If you’ve followed me since Multiverse of Madness hit the big screen, then you’ll know I’ve developed quite a passion for the Stephen Strange Variants. Defender Strange is my favorite, and he’s lodged himself in my noggin, demanding to be fic’d. I finally came up with a concept, and I have no idea if I’ll continue, but please indulge my little flight of fancy—won’t you?
summary: You had a hard day of training, honing your fighting skills, as you have finally been placed on permanent rotation to assist the Sorcerer Supreme himself, in his constant battles to keep Earth and our Universe safe from merciless Evil. You admire Stephen Strange, and set him as a high example of the sort of Sorcerer you hope to someday become—while you heart harbors a secret, unfulfillable crush. This evening, you’ve proceeded to the sauna, to help you relax and work out the knots and muscle strain from the training session you subjected your self to. You are gobsmacked to find yourself in the company of Strange himself, seeking the same sort of relief.
rating: general audience (except for one naughty word)
word count:2.5k
A long, intense session of hand-to-hand combat training had pushed you nearly to your physical limit, but evening brought the chance for some much-needed relief. You had headed directly to the red cedar sauna at the far end of the compound, knowing that the heat and steam would be the best balm for the muscle strain and exhaustion that seemed to infuse every cell of you body. Grateful to find you had the place to yourself, you doused the coals—enchanted to burn continuously with no need for replacement—with water enough to swiftly fill the narrow room with a cloud of steam, and then took a seat on one of the lower benches that lined the walls.
You bowed your head, kneading the back of your neck a bit, while ruminating on the trials that lay before you, as you were nearing the tests that would at last determine if you were finally qualified to earn the rank of Master. You felt confident and well-prepared—and surprisingly happy in the vocation that you had stumbled upon in the wake of the sudden loss of the future you had planned with your late fiancé. Though your heart would forever mourn him and the hopes that you had shared, it now seemed to you that Fate itself had guided your course to Kamar-Taj for the healing of your forlorn soul and the repurposing of your life.
Your training in the Mystic Arts had gifted you with heightened awareness and keener senses. A whisper of cool air prickled across your skin, telling you the curtain separating the sauna room from the antechamber had been silently pushed aside. The slight creak of the floorboards confirmed that someone had joined you. You felt a powerful yet restrained presence loom over you—and looked up to meet the unwavering gaze of the man upon whom you heart now secretly rested. Stephen Strange.
Stephen Strange, bare-chested, and scantily clad as was appropriate for the setting. The strong breadth of his shoulders—always obvious, even beneath the several layers of his usual tunic and robes—took your breath away. You could hear you pulse pound in your brain, from a mix of surprise and unquenchable desire.
genre: friendship, pining, angst, hurt/comfort (if you squint)
rating: general audience
word count: 1.7k
You had been happily surprised at how swiftly the Sorcerer Supreme had drawn you into his life. Barely three weeks ago, a chance meeting in the compound sauna, moments of soft vulnerability shared there, the beginning of an unexpected friendship. Why me, you had often wondered since that evening. You were nothing special among the ranks of those who dwelled in Kamar-Taj, yet somehow Stephen Strange found your company pleasant enough, your conversations interesting enough, to ask for more.
That evening had led to regular evening tea and conversations—on an astonishingly wide range of topics—on those nights when he wasn’t ranging far across the globe or multiple dimensions, fulfilling his duties as humanity’s staunchest, most dutiful, defender. All too soon you began to miss him when he was away. And worry for his safety. Not that you could speak of such feelings to him. The balance between you was strictly platonic, and mentor to student—transforming the crush you had harbored for months and months into a bittersweet secret you needed to guard more religiously than any secret of your life.
