only since I arrived at Kamar-Taj.” Visibly trembling, Teyla rose from her seat, to face him squarely across the cold distance between them, “I have dreamt your hands many times over, from the day I came to Earth to live with my father…and in the ten Earth years since.”

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