Fandom One Shots Book Three

Doctor Stephen Strange x Avenger!Reader

You never thought that someone would get the jump on you, you were an Avenger for heaven's sake, but it happened. He'd been what you thought was some low-level assassin sent to kill you. He also wanted information on Doctor Strange and how to get the Time Stone. This assassin had managed to do what many others couldn't, he had gotten the jump on you, you had managed to fight him off but hadn't managed to capture him alive. He lay dead in the small alleyway you had been fighting in. You had seen him using some form of magic, it wasn't like anything you'd seen before, and it wasn't even like Doctor Strange's. Heading in what you hoped was a safe direction, you didn't want to draw his companions close to where you lived or to Avenger's tower, but you assumed with their magic they'd probably be able to get in any way to your house. You knew that they couldn't get into Avenger's tower due to the wards set in place by Doctor Strange, but you deemed it was too far away for you to get to with your injures.

You turned down a street double checking if anyone was following you, when you decided you were safe you turned the handle on 177A Bleeker Street, it didn't open. You cursed, remembering that there was some spell on the door so people off the street couldn't get in. Knocking on the door, you tried again, it still didn't open. Leaning on the door for a breath, you fumbled for your phone to call someone, as your fingers closed around the device in your pocket, the door swung inwards. You stumbled at the sudden disappearance of the door, catching yourself with one hand on the door jam, you looked up and saw Wong looking curiously at you. His eyes widened when he saw your injures. He helped you up and shut the door, resealing it with the spells. "Where's Strange?" You asked, the blood on your lips cracking. "At the deli." Wong led you to the kitchen, he sat you down on a barstool. "He'll be back soon." You stretched, bones cracking at the movements, you began reassessing the injures you had received. "Getting you a metaphysical ham and rye, huh?" Wong rolled his eyes searching for the first aid kit as he warmed some water. "Tuna Melt." He corrected. "Sorry, metaphysical tuna melt." You mocked, wincing as your tongue swept over a cut on your lip. Wong's lips seemingly twitched, he left to grab you a washcloth to clean your injures. You could feel the bruises forming along your ribs and on your face.

Wong came back and was about to help you when you both heard the front door open, you turned towards the sound. "Wong!" You turned back to face the man in front of you. He faced you as well, neither of you spoke for a moment. "Wong!" Strange called again, this time Wong answered back. Stephen entered the kitchen, his eyes flickered to the bowl of steaming water, the disinfectant, the wash cloth and the cotton balls, before moving to your bloodied appearance. There was a subtle shift in the air. Wong hesitated before leaving, he doubled back and grabbed his tuna melt. You breathed in slightly as Stephen stiffened before he came over to you. He took off the cape which immediately flew to you and settled around your shoulders. Stephen sighed lightly, but he didn't tell it to leave.

Stephen moved to stand in front of you. He didn't move, his eyes hardening as they travelled over your wounds. He tightened his jaw. He placed his index finger curling under your chin, his thumb keeping you in place. He tilted your head to get a better look at your injures. He said nothing, the silence deafening. His thumb moved to wipe a streak of blood by your mouth. Your heart skipped a nervous beat as something shifted behind his eyes. He looked you dead in the eyes, the shifting colours of green and blue seemed to hide a variety of emotions. His voice was quiet, and tense, his anger barely restrained as he spoke. "Who did this to you?"

You didn't answer and your eyes flickered down. Stephen waited still holding your chin in place. You flickered your eyes back up to Stephen's, his green blue eyes had swirling emotions hidden in them. Anger, pain, fear, and something else you couldn't quite pin down. "Who did this to you?" He asked again, the strain of barely hidden anger, and the tense way he asked showed you that he wouldn't ask again. You swallowed, "some low-level assassin, I think. Wanted to use me to get to you. He didn't get a chance. He may have had partners, but I didn't see any." You took in a shaky breath, "He has some sort of magic. It's different than yours." Stephen released your chin at your confession, how you had killed someone to protect him. How you had been attacked because of him. His anger swelled, but as he saw the vulnerability in your eyes, he pushed it down to focus on you. He wanted you to feel safe here, with him. He wanted to protect you. You sniffed, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand. Flakes of blood breaking off, you winced at the feeling.

Stephen closed his eyes, shutting down his emotions for a moment. Stephen soaked the wash cloth in the steaming water, his hand holding the cloth hovered over the cut on your forehead. He looked for consent in your eyes. You sniffed once more and nodded. He was gentle, dapping the blood away. After cleaning the blood away from the lacerations, he soaked a cotton ball in disinfectant, he ran it gently over the wound on your forehead. You hissed and stiffened. He muttered an apology. He moved to the cut on your lip. Once he had finished disinfecting your wounds, he used small bandages onto the cut on your forehead. He took a cotton ball and wet it with clean steaming water, wiping it along your lips, cleaning away the extra disinfectant. Your breath hitched, as his fingers lingered on your bottom lip. His eyes flickered up to yours, tears swelled in the green blue orbs.

When you fidgeted slightly, he realised he had staring for too long. He apologised and helped you to your feet. He led you to a small area surrounded by books and a few comfy chairs, when you both sat, he offered you half of his order from the deli. You accepted it, your feet curling under you. The cloak of levitation still around your shoulders, almost as if it was protecting you. Stephen looked over at you, curled on a couch. After you had both finished your meal, he stood and sat next to you, he lifted his arm and draped it over your shoulders, squeezing the one his hand was resting on. His other arm, wrapped around your front, resting his hand on your thigh. The cloak wiggled and Stephen lifted his arm, it flew from your shoulders and lay across the chair that Stephen had vacated. You rested your head on his shoulder. "Thank you, Stephen." He kissed the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. "Any time, Y/N."