Beautiful | Stephen Strange x male reader

Genre: fluff (a little bit of hurt? But i dont think it counts)

In all the time Stephen had known you, he’d never shown you his hands. From the
moment Wong introduced you as his friend and every interaction since, he’d wear some
form of gloves. Although he knew they were nothing to be ashamed of, he despised the
scars, the bumps, the rods, and how evident the unsteadiness in his hands were without
coverings. Every time he saw the unsightly things, he’d clench them into fists, and want
to punch the nearest wall when even that felt weak. His mind convinced him that, if his
reaction to his own hands was this bad, how much worse would it be for others? So he
hid them around as many people as possible, and those who knew never brought it up.

Unfortunately, those who didn’t know were a different story. Sometimes they’d ask
about his gloves, especially when it was a person he’d see often. The lady at the store,
the barista at the café he frequented, non-magical librarians, and the rest. They’d all
asked him about his gloves at least once at some point. Why he wore them, that they’d
never seen him without them, that he must be hot wearing them in this weather, etcetera.

But not you. You’d never asked, never brought it up, never even so much as looked at
them weirdly besides the first time you met when you’d observed them for a second
longer than usual. Stephen hadn’t realized how much he was bothered by how others
thought of his hands until you offered him a safe space to simply exist without
consciously thinking about them, and it allowed him to feel comforted around you. He
began to crave your company whenever he was being questioned about his gloves, and
even just in general when he was alone. He wanted to fill every free moment he had
with memories of you.

“I want to tell him.” The sound of Stephen’s voice broke the silence in the library,
causing Wong to look up from the book he was looking at in confusion.

“Tell who what?” Wong took in the sight of Stephen leaning on a desk with his face
resting on his hand and decided to close the book, sensing a longer conversation
coming. Stephen broke his dazed gaze and looked up at the librarian, eyes conveying
the message of “seriously?” clearly.

“You know who. I want to tell him about my hands!” The sorcerer stood up straight and
brought both gloved hands up into clear view to emphasize his point. He then turned
and started to pace around. Wong was unsure how to react. He was aware of Stephen’s
developing feelings for his friend, but this was na unexpected turn of events. Although
he’d shown na interest in possibly developing a romantic relationship with someone, his
hands hadn’t been mentioned in any way, shape, or form.

“That’s rather sudden. What brought this on?” Stephen’s pacing stopped and his body
visibly tensed instead. Wong could feel the hesitance to speak undulating off of him in
waves, and thought the conversation was over for a moment, until the man turned
around with a look of determination in his eyes.

“He… I feel safe around him, Wong,” the man spoke as though it physically pained him
to get the words out, but pressed on. “I want him to know. More. About me. I want to
share parts of myself with him.” He took in a breath and started pacing again. “Is that
weird? I feel like that’s weird.”

“Who would’ve thought, Doctor Stephen Strange talking about his feelings.” Wong let
out na amused chuckle until it was shut down by a glare.

“Sorry.”

Wong cleared his throat before speaking again.

“I don’t think it’s weird, I think you’re just…”

“Just what?”

“Lovesick?” At that, Stephen let out na incredulous scoff and rolled his eyes so hard
they nearly fell out of their sockets.
“I don’t get lovesick, Wong. I’m na adult, not some childish teenager who isn’t in
control of his feelings. I-”

“Am lovesick.”

“Am not!” The man turned with a little more force than necessary, shakiness in his
hands noticeable even while wearing his gloves and from afar. A few moments passed,
and he took a deep breath to steady himself while Wong stood strong, chin up and
proud.

“Sorry.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Yeah, I do. Dammit.” The man sighed and buried his face into his hands, only to pull
them away and stare at them when the tremors got worse. Now Wong was shocked. A
bit of agitation and aggressiveness wasn’t entirely out of character for the man, but
admitting being wrong was a once in a lifetime occurrence.

“Do you think I should do it?” He looked up from his hands, making eye contact with
the librarian. The raw vulnerability in his eyes shocked Wong even further, if that were
possible.

“I can’t decide for you, Stephen. But I can say that, if you do choose to tell him, you
have nothing to be afraid of.”

The two shared a quick look of understanding and Wong went back to flipping through
his book while Stephen steeled his resolve and portaled away.

Even after his talk with Wong, Stephen spent a week mulling over how he would go
about telling you about his past, even considering abandoning the idea altogether at
times. Nevertheless, he managed to come up with a plan and ask you to come over to
the Sanctum.
You arrived in the evening when the sun was a couple minutes away from beginning to
set, and Stephen was a bundle of nerves trying its best to look like a functioning human
being. The two of you spent a handful of minutes chatting and getting over the initial
nervousness of being together alone, and ended up sitting on a couch somewhere in the
endless building.

“So, why’d you call me over here?” You inquired during a halt in conversation, taking a
sip of the tea Stephen made.

“Can’t I ask a friend over? To socialize and talk?” Even to him, the attempt at steering
the conversation away from the main point was pathetic. He winced when you raised na
eyebrow at him.

“Right, because you’re just so sociable.” You placed the teacup on the coffee table in
front of you and turned your body to face the other man on the couch. He did the same,
but chose to look at his gloved hands that sat on his lap instead.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah—yeah, everything’s fine. I just—” He let a sigh slip from his lips and looked up
from his hands, choosing to look at your face instead. After a moment of silence and
thinking, he spoke.

“Why haven’t you asked about my hands?”

Well that wasn’t what he meant to say.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you started to grow a bit worried since he
hadn’t ever brought up the topic of his hands around you.

“Well, it’s not really my business, is it? Sure, I was curious, but if I needed to know,
you’d tell me in your own time.” You chose to answer his question honestly and it
seemed to be the right choice as the sorcerer seemed a bit more relaxed.
“Right. Speaking of telling you, that’s actually why I asked you here today.” He took in
a breath and let it out slowly.” I think you know I used to be a neurosurgeon, but the
reason I looked for Kamar-Taj was… Ah, it might be better to just show you, actually.”
You watched as he began tugging off his gloves, the action hesitant at first. Then you
saw the “fuck it” moment in his expression, and his gloves were off in a blink. You
thought your expression was fairly neutral, but Stephen was able to see the shock in
your eyes and heard the sharp intake of breath through your nose.

“You can touch them, if you want,” he commented when he noticed your hands
hovering in front of you, as though they wanted to touch but weren’t sure if they were
allowed. You looked up at his face, gaining confirmation that he meant the words
through the sincerity in his eyes. You also caught a trace of nervousness, and your heart
softened. This meant a lot to him. You knew Stephen wasn’t the type to open up easily,
and this moment was one of extreme vulnerability. The fact that he trusted you enough
to share it with you could’ve brought tears to your eyes.

Focusing back on his hands, you tentatively reached out and scooped one up in each
hand, allowing your thumbs to trace over some of the scars and rods inside of his
fingers. Your hands shook as well, but they were as still as statues in comparison to the
trembling of his.

“I got into a car accident. Well, more like I drove myself off a cliff because of my
overinflated ego.” He chuckled, but there was little humor in his voice. “A lot of the
scars are from surgeries, to get them to stop shaking. Safe to say they didn’t work. The
only thing they did was make my hands look hideous.” At that, you looked back up at
his face in shock.

“You think they’re hideous?” His expression shifted to one of confusion.

“Yes? Do you not see them? They’re mangled and—and broken, they’re more metal
than skin and bones, they’re—”

“Beautiful.”

You didn’t think it was possible for someone to look that astonished.
“At least, that’s what I think.” When it became clear that he wasn’t going to speak
anytime soon, you continued. “I mean, like you said, you used to be a surgeon, right?
That couldn’t have been easy, so it’s pretty crazy that they were capable of surgery.
Even now, they’re doing incredible sorcery and saving lives—because you want to save
them, not as a side effect of greed this time.” Although it may have sounded mean, you
knew Stephen used to be driven by money and ego, and you knew he was thinking that
as a rebuttal, so you had to get it out of the way. “But besides what they can do, I think
they’re great just because they’re yours, and I think you’re pretty great, Stephen. Your
scars tell a big part of your story and what made you who you are now, even if it wasn’t
the prettiest process.”

That was when the waterworks began. It was only a few tears slowly rolling down his
cheeks, but they held the weight of a waterfall of emotion. When he realized, he sniffed
and quickly pulled his hands away to wipe the tears away with them, looking away.

“God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to start crying, I just…” He trailed off and looked
back at you who looked at him with such understanding, patience, and openness that a
few more tears slipped out.

“I think I really needed that.”

When you embraced him in the most comforting hug he’s ever experienced, he knew.

He knew that he was utterly and irrevocably in love with you.

“The queerbaiting was terrible! They could’ve made the most iconic gay couple in all of
film history, but they threw it away for a poory forced together last minute hetero
couple.”

You were currently dragging Stephen along with you to take a walk because you
insisted that “the weather’s so nice today, we should enjoy it!” and he couldn’t ever say
no to you, and you ended up ranting about a TV show and why you hated it. Stephen
didn’t really understand as he didn’t watch new films often, but was too busy staring at
you to care. Anyone could see the pure love and admiration in his eyes as he drank in
your figure under the warm light of the sunset, wishing that he could hold your hand or
lean in and kiss you more than anything. As the sun went down and the streetlights
turned on, the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. Silence that was soon
interrupted by the sounds of rain hitting the pavement around you.

“Ah, shit. I didn’t think it was gonna rain,” you shivered and crossed your arms over
your chest in na attempt to maintain some warmth. Immediately, Stephen pulled the
cloak in the form of a scarf from his neck, allowed it to transform back into a cloak, and
slipped it over your shoulders in a single smooth movement. He held on to the lapels
and adjusted it, making your bodies face each other. The action made you look up at
him with a smile and a raised eyebrow that made it impossible for the sorcerer to look
away.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like that! I just don’t want you to get sick.”

“So you do care about me!” At that he rolled his eyes and couldn’t help the soft smile
that formed on his face.

“Yes, I do.” Suddenly, the surrounding air became charged and it felt silent even with
the deafening hammering of the rain around you.

“I care about you a lot, actually.” His words came out so quietly you wouldn’t have
been able to hear them had you not been so close. When did you get so close? You
decided it didn’t matter because, as he slid his hands down to your back, the contact
between your bodies became all that mattered.

“I know this might seem a little sudden, but I have something I need to tell you.”
Stephen swallowed the lump in his throat and took a shaky breath in na attempt to steel
his nerves before speaking again. You slid one of your hands up to his bicep, starting to
rub little shapes in what you hoped was a soothing action.
“I already told you that I care about you, but I don’t think you understood exactly what I
meant by that.” He swallowed again and took a baby step closer to you, chests now
nearly touching. “I meant that I care about you more than platonically. More than as a
friend, and definitely more than a friend of a friend.”

Before continuing his speech, he made a hesitant and shaky move to bring one of his
hands up to cup your face. It shook even as he rested it on your face, and even more as
he tried brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. He pressed his lips together in what
seemed like a look of defeat, and you brought your hand up to hold his. At this point,
both of you were soaked in rain water, but the heat of the moment felt like more than
enough to keep the cold at bay.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I… I think I…” He started to look
away, eyes shut tight, and his hands dropped to his sides. “Dammit, why can’t I just-”

“Stephen.”

He still didn’t look back at you, so you did what he had moments ago and brought the
hand on his arm up to his face, softly angling it to look at you again.

“Stephen.”

This time he didn’t look away, although he seemed a bit embarrassed.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I do, but it’s a little hard to just confess that I’m in love with you out of nowhere, isn’t
it?”

He froze, like the words escaped a tight jail cell made specifically for them. Meanwhile,
a grin formed on your face, like the words had entered a special place in your heart
made specifically for them.
“You’re in love with me?” You stepped just a bit closer, chests now touching, and you
let your hand caress the side of his face. He seemed to unfreeze with every movement.

“Yeah, I am.” He was finally responsive, bringing his hands to the middle of your back.

“Good, because I’m in love with you too.”

“Is that so?”

You hummed in response.

“In that case, I have another confession to make.”

“Shoot.”

“I’d very much like to kiss you right now.” He leaned in close enough for the tips of
your noses to graze each other, but with enough room for you to pull away if you
wanted to. Your grin widened.

“What a coincidence, I’d like that too.”

“Oh, shut up.” And with that, he finally leaned in to close the gap between your lips.

Your hand slid to the back of his neck, slightly pulling him in closer if that were even
possible, and he did the same by tugging you in by the waist. The rain continued to
pour, and you eventually had to pull away with a laugh because of how messy the kiss
was getting due to the rain. When you did, you were met with the breathtaking sight of
Stephen, hair glued to his forehead from the rain, and smiling more vibrantly than you
had ever seen. The streetlight only served to make him seem more angelic.

Little did you know, he felt the same. Your affection and love freely flowing through
your eyes into your expression and body language, all directed at him, was
overwhelmingly positive. He felt it in his heart that this moment would be cherished for
the rest of his life.

Your laughter settled, and after a handful of seconds of simply staring at each other, you
shivered. The fire in your veins wasn’t enough to keep the cold at bay after all.

“We should head back,” Stephen reached into his pocket for his sling ring and created a
portal to the sanctum. Specifically, his bedroom.

“Oh, Stephen. You’re awfully forward today, aren’t you?” You teased as you stepped
into the portal, cringing a bit when the rain water dripped off of you and formed a small
puddle on the ground.

“That’s not—god, you’ll be the death of me.” He followed you in, heading straight for
the bathroom connected to his bedroom and pulling out a couple towels. It was then he
realized the issue.

“I should’ve portaled you home, huh?” He looked up from the towels in his hands to
you who leaned on the doorway of the bathroom, the cloak of levitation floating behind
you in the bedroom.

“You get it now?” You laughed softly as you stepped into the bathroom, reaching for
one of the towels in the sorcerer’s hands. “It’s alright, we can just take turns with the
shower.” Before he could suggest otherwise, you leaned in close enough to feel his
warm breath on your cheeks. “Or, we could shower together?” The last thing you saw
before a towel was thrown into your face was a wonderful blush growing on Stephen’s
face.

In the end, he agreed to your initial solution because he didn’t want the night to end
quite yet. You showered first and he lent you some clothes to change into. Your time
together stretched into ungodly hours of the night and was spent cooking and eating
dinner, talking, and a little bit of kissing. When it was time for you to leave, Stephen
created a portal to the front of your apartment door, watched you go inside (even though
it was literally only a few feet away), and spent another hour or so in bed replaying the
events of the day and enjoying the warmth bubbling under his skin. It was safe to say
you were in no better condition.