100 Marvel One Shots✔️

Flower of The Universe >> Stephen Strange X Reader

Title: Flower of The Universe

Paring: Stephen Strange X Reader

Spoilers: yeah, for Doctor Strange

Warnings: nightmares, past trauma, hurt/comfort, fluff.

Requested by: anonymous on Tumblr

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The only difference between day, and night, is the lack of energy you have in one, and the inability to see in the other. Well, to you, that's true. Ever since the attack in London, you've not been the same __________ you had always been. You narrowly survived, only through sheer luck, and the fact you had managed to escape through Sol Rama's portal before a zealot – but it's over, now. You keep having to tell yourself that the war between the Masters of the Mystic Arts and the zealots is over, mainly because it relived itself in your mind every night since.

The magic you wielded wasn't strong enough to wipe the somewhat PTSD-ish images from your brain, so you resorted to the only thing you knew before you came to Kamar-Taj; spending your time around the lessons your new instructor, Master Strange, napping.

"How's my favourite student today?" Speak of the devil...

From your position of meditation in the courtyard, you cracked an eye open. There stood your instructor, wearing the traditional robes that the other master's used to wear. You weren't sure if it was the inflection of his American accent that made you feed the fire of irritation growing in the pit of your stomach, or lack of sleep.

"I'm your only student," you retort, closing your eyes to resume your meditative state. But to no avail – with your eyes closed, you could hear him bending down, and joining you in a similar pose upon the ground. Without cracking an eye open, you say, "I thought class was over for today, Strange."

Without skipping a beat, he replies, "It is, __________," he says, in that accent. "Thought I might spend some time with my favourite student out of the classroom."

Those words almost rocked you out of your meditation like a boat against the high seas without oars. You're not sure why, though. Meditation, and napping was the only things you could do without attracting the horrific memories of what happened in London. Maybe it's because since you absconded from the boring, magic-less everyday world to learn from the Sorcerer Supreme herself, rest her soul, someone has openly said they want to be near you. No. It can't be.

"I'm your only student," you mutter.

You can practically hear his smile.

You wake up panting, face covered in sweat. When you manage to unstick yourself from the sheets, and amble to the small bathroom adjacent to your quarters, you hardly recognise the person staring back at you in the dull moonlight in the mirror. They have sunken eyes, and a strange aura around themselves. You remind yourself mentally that yes, that person is you, but it seems unreal. You splash water upon your face, you cup your hands in the bowl and drink from it, and taking a deep breath, realise that you are awake, and, by your heartbeat, there is no use trying to return to sleep.

At this, you sigh.

In your nightclothe you slip from your quarters, through the hallways, and into the courtyard. Months, even years before this feat would have been nigh impossible when there were all the Instructors, and the old Sorcerer Supreme and the students in the dorms beside yours. But since the attack, the students have been graduated early – apart from you – to take the pivotal positions required at the sanctums around the world.