#stephen x reader

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"oh my, that must have been awful.." wanda whispered, her words tickled against your ears. your boyfriend stephen had canceled on your date and you were upset because you hardly saw him anymore.

you looked down at your nails, picking at the skin near it. this was one of your nervous habits that wanda tried to help you break but it was no use. every time she'd think she got you to stop, it continued.

wanda hummed, with a swift response her fingers brushed your hand. her eyes followed your movement. you met her gaze, she was waiting for you to say something.

"i'm not even surprised, i don't think i'm his first priority. or his second.. or third." your eyes dropped. wanda could feel your pain but didn't comment on it. "it's just more convenient if we were together... i know that our mess of a relationship will be over in a few months." you mumbled, a stray tear escaped your eye.

"oh, baby.." wanda sighed softly, bringing her hand up to wipe your tear. she hated seeing a man, especially one whom she hated, get you all worked up.

you collapsed in her arms, your quiet sniffles filled the silence. her fingers traced circles over your back. her hot breath lingered against your skin. the smell of her sweet perfume.. it was almost too much for you.

almost.

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your eyes fluttered as you began to feel a warmth pressed against you. it was the arms of your best friend lazily draped around you. she had also fallen asleep it appeared.

your bladder felt full and when you attempt to make a run for the toilet, you found the woman's death grip to be wildly protective. so comforting.. the urge to lay numb against her was strong but you changed your mind when you find yourself nearly having an accident on her.

"wanda" you mumbled softly against her. she shifted in the bed, no response. "wanda" you repeat but the red-head just shushed you and wrapped her arms around your waist. "wandaaa" you whimpered, you couldn't hold it anymore.

wanda felt a warm liquid drip down your leg, spreading all over her bed. she smirked against you, this was her plan all along. to get you all embarrassed and flustered under her. now this isn't exactly how she envisioned it but she can't admit that this wasn't hot.

"oh, detka.. you had a little accident, let mommy help clean you up." wanda's eyes darkened, hovering over you. you hid your face, you were so embarrassed. first you cried to her about your boyfriend and now you've peed all over her bed. there are definitely better ways she could have spent her friday evening and now you've ruined her bed.

"hey, let me see you pretty girl." she cooed at you, removing your fingers from covering your face. she smiled at the reveal of your glossy tears, god you were so beautiful.

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she noticed after your previous interactions, you wetting her bed a week ago, you had been more distant. she felt hurt and upset that you were avoiding her. she saw you spending all your time with stephen again, you claimed he was trying to "make up for lost time".

she ran into you at the supermarket and to her surprise of course you were with stephen. his hand intertwined with yours while the other occupied his phone. he appeared to be wrapped up in whatever it is he was doing, or whomever he was texting.

wanda bite her lip to hold out the venom she so desperately wanted to let out. instead, she sighed and pushed her cart to align with yours.

"hey, y/n!" she exclaimed, her eyes fixated on stephan and the way he doesn't even acknowledge her presence. y/n looked at stephan nervously, you had on a baggy hoodie and this made wanda suspicious. she furrowed her brows trying to rack her brain why this could be. she knew you hated wearing baggy clothes, it was a texture thing for you.

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the next time wanda saw you was at a barbecue, you were all dolled up and she wished she could run her hands down your doll-like figure. kiss your soft cheeks, caress your shoulders, leave traces of her all over you. she knew she had to fix things.

wanda saw you with a tray in your hands making your eay to the kitchen so she grabbed a glass and quickly followed behind. finally, she could have a moment alone with you to talk things out. she hate the silence treatment, not being able to hear your sweet voice and laugh that could brighten anyone's mood.

"y/n" wanda called out, in a rush. you emptied the tray into the trash and placed it in the sink. wanda is hovering behind you when you turn around. this startles you and you bump into her. knocking the glass out of her hand.

oh no. "wanda, i'm so sorry-" you exclaimed. you felt so bad, you had been ignoring the girl because of stephen and know you've knocked a glass out of her hand. "No- no, please let me talk y/n." Her eyes full of guilt and sadness.

you nodded, the least you could do was hear her out.

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"i can make you feel way better than he could.." she purred, exhaling softly against your neck. "let me take care of you, baby." wanda's hands ran through your body. light as a feather but just soft enough to have an effect on you, and she could see it.

she wanted to take her time with you to show you how making love should be like. your eyes widened, nodding. god you've wanted this for so long. "need to hear you say it, darling." wanda whispered, her eyes lingering on you. just aching to go forward but depending on your sweet voice to give her consent.

"i want this wanda" your words muffled against her skin. wanda waited no longer, her hands motioned for you to lay on your back as she hovered over you. she pressed dher lips against yours. you tasted so sweet, it was so addicting.

wanda let out a soft moan against your lips, she sounded so beautiful. you wanted to hear more. her hands lifted up your shirt, exposing your bra-less skin. the moment your shirt departed, the cold air hit your nipples. they began to harden, wanda bit her lip to try and control herself.

she so desperately wanted to take your nipples in her mouth, to suck on them, bite them, pull at them and just abuse them. she resisted, to use for another time. right now, a sweet little thing like you needed to be treated like an angel.

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author's notes: This started as headcanons for the Avengers getting recognized in public… and quickly grew to include a combination of MCU characters.

Steve’s not in this, because I like Sam much better. I wrote Sam to be queer and there’s a brief acknowledgement of the discrimination he faces (it’s not the focus of his snippet).

The order is: Tony, Sam, Bucky, Bruce, Natasha, Thor, Clint, Vision, Stephen, Loki, T’Challa, and Scott—in case you want to find your favorites. But you should read all of them, because I think they’re cute :3

Warnings: brief mentions of discrimination (Sam’s snippet; not the point of the fic), unwanted physical contact (Stephen’s snippet; not perpetrated by him ofc).

Tony will know when someone’s a fan before they even notice him. It’s unsettling. You’ll be walking at his side, maybe looking down at your phone, when he’ll just go, “Fanboy incoming, three o’clock.” And you’ll look up and to your right to find a guy walking up to Tony. 

Of course, Tony is extremely insufferable about it. He loves the attention; whenever you’re out in public, you’re forced to be the camera person: taking photos of him and his fans. It’s kind of annoying. It only gets worse when they leave, as Tony will proceed to taunt you for your nonexistent jealousy. (Because, really, who wants to be stopped every five seconds on their way to lunch?) 

Bonus: If you’re a hero too, maybe another member of the Avengers… and a fan approaches you… Tony is super jealous. He’ll lurk off to the side with a fierce glare, practically boring holes into the fan’s skin as you give them your attention. When he’s handed the fan’s phone and told to take photos, expect him to put in almost no effort—rolling his eyes through it. If Tony’s in a really shitty mood, he’ll scrutinize the fan’s flaws (murmuring “What an ugly shirt…” under his breath or something else shady). 

And rest assured, when the fan steps away, Tony’s wrapping an arm over your shoulders and bemoaning how exhausting that was. If you remind him that these interactions happen to him all the time, he’s quick to change the subject or whistle innocently. 

Sam isn’t really used to getting recognized. It was one thing when he was the Falcon. But now that he’s Captain America, he’s been the unwitting target of the public’s scrutiny. As proud as he is to defend the country and its citizens… Well, many of them aren’t happy to be saved by a queer Black man. 

That isn’t to say he always has horrible fan interactions. In fact, at least 90% of them are good. And all of the Avengers have their horror stories: Tony, Clint, and, hell, even Bruce (who is quite literally the most non-confrontational person on the planet). But the bad moments stick with Sam for longer than they should, making him flinch when he should smile. Of course, when he realizes his anxiety is irrational, he’s quick to slip on a bright grin or a mischievous smirk. 

When he’s met with a genuine fan, though… Things can get a bit crazy. You’ve known Sam for long enough to know that he doesn’t really recognize the sheer power of his charisma. He jokes about it all the time, sure, but he doesn’t truly know. You’ve seen people practically drool all over him, and Sam will just wave it off with a polite smile. He really has a knack for steering the conversation perfectly, striking the balance between getting to know the fan and maintaining his boundaries. 

You like poking fun at him after these fan moments, because there’s always a split second or two where he’s left staring after them with a slight smile on his face. (It’s such an endearing sight.) Of course, once Sam’s attention finds you again, he’s quick to rip into you in response.

Oh, and if you’re the hero getting fawned over… Sam will be entirely insufferable. Hell, he’ll usually join in on it, fake gushing over you and shaking his hands excitedly. He doesn’t go this far when he senses the other person is genuinely nervous, but if they’re a good sport, he’ll poke fun at them a bit. 

When he’s relegated to photographer duty, he’ll take it seriously, maybe saying a cheeky, “Smile!” like a school photographer. And of fucking course Sam will take selfies on the fan’s phone. It’s like they’re asking him to—just handing the phone to him unlocked. Amateur mistake, come on. 

Sam’s also just a super genuine guy. He’s a lot more attuned to the human experience than the other heroes are. And he’s super humble. Whenever people will offer to pay for him—coffee, dinner, whatever—he’s quick to deny. The waiter offers to pay for your dinner? Nope, Sam’s credit card is already on the table. The barista gives him a free drink? He gives them a tip that far exceeds the price of the coffee. Despite how often people will offer him things in gratitude, Sam will always refuse them and pay. Always. And that’s an admirable quality to have. 

Bucky doesn’t know what to do when a fan approaches him. It’s hard for him to understand why they would idolize him in the first place. Not to mention, he likes his privacy—the thought of people knowing things about him is unsettling. 

He’s probably the Avenger that has the firmest boundaries. He almost never says yes to pictures. He’ll stiffen and tighten up when fans get too close; the fingers of his vibranium hand will twitch and clench. 

When the mantle of Captain America is passed from Steve to Sam, though… Bucky’s image is different. The public doesn’t really see him as the Winter Soldier anymore—they just see him as the person who accompanies Sam. And, honestly, he much prefers that to the alternative. Bucky doesn’t want to think about what he went through in the past—being spared from the reminder is a relief. 

He’ll still be hesitant to take photos, of course. He’ll flash a super awkward smile, while still being stiff and tense. 

Of course, if you’re the hero getting recognized, expect to get teased relentlessly. Bucky will throw the fan’s words back at you, teasingly calling you the best hero, the coolest Avenger, the only thing that got him through final exams… It’s ridiculous. 

And Bucky is always thrilled to be the one taking the photos. He’ll take pictures from several different angles, until the fan’s practically tugging their phone back from him to preserve their storage. 

Bruce is so incredibly uncomfortable with fans. He still doesn’t really like being associated with the Hulk—it brings up a whole host of negative emotions in him. And it certainly doesn’t help when people will approach him asking for the Hulk, as if the guy’s some kind of party trick instead of a manifestation of his worst, most unsavory feelings. 

Bruce will be brief and almost blunt, his eyes frequently flitting around as he tries and fails to maintain his composure. With his hands shoved in his pockets and the restlessness practically dripping off of him, the fans are usually quick to sense he doesn’t want to speak with them. Bruce usually feels bad about it, and will apologize to them. You’ll tell him he doesn’t need to apologize, but he’ll just shake his head. 

If any fans are being particularly persistent, you’ll have to be the one to step in and tell them to back off. Because Bruce is the type to suffer silently, to endure discomfort until he’s nearly on the verge of a panic attack. And you’re not exactly the most confrontational person yourself, but it’s very easy to get irritated on his behalf. Defending Bruce is as natural as taking your next breath. It certainly helps when he shoots you that relieved glance of his, his shoulders relaxing and his confidence returning as the fan walks away. 

If someone’s a fan of Bruce Banner, though… he’s a lot more comfortable. You’ll see a tentative smile slowly work its way on his face as he’s asked about his publications and his research. Bruce will often get too absorbed in the conversation, to the point when you’ll have to drag him off and apologize to the fan—your lunch reservation isn’t going to fill itself. 

Natasha tries her absolute hardest to be completely unapproachable and intimidating. Hell, you don’t think she even has to try—she just gives off that kind of vibe. Most people are quick to realize she’s pissed. Of course, that’s assuming they even get so close as to speak with her. It would be more likely for them to get thrown to the ground then have a casual conversation with the Black Widow. 

You don’t know how someone would look at Black Widow and think she even wanted to associate with them… but there are always foolish people. Foolish, absolutely moronic people who think they can somehow sneak a picture of her or with her. Nat has really good peripheral vision and she knows when someone nearby is taking a photo of her. She’ll proceed to appear behind them, scaring the absolute shit out of them, before calmly and firmly saying, “Delete it.” This tried-and-true method never fails. 

If someone actually has the guts to get into her personal space, they’ll leave with an injury. And you don’t blame Natasha for that. Fans tend to think that they have a right to a celebrity’s attention and space, just because they’ve followed them for a long time. In the days of social media, these assumptions are only growing more common. Fortunately, Nat always deals a swift reality check to anyone and everyone stupid enough to cross her path.

Thor loves when people recognize him. At the end of the day, he’s a god—and gods like to be praised. The God of Thunder is no exception. He’ll definitely milk it a bit, flashing a blinding smile and flexing his muscles just so the fans react. 

He still doesn’t really know how Midgardian technology works—he doesn’t have a phone himself. So when Thor is tasked with taking a photo of a fan and you… Safe to say, he has no idea what he’s doing. He holds it the wrong way, holds it backwards. He accidentally exits out of the camera app and goes into something else entirely, borderline snooping through the fan’s phone without even realizing. Eventually he’ll give up and return the fan’s phone, at which point they’ll take a selfie of you and them. 

Thor will sometimes get perplexed when he’s not given any attention. Whenever he realizes this, he usually turns to the fan and says something along the lines of, “No love for the God of Thunder?” The situation then plays out in two ways: 

The fan looks mildly embarrassed and asks for a picture with him, even if they didn’t want one. Everyone leaves happy. 

The fan just blinks at him. Maybe they’re confused, maybe they don’t know who the God of Thunder even is. Or, hell, maybe they just don’t want a picture with him. Regardless of the reason, Thor will be completely shocked. He won’t let it show until they leave—at which point, he’ll whip around and look at you. “That Midgardian… they didn’t want my picture.”

It’s almost cute, how dejected he looks at the thought. At this point, you’ll have to cheer him up—which usually involves you saying, “Well, I want your picture.” Then the two of you proceed to take some selfies at a rather questionable angle, and Thor forgets about it. 

Clint is a bit of a wild card. Sometimes, he’s very patient and kind with his fans. Other times, he’s on a bit of a short fuse. He’s never rude, of course. He can just get a little… testy. You hardly blame him, especially when the two of you will get stopped before going to dinner, grabbing groceries… It never ends. 

Not to mention, Hawkeye doesn’t have the same… committed fanbase… that some of the other Avengers have. As Clint has said before, he slips into the background. He’s more than content with that. He doesn’t transform into the green giant or wield a magical hammer. He just has a bow and arrow—and to him, that’s more than enough. 

For whatever reason, this seems to convince people that he’s more friendly than the others. He’s more human than most of them, and can get away with looking ordinary if he’s wearing the right clothes. Of course, you know the truth: Clint is an absolute dick. In the best way possible, of course. That’s why the two of you get along so well. 

But the public doesn’t know that. The public is keen to think that he’s this sunny guy with a perfect home life and absolutely nothing to complain about. Fans will ask him borderline stupid questions about himself, before quickly pivoting to questions about the other Avengers. It’s as if Clint isn’t even there, and you know it pisses him off. (It would piss you off, too, if you were him.) 

And you can always tell the quality of the question he’s asked by how he answers. If it’s a mildly stupid one about one of the Avengers, he’ll pretend to think about it before shrugging and going, “You’ll just have to ask them.” If it’s particularly stupid, he won’t even bother answering. Sometimes, Clint will just stand there and let the awkward silence remain until the fan gets a hint. And on the rare, rare occasion that it’s an intelligent question, he’ll take a few moments to think about it before answering. And Clint will be the one to offer a picture during those rare times. Otherwise, the fans stand no chance. 

If you’re being accosted by fans, Clint is a constant presence at your side. It’s reassuring to know he has your back. And he’s a quick study—he’ll immediately notice if you get uncomfortable or want to leave, at which point he’ll speed things up. If someone asks for your autograph, he’ll respond before you can, “We don’t have a pen.” When the fan offers one, Clint just takes it and snaps it in half before going, “Oops,” in the most flat voice possible. 

Vision doesn’t really understand what’s happening. The first time a fan approaches him, they just stand there for several moments. And he stares back at them quietly, before eventually turning to you and going, “Is this a human custom?” At which point the fan will introduce themself and say they’re a fan. And… Vision will usually laugh. 

“A fan?” he asks. “Of me? I’m merely a program, designed by Stark Industries.”

“You know what I mean,” the fan will assert, strangely insistent on his sentience. Vision will look at them for a moment in disbelief, before politely remarking that he does not know what they mean. Yes, the conversations between him and his fans are always very awkward. Despite Vision’s time with the Avengers, he hasn’t gotten a perfect grasp on humans yet. Besides, he was designed to grow. 

He’ll slowly but surely get used to these interactions. He doesn’t have much of a choice: people will almost always approach him, fan or not. The pink skin, combined with the Infinity Stone firmly embedded in his forehead, is enough to make people very curious. 

Vision is very sweet to the older adults who will often approach him in confusion, calmly stating that he’s an android and quelling their nerves or fears. Children will point at him and whisper in the way they tend to do; if they’re too scared to approach him, he’ll send them a wink. Otherwise, he’ll stare down at them and speak somewhat stiffly. He has very little experience speaking with children, after all. 

These moments are cute. Whenever the kids leave, Vision will turn to you and ask you about his observations. Why was the kid staring so much? (Because kids do that.) Why did the mother look so apprehensive? (Because we’re strangers interacting with her child.) Why did he think you vanished when you put your hands over your face? (Kids don’t develop object permanence until they get older.) It’s pretty much ethnography for him—an immersive experience that leaves him with equal questions and answers. 

Stephen isn’t used to getting recognized. It’s kind of impossible for him not to get recognized, you tell him one day as you walk along the sidewalk. The robes and amulet speak for themselves. People are quick to jump to one of two conclusions: 1) he’s Dr. Strange; or 2) he’s cosplaying a character from a movie or TV series. You’ve attempted to explain this to him numerous times, but you get the feeling he secretly likes the attention. 

Of course, he’ll die before showing even the slightest hint of tolerance. He’ll huff and complain from the moment a fan approaches, his typical sarcastic attitude shining through. He’ll cross his arms over his chest and, after being asked for a picture, just go, “Oh? I suppose you think you’ve earned one. And what have you done for me, exactly?” Sometimes, you have to step in and tell him to cool it. But most of the time, the fans aren’t dissuaded. After all, Stephen has a reputation for being a bit prickly. 

He’ll adamantly insist that he has far more important things to be doing than stopping on the sidewalk for every person with a smartphone. And you’ll just hum and watch as he doesn’t make any effort to walk faster or evade the fans, almost as if he truly doesn’t mind their presence. You’ll keep quiet about it because, contrary to popular belief, you don’t have a death wish. 

If you’re the hero getting recognized… well. Well. Expect for Stephen to ditch you. He’ll stand there for a few moments—maybe a minute or two at most—before letting out a theatrical sigh and promptly disappearing. He has a particularly bad habit of doing this right as a fan is asking him to take a photo of you two, leaving the fan with their hand extended as they talk to… the empty air. Usually you have to apologize for your companion and offer a selfie. 

You’re not sure Stephen has ever stuck around during these moments—he’s always portaling ahead to meet you at your intended destination. You’re fine with that 99.9% of the time, until the one interaction that just kind of… throws you.

You like to think you’re a pretty self-aware person: you know your boundaries. And your boundaries? Well, they’re being completely broken by this… this… fan, if you can call him that. He has a hand on your forearm and is talking about something too quickly for you to comprehend. You want nothing more than to just push him away, but you’re frozen. 

“What are you prattling on about?” Stephen says impatiently, stepping through a portal to appear right in front of you. “It’s been nearly five minutes.” Despite his annoyance, he’ll be quick to survey the scene and figure out exactly what’s wrong. His attention quickly turns to the guy at your side. “Take a step back for me, will you?” Stephen will say calmly, drawing his attention. 

The fan will begrudgingly step away from you, finally giving you time to breathe. “I believe you have more pressing matters to attend to, no?” Stephen says pointedly, creating a portal behind the fan. 

“Wait, what—?” the guy tries to say, only to get sucked into the portal. 

Boom. Gone. Like he was never even there. 

And you’ll huff, wanting to object to the teleportation. But your relief and gratitude overshadows any of the grey morality of the act you just witnessed. Instead, you’ll look over at him and say, “Thanks, Stephen.” It’s kind of hard to get the words out, and you’re still feeling jumpy and restless. And frustrated with yourself, and annoyed, and uncomfortable—

Stephen’s answering scoff draws you out of your thoughts. He’ll study you for a long moment before heading into the portal, clearly expecting you to follow. 

In the coming days, you’ll notice that Stephen is never very far away. You think you even catch him staring at you once, but he’s quick to berate you for even thinking that. 

Loki is always infuriatingly smug when fans approach him. And they approach him quite frequently. Despite the fact that he’s a villain who nearly wiped out the entirety of New York City, he still has fans. And that never fails to remind you that humanity is completely doomed. 

You hate being involved in these fan interactions, because you have to spend the entire time watching Loki and making sure he doesn’t hurt the fan. It’s very stressful, and you just know that Loki’s using the situation to his advantage. He’ll purposefully reach out to the fan with an unnecessary hand gesture, if only to make your heart jump in your chest. It pisses you off. Not to mention, he loves the sound of his own voice—so you’re often trapped there, waiting for the one-sided conversation to end. He’ll interpret your impatience as jealousy and make a whole show of it. But if you actually walk away, you’ll soon find yourself standing right back where you started. Ugh. 

If the roles are reversed, and you’re the one with fans… Loki is inwardly seething. Outwardly, he looks a bit pissed too—but only to the knowing eye. Most would think he’s just impatient, eager to get somewhere. And he usually is. But he’s a god, and gods don’t like being ignored. 

…They don’t call him the God of Mischief for nothing. Expect trickery. Whenever someone approaches you instead of him, Loki will do anything and everything to ensure the interaction is as messy as possible. Whether that’s creating an illusion of you that berates them—or professes undying love to them—he pulls out all the stops. 

You don’t think you’ve ever had a normal interaction with a fan while in Loki’s presence. And it’s abundantly clear you never will. 

And if this fan happens to have a healthy level of attraction towards you? …Odin help you. Loki will catch onto it like a bloodhound, immediately noticing and bringing it up in the cruelest way possible. He’ll spend the rest of the conversation just standing off to the side and clearing his throat whenever he hears something suspect. If you get annoyed, he’ll only grow more encouraged.

Loki is always balancing between flattery and utter contempt. It never fails to give you whiplash. He’ll let some flirty remarks go and then glare at you with nothing but hatred. He’ll scrutinize you at every turn, but then begrudgingly agree when a fan compliments you (not without one-upping them, of course). It’s maddening. 

T’Challa is never out of his depth. The King of Wakanda is always composed, always calm in the face of uncertainty. 

So seeing him look so perplexed and bewildered is very amusing. 

Of course, it’s nearly impossible to tell he’s feeling like that—his eyes are just ever so slightly wide, and his gaze is shifting out a bit as if he’s restless. There’s just something about this situation that is very humorous: the Black Panther, standing next to a Dora Milaje warrior and wondering why he’s getting recognized as he walks down a city street. 

“I believe you said I wouldn’t be recognized,” T’Challa says calmly, glancing sideways at you. 

“I never said that,” you blink. “In fact, I think I said you would definitely get recognized.” People are only just learning of Wakanda’s existence, after all. 

“Ah,” T’Challa just says reluctantly. Even if people don’t recognize him as the Black Panther, the quality of his clothing and the intimidating spear carried by the warrior behind him are enough to draw attention. 

If people try to get too close to T’Challa, the Dora Milaje warrior will swiftly put them in their place. And T’Challa will still be respectful, sending people slight courteous nods.

If you’re the one getting recognized… T’Challa is just as confused. He’ll watch the person approach you warily, ready to step in if necessary. Before they reach you, he’ll quietly ask you, “Is this an acquaintance of yours?”

“No,” you respond. “They, um,” you say awkwardly, feeling a bit flustered. It’s easy to feel kind of… well… stupid, when in T’Challa’s presence. A lot of things that people do outside Wakanda seem almost… foolish… when you explain them to him. This is no exception. “They ask for pictures, sometimes. It’s kind of silly, but it makes them happy.”

“It’s not… silly,” he says, his eyebrows furrowing as he repeats the word. You resist the urge to laugh at the discomfort on his face. T’Challa takes a slow breath. “I apologize for overreacting.” 

“Overreacting?” you ask incredulously. “Hardly. You’re totally fine,” you reassure him, honestly touched that he’s even apologizing at all. He didn’t even do anything wrong! He was just questioning the intent of a stranger approaching you both—an entirely rational thing to do. 

“Good,” he says with a slight smile. 

“I’ll make it quick,” you promise him quietly. 

“Please,” T’Challa says with a shake of his head, “don’t rush on my behalf. I’ll be here waiting regardless.” 

You can’t help but smile at that. 

Scott is a complete sweetheart, and his kindness extends to his fans. He’s always very sweet and understanding. If a fan gets nervous, he’ll help calm them down. If someone says they don’t like him (which is bound to happen with all of the Avengers; people think their presence somehow allows them to express their unfiltered opinions), he shrugs it off and goes about his day. 

Truthfully, Scott will be excited when someone recognizes him. It doesn’t happen as frequently as it does with the other Avengers and he sometimes feels as if he’s being overshadowed by them. But all it takes is one quick fan interaction, and he’s quickly remembering how wonderful his fans are. 

Scott is the type to have full on discussions with fans lasting tens of minutes, to the point where you’ll grow tired of standing and have to practically drag him away. Even then, he’ll be waving goodbye to the fan and calling back to the conversation they just had. 

He pretty much always says yes to pictures, regardless of what kind of mood he’s in. You’ve told him he has the right to deny them whenever he wants, but he never takes you seriously. Scott is very selfless in that regard—he’ll bleed himself dry, exert all of his social battery… all to make a fan feel special and appreciated. This is a nice gesture, but it often means you have to take over for him after that. The second the two of you walk away from the fan, he’ll be quieter and almost withdrawn. Despite the front he puts on, these conversations can take a lot out of him. After all, there’s no telling just what a fan will say to him: sometimes, you’ve overheard them say really personal things to him, as if he’s a therapist instead of a public figure. You suspect those moments happen a lot, which can be draining for him. Still, Scott loves his fans and he has a reputation for being a really great guy. 

Unfortunately, you don’t often have the same kind of energy that Scott does when it comes to fan interactions. You’ll try to be casual about it, attempting to put a smile on your face. And Scott will just sense how you’re feeling. You’re not sure how he does it: you don’t think you’re a super open book, so he must just be good at reading you. And Scott will guide the conversation when he can tell you’re feeling off—can expertly quicken the interaction until the fan is walking away happily while you’re staring at him in amazed disbelief. 

He’s definitely the extroverted one out of the two of you. And Scott knows you don’t really love meeting fans, if only because it makes you feel strangely responsible for meeting their expectations. But he’s quick to distract you after these interactions happen, dragging you off to a new restaurant or asking you for your input on a present he wants to get for Cassie. You’ll soon be too busy debating between pastel purple and sage green to remember your distress.

©2025, @defectivevillain | @defectivehero, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

I won't be continuing this fic.

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Wong was extremely worried.

The Sorcerer Supreme was surely on a pathway of pure destruction.

There was nothing dark about the man.........yet.

But his behavior had been a little erratic.

He was short-tempered then usual. Where he had made sarcastic quips before, he would now all but snap at the other person. On more then one occasion he had reduced a new recruit at the Kamar-Taj to tears. Not to mention he was barely eating or sleeping. All he did was either study, practice his magic, or take on any magic assignment that would come his way.

Even the smaller ones, ones that he had, in the past, deemed too beneath him to deal with and had allotted it to a younger magic user.

Wong was more then aware of the reason behind Stephen's behavior.

But he also had no desire to be banished by some other dimension by an annoyed Sorcerer Supreme so he kept quiet.

It wasn't until he was helping the man move some of his more heavier tomes to your room, which Stephen had now taken up as his new rooms. As he gave a sweep of Stephen's bookshelf, to make sure he hadn't missed anything, Wong spotted a hidden alcove within the book cupboard. A quick sweep of his hand later found him holding a small box.

It wasn't marked or anything, but once he opened the lid, whatever was inside, had him slowly closing it once more and sighing.

"Fools. The both of them." He said softly to himself, sadness filling him as he thought of his two friends so obviously holding back for reasons that weren't even reasons.

                                          ————————–

The box atop his bed was one he had not seen for quite awhile now.

As Cloak floated away to hang itself from a hook, Stephen slowly reached out to take the box in his still dirty hands. He had just returned from a rather grueling battle with an angry earth giant. And though he wanted nothing more then to simply be rid of the dirt that covered him and collapse into bed, his heart urged him to pick up the box and settle onto his bed with it.

Made of fine, dark, polished wood, his thumb flicked the small lock that held the lid in place.

Opening the lid, he blinked at what stared back at him.

Your face.

Your face smiling up at him in the picture that had been taken so long ago. Stephen remembered that day. It had been a particularly hard one. A small child who had seen every doctor in every state. None of whom could give him a diagnosis. His parents were worried sick, the mother in near hysterics. The case had appeared before them, and being the picky doctor he had been, Stephen had actually rejected the case.

But not you.

You had taken the file. You had stayed up all night going over the child's medical history. You had spent hours in his office, pestering him so that the both of you could bounce ideas off of each other.

And despite his lack of interest before, Stephen had finally relented.

Not because he was interested, but because you were dedicated on finding a cure for the boy.

And then you finally did. Granted it had been his idea which you had further researched and after conducting a few tests of your own designs, you had been able to give the boy a diagnosis.

After that it had been a matter of days. The boy's condition improved. But the true moment of triumph was when the boy awoke from surgery with every motor function intact.

You had been ecstatic, but had kept your cool. Though as soon as the both of you stepped out of the room, allowing the small family to celebrate, you had all but tackled him to a hug. A hug that Stephen was sure, at that time, had cracked a rib.

He couldn't deny you your joy though. He had a soft spot for you. So he had hugged you back, while you had rambled at a near incoherence pace, your body trembling with sheer joy.

Stephen had no idea who had captured that moment. Probably one of the nosy nurses. While your gaze had been one of excitement and happiness, his gaze was different. The memories of what he felt in that moment came rushing back. A certain warmth in his chest, that had him smiling at you in a way he had never smiled at anyone before.

A smile that had been captured and frozen in the very picture he held.

He had kept the photograph though, after you had given him a copy. Having no photo album, he had opted to put it in the very box he now held. It had been sitting at his desk at the time. Truth be told, he had forgotten about the box, and only just remembered it when what was underneath the photograph he held had been deemed too precious to throw away.

                                          ————————–

Underneath the picture were two stubs to what looked to be a musical on Broadway. It was dated more then a decade ago. And the name of the musical sounded familiar.

Stephen wandered why he had kept the stubs. They were worthless weren't they?

Another picture underneath the stubs, ones that were related to the musical. It had been some Disney musical. Beauty and the Beast, if the name on the stub was anything to go by. There had been props outside the theater, where people would take pictures.

Somehow, you had convinced Stephen to take those pictures. With the props.

The image showed you with a tiara on your head, standing behind the cutout of the main princess, whoever that had been. While Stephen had to wear a brown beard and a mane to catch the actual look of the Beast. You hadn't been able to keep a straight face.

There were multiple photos of that moment. Some where the both of you seemed to be in character, while several where he looked annoyed, and you laughing your head off at his annoyance.

As he traced the edge of the photograph with his fingers, Stephen couldn't help but feel his lips quirk at the memory.

                                          ————————–

Photograph after photograph of memories you had shared. Some he remembered clearly, others that were hazy at best.

These were moments you had deemed important enough to print and give him a copy of. Why had he decided to keep them in a small box was beyond him.

Truth be told, he didn't think of himself as a sentimental person. Then again, he had kept this box and the watch Christine had given him when he had left New York to go to the Kamar-Taj. So maybe, he was just lying to himself.

He had forgotten the box once he came back after the Snap. But with how frayed the edges of some photographs were, anyone could see that they had been frequently handled and were well-loved.

                                          ————————–

A gala that every doctor had attended. To attain more funds from those who could afford it. A gala where the both of you had dressed up for the occasion. And while Stephen had more occasion to wear his tuxes, you barely cleaned up.

How could he have forgotten how beautiful you had looked when he had picked you up? How the dress you had worn had accentuated your every feature.

And then there was the dance the both of you had shared that night.

How could he have forgotten it?

                                          ————————–

The next picture served as a reminder as to why he had forgotten you.

Christine.

He had fallen in love with Christine.

Though the picture included all three of you, it was clear to anyone who should see it that you were the odd one out. Sitting on a chair at the other side of the table, while him and Christine sat on the other side, their chairs close together. Him with his arm around her shoulders.

For the first time, he noticed the strange emotion in your eyes. The camera had somehow been able to capture the exact moment when you had looked at your two friends, so happy and in love. And though your lips were frozen in a smile, the sadness in your eyes was undeniable.

How had he not seen it before?

Had you been sad because of him? Of Christine?

Or because of him and Christine?

                                          ————————–

Picture after picture, of all the moments you had shared with him. Moments that you had printed and given to him because, you knew that despite his tough exterior, he was sentimental about certain things.

You knew him so well. You knew him better then he knew himself.

So why hadn't he realized his feelings for you sooner?

Why, only after you had left, did he realize that he was so in love with you that everyday without you was a day living with the feeling of a knife embedded in his heart.

God, how could he have been so caught up in his own problems that he hadn't seen what had been in front of him all along.

He truly was selfish.

Maybe you were right to leave.

Someone as lovely as you shouldn't be with someone who would never appreciate you the way you were meant to be.

His eyes shone with tears as he looked at the very last photograph at the end of the pile.

It was a photograph with just you.

One that he had taken.

And he had actually printed himself before put it in the box.

It was just before the Snap.

You had convinced him to go for a walk along the beach and with the sling ring, traveling had not been a problem. The both of you had spent an amazing day on a deserted beach. You had collected shells and made sandcastles together. Stephen couldn't remember a day when he had felt so careless and free as he had then.

Finally, when the sun had begun to set, the both of you had settled onto the blanket you had brought to watch the sun disappear. Stephen had turned towards you then, looking at you as you sat there unaware of his gaze.

It was in that moment that he had realized just how much you meant to him. More then anyone. Even more then Christine. You, sitting there, in your lovely sundress, with your toes buried in the sand and hair wet from the swim you had just had together.

He had taken the photograph then, with the last of the sun's rays making your skin glow, a smile of utter content on your lips, and a loving gleam in your eyes as you had turned just at that moment to look at him.

                                          ————————–

And as he looked at your picture, Stephen realized that he wanted you to look at him like that again.

He wanted it so badly that he could feel his heart physically ache for it.

For you.

He was a selfish bastard, he knew that. So, why couldn't he be selfish for one last time, put aside his pride and ask you to come back to him.

He stood up so suddenly that the photographs as well as the box went flying to the floor. They hadn't even fully descended before he was creating a portal and stepping through it and straight into your room at the Avenger's Compound, leaving behind nothing but memories as they fluttered through the air like confetti.

                                          ————————–

The sight of Stephen Strange suddenly appearing in your room was something you could not have predicted in your wildest dreams.

"St-Stephen?" You gasped. It had been weeks, since you had left the Sanctum, and not a word from your former friend and colleague. And now there he stood, covered in dirt. But the dirt wasn't what you really noticed. It was his face. There were bags under his eyes, and his cheeks appeared hollow, as if he hadn't been eating properly. His hair was a little longer, as was his goatee, or rather beard, since he didn't look like he had shaved in awhile.

But it was his eyes that really had you worried. They looked so sad and alone. Not to mention the brightness in them seemed to have dimmed.

For his part, Stephen simply stood there, looking at you.

You.

With your beautiful face, kind eyes and gentle loving soul.

"Is everything alright?" You asked. Despite the fact that your heart had skipped a beat at the sight of him, worry gnawed at your insides. Maybe that was what compelled you to step forward, to reach a gentle hand out towards him and hesitantly resting it against his cheek.

"Are you alright?"

And with that one simple gesture, and three insignificant little word, Stephen Strange broke.

His arms came up to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you in an embrace that was desperate just as much as it was intimate. Your gasp was muffled by his shoulder, your arms trapped at your sides as you blinked in confusion.

"I'm sorry." He whispered against your neck where he had buried his face. "I am so sorry that it took me so long."

Though confusion still raged within you, that small part of your heart, the part that had never stopped hoping despite all that had happened and even after you had left, stirred to life, lifting its head and smelling the air with a spark of hope in its chest.

And though you had promised yourself that you would leave behind your feelings for him, that you would leave him behind, you could never fool your heart. At least not completely.

"For what?" You asked, trying your best to not let your hopes rise.

"To realize that I love you."

And that was all it took.

Those words were all it took for that carefully constructed wall around your heart to shatter in infinite pieces and fly in every direction.

"Y-you-," You choked on air.

Finally, finally, he pulled back. That sadness in his eyes was still there, so was the loneliness, and yet there was as flicker of hope and an abundance of love.

Love for you, you realized, feeling your breath hitch in your throat.

"I love you, Y/n. I-I think I always have, but I was too blind to see it. Please, please, come back. Come back to me. I cannot bear to not have you near me. The past few weeks I could barely breath when you were not with me."

He was begging now, pleading with you.

"B-but what about Christine?" You asked, your voice hardly above a whisper. Instantly he shook his head. "There is no Christine. There is only you, Y/n. If you'll have me." He added, his trembling hands reaching out to grasp your hands in his. "I know I have hurt you with my ignorance, but if you'll allow me, I will spend my life making up to you because I love you Y/n, and I have no intention of ever letting you go again."

Your head was spinning.

There was no doubt that he was sincere. Stephen would never be so cruel as to play with your feelings knowingly. Not to mention the absolute determination with which he spoke and the film of tears in his blue eyes had you closing your eyes.

Yes, you had tried to forget him since your arrival at the Compound. But how could one let go of someone they had been in love with for years.

The answer was, you couldn't.

At last, you sighed, closing your eyes briefly before opening them to focus on his chest, unable to meet his gaze. "I have had my heart broken too many times Stephen." You said, your insides twisting with fear as you bit your lower lip. Uncertainty played about your features, one that he would work to remove from your heart, soul and mind for as long as he had to.

One trembling hand settled on your cheek, guiding your head so he could look at your face, and so you could meet his gaze. "Then I will be sure to put it back piece by piece if I have to." He promised. Tears pricked your eyes as he slowly leaned down his head angled in a certain way.

And when he captured your lips with his, a small fraction of your heart did mend.

And you knew.

Back before he became a sorcerer and learned magic, he was a man who loved his job only because of the money and being the most popular doctor out there. (Y/N) found herself having peaceful and meaningful conversations with him quite often…that was his soft side. He joked, had witty comments, and was kind enough to give small gifts for her birthday or for major holidays. She even noticed the soft smiles he’d give her at the end of their conversations before they had to depart and take care of a patient.

But because he was so busy as a famous doctor, (Y/N) and Stephen never went out on friendly hangouts, like normal friends, as much as they’d liked. There were times where they celebrated, and Stephen asked (Y/N) out to a nice dinner. (Y/N) did her best to bring him out at times, too.

And he had said he enjoyed their time together outside of work.

Yet, deep down, (Y/N) knew he’d rather be with someone else than her. She knew Christine Palmer, a fellow and nice doctor, to be in his eyes at all times. (Y/N) always caught him staring at her from time to time, even while in the middle of a conversation, and as she stood at the end of the hallways.

It was hard on (Y/N). And being her usual caring self, she left it be and gave them space. She figured that she’d find someone else. As time passed, she didn’t find anyone to keep her company for the rest of her life, but she did become close once again with the famous Doctor. Although, now….he’s a hero.

“Magic…?” (Y/N) was appalled. Thrilled, even, by hearing what he could do now. He was gone for months and he comes back with some magical abilities and a new look. She had to admit the new look…looked rather good on him.

She also noticed the way he smiled more. The deep fame-craving demon inside of him so long ago has now disappeared and is replaced with adventure, curiosity, and maturity.

He had changed. And in a good way.

Stephen smiled briefly, one corner of his mouth tipping upwards, almost covered by his fancy mustache. “Yeah. Weird, isn’t it? Never thought I’d come back with…this,” he gestures to his new outfit. Ancient-like styled blue robes covered his body, as well as a vibrant red cloak hanging off of his shoulders. A gold oval case-like medallion was positioned on his chest, attached to his clothes.

(Y/N) had to admit that the outfit had her staring longingly at him more.

“That is…weird,” she says slowly, trying to gather her thoughts, “in a good way! Of course…I mean, it’s super cool.”

“You think so?” He starts, but puts a finger up as if to stop her from saying anything yet, “Wait, the outfit, or the magic?”

(Y/N) lets out a giggle, “Both, actually. Both are really cool. The outfit…I think it suits you.”

Stephen keeps his smile, “Well, at least I have that going for me. Your opinion means a lot.”

And since that encounter, they have gotten even closer. He tries to hang out with her as much as he can, when he isn’t trying to save innocent lives and the entire world or universe. At some point, it became a bit difficult for him to arrange any meetings, so he came to a conclusion.

“Visit the Sanctum?” (Y/N) could feel her jaw drop at the thought of being in such a sacred place. Well, she knew it wasn’t really sacred, but it was an important place for the sorcerers. She had never been there, and had only heard so much by the doctor himself and his companion, Wong. “I did…say it right, right?” The many vocabulary words spoken by the sorcerers is a bit much for her brain to handle.

Stephen chuckles at her last question, softly patting her hand. The soft wind in the park fought against the few black strands of his hair that had escaped his specific hairstyle. They sit on the bench, talking about their lives and what they missed.

“Yes, you said it right. And yes, you should visit. In fact, you can visit anytime. I’ll be there most of the time, anyway.”

The excitement (Y/N) felt of seeing him more often than not was almost overwhelming. She could tell he could see right through her, about ready to bounce off the walls with questions and happiness.

Since then, she had come by the Sanctum practically everyday, when she wasn’t busy. She felt as if she had no place but by Stephen’s side. Usually, on his most busy days, she sat and read a book, or asked Wong a few questions while Stephen worked and studied.

It came to a point where they set up a guest room just for her. In case she ended up staying far later than usual and she had a room to sleep in.

But not all things were to go as smoothly as she’d like.

The past few times of trying to go out to a meal, go for a walk, or anything else, Stephen had canceled on her. (Y/N), at first, didn’t mind at all. He was a busy man and had good reasons to cancel. Such as saving lives. (Y/N) even noticed how much he cared about her feelings when he canceled. She hadn’t ever heard him apologize so much in her life.

Then one night, he canceled on her once again. But this time, (Y/N) was very upset about it. She couldn’t do anything about it, though, as his reason was going to save the world once again.

In fact, she was so upset, she tried to avoid seeing the doctor as much as she could. She figured that stopping by the Sanctum one early morning to return a book she borrowed from Wong could help her not run into Stephen…but it was too difficult to say no to Wong when he offered her to stay for breakfast.

The tension in the room was heavy, (Y/N) noticed, as she quietly ate her breakfast. It was quite good, actually, and she always enjoyed the rare moments Wong made meals. She tried to keep her eyes trained anywhere but on Stephen, who sat at one end of the table, also eating his breakfast. His usual blue robes were on. His ‘work clothes’ he called them.

The silence was almost too much to stay in the presence of. (Y/N) tried to eat her breakfast quickly, without it being obvious, so she could leave. But Wong cleared his throat before she could shove the last few mouthfuls of her food, grabbing their attention.

“So…am I missing something, or did you two get in a fight?” The man finally asks, breaking the awkward silence.

They sure did get in a fight the night he canceled on her. She snapped at him over the phone on accident, but the deed was done and she actually felt good about saying something to him. It felt good to let out her frustrations once in a while, instead of holding them in. Since that phone call, they hadn’t really been talking to each other.

When the two didn’t respond to Wong, he decided to shrug his shoulders and leave it be. “I see. It’s none of my business,” he says, backing off, “Anyways, I heard Christine is having a wedding. Are you two going to go?”

(Y/N) remembers the invitation Christine sent her, and how happy she felt at seeing such exciting news. But her mood sours once again when Stephen nods. “Yes. Well…maybe. I don’t know yet,” he stumbles over his thoughts.

“Ah, well, I would assume so since you went to help her the other night. How did that go, by the way?” Wong asks innocently.

The loud clang of (Y/N)’s fork hitting the glass plate echoes throughout the room, causing the two men to freeze and look at her. She had never held such a mighty glare towards the man she loved. And she can tell it’s affecting him, by the way he flinched as soon as their eyes met.

Stephen helping Christine with her wedding wasn’t a big deal. Of course, it wasn’t, since they are close friends. But (Y/N) remembers Stephen being so busy lately, he hasn’t had a chance to hang out with her. So when in the hell did he have the time to help Christine?

“When was this?” She grits out past her teeth.

Wong leans back in his chair, slightly concerned by his friend's reaction. “Two nights ago, I believe?”

“You canceled our plans to go help Christine with her wedding?!” (Y/N) snaps, abruptly standing up from her chair.

Stephen jumped at her words and stood up, as well. “No, no!” He blurts out, his hands flinging up in some kind of surrender. “It’s not what it looks like-“

“Not what it looks like!” She scoffs, “Stephen! Those plans were important to me! I got a promotion for my dream job, something I have wanted for a long time, and we planned it! Way before your little date with Christine!”

He looked taken aback by her words, a little confused on why she called it a date when it wasn’t anything close to it. Hell, she’s getting married to another man. “Date? (Y/N), you need to calm down and let me explain-“

“Yeah, when pigs fly!” She huffs, but points a finger at him after she realizes what she said, “don’t even think about it.” Stephen nodded, fighting a smile at her random and aweful comeback. “What I mean is that you can think about what you did and apologize to me. That night was important to me, Stephen, and you lied to me about it! You said you were saving the world! …I thought we were friends…”

(Y/N) doesn’t give him time to respond as she walks out of the room, as fast as she possibly could without tripping and making a fool out of herself. She ignored the call of her name by the doctor as he ran after her.

“(Y/N), stop!” His raised voice almost startled her, if she weren’t so upset.

She didn’t stop, though. But suddenly, in a blink of an eye, she finds herself walking right through a sparkly portal and right behind Stephen. She was still in the same hallway, just transported farther back then she just was. “Don’t you dare use your magic on me!”

Stephen turns around and places a firm grip on (Y/N)’s upper arms before she could walk off past him. He looked annoyed more than anything as a heavy sigh leaves his lips, struggling just a little against her nudges of getting out of his grip.

“Would you just…listen?”

Realizing he wouldn’t let her go anytime soon, (Y/N) holds her breath and stays still, allowing him to continue. “Look, yes I canceled our plans to go help Christine with her wedding plans, but,” he pauses, his light blue-gray eyes looking right into (Y/N)’s, “Christine told me there was going to be a fireworks show at this restaurant in a couple of days. I wanted to ask you to move our dinner to that day, so we can properly celebrate your promotion…”

His voice was so soft, it was starting to get difficult for (Y/N) to be mad at him anymore. In fact, all she felt was guilty at hearing his words. He didn’t cancel their plans just to hang out with his past crush, he canceled because he wanted to make better plans.

“But you yelled at me over the phone before I could explain that… so, I’m sorry for not saying it earlier.”

“Oh, Stephen…” she gasps lightly, feeling her eyes burn as tears well up, “Oh my god…no, I’m sorry for not listening to you. I’m such a horrible friend…” she stresses. Her hands ring through her hair as she looks away, too embarrassed to look at him.

Stephen doesn’t say a word while he brings her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her back and softly rubbing it to comfort her. “It was just a misunderstanding. Nothing to worry about…I was trying to figure out how to tell you.”

A few tears slip down (Y/N)’s cheeks, her head resting against his chest. He rocked their bodies back and forth gently, soothing her to an extent. She could feel his chin resting on the top of her head. She felt so at home in his arms. “God…I’m so sorry, Stephen. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

A light chuckle escaped his lips, his chest rumbling at the action, “Yeah. Go to dinner with me. As a date.”

She couldn’t help but to gawk at him as soon as they separated, her eyes so wide the man smiled in triumph. “A…a date? As in, like…”

“A couple, yeah,” he concludes. His hands rub her shoulders from time to time, as if he didn’t want to let her go, “If you’ll have me…that is.”

It took (Y/N) a few moments to realize she was still holding her surprised expression, making the sweet moment a bit awkward. She quickly snaps her mouth shut, her head nodding as she tries to find the words. “U-uh, yes! I mean, yeah…of course, Stephen…”

The doctor smiled so wide, it was quite heartwarming for her to see. She smiled, too, at their new relationship. She didn’t know what to do next. Her body practically rocked on its own as she stood there, her eyes having a hard time looking into his. (Y/N) could feel her cheeks grow warm by how embarrassing this was.

Stephen took the liberty of moving his hands from her shoulders to cupping her cheeks, bringing her to look into his eyes. He slowly moved in, lips softly connecting with hers in a slow, heated kiss.

It felt as if it lasted for an hour, but it was only a few seconds. It was slow, passionate, sweet, and so warm, she didn’t want him to stop. Their eyes briefly open when their lips separate and their breaths fan over each other's faces as they try to regain what little air they lost.

Love is what (Y/N) saw in his eyes as they stared at each other. And she felt all the more connected with him. No words were spoken, too busy studying the face of the other. Studying what feelings they had for each other. And, soon, their lips lock once more.

This time was more heated than the last.

“I’ve always wanted to do that with you…” Stephen mumbles between kisses, unrelenting of letting her go.

(Y/N) giggles at his words, realizing how cheesy they were, “Me, too.”

— — — —

Bonus(Kinda spicy):

“So, uh…why did you lie to me? You know…why didn’t you say you were helping Christine?” (Y/N) decides to bring up later that night. Her body was snugged up under Stephens arm as they read some books together. A quiet, perfect moment, to cuddle and for Stephen to work.

She could feel the man go tense under her body, and he smoothly rubbed her arm with the arm that was hanging on her shoulders. “I…uh…panicked,” he says slowly, turning a page in his book.

“Panicked?” she repeats, scooting herself back a little to look at his face. He met her eyes before he raises his eyebrows in question, “Doctor Stephen Strange…panicked? Never thought I’d see the day…” she mumbles, turning back to her book.

He scoffs, wrapping his arm over her shoulder once more, “Really? It was difficult to say the truth when you were yelling at me for canceling again. Figured it’d make things worse…”

(Y/N) hums, her head finally leaning back against his chest as she read, “You deserved that, by the way.”

“Are you trying to stir something up?” he sighs, faking to sound annoyed. She could feel his breath against her neck as he closes in, his warm and soft lips touching her skin as he softly kisses the spot, “‘cause it’s best not to start something if you think you can’t finish it.”