Marvel Character Oneshots

Platonic ~ stephen strange x reader

{this story takes place shortly before Avengers: Infinity War}

You bit your lip. Your knuckles were white against the steering wheel. The snaking trail of cars in front of you inched forward one-by-one as the traffic light glimmered green for a few seconds before snapping back to red. You glared at the car in the front, telepathically begging it to drive a mere mile faster. You glanced at your watch. Three minutes is all you had to get from this road to Bleecker Street.

It had been a year since you last saw Stephen Strange. You'd been busy. He'd been busy. With what, you weren't sure. You'd hesitated accepting his lunch invitation last week. It was abrupt and pleasantly surprising but there was something about the way it had ended up perched on your pillow with a fancy wax seal that had made you believe it was an object of your ferocious, hopeful imagination.

Yet, here you were struggling through midday traffic on your way to your best friend's house, where you'd found out a year earlier he'd become a master of the Mystic Arts. In this ever-changing ever-stranging world, it hadn't remotely surprised you.

Suddenly, honking blared around you, angry shouting followed, and finally you looked up. The cars in front of you had disappeared and empty space had replaced them. Glancing at your rear view mirror, you saw the driver behind you waving his hands around, gesturing at the green traffic light. You yelped and stepped on the gas pedal. The car lurched forward and revved over the white line a second before the light turned red again. You winced.

After parking your car outside the extravagant dwelling, you stepped onto the doormat of the Sanctum Sanctorum and took a breath. You knocked. The doors clicked open and swung inwards, revealing the cosy interior. You wandered inside.

"Stephen?"

There was a whoosh behind you as the doors slammed shut. You gulped.

"Y/N, it's been too long."

And he was there, walking down the ornate staircase at an agonisingly slow pace. You smiled cautiously.

"You look fantastic. The cloak is beautiful."

"Oh, don't say that," he said mirthfully. "His ego weighs me down enough already. You're not going to be able to make me fly soon, buddy," he added to the cloak.

You laughed and stepped towards him. The cloak put out a corner to you. Stephen rolled his eyes and gestured towards your hand. You raised your eyebrows and shook its upheld fabric, surprised when it shook back.

"How are you, Y/N?"

You inhaled roughly, finally looking Stephen in the eye. "I'm okay. Work's been keeping me busy, as always."

"As always," he repeated quietly, looking down. The cloak wiggled on his back.

"What about you?"

He looked up and brought a hand to his face, stroking his finely shaped beard. "I'm great, actually. Busy, too..."

You stared around the entrance hall. It was dim and dank, more brown than anything else.

"Lunch?" Stephen asked loudly.

"Please."

He motioned upstairs and stepped aside. You graced him a small smile and climbed the grand stairs. You heard them creak as he followed you. You were aware of his gaze following your every footfall. You swallowed thickly. He's going to be the death of me, you thought.

When you reached the first floor, you saw a square table settled in front of the large, round window of the Sanctum and a vase of blood-red tulips placed in the centre of it. Two glasses, two pairs of cutlery and crockery had been lain onto the wooden furniture.