Various x Ftm Reader

Come Back to Me ||Stephen Strange||

Content warning: she/her pronouns, referred to as a woman, and swearing

d/n =deadname
l/n =last name
word count: 3127 (I only include this bc it's my longest singular chapter. It didn't make much sense for me to divide it)

You were never meant to be at the final battle against Thanos. Once Stephen realized what he had to do, he made that damn clear to Wong. You were a good sorceress—that was something no one would question or refute, but he couldn't let anything happen to you. You meant too much, and he couldn't have your loss weighing down on him, or distracting him. He knew the battle was going to take a lot of his energy, and he couldn't waste it worrying about you.

He refrained from looking for you when he looked through the future possibilities. He knew it would be a distraction from what he needed to do. You were like a weak point in his armor—and he knew better than to let it show this early. Whatever happened to you during or after a blip, he would deal with it when the time came. That much he promised himself.

Even then, he couldn't fully prevent himself from running through all the possibilities in his head. Every hope and anxiety came to him in broken pieces—fragments of thoughts that would perhaps seem non-sensible if someone happened to be reading his mind.

Did you find someone else? Did you move on?

Did you change his room around? Would it be the same?

Would you look the same? Sound the same? Be the same?

Would you understand why he did this? Would you hate him? See him as a monster? Scream at him? Push him? Punch him?

He shook his head—he did not have the luxury to think about that. He did not have the privilege of backing down now. As much as he wanted to, he wasn't able to go back home and lay with his head in your lap now. He never thought he'd think this—but he wouldn't mind showing how tired he was in front of someone now—he knew you didn't view him as weak, but he didn't care if you did now.

Would you still run your fingers lightly through his hair?

When he got back, would a child scamper away, and duck behind you until you reassured them to come out?

Would you be waiting for him to come back? Would you be preoccupied cooking, or reading?

Would you guide him to sit down, cupping his face in your hands before you started taking care of his wounds?

He shook his head again—he needed to focus.

He could taste blood in his mouth when he stumbled through the portal he created back to the Sanctum. You were the only think on his mind. He leaned against the wall for support, finding it difficult to stand on his own.

"D/n—" He tried to shout, but his voice came out hoarse, and broken near the end. The words scratched at his throat when he tried to speak, failing to come out properly as he continued to try to say your name.

"Stephen?" He heard Wong's voice behind him, and grimaced.

"Where is she?" He managed to hiss out.

Wong handed him a glass of water, which he took in a shaky hand, and gulped down.

"Stephen, she—"

"What?" Stephen demanded, growing impatient with the other man's silence.

"She's not here, Stephen. She left."

Stephen gaped at him. "What do you mean she left? Where is she?"

Wong shook his head, "She's been gone for several years. I don't know where she went."