Stephen Strange X Reader Fluff - Blog Posts

Outplayed

Stephen Strange x Spy!Reader

Fluff, flirting

Summary: A spy seduces Doctor Strange to steal crucial information and distract him for long enough to draw what she wants from him

Story under the cut

The dim light of the café cast long shadows across the wooden table where you sat, carefully stirring your coffee as you watched him from the corner of your eye. Doctor Stephen Strange. The Sorcerer Supreme. But here, in this low-key corner of the city, he wasn’t the all-powerful, stoic hero. Here, he was just a man, and you were here to take advantage of that.

Your mission was clear. He had information you needed, and you'd go to any length to get it.

"Mind if I join you?" His voice was calm, controlled—a stark contrast to the excitement thrumming beneath your skin. You didn’t even have to glance up to know that the air had shifted the moment he took a seat.

“No, not at all,” you said, offering a smile that you hoped was warm and welcoming, but you knew it came across as something else entirely—calculated, like you had an agenda. Which you did.

“Good,” he replied smoothly, taking a sip of his own drink. "I wasn’t sure if I was being followed."

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, your eyes finally meeting his, and damn, there was that glint—sharp, almost knowing. "I’d say you’re paranoid, but you wouldn’t be wrong, would you?"

He arched an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair slightly, as though already analyzing you. Smart. You could see it in the way his fingers rested on the rim of his cup, in the way his eyes tracked every small movement you made. He was more aware than you’d like.

"Let me guess," he said, his voice low, tinged with amusement. "You're here to ask me questions."

You leaned in, careful to let your lips curve in a way that could either be interpreted as playful or dangerous. "It’s a bit more complicated than that," you purred, your voice a soft lull, an invitation he couldn’t resist. "I need something. Something I’m sure you’re just the man to provide."

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving yours. "Is that so?" he asked, his tone full of that subtle challenge you knew too well. “And what exactly is it that you think I can help you with?”

You didn’t flinch. No, you were too good at this. Too smooth. "You know exactly what I need," you said. "Information. A little bit of knowledge that only you have."

For the briefest moment, his expression flickered—a flicker of something unreadable—before it was gone, hidden behind a cool smile. “You seem awfully confident.”

You let that linger in the air, then allowed your own smile to bloom, teasing but still sharp. "Confidence has always been one of my strengths."

He laughed softly, but the sound was cold, like it wasn’t truly a laugh at all. More like a warning. "You don't think I know exactly what you're up to?" His eyes glinted as he leaned in a little, his voice dropping just a touch. “How long did it take before you realized I could see right through you?”

Your pulse quickened, but you didn’t let it show. “You don’t know a thing about me,” you countered, your voice low and deliberate.

He tilted his head, studying you with that calm, unnerving gaze. "I know enough."

It was like a game now, a cat-and-mouse dance you both played so well. You were too good at getting what you wanted, and he was just... too good, period. You could feel the tension tightening in the air, crackling between you, but you weren’t about to give up so easily. Not when you were so close.

Then, just as you leaned in slightly—just enough for him to feel the heat of your presence—you slid your hand across the table, brushing lightly against his. Not a hard touch, but deliberate, calculated. A little touch of intimacy meant to throw him off.

His breath hitched ever so slightly.

And there it was. The briefest of breaks in his usually steady composure. The smallest crack that you were quick to notice. That was all you needed.

"Careful, Doctor," you said softly, locking eyes with him as your fingers grazed the sleeve of his coat. “You’re getting distracted.”

He swallowed, eyes narrowing as he locked onto your face. For a second, the playful tension vanished, replaced by something deeper—something almost... predatory.

"You think you’ve got me figured out?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper, lips curling slightly at the corners.

You held his gaze, leaning in just a fraction more, testing him. "I think I’ve already won."

There was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, challenge, and... acceptance. He wasn’t falling for the act. But at that moment, you were okay with that. Because while he’d been focused on you, your hand had already slipped his Sling Ring off his finger, carefully palming it like you had done this a hundred times before.

You straightened up, your expression softening just enough to be disarming. “Thanks for the chat, Stephen,” you said, standing up, giving him a coy smile.

“Wait—” He reached for you, but you were already turning, already walking out, Sling Ring safely hidden.

You didn’t look back, but you could feel his gaze on your back, that quiet realization creeping in that, for once, he'd been outplayed.