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jackfrombaskinrobbins · 1 year

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adopting a pet with the avengers!

type of writing: headcanons / scenario

word count: 911

request: yes / no

original request: hello good fellow. can you do a headcanon set on adopting a pet with the avengers? thanks

dynamic: avengers x teen!reader (teenage avenger series)

characters: mainly tony stark, scott lang, reader, peter parker, harley keener, miles morales, and bruce banner!

a/n: bucky + alpine = fave duo ever. OK maybe natasha & liho too. and clint and lucky. there are so many good pets already in marvel (usually just comics tho smh) so i had some stuff to go off of. THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST i loved writing it <3

taglist: @nutellani @thecloudedmind

(fill out this form to be on my taglist!)

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you had been BEGGING tony to let you get another pet

bc a few of them already lived at the tower

lucky, liho, and alpine

but you wanted a dog.

not just any dog

specifically a puppy

and miles, peter & harley were on ur side

especially harley bc he rly wanted a dog

so one day when tony got rly tired of y’all asking him, he came up with an idea

“tell you what. how about you kids make a petition. if you can get a decent amount of signatures, i’ll consider getting you a puppy.”

and that was good with u!!

i mean u were all taking government class at midtown so this was gonna be easy

the first person you went to was scott

bc he’s scott, he wasn’t gonna have an issue with a puppy right

right?????

but when you asked him, he seemed kind of sad for some reason.

and when you asked him why?

“well, it’s just… i don’t want my ants to feel left out.”

“scott, i don’t think they would feel left out. you love those things more than anything!”

“yeah.. you’re right. ant-onio banderas won’t be mad right? or ant-ibacterial? oh, hopefully if they’re mad, it won’t be permen-ANT!!!”

you got the signature and left asap because once scott says one pun he takes like hours to figure out another

love him though

so next you went to clint

and he was more than happy to sign!!

bc ofc lucky would love a little friend

and natasha was there too

she was a little more hesitant bc liho is rly sweet but kinda skittish

but you convinced her because you told her how cute it would be if they loved each other & like you could get the cute stock photos of a dog & a cat together or something

thor was totally on board

because he’s thor ofc

and thor loves puppies

“y/n, this is so exciting! i remember when i got my first pet!! well, it turned out to be loki in disguise. it was still very exciting, though!!”

oh btw miles and peter signed

they were ur first signatures!!!!!!

next up was sam, bucky, and steve

and you and harley decided you needed a little extra push to convince them

so you made a powerpoint presentation.

and it was awesome

like you may have used every single available transition

twice

maybe three times each

like i said it was awesome

maybe a little excessive

but awesome!!!

steve kept making you go back a slide because he was taking notes

TAKING NOTES

what a nerd, am i right???

jk we love steve rogers in this house

anyways then they deliberated

and they made you and harley go stand outside the room

it literally felt like shark tank you guys

well not the standing outside while they decide but still

but they signed it yippee!!!!

bruce and wanda signed quickly too

especially bruce was really excited

i feel like he would totally be a dog person

like he prob had a puppy when he was young that he really loved

you even went over to the sanctum sanctorum to get stephen and wong to sign it!!!

and they did!!!

well wong did

and then he forged strange’s signature for you

wong supremacy fr

you were on a roll

you got aunt may to sign it. you got phil coulson to sign it (pretend he’s alive oml sry yall) you got maria hill to sign it.

hell, nick fury even signed it!!!!

so you took it back to tony

and he was like

“woah this is a lot more than i expected”

AND SO HE TOOK YOU TO GET A PUPPY!!

and y’all

you and peter, harley, and miles found the cutest one

a little german shepard

w like the floppy ears & stuff?

oml he was so cute

tony kept saying his named was tony jr

but you told him no

but he kept saying it

ok, live in ur fantasy world ig stark!!!!

jk love him

anyways you named him max!!!

bc yes!!!!

and you took him back to the tower

thor was really excited and max like totally loved him from the start fr

any time he liked ripped up the furniture or smth thor would just hold him with one hand and take him around

but he was happy so he was like wagging his tail and stuff

sam and bucky looked like they didn’t like the dog at first

but then alpine was like obsessed with it and so bucky had to like him

and max kept sitting on sam and licking him

and he was like “omg stop”

but he was laughing so you knew you were good

tony and bruce even built a little spot for max in the lab

and a bunch of like cool toys for him

max was the perfect dog for y’all bc like he loved everyone and everyone loved him

every night he slept in a new room & he loved to play

he ran with y’all too when you had to run so it was way more fun

suddenly dr strange was over at the tower a lot more…

he’s such a softie

and scott loved him too they were best friends

tony was just proud of himself for “teaching you to be good citizens”

HAHAHA

dw y’all he loved the dog too

just trust that max is the most spoiled dog EVER!!

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#avengers x teen!reader #teenage avenger series #teenage avenger #avengers #avenger headcanons #mcu #marvel #mcu headcanons #marvel headcanons #clint barton #tony stark #sam wilson #bucky barnes #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #scott lang #stephen strange #wong

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galacticseonghwa · 1 month

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matching outfits i think WAYV would wear with their girlfriends

INCLUDES: wayv x gfs!, fluff, just me and my delusions visiting again, part 3/3 of nct matching outfits ‘series’ wc: tbc a/n: if yous would like a male or gender nuteral version of this please let me know! i tend to get carried away with idol x fem!reader plots/posts. but i don't want yous to be afraid to ask! 127 version & dream version are already done. ALL PICTURES I DO NOT OWN AND ARE ALL OFF PINTEREST

QIAN KUN kun will never admit to anyone but you that he actually loves having matching outfits with you. he'll put all of his energy into trying to convince his members, friends and family that you forced him to match with you. but they all know how much kun adores you and would do anything to make you happy. he's definitely the type to pick out a few outfits to ride (a motorbike) in. like this mf would go through all the trouble to even get matching bikes.

CHITTAPHON LEECHAIYAPORNKUL (TEN) now ten, he's a weird case when it comes to matching outfits. if he's not the one picking out the outfits then he's just not wearing it. however, he loves the clean and simple matching outfits when you're both out with the members, family or even friends but absolutely loves the "childish" matching outfits for when you're both lounging around together.

DONG SICHENG winwin is the type to neither hate nor love matching outfits, he only really ever agrees if it's for when you're both going somewhere fancy or a special occasion together. other than that the closest thing to a matching outfit from him is matching colours.

XIAO DEJUN xiaojun is all for it, he doesn't care why you're asking to match with him. "xiao can we wear matc-" "yes". he will NOT let you finish your sentence before he says yes and either get ready to go shopping or throwing his credit card straight at you. most of the time he'll see matching outfits in stores and whine to you about how cute it would be if you both had the outfit. he's also bragging to his members that you guys wear matching outfits and how much he loves it (and you).

HENDERY WONG he's in love with matching outfits, of any sort. he does not care. he'll beg to match if he has to. he just loves them.

LIU YANG YANG yangyang is skeptical whenever you ask to buy matching outfits, especially after you made him dress up as edward cullen and threw a bunch of glitter on him, it's safe to say sm was not very happy. but at the end of the day if it makes you happy he's willing to swallow his pride and wear whatever it is that you buy. he loves watching how happy you get when he agrees. matching outfits are very serious for you when it comes to you and yangyang.

(ofc i had to do a scream sneak for him)

#galacticseonghwa #nct #nctzen #wayv #wayv fic #qian kun #chittaphon leechaiyapornkul #dong sicheng #xiao dejun #hendery wong #liu yangyang

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samcvrpenters · 9 months

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hello! i actually hope you'll okay with my request! just feel a bit nervous texting it to you ^⁠_⁠^

what about ada x clumsy companion reader? i actually was thinking about that for a several nights and this idea seems to be funny and interesting personally for me. gosh, i'm in love with such interactions) i may send you other ideas-requests later, but i need to overthink them a bit! ☺️ have a nice day and let the inspiration guide you!!!

hello, yes! ofc! i decided to do headcanons as they are easier for me than full stories, so here they are!

ada wong && clumsy companion reader !!

gender is not specified!

warnings; none really, just injury

HEADCANONS

;; in all honestly, i think ada would adore you.

;; maybe she would seem a little hesitant at first. like, seriously, they’re going to put someone as clumsy as you on a mission with her? absolutely not.

;; she would probably act so brutal and she would be incredibly tough on you. she would be cold about it.

;; for example, if you were reloading your gun and accidentally dropped it, she would shoot you a cold look and tell you to get a hold of yourself.

;; you might have tripped down a set of stairs whilst you were trying to investigate a dark corridor. you may have forgotten to turn your flashlight on and that was why that happened. you may have bumped into her multiple times, apologies spilling out of your lips.

;; however, as time went on, and you had shown ada how good of a fighter you were, she would warm up to you. she would remind you to be careful and watch where you’re going, but more politely. she might have even smiled a little. if you dropped your gun for some reason, she would remind you that you needed to keep a tight grip on it. she might even help you.

;; if you continued to be clumsy, sure, ada would be frustrated, but she would learn to deal with it and accept it because you were a good companion. you knew what to do and how to do it.

;; if you didn’t, ada would be proud of you. probably a little smug as well, because she would convince herself she was the one who mainly caused this change.

;; it doesn’t matter whether you were still clumsy or not, ada was definitely warming up to you.

;; before you could even think about falling down a set of stairs, she would gently lay a hand on your shoulder and tell you that there was a set of stairs. if she saw you about to reload your gun, she would maybe steady your hand slightly.

;; if you did trip over for some reason, ada would be there to catch you, a smirk on her lips before she pulled you up gently. “remember that you should be looking at the floor as well. not just me.”

;; she’d be flirty. she would think that it would be the right thing to be. she knew that you being clumsy would make her better at it.

;; if you got injured, ada would gently clean the wound, her eyes solely focused on that. you would be the one looking around for things. unless you had passed out. she would probably be doing both at once.

;; she would tease you at how you should’ve kept a couple of steps back, if your injury wasn’t that bad. if it was worse, i believe she would scold you a lot.

;; she will always be keeping an eye on you.

;; if you’re someone who likes to stare at her as well, you two will be making a lot of eye contact.

;; so feel free to. it’d cause the two of you to get even closer than you are.

#resident evil #ada wong x reader #resident evil x reader #ada wong

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 10 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

Ngl - I'm really hoping some of the authors in the Doctor Strange x Reader community will be kind enough to give this a read.🥺🥺 Even more so, a reblog - because I'm quite proud of my writing in this work, and I believe it deserves some love. Maybe some love could see me on my way to updating, even finishing, this WIP. It's lain fallow for far too long!

Chapter One

“Stephen, it’s nearly time.”

Wong’s voice pulled him from his scrutiny of the thick, weathered tome that had become his latest project. Since the passing of his mentor, the Ancient One, Stephen Strange was one of very few left in Kamar-Taj who made a regular practice of studying the advanced manuscripts, spell books, and obscure histories, which she had amassed during her centuries of service as the Sorcerer Supreme. His eidetic memory served him equally well in this pursuit, as it had in his previous vocation; as one of the world’s most talented and successful neurosurgeons he had learned the lesson early on—that knowledge was power—though the power he sought now he would wield for a even nobler purpose than those of his previous life.

“Remind me, Wong…it’s nearly time for…” Stephen let his voice trail off with the question, focusing just a few moments more on the script marking the page before him.

“For the arrival of the emissary from Hadeeth, Stephen,” Wong replied, “As well you know. Need I remind you that our alliance with Hadeeth goes back nearly four hundred years?”

“Not at all, Wong. I’m acutely aware—down to the smallest minutiae—of the terms of our accord the with the Hadeethans, having familiarized myself with every scrap of parchment the Ancient One left behind, detailing the particulars of our relationship.” Strange closed the leather-bound book before him, stretched a mite, and then rubbed thumb and forefinger upon his closed eyelids. “I’ve got a rotten case of eyestrain in the process, but I suppose I’m as ready for this as I can ever be,” he grumbled, “Although I’m not entirely certain why I have to be the one to meet with their envoy. A Master with years of experience—and not one with barely twelve months--would surely make a better representative of Earth. Let alone Kamar-Taj.”

Refusing to be pulled back into the ongoing debate, Wong remained impassive. “Of the Masters left in Kamar-Taj, you are the best qualified by virtue of your life experience. And in the absence of a Sorcerer Supreme, a Master of one of our Sanctums is the best that we can offer.”

He clapped Stephen on the shoulder, “Accept that you’re destined for this bit of diplomacy, Stephen. It can’t be anywhere near as complicated as navigating your way through the human brain to excise a pin point sized tumor.”

Strange rose to his feet, favoring Wong with a scowl, “As usual, Wong, your vote of confidence is underwhelming—but I will do my best not to provoke a diplomatic incident with an ally that has had Earth’s back for hundreds of years, and in some hairy situations.”

A young attendant placed the tray with fresh-brewed tea and a sampling of Nepalese delicacies on the low table before him. Without a word, she filled a cup with the hot liquid, and set it down beside the pot, before sliding a plate of almond honey cakes closer at hand to him. Stephen nodded, murmuring his thanks—though he was a little too nervous to partake of one of his favorite dishes. Instead, he stirred a bit of honey into his tea, briefly reflecting on the first cup of honeyed tea he had partaken in this very room, barely more than a year ago. With a shock to his system, he had been quickly educated as to how very much he did not know about the world, the universe, and the human mind and spirit; and since then, he had learned much more than he would ever had imagined of things he’d never even entertained as plausible. He considered himself a work in progress, truly humbled for the first time in his life, when he took into account how much he still did not know.

Yet, he had earned the respect of his peers here and—just moments before her death--the Ancient One had appointed him Master of the New York Sanctum. Strange took that responsibility ever seriously, having seen and experienced for himself the sort of assaults from other dimensions which Earth would be prey to were it not for the ancient protections provided by the band of sorcerers, bound in service to mankind.

The man he once was—before the accident that had deprived him of his livelihood, and the purpose by which he defined himself—Doctor Stephen Strange had the hubris to consider himself the best his specialty had ever known, and the ambition to pursue the loftiest positions of influence and power in his field. Now, as he split his time between New York and Nepal, he was in a constant quest for knowledge that would enable him to do this job to the best of his ability, while never seeking glory for himself. He would not—could not, in fact—allow himself to aspire to the title of Sorcerer Supreme…although more often than not these days, he was given--by some silent agreement (to which he was no party)--the deference and the responsibilities that came with that designation. Today, he would prefer to be a mere rank and file mage—but he could not turn his back upon the service that was asked of him.

Stephen rose when Wong appeared in the entrance way, ushering a stately, robed woman into the room. “Master Strange, allow me to present Mistress Moraine of Clan Kayolo, member of the Hadeethan Ruling Council,” Wong gave her a nod of respect, before moving to Stephen’s side.

Following the formal protocol which the Ancient One had chronicled, Strange bowed at the waist before speaking. “Welcome to Kamar-Taj, Mistress Moraine of Hadeeth. We are honored by your presence, and offer hospitality and friendship to you, and any others under your protection, for however long you sojourn here.”

She bowed in reply, and recited her opening remarks smoothly, her rich voice that of a woman accustomed to oratory, “The honor is mine, Sir. On behalf of my people, and in the name of our alliance, I accept your hospitality, Master Strange.” Moraine paused, studying him closely, before adding, “May the worlds we serve continue to benefit from our partnership.”

Strange motioned her to take a seat, then sat himself, while Wong moved forward to pour tea for the Hadeethan woman; the ensuing silence enough to allow Stephen an observation or two. She was definitely dignified (royalty was the first word that came to his mind), aloof and otherworldly; she wore her thick, silver hair loose and unadorned, for surely nothing could flatter her more than it’s natural glory; and the only subtle sign of age he could discern, were small crinkles at the corners of her pale grey eyes--but since he knew the average Hadeethan lifespan was upwards of 150 Earth years, they gave no clue regarding her actual age. There was a palpable feel of strength of will about her, as though her spine were made of steel. Moraine appeared—in short—to be a power to be reckoned with. He vowed to tread carefully regarding whatever topic she had arrived to discuss.

She sipped her tea, then nodded her approval, “Ah…it’s been far too long since I sampled this welcoming taste of Kamar-Taj. Though I regret I shall never raise my cup with the Ancient One again.”

“Her loss remains a heavy one for us to bear, Mistress Moraine,” he replied, a truth he felt most keenly every day, “And nothing would make me happier than for her to be here in my place.”

“I bear the condolences of my people for the dread passing of a wise leader and constant ally,” she told him, “And for myself, I share in your grief; for I had known the Sorcerer Supreme from my youth—as a teacher, then a mentor, and at the last, a friend.”

“I envy you that,” he admitted, “We all miss her guidance—but we have done our best to go forward as we believe she would see fit.”

Moraine narrowed her eyes, looking for the truth in his reaction, “And you do not seek to guide in her place? To bear the mantle she wore for centuries?”

Stephen shook his head vehemently, “I assure you, I am not that man. And honestly, I can’t think of anyone who could fill her shoes.”

She nodded, pleased with his reply, than raised her cup. “It is always so with the best of leaders. May we all do her proud in the service we provide to our worlds.”

“May we indeed,” he echoed, drinking from his cup as well.

Formalities now aside, Moraine was swift to reveal the surprising purpose of her visit. “I come on a personal matter, Master Strange. ‘Tis my hope you will entertain my request, if not for the sake of relations between our worlds, but for she whom we both miss.”

“I am certain we can accommodate you, Mistress Moraine. The resources of Kamar-Taj are at your service.”

“Even as I had anticipated,” she asserted, wearing a small relieved smile, “As you may know, Hadeeth has a good share of practitioners of the mystic arts. And in our culture, this is a thing well-known, even aspired to. In fact, by long standing tradition, the majority of those who sit on our ruling council are skilled in magic.”

Strange nodded, having gleaned those facts from the Ancient One’s notes, “Magic being the primary reason our worlds are well-suited as allies.”

Moraine bobbed her head in a brief acknowledgement, then continued, “On Hadeeth, we have found that the aptitude for magic, and the strength to wield it properly, are most prevalent in certain bloodlines. As a result, it is not uncommon for a particular clan to hold a council seat for several generations.”

“I take it that is your own experience,” he inferred.

“It is, Master Strange. But seats are not granted automatically—and those aspiring to them must pass a series of tests, unique to the individual.”

“And these tests involve the use of magic?”

“Exactly so—and thus arises my need for your assistance,” she admitted.

A bit perplexed, he might’ve asked, but Moraine had anticipated his question. “Not for myself, Master Strange—for my daughter, Teyla.” And then surprising him, she added, “A daughter of both our worlds.”

Not having known such a mingling of their races was even possible, it took a moment for him to respond, “You’re asking that we train her here, in Kamar-Taj?”

Moraine’s face took on a pleasant sort of softness, clear sign of the depth of her feelings for her child. “She has ever been my greatest treasure, and from the moment in which I discerned that she possessed aptitude for the mystical arts, I had planned to entrust my own best teacher with her tutelage.” She lowered her eyes, her voice become sorrow-tinged, “Who could have anticipated that such a plan would go unrealized?”

Stephen remained speechless, moved by her quiet show of grief. In the months since the Ancient One fell, he had learned things about her he had never expected—always making him long for the fruits of the wisdom she might have shared with him.

Having set aside her sorrow, Moraine looked to him again, firm of purpose, “Teyla’s skill--her strength—lies in the healing of body, mind, and heart. And though this ability is a miracle in itself, it does not suit well the sort of trials she is likely to face in the fullness of time.”

The doctor in him wanted to ask more of Hadeethan healing magic, but the situation would not allow for it—though he made a promise to himself to learn more of their practices when possible, with an eye towards the exchange of knowledge that might enable him to fulfill again that purpose of more than half his lifetime. “What training would best prepare your daughter for these future trials?”

Moraine looked please at his show of willingness, “She will need to develop defensive skills, for both her own safety, and for those who may someday fall under her protection.” She paused, gauging his reaction, and then concluded, “Teyla also possesses a small degree of prescience, although she is not yet capable of employing it at will. She dreams, yet cannot tell when the images may come to pass; she has strong, yet unpredictable, flashes of intuition, which she finds difficult to interpret. This gift is useless to her until she can cultivate the proper wisdom and discipline.”

“There are no teachers on Hadeeth that might guide her?” he asked, “Seers are rare, even in Kamar-Taj. I can’t guarantee our knowledge is enough to guide her beyond the most rudimentary training.”

“They are rarer still, on Hadeeth,” Moraine shrugged, “So rare they come but a handful of times in each generation. Though I am her mother, I haven’t even a touch of that gift.”

Stephen nodded, considering her request a moment. “We will do our best, Mistress Moraine—but in this case, I can make no promise.”

“I understand, Master Strange. And with this understanding, I will entrust you with Teyla’s further education. For the sake of our alliance,” she reminded him, “And for all the hopes a parent has for their child’s safety and happiness.”

They had concluded their meeting by settling upon three Earth days as the interval until Teyla would arrive at Kamar-Taj. “Of course, we’ll need to see what magic your daughter is already capable of, before we proceed with any training plan,” he cautioned her, as he and Wong escorted her back to the courtyard for her departure. “Please be sure she understands what lies ahead.”

“Oh, she is already more than prepared for that,” Moraine told him gratefully, “And she has spent a share of time on Earth--living with her father for several years--so you should find she will easily acclimate to your world.” With that, she drew on her sling ring—the magical tool which the Ancient One had shared with the Hadeethans, in consideration of their partnership—and conjured a portal back to her home world. Stephen could discern very little of what lay on the other side; a room half lit with what could be daylight, vague shapes that were likely Hadeethan furniture.

Moraine turned his way, and bowed low, and then rose to meet his eye. “Please keep in mind, Master Strange, that some of the tests Teyla may come to face are dangerous. I beg you to see she is properly prepared to survive, beyond the training I have already given her. I will be in your debt, and Earth’s, for the remainder of my days—and look forward to the day when I can be of service to your world, in return.” She stepped into the portal, and raised her hand in farewell, closing the circle before he could utter a word in reply.

“Well, this should prove interesting,” Wong observed, “How much experience do you have dealing with teenagers?”

“Barely to none,” Stephen confessed, “And I hadn’t counted on being asked to play a schoolmaster to a rookie sorcerer.”

Wong chuckled, amused at Strange’s befuddlement, “I’m thinking diplomacy will turn out to be child’s play, compared to the task you have ahead of you.”

“Yes,” Steven agreed grimly, heading back to the library to continue his studies of earlier. “And I’d much rather be navigating my way through the human brain, then babysit an angsty adolescent.”

Feedback/Reblogs are incredibly meaningful. Please support content creators by doing us the honor. Thank you!

If you enjoyed this and would like to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know.

buy me a coffee?☕

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syngrafaes09 · 2 years

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Can you re-do the hypothermia situation but with Stephen taking care of the reader. and elaborately??

Ofc...

Rapture | Dr Strange x Apprentice!Reader

Masterlist

Word count: 1797

18+ MDNI!

“How many more do you think?” Tony inquired, putting into place one of the rebels.

“I think we've got most of them. Might have a handful left down the valley,” Peter Quill replied pointing somewhere in the mist and snow. The frosty human-like beasts had been more difficult to fight against than he had imagined. He knew they were a race of warriors, and had expected brute force but magic, he hadn't seen that coming.

“Mr Stark,” Peter distressed over the intercom, “Y/n is shaking badly, I think she might pass out. She’s very cold.”

“Shit,” everyone muttered in unison. The apprentice Stephen had sent had been more helpful than her Master and other apprentices. Once she managed to subdue their magic, the rest of the avengers managed to bring the beasts down easily.

Stephen mentally thanked Y/n once again as he buried himself in the cosy blankets and sipped in the tea. The cold had gotten the better of him in the last three days. He was delighted when she offered to go instead of him in response to Star lord’s call.

The beep from the device in the corner of the room irritated him. Once Tony had created this multi-galaxy intercom, the calls for aid had increased by three folds. And most of the time there was hardly any serious issue.

“What is it now Tony?” he grumbled.

“I think Y/n is slipping into a hypothermic shock. I can't help much. Open up a portal,” he said as he scurried inside the jet, getting any warm thing for Y/n as he could.

Opening a portal into the jet, he found her heaved onto a seat with a blanket around. “God,” he muttered at the sight of her. The shaking of her body, the clattering of her teeth and her paleness sent him into a spiral of fear and anger. “Why did you stay out in the cold for so long? You could have managed to control them even from the jet.” He scolded her and picked her up in his arms.

“Sah..ry..,” she slurred.

“You need any more help, I’ll ask Wong to send-”

“Don’t bother. Only a few are left.”

Stephen nodded before closing the portal.

“Mh room’s…upstairs,” she protested when he placed her in the cocoon of blankets he was earlier lying in.

“Can you feel them?” He took off her wet boots and pinched her frozen toes. Y/n weakly nodded, her eyelashes fluttering as she started slipping in and out of consciousness.

“Hey sunshine,” Stephen called out as he fumbled around contemplating what to do next. He had to stop being nervous - she was slipping away. “Hey drink it,” he tried to make her drink his hot tea.

Y/n groaned, trying to push the cup away, the lava was burning her mouth and throat. She couldn't understand why he was so mean to her. ‘What form of punishment is this for always complying with her Master’s orders?’

Stephen was visibly baffled to hear those words from her. She was losing it. He hurried to his closet and frantically searched for the first aid kit.

“Hey sunshine, don't sleep,” he cried out, “talk to me.”

“Why do… you always call me that…,” her voice was just above a whisper.

He chuckled, shoving the warm compress through the robes covering her chest. “‘Cause that’s how I remember you from your first day. Standing with Wong at the foot of my bed, early in a cold winter morning, the sunlight dazzling on your face.”

“Uh-hn..”

“W-what are you doing?” Y/N asked, bedazzled to watch him taking off his clothes.

“Trying to warm you up,” he replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I… feel better.” Both of them lying bare to each other was a very bad idea. Her friends back at Kamar Taj had been teasing her notoriously after Stephen switched her from training at Kamar Taj to the New York Sanctum. It would be her death if any of them got the slightest hint of this.

“Then help me out by taking off your robes.” She found herself speechless and motionless at the sight of him.

“See, you are too numb,” he spoke out, getting under the blankets, “you need to warm up,” he said, flicking his fingers to vanish her robes.

All her protests died out when warm hands were wrapped around her stomach and tugged her against his chest.

“God,” Stephen winced when he spooned her. She was cold as a corpse.

Basking in his warmth, she had no recollection of when they had slept. Having regained her senses, she could feel his long legs tangled with hers, his chest pressed against her back; his arms on her bare stomach, lightly brushing against her bra and… Holy! She could feel him hard through his boxers. Now Y/n could clearly remember the sight of him, in his boxers, climbing into the bed. She cursed and thought of getting out of there before she did anything stupid.

“Y/n,” he rasped as she tried to wiggle out of his arms. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she veered around in his now loosen grip to take a look at him.

“You could have died,” every bit of him was dripping with fear and she had never witnessed this side of his nature. She had witnessed his sarcasm, his sardonic humour, his savageness and intelligence in fights and training, the tranquillity of his company, and at times his kindness and his protectiveness but never this sort of apprehension.

“Thanks to you, I'm not.”

“Others had come back when they couldn't take the cold, why didn't you do the same?” For heavens, she had to get out here before the other three apprentices came searching for them! What would they think to find them like this? His fingers taunting rubbed circles on her back.

“I’m sorry,” she said, peeling off the layers of blankets. “I wanted to do better than everyone else, just like you.”

Just like you. The words echoed in his ears. She trained harder than him. Adapted to things faster than him. Put up with his harsh training and sarcasm and everything he offered better than any of his other students. He wanted to tell her she was the best he had to date.

He shot up and gripped her waist firmly as she hurried to leave. “What good would it do if you died trying too hard?” His lips placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. “I can’t lose the best, can't think of losing you.” His fingers traced the back of her spine.

Y/n shuddered at the sensation. The electric wave transversed from her shoulder to her core. Once again she was aware of their nakedness.

“I can understand if you don't want me… Your no will silence me forever. But what I did today was - genuinely to save you.”

He didn't know, she thought, what his touch was doing- undoing me. “I could never say no to you,” she cupped his face, “Nobody ever could.”

Ah, God, he had almost forgotten what the touch of a hand would do. And he had known rejection. “Does nothing about me repulse you?”

“I wouldn't put them as repulsive… Your words do wound me at times but everyone's got a poignant habit or two. They don't repulse me enough to not adore you.”

She had told his heart what it had been wanting to hear. His cheeks, had in no way ever, felt a caressing as hers. His flaws had never been accepted as such. And his mind couldn't have come across a declaration of love as hers ever before.

His lips gently captured hers and his soul was overjoyed in rapture.

“I love you as well,” he whispered, nestling closer.

When her eyes met his, the determination and dominance, made her breath hitch. The gentle caress of his hand made her stomach flip and flop like a dolphin.

“Many will talk,” her voice trembled like her fingers that were intertwining with his.

“Let them, people like to talk all the time,” he drew her closer to him. “Only we matter, everyone else is drivel.”

Swept up by passion, his seductive tone, by her desire: her lips found his and her hands were thrown around his neck. And soon the very little fabric that had been left was discarded.

The sight of her, lying all bare, in his bed made him harder and hornier.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He growled. The pressure of his legs parted hers, and he moved slowly to press his heat against her wetness.

Then he kissed and sucked her neck, her shoulders… Y/n arched off the bed when he traded his tongue for his lips and licked her nipples. One of his hands cupped her breast firmly as his mouth sucked it.

“Stephen,” she whimpered, wiggling her hips. She could feel him smile against her like the cocky bastard he was.

“Say that again,” he urged, licking his lips. She had never before called him by his first name.

“Make me,” she tested the waters of teasing him.

And so he did.

Y/n moaned his name as he glided himself swiftly through her wetness. She had to admit it did hurt a little but he felt good as well.

Stephen peppered her with kisses as he began to move and thrust.

Whimpering and moaning, she moved her hips along with him.

“Stephen,” she protested when he pulled out of her.

“Patience, love,” he said before flipping her on her stomach to the other side of the bed.

Y/n felt the tip of his cock nuzzling her slit as he laid open-mouth kisses along her back. Then her hips were grabbed and pulled towards him. She wanted nothing but for him to pound her.

“Y/n,” she looked over her shoulder as he pushed his cock, entering her slowly, never breaking eye contact.

“God,” she cried out when his thrusts became deeper and harder.

Still thrusting, he pulled her up to his chest, wrapping his arms from behind and holding her in place. “Open your eyes,” he whispered in her ear.

The sight, Y/n saw in the mirror, caught her breath- Stephen on his shins, one arm around her torso as the other moved to fondle her breasts and nipples, his cock exploring her insides; she felt her knees might give up any second from now.

“Yes, Y/n,” he groaned, feeling her clenching around him as she started trembling.

He watched her throw her head back with pleasure and buried his face in the crook of her neck as her rapture captured him. And soon they were swearing each other’s name.

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darsynia · 1 year

Note

🔥 Stephen Strange x Female Reader (or if you feel like it, one of my OFCs 😉)

"I swear when I planned this, it went much more smoothly than how this turned out!"

Please and thank you 😘😘

So uh. I like this one SO much, I hope you love it! (I chose Stephen/Reader) Thanks for requesting a blurb for BLURB WEEK! Credit to @doctorstrangegifsparadise!

Summary: The bad guys Stephen has been warring against have finally caught up with the two of you at the worst possible time, and neither of you are going to stand for it.

Length/Warnings: 1,618 / LANGUAGE, haha.

Ruin Your Day

Stephen looks from the flower crown in your hair, the colorful sundress you’re wearing, and the flimsy sandals on your feet to the iron shackles around your wrists and says, “I promise you, this was not the way the afternoon was meant to play out.”

He’s just an astral projection, so you can’t do anything more than glare at him. “I thought you said they couldn’t find us! Are you okay?”

“I--” he starts to say, then looks over his shoulder. When he turns back toward you, his expression is fearful. “I’ll be right back.”

“Stephen!” you hiss, but he’s gone.

It’s cold in your new dungeon habitat, which is just cinematic, at this point. You and Stephen have been dating for just over eleven months, six of which have involved his fight against a pair of interdimensional travelers in search of the green stone he always wore around his neck. You’d taken to never saying its real name even in your head, Voldemort-style, not that this had ended up making much of a difference.

Today was meant to be a break, an escape from the stress of those battles, a chance for you to finally see the sun. You’ve been holed up in a suite of rooms at the Sanctum for months, for fear of a mole at Kamar Taj.

At least today’s turn of events has made it clear that Stephen wasn’t being overly cautious by keeping your existence secret.

Well, Stephen wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.

You take a deep breath and clear your mind, connecting yourself to the fount of power all sorcerers draw from when they use the Mystic Arts. Your boyfriend doesn’t know that you’ve spent every free moment studying the texts in hopes of unlocking the abilities he uses with such ease. It was hard, and you’d only made the breakthrough a few weeks ago, but you’ll be damned if you’re going to play Damsel in Distress to these thieving, kidnapping assholes.

You’re not playing your hand early, either. In order to keep your abilities secret, you’d focused more on the subtleties of the Arts, things like eavesdropping, Far Sight, and the like. Honestly, if he’d waited another ten minutes, Stephen would have found you in seeming repose, your consciousness having gone walkabout.

As you pull yourself free of your mortal body, the thought that you haven’t actually practiced this very much occurs to you, but what are you supposed to do? Wait to be rescued??

Don’t be absurd.

Stephen has been counting to calm down for a good five minutes now, with no calming in sight. The necklace he’s wearing may be what his adversaries are seeking, but there’s another piece of jewelry in his pocket that’s just as valuable to him, and he doesn’t appreciate his plans being disrupted.

It took far too long to recognize that they’re in Sokovia, and even longer to contact Wong to gather an attack force. He appreciates the fact that he was able to connect so easily to you, and thus find the place you’ve been taken, but though that validates the question he’d intended to ask today, it doesn’t help the cavalry show up any faster. The whole building is warded fairly heavily, and the anti-portal provision stretches miles in all directions.

Either Wong’s going to need to call in the Avengers to borrow a Quinjet and a few supersoldiers, or they’re all going to walk to the rescue. He doesn’t know which is more insufferable.

Stephen drifts through a wall and finds a meeting, which is both useful and extremely insulting. There isn’t even a guard outside your ‘dungeon’ door! Safe in the knowledge that they can’t see him, he floats angrily around the table, swiping his incorporeal hand on the back of a few necks from time to time, just to make the (ahh yes. HYDRA. Completely unsurprising) goons in question feel uneasy. Once he’s finished gathering all the information there is to glean, Stephen makes his way back to a safe place so he can rejoin his body-- and runs into your astral form, on the way.

Your eyes are wide and surprised even though your jaw is set at a defiant angle, and god, he loves every infuriating, beautiful, inexplicable inch of you.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Marry me?” he blurts out, right there in the middle of a HYDRA base, while you’re both incorporeal and very fucking busy. “And, for the love of Cagliostro, get back to your body so I can rescue you!”

“Goddamnit, Stephen!” you whisper-roar, throwing your hands in the air and sighing like he’s just demanded you invent time travel. “Yes, of course, but you haven’t heard the end of this!”

With that you float off in a huff, as if the two of you are in the Sanctum arguing over whether to order your favorite takeout again and risk someone figuring out where you are thanks to how specific your fucking food order is.

It takes Stephen a second to gather himself (was it ‘of course I’ll marry you’ or ‘of course I’ll head back to my body??’) --and then he can’t find you.

“First things first,” he mutters to himself, and heads over to his body as quickly as he can. Once he gets there, he does the thing he’s done every single day since he’d put the ring box in his pocket: feel for it, to make sure it’s still there.

That sends him into a Moment, as well. If he could, he’d draw on all the power that there is, draw it all into himself, and destroy everything and everyone that’s threatening you, molecule by molecule. Except, he knows if he does that, his own chemical makeup will be so compromised, he won’t be the man you love anymore.

That’s not acceptable.

“All right. We’ll do it the old fashioned way.”

Your astral form is busy drawing on little bursts of power to completely fuck up the electrical system in your captor’s rather quaint castle in Sokovia when a thunderous voice sounds from seemingly everywhere.

It’s Stephen.

You may think you are safe because you are numerous. You are wrong. Give me back what’s mine, and I will be merciful. Harm her in any way, and you’ll wish you’d never been born.

You fucking love it when he gets possessive.

It takes a little more effort than you should expend at once, but you manage to finish your task of complete electrical sabotage ten seconds after Stephen’s reverberating voice fades.

The only catch? You can’t see anything either. You roll your ghostly eyes in the dark and lift yourself up into the air, intending to float around until you find a window, and search for your barred dungeon room from the outside.

Unfortunately, the energy you spent affecting the real world in your astral form was too much, and you lose consciousness with just enough time to curse yourself for forgetting to read the warnings.

The power cuts out so soon after his speech that Stephen instinctively knows you had something to do with it. It reminds him of something he’d said three months into your relationship:

‘I never thought disobedience was sexy until I met you.’

He can’t wait to see you again, but it’s a toss-up whether he’ll yell or kiss you quiet. Probably both. Probably more.

Stephen doesn’t have time to contemplate in exactly which order he’ll punish you, or how much he’s going to enjoy it, because as he stands in shadow outside the castle waiting to hear from Wong, an aerial armada appears overhead.

The Avengers aren’t any more inclined to be merciful than he is.

You wake up in your bed in the Sanctum, weak as a kitten and almost as blind. You’re immediately filled with terror-- has your careless, untrained use of the Mystic Arts harmed you permanently?

“Shhh, sweetheart, I’m here, you’re safe,” Stephen says, his comforting hand brushing your cheek seconds before his lips press against your forehead.

“If you made that threat before backup showed up I’m going to kick your ass,” you say weakly.

“I would expect nothing less, darling,” he says placatingly. The fact that he doesn’t sound the slightest bit defensive tells you volumes about how worried he’s been about you.

That prompts you to get emotional, and to cover it up, you dredge up your most indignant voice as you say, “Did you save me anyone to vanquish?”

“You’ll have to take that up with the Avengers, I’m afraid.”

“Jerks,” you sniff.

There’s a long silence, during which the two of you communicate mostly in hand squeezes and caught breaths.

“I’m proud of you,” Stephen says, finally.

“You shouldn’t be. I was reckless.”

“That’s just the thing. You weren’t constrained by me. I have a lot of power. I don’t want a subordinate. I want you to fight back. I want you to feel safe to get angry at me. I want--” He breaks off, and you use all of your strength to roll over and open your eyes. Stephen is sitting beside you, eyes bright with emotion, both hands clasped around yours.

“I love you too,” you whisper, “--but if you even dream of proposing again while I’m this much of a mess, I will marry Wong just to spite you. He’ll do it.”

The smile Stephen breaks out into is as relieved as it is bright. “He would, the asshole.” He pats his pocket and nods soberly. “Point taken. Maybe I’ll let you choose the spot, this time?”

“As long as you’re there, I’ll be the happiest woman in any dimension. Even if something else tries to ruin our day.”

#stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #stephen strange imagine #stephen strange #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #doctor strange imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #mcu fanfiction #established relationship #damsels in this dress #romance #humor #fluff

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brunchable · 2 years

Note

hey i really love your posts so i wonder if i could make a request of a dead avenger reader x stephen strange. the reader died during the fight with wanda, stephen could not get over her death so he decided to take a walk around ny to clear his mind but ends up feeling way worse becuase everything around him reminds him of her so like a bit of flashbacks and stuff!! i feel like this would be very angsty with some fluff ofc. idk this might be too long but if you could i would like to see where you would go with it!!

Till There Was You || Doctor Strange x Dead!Avenger Reader

Word count: 1.4K Genre: Angst. :( Warning: Character death. Brief Story Summary: Stephen tries to take his mind away from you by taking a walk around the neighbourhood, only for his memories of you to come flooding through. Dedicated to: @strangeobsessed A/N: I am so sorry this took so long.

It’s been a month since the thing Stephen had feared the most had happened and he's got no one to blame but himself for not resisting you, he was the one that led you to your demise. No matter how many times Wong or America tried to tell him that it wasn't his fault, he still took the blame upon himself. He knows he needs to start moving on but the love he had left for you was hindering him. How could he move on from a woman who had left a strong mark on him?

You took your last breath in the hospital where you succumbed to your injuries during the battle with Wanda. You opened your eyes and smiled at him when you saw him by your side, and then closed them again as you began to flat line. It was the last time he saw you awake and alive. He got up to give you a kiss on the forehead, at which point your heart started and beat for a couple more seconds, and then slowly stopped again.

Your soft, fragile hands grew cold like stone. Stephen exhaled what was left of his sanity. Every second he shared with you travelled through his mind. He was unable to control his sobbing, and tears flowed freely from his eyes. Regrets and shame about the times he was mad at you or didn’t come see you in the hospital, consumed his body with guilt and pain. He could not comprehend what was happening. The thought of being alone once again in this god forsaken world, scared him. Never again would he see you smile. Never again would you call him Doctor Wizard, a nickname you used to tease him with that he’s grown to love.

The weight of his heart could bring him to his knees, “I love you, I’m sorry.” Stephen whispered, leaning over the hospital bed. His heart sank to his feet. He thought, what’s the point of living his life if you’re gone? The closer you became, the harder it was for him to lose you and the longer it took for his heart to heal.

Stephen rushed out of the Sanctum to clear his mind, even though the Sanctum was huge, it felt like a confined space where memories of you just came to haunt him. He didn’t want to be reminded that you were gone. He didn’t know what to do with the rest of your things, everyday the little reminders you left like photos, plushies, paintings and books gets harder to look at. Whoever said that it gets easier over time was a liar—he couldn’t even hold a photo of you in his hands without his hands trembling. He has considered giving away all your stuff because it was hard to keep it around—it makes him feel like you were still there, that you’re going to come back.

A couple holding hands walks past Stephen, reminding him of what’s missing. The touch of your hands, the warmth it gave him and the sense of you beside him. Maybe it was better if he stayed inside because even out here, everything reminds him of you. Butterflies flew around the flowers in Central Park and one landed on his shoulder. You loved butterflies, and since you died, he’s had them land on him with strange regularity wherever he was around the world.

“Oh my gosh! Stephen, look!” You pointed enthusiastically at the Blue Morpho you spotted in the park garden.

“What exactly am I looking at?” Stephen squinted his eyes, trying to spot what you were pointing at.

“The blue iridescent butterfly, can you see? Over there!” You pointed at the most unique one in the garden.

Stephen finally spotted the butterfly and nodded, “Wow, it’s very pretty.”

��I know right? But you know what’s sad? They would never know how beautiful they are because they can’t see their wings.”

“Sounds like someone I know.” Stephen chuckled and looked at you.

You rolled your eyes and bumped him with your shoulder, “Don’t try to get cheesy with me—I’ll throw you to the moon.”

The butterfly stayed on his shoulder even though he continued on walking through the path, “Don’t get cute with me—I’m mad at you for leaving me behind.” Stephen mumbled under his breath, as he started a conversation with a butterfly.

He chuckled to himself, “Look what you did to me, I’m going crazy, talking to a butterfly…ridiculous.”

Stephen climbs up the hill and finds the spot in the grass where you and him used to lay together to stargaze with the telescope you recklessly bought. The butterfly flew off as he laid down on the grass to look at the cloudy sky. You used to talk in this spot for hours on end, laughing at each other’s jokes while you waited for the sky’s colours to change. For a long moment, it was as if he could feel you laying beside him. If he turns his head to look, he’d see you with your hands pointed towards the sky, showing him all the constellations you knew of, your eyes sparkling as you talk about all the things that interest you—but he didn’t dare to look because he was afraid to see the empty space beside him.

Stephen took a deep breath as he felt the pressure behind his eyes building up and tears rolled down the side of his face, he missed your presence the more he imagined that you were there beside him.

“Damn it— I wish you were here.” He whispered towards the heavens, “I wish you were really there, right next to me. I wish I could look over and see the fascinated expression in your eyes when you look at the stars—see you smiling back at me. I wish I could tuck your hair behind your ears again and tell you how beautiful you are—I don’t know how to move on from you.” He says through his tears, a sharp pain stabs through his chest as the weight of his own wishes hits him. Stephen covered his eyes with his arm, his expression tightened as if all of his facial muscles were holding in his emotions which he failed to suppress—choking on a small but audible sob.

The last heartfelt conversation you had with him entered his mind, in the amount of months you’ve been together you never once asked why he chose you because you never doubted how he felt about you—but on that particular day, you were curious, you felt the urge to know why he loves you. You knew you wouldn’t be at peace if you didn’t ask.

You were sitting on the opposite chair from Stephen while you stared at him. He nibbled at the end of his pen while reprinting certain spell books since the snow had destroyed them.

He couldn’t ignore the way you were staring at him, so he looked up at you.

"Something wrong?" He asked. Because he recognised the way you were looking at him, there was a trace of worry in his voice since he wasn’t really fond of that kind of look.

"Why do you love me?"

The words that came out of your lips pierced him right to his very centre. Such a simple question, yet you couldn't see the answer? From the opposite side, he grabbed both of your hands. The words that he spoke came out of his lips in a stream, an answer that he had thought about so much that it was almost automatic.

"The way your eyes light up when you become excited about something is one of the reasons why I love you. In spite of your opinion that you think your laugh sounds like a dying pig, I love you because your laughter makes my heart soar. You are the reason I love myself, because you give me hope when it feels like the entire world is against me. I adore you because of the way that you express your affection for me, whether it is by a single touch or a million words. Either way, I know that I am loved by you. Because you’re always there for me when I'm having a bad day. Cause my day won’t be made until I feel your presence next to me. There are many reasons as to why I love you, my dear. But there's only one way for me to properly summarise it."

As the smile that he loved so much grew over your face, he gave you the summarised response to the question you had asked.

"I love you, because you're you. And that's all that matters to me. My world was dark and grey, till there was you."

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#stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #benedict cumberbatch imagine #stephen strange x you #marvel x you #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch x you #doctor strange x you #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange #dr strange x reader #dr strange x you #angst

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karolamurdock · 2 years

Text

Accidental marriage Pt.2

Stephen Strange x OFC.

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

Summary: For the prompt "Accidental Marriage."

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

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

Not in that particular order.

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

The monastery had always been a bittersweet thought to Cassandra's melancholic memories.

In its magnificent neatness, and with the tacit foundation of permanence only disturbed by the cyclical fall of the leaves and the cold winds that, in winter, sighed wisps of cotton on the thick roofs and upholstered the treetops in white in the distance, Kamar Taj flourished high on the summits of the sacred abode of snow like the fresh heathers in the undulating fields of her longed-for homeland.

Ornate buildings towered over the stone just like grass buds on the lush surface of a feral meadow, and thick pillars and ornate vaults were born from the rock like the golden flakes inside the flowers during spring. Cassandra, then, and since the very the first time, found it a beautiful scenario, if not a little doleful. The natural inclination of the walls supported by thick, leafy branches and the vegetation that grew freely from the windows and over the cobblestone paths at their feet were captivating things, the green strokes and the water that bubbled somewhere behind them in sizzling streams jumping against the rock and splashing gently from a stream on the side of the beautiful building to which they led it. These things were a stark contrast against the even metal walls that still closed in front of her footsteps every time she closed her eyes.

Cassandra walked (got carried away, rather), as if bewitched by the influence of pure nature and the crude ancient power that tickled against the edges of her numb mind. That was the house of healing. The Moon Crown. A palace that served as a library of knowledge. Abode of the Sorcerer Supreme, and home of her dear old friend. Distracted as she was by the sudden realization that this monastery was, without a doubt, older than the history of her own house, she barely noticed the arms that held her elbow and the warm hand that rested on her lower back.

The air smelled like moist soil; not thick walls lined in lead. And the coldness in the air tasted like ice, leaves, and sand, nothing like the clinical frostiness of hermetically sealed cells and the burning of bleach and copper trapped in her nose in the night. Cassandra forced herself to remain in the monastery: absorbing every detail, every wobble of the branches, every speck of dust fluttering over her eyes, and every prying look slipped in her direction from the barely coherent edges of her gaze. The students of the Sorcerer Supreme did not seek any harm to her, she recalled. Nonetheless, she had had enough of being displayed in a cage as an exotic animal for pompous senators and inanimate guards.

One hand leaned against her waist, and Cassandra felt a small step with her barefoot toes; they were finally inside. The cold cobblestones changed to smooth wooden boards, and the thick carpets colored in suggestive mosaics suddenly felt warm against the soles of her icy feet.

A voice spoke beside her. His murmur was barely understandable above the dreamy haze in which Cassandra plunged herself since she crossed the portal conjured by Wong in New York.

“Excuse me?”

Mordo slowly leaned over next to his companion (Amal, had Mordo called him before?), and slowly repeated to her: "The Ancient One will receive you now.”

The man's attitude seemed almost hilarious. It was nearly a replica of the careful ways she used to practice on her own students. The decades she spent teaching in preschool were still fresh in her long-standing memory.

Belatedly, she noticed that she had not responded to the kind man who had accompanied her since they left Wong at the entrance of the monastery, and she admonished herself by thinking that, perhaps, it was prudent for her to be treated like a little girl if she continued to behave like a sack of potatoes. Not even twenty years in The Raft could erase the immortal manners that Eir had so fiercely instilled in her daughter.

"Thank you very much," she finally managed to mutter.

Mordo smiled, pleased by her answer, and stepped back to his partner, who had let go of her elbow as soon as they entered the room. Amal looked young. Large deer eyes with dark curls and brown skin. Cassandra watched his cautious expression, as she did not trust that she could hold herself once inside the building, and felt a twinge of anguish shoot from her core, bristling the skin of her arms and burning on the edges of her eyes. Her children looked like this. Her students, her little ones... her son.

Gentle footsteps pulled her out of her sad reverie, and she turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of the heartfelt smile on her old friend's ever-serene face.

"Cassandra," she called, and her voice was still as sweet and calming as the first time Cassandra heard it. Far away, in a dark forest in Norway, and with the summoned weapons of the Sorcerer Supreme aimed in the direction of the Fear of the North. Just remembering that battle of wills: the crystalline eyes of her then pursuer stuck in the silver daggers of Cassandra; going through her gloomy, opulent, wild figure, and evaluating it in the same way she herself had done while cataloging in every layer, every rune, and every snap of magic coming from her hands. “It's been a while.”

When her friend (She was The Ancient One to her students, she remembered) moved forward, so did Cassandra. And she reached for the outstretched hand of the Sorcerer Supreme and slipped her own cold, trembling, pale hand to hold tightly the woman who had accompanied her for almost 500 years. An immortal being greeting another one: their friendship, she must have understood since she crossed glances with The Ancient One several lives ago, was one of the only things that Cassandra was always going to possess.

"That's right," Cassandra confirmed, "And you know you can call me Cassie.”

~ • ~

After the unfortunate accident in Lagos, the Avengers had gone through a few difficult weeks. With the eyes of the world fixed on those responsible for the numerous deaths at the refugee building, the indefatigable tension between her reluctant comrades and Senator Ross and his cabinet above their throats demanding a mandatory registration that did nothing but remind Cassandra of the murky times that involved Erik, Senator Kelly and a bunch of terrified mutants, Cassandra had become accustomed to always keeping an attentive eye: the practices she had abandoned decades ago were again revealed in the cautious ways of her actions, in the absence of noise in her footsteps, in the knife hidden under her pillow, and in the distance she had taken from the rest of her teammates.

Cassandra had not been present in Lagos. However, her identity as an Avenger had been revealed just a couple months before the attack, so, for her, going unnoticed amid the media tumult had not been a possibility. Not even Tony, with his winning smiles, his relationships with important personalities, and his light influences in certain areas of the government, had been able to protect her from Senator Ross' sly look and his treacherous intentions.

Cassandra had not signed the Accords. Not after her past experiences at Xavier's School for Gifted Youth, where she had been a teacher for several years, and where she witnessed what apprehension and fear could do to her brightest students. Registering, and signing allegiance to Ross's frivolous demands would have been a terrible mistake. She didn't need, either, not to be allowed to call a lawyer (and Cassandra knew a lawyer. For a while, she considered moving closer to Manhattan, so she would be nearer to her teammates, and she was very aware of the vigilantes who climbed on the roofs at night. Hell's Kitchen had not looked bad in her interested eyes...), She understood, without that kind of legal guidance, how to analyze the clauses in the Agreements that had been abruptly thrown at her that afternoon.

Signing, and consequently reporting to the government and exposing her skills and past experiences, would have been a risk. For her, for her students, for Charles, for Logan, for Hank... And for her son.

For a brief moment, she pondered the possibility. Packing a bag, taking her son with her and hiding her dog in her backpack (Her 55-pounds Pitbull, Thor) to go get a new life. Far away, maybe on a farm with sheep, for Ethan to play with them. Perhaps on a coast, where she could see them both running until they got tired, breaded with sand and with red cheeks colored in the sun... It could be in a forest, too. Although Norway would never be an option, because the sacred lands in which she grew up were far away, three lives ago, and until the world ceased to be world (or until the danger died festered under the icy shadows of the Galdhøpiggen, covered in ice and unable to find her to devour the last vestiges of the mortal life that she had chosen to make for herself that lugubrious winter morning). Yes... Her lands would lie, until then, out of the way and closed to her.

Would she have been able to? Cassandra didn't know. The choice had been made by her. She would not find out whether to disappear from the lives of her comrades: to leave Charles, Logan, Ororo and Jean again to take care of the Mansion and her students by themselves, to put aside Tony, her godson, and turn a blind eye to Steve's tribulations, Natasha's doubts, Wanda's fears... she didn't know if it would have been an option. By the time a new day dawned, the Avengers were divided. Tony formed an alliance with the King of Wakanda, Rhodey, Vision, Natasha (who would later betray him, much to the chagrin of her godson), and what was suspiciously heard as an excitable teenager with arachnid powers. Had it not been for the situation they were in, and because the time to prevent the release of the Hydra soldiers was running out, Cassandra would not have been so lenient with Tony. He must have known better than taking children to a battlefield.

In the end, the soldiers would not end up breaking free. Rather, a video would come to light with important information about the deaths of Howard and Maria, and a sharp confrontation would take place between the most stubborn men Cassandra had dealt with in several decades. Cassandra didn't see that. She did not arrive on the plane before Ross and his agents intercepted them, motionless in their bewilderment at the fresh events, and threatened them with more than just their own physical integrity. After all, Ross knew about the Mansion. Her hands, figuratively and literally, were tied, and so they would remain for several weeks.

Thinking about what would have happened if she had made a different choice was not a common habit for Cassandra. Her life had been long and tempestuous: stopping to imagine how it would differ from its original course on each occasion when her daily life was interrupted by some unexpected scenario would not only be a waste of time, but would keep her at night drawing the sketches of a life she was never going to live because of her past choices. Cassandra was therefore baffled when memories of the events of the weeks before her arrival at the monastery obscured her mind and distracted her from where she was strolling through her friend's manicured gardens that morning.

Gently flexing her fingers and caressing the softness of the white robes her friend had lent her when she reached her splendid domains, Cassandra observed the steady flow of movement in the hallways and training grounds. These had, lined up, numerous lines of stern-faced apprentices that flowed mimicking the serene and controlled movements of the master at the front of the ranks.

Curious about the teaching methods of the masters of the mystical arts in the monastery, Cassandra carefully took a seat on a bench located a few aisles above the courtyard. From that height, she could see with perfect clarity the students struggling to copy the sorcerer's teachings. She noticed Mordo a few moments later, when he approached a student to correct the posture of the young woman, in the background. Afterwards, he leaned over another young man, stretched out his hands in front of him, and reflected the undulating movement of the master with a slower and more evident flourish.

"Mordo is a good instructor," she heard a sweet voice behind her back, and she turned briefly to observe Ancestral's profile approaching the bench where Cassandra was frolicking.

"Yes," Cassandra corroborated with a nod, "He seems to be very patient.”

“Oh, he is. "Ancestral said, but the sparkle in her eyes told her of interesting anecdotes that she would later be sure to ask. “With some more than with others.”

Her friend's cunning look landed on Cassandra. She seemed to ponder the serene face of the ex-Avenger, and with a smile blooming at the corners of her mouth, she let her gaze drift away; drawing an invisible line in the direction of a corner of the courtyard, in which Cassandra had not yet concentrated her attention.

As if by inertia, Cassandra's eyes followed the path of Ancestral's attention. In the distance, on the edge of the courtyard, another group, perhaps a little more advanced than the one she had been observing previously, practiced their figures in the air. Their movements were more accurate. Their faces, more confident, and the amplitude of their strokes was more extensive, the trembling fingers drawing spells in the air with greater fullness.

Trembling fingers?

Cassandra frowned and leaned slightly over her seat. She did not notice the knowing smile from her friend, as she was very focused on the sharp, attractive and familiar face of the sorcerer with shaking hands practicing from a distance.

Her stomach flipped, and she failed to quell the surprised exhalation that came from her lips when her mind registered the distant figure of Stephen, her husband, practicing with the rest of the sorcerers in the distance.

"How?" she exhaled, one hand on her stomach and one on her incredulous lips.

“Is there a problem?" Ancestral asked behind her back. Cassandra frowned, confused, and was about to reply, because... how did she know about Stephen? However, before the faint replica left her lips, the man's comely, aristocratic face turned in their direction, and emotion swept through Cassandra's spine when she managed, just a blink before, to throw her legs gently over the bench and turn her body in the opposite direction.

A tingle made its way from her throat, and Cassandra raised a wobbly hand over her mouth when, to her surprise, a little laugh shook her shoulders and bubbled from the confines of her previously impassive interior. Ancestral's eyes watched her, curious, before her gaze fell on something else behind her back. She moved one hand slightly, waving, and returned her knowledgeable gaze to Cassandra.

"You should visit more often, Cassie," Ancestral said, a smile present in her playful voice, "It is always a pleasure.”

~ • ~

Before she was fully aware of it, evening visits to the training camps had become part of her daily routine. The days passed quietly: her mornings flowed between cups of sweet tea during her light debates with Ancestral, light lunches and frequent walks through the endless libraries (Wong, as always, was very sweet. He had even lent her a pair of headphones and an old device to play music to get, in his words, "to enjoy her readings better". She deliberately kept to herself the fun of reading the various queens of pop topping his playlists on the device.)

And every afternoon, before dinner, and before retiring to her chambers to meditate; for sleep always evaded her, and fear was present even as she gazed through the elaborate patterns of one of the oldest monasteries in the world, she would sat on a bench far from the courtyard to watch the young sorcerers practicing with the masters. Stephen, she had discovered, was an exceptional student. Although the arrogant streak that Cassandra had witnessed that morning in New York almost a year ago was still present in the haughty elevation of his chin and in the neat corners of his trimmed beard, and his posture during combat could use more rigorous instruction, his forms were increasingly impressive.

His wit was quite remarkable, too. Cassandra wondered, not for the first time, if their paths would have crossed again if she had not proceeded as she did in the weeks before her confinement, after the disaster caused by the Accords.

She came out of her daydreams abruptly when, out of nowhere, (literally), a beam of light crackled behind her, and a sparkling circle revealed a tall, chiseled, familiar figure , coming out of a conjured portal behind her back.

"Hey," Cassandra said. To her delight, her voice came out much more controlled than she feared. Stephen's eyes, scrutinizers, swept across her languid and slender figure. A strange opposite to the imposing stronger, more vivid and deadly form of the woman with whom he had awakened the morning after their engagement, and his eyes narrowed before the unflappable face of his wife.

The Raft had made a number on her, Cassandra knew it. She was not afraid of Ross, nor his men, and her safety had been at stake all her life, so it was not a relevant concern for her constrained heart. No... They were her friends; her kid, Ethan, whom she had left at The Mansion, and whom she could not yet visit, not until the situation was more controlled and the senator's men left the school grounds. It was the broken integrity of her team, its previous dissolution, the constant battle between its leaders, the heaviness of routine: How many times did Cassandra have to go through the same thing? How many cells, how many cages, proceedings, chains...?

Cassandra did not intend to keep track of how many more marks might be engraved on her body. How many unfortunate scenarios for which to suffer during the night, nor how her form was altered: for her, her body had always been a useful tool, practical in all its extension, and its ability to be modified had always been a useful skill, so she was not surprised when, on her arrival at the monastery, she noticed the thinness of her cheeks and the loss of stiffness in her arms and legs.

However, Stephen's gaze did not stop on her face, and it also strolled around her neck, chest, abdomen and legs, and Cassandra was duly pleased when a treacherous blush stained the tips of the doctor's ears. She didn't need to take a look at his mind to understand that he was remembering the last time he glimpsed her body to its full extent.

"Strange!" She heard another voice approaching, and Mordo appeared jogging from the courtyard. "What are you doing? We're not done yet..."

He seemed to notice Cassandra's presence then, and she recognized his arrival with a small nod. She tried not to be very aware of her surroundings: of the sense of cornering that being between Stephen and Mordo gave her, alone sitting on the bench. She found it almost funny, like that time Thor pulled his leash, wanting to go outside, only to find himself caught between Cassandra's dark, tall form and her son's short claws and golden curls. In the end, he chose the path of peace, and ran to Cassandra's legs with the leash entangled between his legs...

“What are you doing with Master Cassandra?”

Cassandra returned to her place, cross-legged on a bench in the courtyard when Mordo's voice, confused and curious, echoed among the stones around her. She felt Stephen's frown before he spoke, and Cassandra struggled to maintain a serious expression in the face of the spontaneity of the scene.

"Master Cassandra?" Did Stephen know her name? Maybe he read it on their marriage certificate after she slammed the door in his nose "Are you a master?"

Cassandra opened her mouth, unsure about what she was about to answer; whether a witty retort admonishing the sardonic inflection of his words when he pointed at her, or whether she was genuinely going to answer his question. However, Mordo was ahead of her.

“Watch your words, Strange. The master possesses levels of knowledge that you could only long to achieve by living ten lives. The paths of the mind are open to her indefatigable eyes, and you are lucky that you are able to find yourself with the reception of her giving manners.”

It took her quite a bit of self-control not to blush at the flattering words. She settled with chewing the inside of her cheek discreetly and squinting, turning her face to the sun directly: perhaps the light could cover up the bright layer that had suddenly covered her previously cloudy eyes.

"What he said," she projected to her husband, but not really. She didn't need to scare him away ahead of time by imposing her voice on his pretty, incredulous little head.

"I could hardly dismiss her giving manners," Strange pointed out, very eloquently for someone who had just walked his gaze across her profile with so little subtlety, "Do you think I don't observe you here, so ingeniously secluded, judging my posture and mocking me with your bright looks and your cryptic smiles?"

Odin... Cassandra thought she was being subtle.

“What posture?” It was the first thing that escaped her lips, and Cassandra was wonderfully horrified by the mocking tone that colored her biting words. “Raising your arms and bowing your head while circling is not a posture. You'd be dead before your opponent finished swinging his knife.”

Mordo, behind her back, drowned out a quick laugh, and Stephen's eyes narrowed with anger, annoyance, and... curiosity?

"And how could you do it better, here away from society like a fussy hermit?"

Would Stephen know about her previous identity as a superheroine? It was likely. Her face had been circulating on various newscasts for months.

"You should be more careful, Strange," she ended by saying, unsure about whether she should end the conversation, or if it was possible, finally, to give in to her desires to get to know her husband's eccentric personality better, "Lest you come across a soul less kind than mine, justifiably more impatient than me.”

Standing up with gelatinous legs, Cassandra shook off the dust from her pants, fascinated with the awareness that Stephen's eyes were still following the path of her hands on her body.

"If my posture is so bad, why don't you show me how it should be done? After all, you are a master, aren't you?"

Not of the mystical arts, she meant, but Stephen's scrutinizing expression provoked a sweet shudder that she hid by brushing the non-existent specks of earth on her shoulders.

"You are very daring," she said, and she couldn't contain the smile that filled her mouth, "What a first impression."

And with the first impression, Stephen must have understood that she was not only referring to the casual talk they were having in that courtyard.

At the reminder of their previous encounter, and the subsequent abrupt breakup that followed, Stephen's eyes finally softened. And a smile made its way onto his attractive face. Not for the first time, Cassandra marveled at the beauty of the man who had been chasing her thoughts for months.

"I will see you tomorrow, before lunch, in the courtyard that is under the long window next to the library. Have you ever been told, Doctor Stephen Strange, that you are a very reckless man?"

"Well, how can I replicate it?" Stephen replied, and his voice was deep, rich, and Cassandra just wanted to hear him more: "I'm very good at bargaining."

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

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honeyspiders10 · 1 year

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Masterlist!

This is the official masterlist of my blog!! Everything I have ever written will be listed here (so will asks and my get to know the author!)

This took literally forever so I hope my efforts were not in vain and this helps you navigate my blog!!

The fics will be organized by fandom and character!! (this is for your convenience.)

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Author stuff, reblogs, asks that aren't fanfictions: Announcing that I will start writing for Zelda characters!

Someone asked if i wrote for little and caregiver characters!

List your top 5 favorite songs.

Announcing that me and my friend would be doing winter prompts!

Creating a moodboard!

Start of 31 day December prompts! (this is going until the 31st!)

When it was my birthday! (2022)

Announcing new profile pic and backdrop!

A very lovely person asking if I was still taking requests (I am!!)

When I had a concussion and had to take a break.

When someone very nice checked on me bc of my concussion!

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Stuff I've written that's not a fanfiction!:

A cute romantic scene thing that I really love!

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Pinned Post(s):

Character list and will and not writes!

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Reposting Series:

Parental!Cole x Child!GN!Reader! (Platonic OFC) (fluff)

Jimmy Krystal x Female!Reader (Fluff)

Captain Barnacles x Female!reader HCs (fluff)

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Sing 1-2:

Porsha with a FtM!reader relationship HCs (fluff)

Jimmy Krystal x Female!Reader (Fluff)

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Boku No Hero Academia:

Tamaki with a Male!reader HCs (Fluff)

Tenya x male!reader (slight angst)

Kirishima x GN!reader (fluff) Tokoyami and Shoji (separate) HCs (fluff) Ojiro x GN!reader (fluff)

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Octonauts:

Transmasc!Kwazi coming out to the Octonauts (fluff)

Platonic!Peso and Kwazii HCs (separate) (fluff)

Captain Barnacles x Female!reader HCs (fluff) Captain Barnacles x GN!reader (fluff)

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Ninjago:

Parental!Cole x Child!GN!Reader! (Platonic OFC) (fluff)

Nya x Pixal x NB!reader! (Fluff)

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Beastars:

Riz x GN!Reader! (Play fighting fluff/light angst)

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Marvel Cinematic Universe:

Little!America x Caregiver!Stephen (PLATONIC) (angst/fluff)

Caregiver! Wong x Little!Stephen (PlATONIC) (fluff/light angst)

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Stranger Things:

Robin Buckley x Masc!Female!Reader (Fluff/angst?)

Max Mayfield x Male!Reader HCs (fluff)

Caregiver!Argyle x Little!Male!Reader! (fluff)

Eddie Munson x GN!Reader! (Fluff)

Eddie Munson x GN!Reader (fluff)

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Supernatural:

None at the moment unfortunately.. Taking requests though!

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Naruto:

None at the moment. Taking Requests though!

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The Walking Dead:

None! Feel free to request!

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Demonslayer:

None! Requests are open!!!

---------------------------------------------------- Zelda BOTW and TOTK:

None at the moment! Feel free to request! ---------------------------------------------------- Okay! That's all I hope you have a good day and I'm very glad you made it this far!! I hope you continue to support this blog!!

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cherryfinolahobbes · 2 years

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

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

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leewonkyeom · 6 months

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Your bias line is so good and you're so real for being Seokmin biased dk biased creatures are my favourite 😍 my svt bias unit (there are so many i decided to make a whole unit) has Jeonghan, Scoups (remember the green room aggressive 'gwiyomi' video??? Yeah I fell in love with him after watching that) Hoshi and Vernon (he was actually my first bias in svt i religiously watched every YT vid they put out because of him, Jeonghan and Hoshi)

Your neo bias and bias wreckers line is so good too you have TASTE ma'am and we also have some common biases! In the neo bias unit there's Taeyong, Jaehyun, Yuta (127) Jeno and Jaemin (dream), Jisung (U), YangYang (WayV) but despite all these biases my fav member has to be Mork (I'm sorry to all my biases 😭)

From Riize i thought i would end up being Sungchan or Shotaro (still can't believe they aren't in NCT anymore...) biased but I ended up being Wonbin, Sohee and seunghan biased

Other than that it's Hyunjin (stray kids) Mingi (Ateez) i don't really have a bias in got7 they are kinda like big brothers?? But my fav is bambam! Hyungwon and Shownu (monsta x), we have the same bias in Shinee (Key and Jonghyun 😭) Minho is the bias wrecker, Sehun (Exo), Taehyung (BTS), Soobin (txt) Jake (enha), Jihyo (Twice), Seulgi (RV)

Dw I had fun reading through your bias list! I think I gave you an even longer one 😭

FR 7th sense is so perfect i would give up my kidney function privilege to see them perform this live <33

Oh Christopher Nolan! I love his Batman movies and i watched inception which was good too! Which movie of his is your favourite?

Ahh the 00s classics! I love all those movies you mentioned! I really love watching films and TV shows (smth me and Vernon have in common) and one thing that's important to me is the fashion I am a big fashion lunatic and looove to see a good outfit on screen with that being said some of my favourite 'comfort' films are Clueless (1995), Fight club, Adams family (both 91 film and 60s sitcom), funny face, breakfast at Tiffany's, Heathers, pretty woman, the devil wears the prada, mean girls, pulp fiction, fallen angels (1995) and more. My favourite directors are Wong kar wai, Quentin Tarantino, Satoshi Kon and Hayao Miyazaki (maybe Martin scoresse too)

"dk biased creatures"😭 (sums me up though). you're bias line is also so good though😭 but either way i support stanning everyone in svt so ig i would say that anyways🤧🤧 my first biases (as far as i can remember) were wonwoo and shua, and then dk just took over at some point😭

we have so many in common for nct lmao😭😭 i support that a 100% as well. you have taste fr

but omg i get what you're saying about riize. like i for sure believe at this point i'm shotaro biased, but i keep looking at wonbin more and more👀👀

i get what you're saying about got7 being big brothers, but i was also at my peak ahgase at like 15 so ofc i have a bias😭 and i considered writing hyungwon for my bias in monsta x😭😭😭 like i love him sm, but my og bias was jooheon... i'm so illoyal when it comes to them

Sehun was my first bias in exo omg😭😭 (and exo was the group that got me into kpop) and i think taehyung was my first in bts?? because of the war of hormone mv lmao. and omgggg jihyo in twice!!! same!!! i forgot to mention her. and seulgi omg😭😭 you also have taste!! loved reading your bias list as well♡♡♡

omg what wouldn't i do to see 7th sense live😭 it's not a want, it's a need !!

the batman movies are def my least favorites of his bc i just cannot get into action movies😭😭 (except spider-man which is 🔛🔝). but i think memento might be my fave from the ones i've watched

but yess😭😭 i just love those 00s teenage romcoms😭 they just give such good vibes. bridget jones is also an honorable mention. like other than that i like horror movies, esp. cult classics like scream and jennifer's body, but i don't tend to watch those on repeat😭

omggg i love a lot of the movies you mentioned !! we def have similar taste. i don't think i've watched anything by wong kar wai though, what's your favorite movie?? (i love those other directors you mentioned though !)

btw i looked at your profile, and just to make sure, do you go by jolene?♡♡

#⭐️mutuals #🐱catsaki

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beautyofthend · 3 years

Photo

Private IVF is so expensive.

Bad Love ▹ (24x03)

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 8 months

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Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight

a Stephen Strange x OFC Romance

Chapter Seven (ANGST, wherein Stephen experiences a guilt induced nightmare)

Stephen had suggested that they return to the Sanctum, hoping to allow Teyla a chance to process all that had happened, and to begin to grieve. She had declined, her eyes brimming with determination and an eagerness to share with him, her happiest memories of her father. He watched her move about the flat, while telling him a series of stories in a sort of stream of consciousness--leading him to realize that this was how she chose to mourn. Eventually, she came to sit beside him on the sofa, her focus on showing him the contents of several photo albums encompassing the time she’d spent living with her dad.

In the quiet moments in between, Stephen sensed how desperately she was trying to fend off her heartbreak. He hurt for her, but remained patient for the moment she might trust him enough to ask for what she needed.

As dusk colored the sky outside, Teyla located those pieces of her father’s work which he had saved for her, covered loosely in several layers of muslin cloth, waiting for her hand to reveal. Worn and weary as she was, she found the fortitude to hang on just a while longer—though with each piece she unveiled, Stephen noted her tears remained barely in check

First there was a thick sketchbook that Charles had kept during the years that Teyla lived with him. Much of its content was concerned with Teyla herself; studies of her at the breakfast table or amidst a pile of schoolbooks; sketches of her laughing, or at play; even a few which caught her sleeping--all of them created with a father’s loving eye. Stephen enjoyed seeing this younger version of Teyla, imagining the daily joy she had brought to her father’s life.

There was a softly romantic portrait of Moraine in the nude, which Teyla explained had been painted early in their courtship; that the Artist was head over heels for his model was evident in every brushstroke. A second painting depicted Moraine in the fertile bloom of pregnancy; set against the night sky, framed against an open window of a smaller apartment of decades ago, she was clothed in a translucent ivory nightgown, her hands resting protectively upon her protruding belly. Stephen found it nothing short of breathtaking; a magnificently rendered image of womanhood in its unassailable glory, and beautiful with understated sensuality.

“You like this one,” Teyla observed quietly, but clearly proud of her father’s handiwork.

Stephen let out a low whistle, “This piece is amazing, Teyla. Your dad was a talented artist.”

Her voice caught a moment, but she readily agreed.

Two sculptures sat draped in linen slip cloths, lined with tyvek for extra protection from moisture; Teyla uncovered them reverently to reveal a bust of her mother—looking like some Grecian goddess—while the other captured Moraine with a wee Teyla. Though made of marble, the piece was alive with their family bond, as mother bent low, cupping her daughter’s hands in her own, allowing both to study a small winged creature (Stephen’s mind insisted it was some sort of Hadeethan butterfly) which rested upon Teyla’s open palm. “Fantastic,” he murmured.

“That he was,” she agreed, with a plaintive finality that voiced her sorrow. A large, rectangular shape rested beneath the remaining storage cloth. Teyla gasped as she slid the cloth away. “I have…I have never seen this one…” She bowed her head to hide the tears she could no longer hold at bay.

Stephen draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She shivered against him. “He must have done this after I left Earth. I wish…” Teyla sobbed, “I wish that I had known.”

This painting was unquestionably the finest of the works that Charles had set aside for his daughter. A crowning achievement. Teyla gazed wide-eyed at them from the canvas, her truth beautifully captured; the small curve of her smile, the soft fall of her hair, the unassuming kindness that lived in the depths of her doe-eyes. She rested her chin against her palm, her hand angled so that the rich purple stone of her mood ring was visible. She looked happy—and as though she knew the secret to happiness and would share it freely if only the viewer could awaken her image to speak aloud. Walter Charles had painted the quiet miracle that had brought him fulfillment as no other soul in the world ever had, in a language that articulated his heart as no written or spoken word ever could.

Surely Teyla understood the image for all it had meant to her father. She breathed hard several times, then made a desperate, strangled sound, before nestling her face in the crook of Stephen’s neck.

The bitter taste of remorse filled his mouth, and Stephen’s hands flared with fresh spikes of pain, as he considered the talented hands that had created this striking portrait of a beloved daughter. An artist’s hands that might have been given more time to share his talents with the world, if only a ‘hot-shot genius doctor’ had actually cared about the patients that had sought his help. The painting seemed infused with the soft light of her gentle spirit, imbued with all the love her father held for her. An exceptional creation—and I failed the man without a second look back.

“I’m so sorry, Teyla,” he whispered, “So, so sorry. I’d give anything to make this right…”

She was shaking her head against his words, “Please, Doctor, please just take me from this place. I cannot bear this pain inside my heart. I feel my father as though he is near, yet I will never hear his voice or feel the comfort of his embrace again.”

“Of course,” he assured her, “Whatever you need, honey.” He released her as gently as he could, to conjure a portal back to the sanctuary of Bleecker Street.

Understandably, Teyla had no appetite, but at Stephen’s stern insistence, she ate a little yogurt, and a few slices of mango, before retiring to the small room he directed her to for the night. Though her body’s clock was still set to Kathmandu time—where it was early afternoon--he had a hunch he could coax her into some healing sleep. Failing that, he would employ a small sandman spell, though that turned out to be unnecessary.

Feeling both the weight of his responsibility as her mentor, and the gnawing guilt that he might’ve made a difference in the quality and length of her father’s final days, Stephen sat at Teyla’s bedside, watching over her a while. Watching as her breathing evened out and the lines of her body softened, knowing she had found the sort of solace—for a time—that he’d been unable to give her. When satisfied she rested easy, he headed to his own room, planning to immerse himself in study, certain the peace of sleep would elude him—which was precisely as he deserved.

It was that same old dream again, but with a wicked twist. He dreamed it far less frequently these days, and if he took the time to analyze just why, Stephen would realize it was because he had finally shed much of the guilt which he had carried for more than half a lifetime. Accepting that he bore full responsibility for his horrific accident, facing his demons in the aftermath, and recognizing that his medical career had never been of one of true service to others, had been a struggle that rivaled the constant physical challenges presented by his ruined hands. Only the enlightenment that had come to him with his studies in the mystic arts had enabled him to accept the truth about himself, humbling him and inspiring him to be a better man than ever in his life.

His dream-self stood—as he always did--on the shore of one of the smaller Fremont Lakes, drinking a can of Coors, laughing with his friends, and flirting with the prettiest of his sister’s high school classmates. He was only weeks away from beginning freshman year, and Stephen had been thinking that a little fling with Chloe Butler might be the perfect way to end the summer before heading off to study medicine at Creighton University. His sister Donna had swum out toward the the center of the lake, headed for the swim platform to bask in the afternoon sun—swimming as effortlessly as she’d done at least a hundred times before, and he frankly wasn’t paying much attention. He should have been; if he had been, he might have reached her minutes sooner, reached her in time to keep her from going under that last time.

In reality, he’d only heard her call his name once, but in the dreams, her frightened voice always carried across the water to him, repeatedly calling for help, calling his name, begging him to save her. When he realized she was in trouble, he’d shucked off his scuffed leather boat shoes, the first of the young men on the narrow strip of beach to dive in, swimming frantically in her direction. He was never to know for certain what had put her in distress; without a full autopsy (their mother couldn’t bear the thought of one), the best explanation they’d been given was a seizure of sorts, or something as innocuous as an ill-timed cramp. And though his lungs burned with his effort to reach her, Stephen was still a dozen yards away when Donna sank below the surface with heartbreaking finality.

In his dream, he relived again his frantic search for her in the dark depths of the lake, finally finding her, bringing her to shore, and breaking down after he was unable to resuscitate her. But this time, instead of waking sweat-soaked and heart hammering the insistent beat of his failure and his guilt, the nightmare continued. Though she was long dead and buried, Donna was there, in the flower of eternal youth, riding passenger with him in his Lamborghini Huracan. You failed me, Stephen, she intoned, her eyes flashing with bitter accusation; you were my older brother and you were supposed to look out for me, but you failed miserably; and as the rain began to pound the windshield, she questioned him without remorse: how many others did you fail in your egotistical short sightedness?

Stephen faced her, helpless to change the past, knowing his own fate was already sealed; in moments would come the crash and his car would hurtle off the road, breaking his hands beyond repair, robbing him of the life he’d worked so single-mindedly to establish for himself. You failed me, Stephen, she repeated, as you always fail the ones in greatest need…and just before the collision, Donna’s face transformed, and she was Teyla, but not angry--only sad, her indictments delivered quietly, regretfully, with a tenderness that matched her spirit in the waking world. You failed him, Stephen Strange; a better man might have saved my father. Somehow her words stung even more, for the gentle way in which she delivered them. You were ever selfish, and blind to the needs of others, so perhaps there is some justice in your fate, after all. And then she was gone, as his car spun and spun, and the pain was excruciating, and he knew in that moment that he deserved the pain, he deserved to have his old life ripped away…and if he spent a hundred years expunging his guilt through selfless service, he could never erase the misery, the loss, the deaths, of those he’d failed. His dear, doomed sister. Walter Charles, and those patients, who, like him, were not challenge enough to merit his valuable time and attention. And now, his gentle Teyla…

“Stephen”. Softly, yet urgently, spoken. “Stephen, you must awaken.” A concerned, familiar voice, summoning him away from his pain and self-recrimination. Pulling him from the depths of his dream. A hand—her hand--upon his shoulder, soft but insistent, lightly shaking him back to consciousness.

“Teyla,” he murmured, still caught in the nightmare. He needed to tell her. Wanted to, but that would only bring her pain. “Teyla…”

“Yes, I am here,” she answered, “I am here, Stephen. Open your eyes. See me beside you and know that all is well.”

His eyes fluttered open, unable to focus at first, and his heart was pounding, just as it always did in the wake of that nightmare. Her hand on his cheek was soft and cool, her face hovering above his quietly merciful, the ends of her hair just brushing his skin. Teyla of Hadeeth. How was she here, sympathetic as she tried to soothe him, the embodiment of clemency when he deserved only her scorn? “Teyla?” he whispered, wondering if she was just the remains of his dream, and would vanish like mist if he dared to trust she was real.

“Yes, Stephen,” she answered patiently, “Leave those painful memories behind. You must not torment yourself so.” Despite the grief he knew dwelled in her heart, her focus seemed to be solely on comforting him.

“I was dreaming,” he rasped, feeling he ought to explain, and hoping he didn’t appear as weak as he felt.

“I know,” she told him, the calm of her voice and in her touch beginning to banish the anguish that had enveloped him. “I dreamt as well, Stephen. I saw enough to know, and I felt your distress, and now I am here because you are more than worthy of mercy—but such mercy must begin with yourself.” She laid a hand over his heart, and an unexpected warmth spread through his chest.

Amazed at her perception, Stephen searched her eyes, reading her sincerity, unbelieving that redemption could be so easily gained. He shook his head to clear away the vestiges of his nightmare, sitting up against the headboard. He laid his hand atop hers, swearing he could feel the beautiful life force that inhabited her slender form. “Teyla,” he confessed, “If you knew the truth, you might not be so generous…”

Her eyes told him before she spoke, that she was well aware of the part he’d played in her father’s story. “I already know all that I need to know, Stephen.” His given name upon her lips, spoken without a hint of her usual formality, was a balm against his shame. “You have paid a heavy penance for your past mistakes; you need punish yourself no longer.”

Stephen breathed deeply and closed his eyes, feeling entirely unworthy of the absolution she was offering. “Do you understand, Teyla? Your own father…”

She cupped a hand against his cheek, silencing him with a wise, sweet smile. “I assure you, Stephen—I understand it all…and I promise you that you are not the man you were in those days.” He opened his eyes, finding only compassion in her own. “You have become your best self, through trial and pain. I swear that you are now the man you were destined to become…but you must forgive yourself--for that will finally free you from this burden of guilt that weighs upon you so.”

Though awestruck by her heart’s true generosity, Stephen suddenly felt tired enough to sleep for a week. “Yes,” she smiled, relieved on his behalf, “You must rest a while now, and come the day this darkness will fade to naught.” Come morning he would wonder too, if she’d worked some gentle magic by simple touch alone.

At her prompting, Stephen slid back down onto his pillow, allowing her to tuck the blanket around him. He caught her hand in his before she stood up to leave; she didn’t seem surprised. “You are most welcome, Stephen Strange,” she told him, then headed to his door.

“Just tell me this,” he said, a ghost of his usual cheekiness restored, so that she turned back to him from the doorway, “How are you so young, and yet so wise, Teyla of Hadeeth?”

She raised a brow—quite insouciantly—and he saw in her a bit of Moraine’s regal bearing, as she proudly replied, “I am both my mother’s daughter, and my father’s child as well. I dare to believe that the best of both of them have found their union in me.” Teyla gave a little shrug, and left the room—though the surprising smile she left upon Stephen’s face lasted long enough to see him into a more peaceful sleep of his own.

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alexandrevla · 4 years

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Can’t draw proper full bodies standing let alone have them sitting. Attempt to draw more than 2 characters-unheard of. Make sure you don’t use any pose references so you end up with the best results and vOILA! Leon’s hand is now haunting my dreams.. “Finished” another w.i.p with all of my precious babies~

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ificouldhelpyouforget · 4 years

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Bye Bye (Spike Spiegel x OC)

MASTERLIST | COWBOY BEBOP MASTERLIST

A/N: I’m sorry my updates for anything are slow and basically nonexistent. I really have been trying to edit my original story to get it finished in time to post for the Wattys this year. Don’t give up on me yet! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this sorta sad update.

Summary: It’s never easy to say goodbye. It’s even harder to not know it was a goodbye.

Warnings: A little angsty if you’ve seen the episode (spoiler btw if you haven’t)

Words: 1.9k

Vida enjoyed going to Earth. Even though she wasn't from the blue planet, it was a nice change of pace despite the consistent meteors. There was freedom. Every visit felt relaxed.

The Bebop wasn't supposed to be on Earth though. Vida went to bed expecting to wake up on Mars only to be as confused as Jet and Spike. To make matters worse, Faye and Edward were nowhere to be seen.

"We should wait for them," she told Jet. "There's a reason they came here, so we should give them a chance."

Jet grumbled.

"She's right, Jet," Spike said. "It might be nice to sit around and do nothing."

"You already do that," Jet scowled. "We should just leave them."

Ein barked and growled.

Vida chuckled. "You'll have Ein to deal with if you do. You don't wanna mess with her."

The Corgi snorted.

"Fine. We'll wait."

"Great! How about we practice hand-to-hand, Spike? I could always use the practice."

Sighing, he stood and stretched. "Sure, I guess. Your fighting is weak."

Vida frowned. "Thanks for the encouragement."

Sadly, Spike wasn't wrong. Vida didn't join hunts as often because her fighting technique lacked. Spike started working with her when she tried punching a bounty head and wound up hurting herself more. She was horrified when it happened. And although she improved a lot since then, she still had a long way to go. It didn't help that Spike was an incredible fighter.

Even as she blocked a hit, her mind replayed the fluidity of his moves and the control he had over his hits. Holding back to fight her proved how strong he really was.

She shook out her arms. "I wish I could take a hit from you without my arms going numb."

"Practice."

"Yeah, but the second I get used to them, you come at me even harder." Vida faked a kick and swung her fist.

Spike dodged easily. "Can't get better without a challenge."

"I'm more concerned that your strength doesn't have a stopping point."

"There are plenty of people stronger than me we might come across."

"Stronger than you? Geez... That's not really what I want to hear when you're kicking my ass."

He smirked and kicked Vida's feet out from under her. Right before her head smacked against the floor, Spike's hand stopped it from smashing backward. His eyes gleamed as he stared from his crouched position beside her, hand still holding the back of her head. He noticed the subtle color in her cheeks.

"That was... unexpected," she muttered.

"Always be prepared for the unexpected."

"Then it's not unexpected."

"It doesn't mean you can predict what will happen. Be aware of every possibility."

His hand on her head felt hot, but she wasn't sure if that was from the heat rising to her face or his body heat. Spike was so close, closer than usual, his upper body hovering over her to keep her head up. He still had yet to let her go and the growing smirk on his face told her he knew exactly what he was doing to her. Vida couldn't quit thinking about how fast he was, reaching out to catch her head... how careful he was. Not much made Vida nervous. Spike right there like that? It was torture. Her little crush on the man was so much more.

"Are you gonna let me up or are you waiting for something?" And she had to make it more awkward for herself.

"What would I be waiting for, Vida?"

She swore his voice sounded deeper. "I don't know. I'm waiting for you to let me up, so I can leave with another humiliating loss under my belt."

"You're getting better." He finally stood, helping her to her feet. "You might land a hit someday."

"Ha. Ha." Vida straightened her clothes. "I can't imagine I'll ever get to that point."

"We'll see." He had that knowing look on his face while meeting her gaze.

Vida swallowed. "Well, thanks for sparring with me. I'm gonna go... go shower."

"Have fun."

Somehow, she felt there was a double meaning to his words.

•

Even though the weirdness from earlier lingered around Vida, she found herself sitting next to Spike after her shower. Jet took the couch as he rambled on about Faye and Ed. Spike sat in the chair and Vida sat on the arm. It was sad how drawn she was to him even when she couldn't be sure if his strange way of flirting was flirting. It felt right to be near him.

A loud sound and the familiar footsteps of the missing ladies drew everyone's attention to the door Faye and Ed suddenly came through. But neither acted like themselves. Faye's face was as blank as her eyes. Ed didn't acknowledge any of her crewmates and didn't make a sound when Ein barked at her. The poor Corgi sensed the strange aura of the young woman and followed her deeper into the Bebop.

"What's wrong with them?" Jet asked.

Spike looked after where they disappeared. "Don't know."

"Something happened... I guess something that's making them think and retreat."

Jet scoffed. 'I'm sure they're fine. Probably stuffed from whatever food they used our woolongs on."

Vida stood abruptly. "I'll go check on Ed. Faye might beat me up if I bother her."

Spike's eyes followed Vida's movements across the room and stayed on the doorway she slipped through. Always on her way to help someone.

"There goes Vida to save the day."

"It's more than we do, Jet. She can talk to Ed better than any of us."

Jet studied Spike who still stared after Vida. He chuckled, catching the other man's attention.

"What?"

"Nothing important, Spike. Let's just hope Vida can figure out what's wrong."

•

Edward was lying on the ground, arms and legs sprawled out with Ein nestled against her side. She didn't move when Vida sat beside her.

"You okay, Ed?"

Silence.

"I won't ask why you and Faye took us to Earth. I don't think that's our concern right now. We're worried about what happened... I'm worried about you. What's wrong?"

She sat up and slumped forward. "Ed needs to find father-person."

Vida blinked. 'You have a dad?"

She nodded.

"Did you lose him?"

"Father-person lost Ed."

"Is he on Earth then?"

"Mmhmm."

Vida tapped her chin and looked upward. She snapped her fingers. "I think I have an idea to find him."

Edward cheered and became her usual ecstatic self while Ein barked. Vida smiled, happy to help her friend. Maybe Faye could use her help once she cooled off.

•

Meeting Appledehli - Edward's father – did not go how anyone expected: Ed introduced him after he twirled her around like she was an airplane, Spike and Jet figured out Vida forged the bounty on Appledehli to get to him, and a chunk of moon rock crashed onto the Earth. Appledehli and his assistant Macintire chased after it as if Edward wasn't there. She just watched her father disappear... again.

When the four of them returned to the bebop, Faye had disappeared again. Jet had a few angry words to say about it, making Vida disappear from his rants for her sanity. Something grew in her stomach, uneasiness, and she didn't know why. His yelling didn't help.

Not long after she walked away, Edward ran up to her and wrapped her limbs around Vida. Ed didn't say a word, only giving Vida a sound of joy as she squeezed her.

Vida laughed. "What's this for Ed?"

"Ed loves Vi-Vi!" she replied, jumping off the hunter and running away.

"I love you, too, Edward!"

It wasn't until Vida noticed the lack of laughter and barking when she realized why her stomach was bothering her. She bolted from her room out onto the landing deck where she stopped. Spinning around, she followed red lines of graffiti that drew Ed's familiar cartoon smile above her carefree goodbye. Vida's lower lip trembled, her mind playing Ed's voice to hear her sweet "bye-bye."

Hot tears rolled down her face as she collapsed to her knees on the deck. There were no hard feelings. She understood why Edward had to leave, but it didn't hurt any less. And to know she didn't give the girl a proper farewell... it made it hurt even more.

At the bridge, Spike lit a cigarette and stared at the goodbye while Vida mourned the loss of a friend.

Jet stood next to him. "Faye's gone. Edward's gone. Ein's gone. Do you think Vida will go, too?"

Spike didn't answer at first. He wasn't sure if she would. He didn't want her to, but Spike knew the fickle nature of women. If Vida wanted to leave, she would. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. Vida was a constant, something bright on the Bebop... so unlike Julia in many ways. It surprised him. Maybe Vida wouldn't go because she wasn't like all women.

"Spike?"

"I don't think she'll leave."

"Really?"

Spike put out his cigarette and left without explaining. If there was a chance she would, he had to make sure he snuffed it out. Vida was good for the Bebop. For them. For him. He picked up the pinwheel Ed handed him before she left as he walked toward the landing deck.

Vida heard the scuffle of shoes behind her but didn't acknowledge it. What was she going to do without Ed and Ein?

A purple and white pinwheel filled her watery vision. It turned with the gentle breeze, the setting sun reflecting off the blades. Vida sniffled and took it out of Spike's hand.

"She gave it to me before she left. I bet she wanted me to give it to you to cheer you up."

That caused fresh tears to fall. "That sounds like Ed."

Spike sat down, one arm behind him to hold himself up. The other rested on his bent leg. "You okay?"

"I... I will be."

"Are you thinking of leaving, too?"

"Never." Vida didn't hesitate. "I can't leave. I need you and Jet... and I hope you need me, too. I don't have anywhere else to go anyway."

She had no idea how much they needed her. "Good," Spike said as he scanned the horizon.

Her shoulder bumped into his as she shifted, arms circling his torso. "Thank you."

Spike looked down at her, face hidden in his shirt. The pinwheel spun until it caught the pale yellow fabric of his sleeve. Instead of speaking or pushing her away, Spike sat up enough to let his arm slide around her in a half-hearted hug. Crying women left him somewhat uncomfortable.

Jet stared at the remainder of his team and sighed. He was nervous Spike would say something to scare Vida away, but soon realized that wasn't the case. The number of times he found Vida going to Spike for pretty much anything was too high to count. There probably wasn't much Spike could say to her that would push her away. And there was a change in Spike's attitude when Vida came around. When he agreed to let Vida stay with them, Jet never expected her and Spike's strange friendship. At least they had each other in some way.

He watched Spike stand and help Vida to her feet, saying something with a smirk that made her laugh and clutch the pinwheel to her chest. Jet smiled knowing that everything was okay. Vida wasn't leaving with the other women. The Bebop crew would be all right.

#spike spiegel #Spike Spiegel fanfiction #Spike Spiegel imagine #Spike Spiegel x oc #oc #ofc #original female character #cowboy bebop #cowboy bebop fanfiction #cowboy bebop imagine #edward wong hau pepelu tivrusky iv #Edward wong #faye valentine #ein #jet black

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