#i do make some exceptions for ironstrange
Note
Ironstrange identity reveal? I was reading Spy x Family when I thought of this, so that's the background/setting I was thinking of initially, but it can definitely be a superhero thing too. Or whatever other idea pops into your head. I'm always excited to see what you come up with!
I read the top of the wikipedia entry for Spy x Family, but that setup is not working for me here, so instead we’re going with some classic “Iron Man is Tony Stark’s bodyguard” shenanigans. 😀
Uh, this got… more than a little out of hand. This has many themes in common with other drabbles, but now it’s 1360 words long. Enjoy?
Under the read more for length.
-
Tony stares stubbornly at Steve, who is rubbing his eyes with the kind of exhausted exasperation that has become his hallmark around Iron Man.
“Iron Man, you were unconscious,” Steve says. “After being electrocuted. You need a real medical check.”
“The armor has medical sensors,” Tony insists. “It says I’m fine. I can answer questions for a neurological exam. That’ll have to be good enough.”
Steve gets that stubborn look on his face. The one that no one wins against. Fuck. “You’re benched until you get a real medical check.”
“How about if I get checked out in my civilian identity?” Tony suggests.
“We have no way of verifying that you’ve done that,” Steve says. “And while I hate to say you’d lie, I can’t dismiss the possibility after this conversation. I understand your hesitation about revealing your identity, but your life is at stake.”
“It’s really not,” Tony mutters. He’s fine. But he can tell that Steve isn’t going to budge on this, and he wants to be off the bench sooner rather than later. “Fine. Call Strange, then.”
Steve’s eyebrows go up. “Doctor Strange? He’s not a practicing physician.”
“He’s kept his certifications, though.”
“And he hates you.”
Stephen hates Iron Man. He’s quite fond of Tony Stark, though. They’re… friends. He’s asked Tony on half a dozen dates, which Tony has been forced to turn down because he refuses to lie about something as important as Iron Man to someone he’s dating. It’s made for a lonely couple of years. At least if he has to reveal his identity to someone, he might get a date out of it. If Stephen forgives him for lying. If he can get past Tony Stark being an Avenger in general (apparently they make a lot of work for the sorcerers; something about the barriers between dimensions) and Iron Man in specific, who he’s always hated the most.
“Then you’ll know he’s being honest when he clears me,” is all Tony says aloud.
Steve still looks baffled, but he makes the call.
Tony’s expecting Stephen to be angry when he arrives. He may keep his medical certifications up to date, but he doesn’t work as a doctor and he’s sure as hell not on call for the Avengers. But when he arrives he’s crisply professional, if frosty. He’s even wearing a lab coat over street clothes. He locks the exam room door behind him, which would be odd except that he follows it up with, “Armor off.” Tony hesitates. Stephen’s expression tightens. “Captain Rogers indicated you were willing to be examined,” he says sharply.
“This is kind of a big deal,” Tony snaps. “There is literally no one living that knows who I am.”
Stephen blinks. “Surely Tony knows.”
Tony sighs. “Yeah. About that.” He issues the command, and the helmet retracts.
Stephen stares. And stares. And there it is. There’s the anger. “You utter fucking idiot!” He shouts. “What the hell are you doing risking your life in that goddamned tin can?! Don’t you know what a catastrophic loss it would be if you died out there?”
Okay, Stephen is yelling, but it seems like… good yelling? “I’m saving people,” Tony argues.
“You save plenty of people as Tony Stark!” Thank God the soundproofing in this place is spectacular; Stephen doesn’t lower his voice one bit. “So why do you insist on ruining your own life with this, this,” he waves his hand inarticulately at the armor still covering Tony to the neck, “bullshit.”
Okay, that’s enough. “Iron Man is not ruining my life! It’s the best thing I’ve ever done!”
Stephen's expression shifts from furious to incredulous. “The best thing?” he demands. “The best thing? What about the 100 million dollar donation to spinal cord research? The Foundation that helps people rebuild after things like alien invasions when their insurance won’t? What about the shield you invented that makes it possible for people with sensitive implants to get an MRI safely, or the modular smartphone that doesn’t need to be replaced every two years? What about the scholarships you’ve endowed?”
“Stephen—”
“Are those not big enough in scale?” Stephen demands. “How about the clean energy technology that looks like it might stop global warming in its tracks? Is that enough? Is one planet not enough? Do we need to talk about the international collaboration that you started to combine Earth’s resources with alien technology to turn us into an interstellar civilization before another interstellar civilization can dismiss us as barbarians—”
“I’m not the one who decided none of that counted!” Tony shouted over Stephen. It stops the tirade, at least. Tony blows out a hard breath. “The guy who donates the 100 million dollars isn’t the hero,” he goes on. “That’s the guy who makes the discovery. The Foundation isn’t celebrated for the people it helps, it’s critiqued for the ones it doesn’t. The MRI shield, the smartphone… people like them, but they’re advances that ‘were always coming’. Or maybe ‘were overdue’. That doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing. Of course they’re worth doing.” Tony retracts a gauntlet and rubs a hand over his face. God, he’s tired. “I just… I wanted to be the hero for once,” he admits. It sounds so fucking selfish. “Tony Stark could never do enough. It always had to be about the money for them, even when it really wasn’t about the money for me. But Iron Man… No one wonders what his ulterior motive is when he does something good. They just cheer.”
Stephen sighs and hitches himself up onto the medical bed next to Tony. “Do you know why I hated Iron Man so much?”
Tony grimaces. “I always figured he was just too… blunt instrument for you.”
Stephen snorts. “Hulk and Cap are far more blunt,” he says. “Iron Man at least has precision weapons to go with the punches. No. I hated Iron Man because when the suit failed somehow Tony got the blame, but when it worked, Iron Man got the credit. Iron Man made everything you just explained worse, not better.”
There’s not really a counter argument for that. It’s true. Except, “Nothing was going to make that better,” Tony says. “Nothing could. Not until I’m dead, anyway.” He half expects Stephen to go right back to haranguing him for risking his life.
“Speaking of which, I’m meant to be making sure you’re not dying now,” Stephen says. He stands and moves to face Tony. “Come on. Get the rest of the armor off.”
Tony obliges, and they proceed with the rest of the exam in silence.
Near the end, Tony looks over Stephen’s shoulder rather than meet his eyes and says, quietly, “I’m not going to stop.”
“My initial reaction aside,” Stephen answers, just as soft, “I never thought you would. I know as well as anyone how this life becomes a part of you.” When he finishes the exam, he steps back. “You’re fine.”
Tony nods and puts the armor back on. It’s never been so quiet between them before. His chest aches.
When he’s got everything but the helmet back on, Stephen stops him. “Is this why you always said no when I asked you out?”
“Yeah,” Tony says. “Didn’t seem right to lie like that to my partner.”
“Right.” Stephen nods firmly. “So will you go out with me now?”
Tony perks up. “You still want to?”
Stephen gives him a look. “You have not had a personality transplant,” he says dryly. “So yes, I still want to.”
Do not push your luck, Tony tells himself. He says it anyway, “Thought the lying might be a bigger deal.”
“Everyone keeps secrets,” Stephen says. “But the secrets that a friend will accept are different from the secrets that a partner will accept. You’ve already demonstrated that you understand that.” Tony grins and Stephen shoots him a look. “We will, however, be having words about you assuming I’d react like anyone else in your life.”
Tony swallows a laugh. “Of course,” he says. “I should have known you’d be exceptional.”
“And don’t forget it,” Stephen says, a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.
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The Vamp and the Were [IronStrange]
Summary: Tony would mark the day he met a vampire that did not immediately jump at his throat. Just for once – that would be a nice change.
Relationship: Werewolf!Tony Stark / Vampire!Stephen Strange
Tags: hurt/comfort, idiots in love, angst, fluff
Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 5k | Previous | Next
Chapter 11: Shit goes down (down under)
Roughly, they fell through the air and landed on sandy ground.
"Ouch," Tony complained, "what the hell?"
Stephen scrambled to his feet, wincing in the process. The graze that had hit him must have been infused with silver, because the wound on his arm was straight up burning. And the magic that had been blasted in his face wasn’t so great either. “You shouldn’t touch magical artifacts.”
“Sorry. They really should come with warning labels, though.”
Stephen would have laughed at those familiar words, if he hadn't currently been so worried.
It was quiet around them. The landscape had changed and smelled different, too. The wand must have teleported them a good distance.
“Let’s go back.”
Stephen reached for his sling ring in his pocket – only to find it empty. He patted down his clothes. But there was nothing. Muttering a curse, he looked around to see if he could find it lying somewhere on the ground.
In the meanwhile, Tony paid little attention to him. He was busy trying to figure out where they had landed.
Around them was the endless expanse of a steppe, almost desert-like, and stars shone in the night sky above them. There were hundreds and thousands to be seen, he could even point out the Milky Way. There was no light pollution at all, and that meant they had to be far away from any city.
The changed landscape and the fact that it suddenly was much warmer, made him come to the solution that they had been sent to a different country.
His gaze dropped to his glasses on the ground. They were smashed by the explosion and he had also fallen on it. He put them back on, hoping that there was still a signal coming through.
It was to no avail. The connection to Jarvis was dead. There wasn’t even so much as a glitch.
This wasn’t good.
“Please tell me you can get us out of here, doc.”
“I’m afraid not.”
Their eyes met.
“Shit.”
So thanks to the unknown attackers who had surprised them, they were now stranded in… wherever this was. It was still night, but Tony couldn't tell if it was a later hour or if they at least had been given more time until the sun came up and became fatal for Stephen.
Either way, they shouldn't waste this time standing here idly.
"Let's go this way." Tony turned left and started walking.
Stephen followed him. "Do you know where to go?"
"No. But it's West. If anything it may delay sunrise a bit."
It would make little difference, but for once Stephen kept any comments to himself.
The ground was red-ish and barren, with only some small trees and bush scattered. There was no road and no path, but the ground was firm enough that it did not make walking unnecessarily difficult.
Tony ruled out Afghanistan as their current location. There had been nothing there except sandy dunes and a small rock now and then.
He didn't need to repeat that trip.
Nevertheless, they absolutely had to find a shelter before sunrise. Preferably a shelter with some form of internet connection.
“I think we’re in Australia,” the vampire noted.
“Oh, great.”
~~
They had been walking for maybe an hour when they crossed a road. A real, paved road. Tony thought it was beautiful.
Now they just had to decide whether to turn left or right.
Tony glanced at Stephen.
Stephen shrugged his shoulders. He had become unusually quiet for the last hour. Tony wondered if the temperature was already getting to him, but it was barely 15°C / 60°F degrees.
He took the decision in his own hands and turned to his right. The vampire followed.
Not only had he been quiet, he also was slowing down. Tony matched his speed and watched him out of the corner of his eye. The smell of sweat and blood was on them both – a result of the fight before. But there was something else on Stephen. Something metallic. The cloak on his shoulders was a familiar sight, but Stephen's posture under it was odd. The way he hunched and kept his arm angled at his body. As if he was…
Tony stopped rooted to the spot.
"You're injured!" He was angry for not realizing it sooner, and also with Stephen for keeping it a secret.
"It's nothing. Barely grazed me." Stubbornly, the vampire continued moving forward.
"Morning will be arriving soon. You should have a drink." With his thumb Tony pointed toward the bright streak on the horizon behind them.
"No."
The Were moved right into Stephen's path and looked him in the face. "If our roles were reversed, you'd be suggesting the same thing."
"But it's not." Stephen had stopped, but wasn't looking directly at him. "I'm fine. Really." He hesitated for a moment. "There's a spell that will protect me against the sun so I won't burn immediately."
It would buy him time, but he was realistic: he was still in need of a hiding place. No vampire survived the sun for long.
He started walking again and circled Tony.
Sighing, the Were trailed behind him.
~~
For Stephen it became more and more exhausting to put one step in front of the other. The bullet had only scratched his skin, there was barely any silver in his blood. But his vampiric body was still not happy about it. He also felt incredibly warm, although the temperature had barely risen since they arrived.
The increasingly bright line on the horizon told them that the sun would soon appear. His cloak still protected him from the light, but to be on the safe side, he put the spell over him, even if he felt exhausted.
They still hadn't encountered anything or anyone on the road. No car, no house, not even a sign that could have told them how far it was to the next city. They really were in the deep vastness of Australia.
Tony remained by his side, casting worried glances at him from time to time, but said nothing to their ever decreasing pace.
This was not how the engineer had imagined their camping trip. Fucking hunters! They had been clearly prepared for Weres.
He hoped the others had survived.
Unfortunately, he had no way to contact and inform his business partner, the owner of the cabin, about the incident.
He had no working technology. That alone was bad enough. But they also had no water while being in the middle of a desert.
It had to be worse for the Vamp at his side.
The first rays of sunlight tickled Tony's face. Normally he liked the feeling, liked the warmth of the sun, but now his focus was on Stephen.
The Vamp knitted his brows together and squinted his eyes. They were sensitive and everything already felt too bright. But otherwise there was no spontaneous and instantaneous combustion to dust on his end.
Still, he was clearly uncomfortable.
The cloak had lengthened and its collar had also grown, as if to do its best to shield its owner from the harmful sun. It did not quite succeed.
Tony took off the plaid shirt he wore to the BBQ and again stepped in front of the other man. “Here, maybe this makes it less worse.”
With practiced hand movements he folded the shirt to a turban on Strange’s head. Maybe he had watched some tutorials after being rescued from the last desert he was trapped in. You never know when you need this kind of knowledge.
Stephen looked at him while the smaller man handled the fabric. “What about you?”
Tony scoffed. He still had his undershirt. “I tan nicely. Worst, I will get a bit sunburned. You can make it up by rubbing aloe on it when we’re back home.”
He looked at his work. Stephen's face was a little bit more protected. He did look pale. More pale than usual. And he looked like he tried to make himself smaller, as if that would help to escape the inevitable trajectory of the sun.
"Let's keep moving," Tony said, but Stephen's hand shot out and stopped him, holding his arm.
“Tony, if…”
The Were turned back to him, concerned by his sudden change of tone.
Their eyes met and Stephen swallowed. His throat was dry and he tried again. “… if we don’t find a shelter and my skin starts burning, I want you to go on without me.”
“I won’t leave you behind, doc!” Indignation resonated in his voice.
Stephen shook his head because Tony didn’t understand. He now grabbed the Were's shoulders with both hands. His grip was weak and his hands shook a little, but his face was more serious than ever.
“Tony, I will lose control at some point and I don’t want you or anyone else near me when that happens. You have to be so far away, that I can’t even smell you. In fact, I should stay here to give you more of a head start. If anything happened… if I killed anyone… if I killed you – I could never…” A kiss from Tony interrupted him. Gentle, like a butterfly on a flower, but it was enough to shut the vamp up.
Tony’s eyes were determined when he looked back up to him. “I won’t let that happen. If you go feral, I will keep you from harming anybody. I promise.” He said it with all the conviction he could manage. “But I will not leave you here to die. Not if there’s a chance we will still make it. Okay?”
Slowly, Stephen nodded, but still objected. “It would be safer for you.”
“I’m perfectly safe with you. You’re the most composed vamp I’ve ever met. C’mon, let’s keep going.”
He pulled Stephen along and it took only a few steps for the vampire to start walking on his own again.
Tony side glanced at him. They were still holding hands.
“Besides, it would be less of a problem if you would drink my blood now to give you strength.”
The answer was as curt as last time he brought the topic up.
“No.”
“Why not?”
Stephen looked away. “I know if I tasted you, I would never want to have anything else. You smell like ambrosia."
A blush crept onto Tony's cheeks at those words. He wrestled a smile from himself. "Only you manage to seduce me while we are in an emergency situation. I gotta keep you alive just to hear more of that.”
Tumbleweeds accompanied their way. Driven by the gusting wind and with only the sounds of their own steps. They fell into a silence to conserve energy, and it grew heavier with each mile they traveled.
They had been walking for hours without encountering anything other than sand, stone and some shrubbery along the road.
They had let go of their hands at some point for it had gotten too warm and Stephen's skin seemed to crack even under the light touch of the Were, who was afraid to hurt him. Now Stephen's arms hung weakly down the side of his body. The cloak dragged him more than he was walking himself. His legs moved forward only mechanically.
His tongue hung heavily in his dry mouth and he had the feeling that if he spoke, he was hardly able to form a coherent word. He longed for a sip to drink.
He noticed how his skin became brittle and cracked. The protection spell slowly wore off and the sun began to take its toll. He would not last much longer.
Greedily, his eyes wandered to his companion. With iron willpower he suppressed his instincts, but his senses sharpened and he could hear Tony's blood pulsing softly in his veins.
It was calling to him.
And it promised to be delicious.
Stephen looked down at the ground, watching his feet as they took one step after another. They seemed foreign to him. As if they were not part of his body, but something alien.
They were getting faster and faster, driven by an invisible force.
It took Stephen a moment to realize that Tony had grabbed a tip of his cloak and was pulling him forward with renewed vigor.
It took a little longer for Stephen to understand that Tony was talking to him.
„… c’mon, doc. We’re almost there. I will bathe you in slushy and ice.“
They passed a sign announcing a gas station in three miles. Stephen stumbled. His awareness of his surroundings was slipping again. He trusted the Were enough to just follow it, even though his subconscious told him that in his current state it was a bad idea to go to a place with people.
Another, louder voice in his head disagreed. He was thirsty and this would be a great opportunity.
When the building finally came into view, Tony spurred him on even more. He dragged the vampire into the shadow of the gas station.
A big out-of-order sign hung on the gas pumps, and the building's windows were taped shut with foil.
But fuck it. Shelter was shelter.
The doors were locked, but with a well-aimed kick Tony kicked them open. He didn't care if he demolished them in the process.
Inside, empty shelves and refrigerated displays greeted them. There was a cash register on the counter but no merchandise. It looked like the gas station had been closed some time ago.
The air in here was stale but cooler than outside in the sun. A small hallway led to the restrooms and staff room.
That was where Tony dragged Strange and dumped him on a worn-out couch. The cloak flew off his shoulders and hung like a curtain on the window, darkening the room even more.
Stephen lay there for a moment as if dead. His joints burned when he tried to move even a few inches.
"How are you feeling?" Tony asked while he was searching the closet, the only other piece of furniture in the narrow room. It was empty except for a few old newspapers. Nothing of use.
The vampire stared at him, only partially present mentally. It took a while for the words to get through to his brain.
He licked his lips. It felt so incredibly hot even in here. And the delicious blood was only a few feet away from him…
He shook his head to dispel those thoughts.
But he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. In the end, his survival instinct would win, he knew that.
The irregular panting he had gone over to and the pale look on the vampire's face did not please Tony at all. He took off the shirt turban to help him cool down faster.
"I'll be back in a minute."
Slinging the cloth over his shoulder, Tony exited the building through the main entrance and circled around it. At the back he had seen what had looked like a power generator when they arrived. And he indeed found such a device of considerable size in the shadow of the building.
The engineer examined the controls and hoped to get it working.
"Please don't leave me hanging," he muttered as he tried to fire it up.
On the second try, he heard the familiar hum.
"Yeah, that's it, baby."
It gave him hope that they would get out of here soon. He hurried back inside.
There was a cistern outside next to the generator, and when Tony turned on the tap in the bathroom, water came out of the pipe. A little stale and brown at first, but soon clear. It was lukewarm, but it would do.
He soaked the plaid shirt in it and then returned to Stephen to use it to wet his forehead and wrists like a fever-stricken patient, hoping it would regulate his body temperature down a bit.
Unfortunately, he had no ice on hand. It would take too long for the ice machines to produce any if he turned them on. But maybe he could knock over one of the refrigerated displays and use it as a cooling bed for Stephen. It would probably be quite uncomfortable for the vampire, but in his current state he could not value such luxury. This was a matter of survival.
Stephen stirred awake under him and interrupted his train of thoughts. The vamp still breathed heavily and his body felt like it was burning. With eyes glowing red, he stared at the Were above him.
Tony cupped his face. „I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken you camping.“
The vamp’s face leaned into the touch, turned his lips towards it. He sensed the blood pulsing behind the delicate skin.
He opened his mouth, fangs out.
Tony was able to pull his arm back just in time before Stephen bit him. The vamp followed the movement, sat up jerkily. He noticed Tony's horrified look, and only now realized what he had just tried to do.
„Get out!“
Stephen’s voice was hoarse.
„Doc-…“
„No, please! Leave and lock the door.“
Stephen could feel his mind slipping. He tried to maintain control but it became harder and harder with each second passing.
He could see himself pushing his sharp teeth into Tony's neck and tasting the engineer's delicious blood. He would drink until there was nothing left. And he wouldn't care.
He wanted the blood.
He needed it.
Everything before his eyes blurred yet again and the smell of blood in his nose grew stronger.
He forced himself to remain still, to not move a finger in fear he wouldn't stop until they caught their prey.
When the Were heard the low, bestial growl from the vamp's throat, he finally complied.
„It’s going to be okay,“ Tony promised him.
There wasn’t any answer from Stephen. His scared fingers clawed into the wet fabric of the shirt to hold back from jumping at Tony.
The Were left the staff’s room. There wasn’t a lock on the door, so Tony pushed an empty vending machine in front of it.
Then he got to work: his sunglasses were still in his back pants pocket, still broken. He fished them out and gathered some additional equipment from the shop.
He happened to find no actual tools but managed to craft ones that would do the job. He also swiped some cables from a machine and microchips from the cash register. As long as he had some form of electricity, he could use it to power a temporary tinkered signal transmitter.
It wouldn't win any beauty contests, but that didn't matter.
Tony held his breath as the glasses, after everything was hooked up, made a soft beeping sound. "Jarvis?"
„I’m glad to find you alive, Sir.“
Relieved, Tony exhaled a breath he didn’t know he held and smiled. If he could, he would hug his A.I.. "Do you have a visual?" he asked instead.
„Negative. I do have your coordinates, though. Do you want me to send a suit?“
"Absolutely. And message Wong. Tell him I need him ASAP. And he needs to bring blood bags."
"Sir?" Concern resonated in that one word, but now was not the time to explain everything that had happened.
„Use a satellite to get a proper picture of this gas station. Hell, use google street view if available. He’ll need it to get here.“
„Understood. The suit’s ETA is 23 minutes and 45 seconds.“
A noise in the staff room made Tony look up briefly. „I might need it faster than that.“
„You are literally on the other side of the world, Sir.“
„I know, I know.“ Tony had yet to master instant transportation. In that regard, magic with its portals was really more handy. „What can you tell me about this area? Is there anything nearby?“
„There’s a town twenty miles in the west and another one a hundred miles in the south.“
Well, Australia was one big empty hell space. At least people were far enough off to be safe from whatever was going on with the vampire.
There was scratching on the other side of the door.
Tony, on the other hand, should probably be more worried about himself.
„Doc? You okay in there?“
There wasn’t an answer. Just eerie silence. Tony kept an eye on the door just in case.
„ETA 21 minutes and 26 seconds,“ Jarvis offered unhelpfully.
Without another warning, Stephen burst through the door. The vending machine fell over with a loud thud and its front glass shattered.
The vampire bared his sharp teeth as he sniffed the air. Bright red eyes zoned in on Tony.
He had lost any composure and now bore more resemblance to the bloodsucking monsters the Avengers normally fought.
Tony was standing perfectly still, not breaking eye contact. „You don’t want to do this.“
Strange snarled at him. Then he leaped.
Tony jumped over the counter. Fortunately, his reflexes were faster than those of an ordinary human.
He shifted mid-air, not caring about his ripped jeans and undershirt. When he hit the ground, he did so with four legs. Immediately he yanked around to keep his eyes on the vampire, which turned out as too slow anyway. Stephen was faster and crashed right into him, knocking him off his feet.
Tony collided with an empty store shelf and huffed.
That would give a big bruise tomorrow; if he survived today.
The vampire snarled and Tony was too slow to avoid the greedy teeth. But before he could bite him, Stephen was yanked back by the cloak. That gave Tony enough time to get back up.
The cloak was wrapped around Stephen's torso and arms, forcibly holding him back. The vampire thrashed, the sound of tearing cloth was heard, and the cloak flinched. With his superhuman strength, Stephen managed to free himself.
He didn’t use any magic, only working with his primal instincts. He was hungry, desperate for blood, and that made him unpredictable and dangerous. But also weak.
Tony didn’t want to hurt Stephen. Not really. But between dying and surviving he might have to make a tough choice.
Normally he preferred to fight against undead in his armor in human form. In it he was safe from bites, had his weapons and also the advantage of two thumbs. As a werewolf he wasn’t helpless, he had his claws and teeth, but on the other hand he didn’t truly want to hurt Stephen.
They demolished more and more of the furniture. Shelves fell over, the glass of a freezer broke when Stephen was hurled against it.
Tony managed to push Stephen with his weight on the floor near the front door, growling warningly at him.
The vampire thrashed, not thinking about calming down. Even if Tony had been able to speak to him in his present form, the vampire would not have listened to him. The rational part of his brain had shut down. There were no emotions left but rage and hunger.
Stephen didn't even recognize the Were. He needed blood and his primal instincts had taken control of his body.
An encounter with a vampire in this condition was usually fatal. To voluntarily offer him blood was bordering on insanity. No Vamp would be able to stop until they emptied their source out.
Tony shifted his position and moved his front leg in front of the vamp’s face. Strange took the bait. He managed to free one of his hands, grabbed the furry leg and sunk his teeth into it.
The Were whined in pain. The vampire was anything but gentle. With each sip he drank his sharp teeth moved in the flesh. Tony felt the life energy being drained out of him.
He waited only a few moments until he found he had given enough blood and before he became too weak to fight back. Then he kicked the nearby front door open. Sunlight poured in and Stephen hissed in agony. He let go of his meal and scrambled back into the darker corner of the room.
Tony moved in the other direction, limping slightly. To the door and outside.
There he was safe. For now.
The Vamp hissed. Where the sun had hit him, his skin turned dark like burnt coal. He was angry about the pain. But he was even angrier about the fact that his food source had disappeared.
He followed the trail and approached the windows. But he wasn’t able to face the sunlight.
The blood he got from the Were took off the edge of his thirst, but it was nowhere near enough. It also didn’t magically change him back into his regular self, like Tony had hoped.
Did he need more blood to regain awareness?
Or was the Vamp forever lost? Doomed to stay this mindless, instinct-driven monster? Was this the fate of vampires? What had happened to the others Tony had fought so far? He had never considered it necessary to ask these questions until now, and therefore, unfortunately, he had no answers.
A throbbing pain went through the bite wound on his leg and some more blood spilled. Stephen's eyes were fixed on it and he made angry noises for he couldn't reach him.
Tony felt the magic before he even heard it. It might have been because his senses were on high alert. It was the familiar feeling of frizzle and his ears twitched in that direction.
A gold-orange circle appeared in front of the gas station sign, forming a portal. It was probably the image Jarvis had found and forwarded.
Wong had a cooler bag shouldered and he hurried to the Werewolf as soon as he spotted him. „What happened?“ His gaze followed the Were's.
The man wasn’t known for emotional outbreaks but Tony recognized the signs of worry in his face when the sorcerer realized Stephen’s condition. “Oh no…”
He needed a second to collect himself, before he opened the cooler bag and pulled out a blood bag. „He won’t drink it if he smells us nearby.“
So, what he was saying was that they needed to shove it down his throat. Tony shifted back into his human form, not caring that he was now standing butt naked next to the other man.
„I’ll take care of it.“ Between the two of them, he was the better choice than the human. „J,“ he called inside. „What’s the ETA?“
„Two minutes and four seconds. Sir, might I add it is quite dangerous to-“
But Tony had stopped listening and turned back to Wong. „I need your magic as backup. And a pair of pants.“
The sorcerer only raised an eyebrow, but complied with the request and with a gesture he magically fetched a pair of pants from somewhere. They were slightly too long but would do.
Tony trusted his armor but still didn’t want to risk certain body parts getting injured by what was probably a stupid idea anyway.
Right on time, he heard the familiar sound of thrusters as his armor descended and landed next to him. It opened automatically for him to enter.
It was one of the sleeker versions, still agile and – the most important part – vampire safe.
Tony stepped toward it, turned, and the armor closed seamlessly around him. He took the cooler bag from Wong and ripped the first blood bag open when he stepped back inside the gas station.
To the normal eye, Stephen was invisible. He had adopted a new tactic and was hiding. Tony's sensors found him anyway and on his screen Tony saw that he was lurking behind a shelf.
Even mindless, the vampire wasn't an idiot.
"I got your juice box, doc." Tony waved it. "Come and get it. It's very yummy." He felt Wong rolling his eyes at him, which was totally unnecessary.
His focus remained on Stephen though, and when the vampire attacked him, he forcefully stuffed the red liquid down his throat.
At first the vampire swallowed the stuff reluctantly and he glared angrily at the armor. Then, however, his thirst took over and he went for the blood.
Tony immediately threw two more of the bags at him.
Like a junkie, Stephen tore them open and feasted on the tasty liquid until his face and clothes were smeared all over with red.
His breathing slowed. He was still pale, but his burns were already beginning to heal.
When the last reserve was emptied, Stephen looked back at Tony and growled softly. Though his thirst was quenched for now, his mind was still not back.
He had only grown stronger and used that to fling Tony away from him. He was about to jump after him as well, but before he could do so, a spell from Wong hit him, knocking him off his feet. He slumped down, unconscious.
Tony waited a few seconds to make sure the vampire didn't get up again before he opened his faceplate, still sitting where Stephen had thrown him. "Couldn't you have done that earlier?"
“No.” Wong didn’t elaborate.
Tony stood up and looked at Stephen's bloodied, motionless form. “Will he be back to normal when he awakes?”
Wong hesitated slightly before he answered. “Probably.”
The Were didn’t like the wavering uncertainty in his voice. But before he could ask, Wong moved his arm in a familiar circle and he portaled Stephen away.
"Where did you send him?"
“Somewhere safe to regenerate and wake up.”
He didn’t mention if it was safe for Stephen or for everyone else, and Tony didn’t ask. He was exhausted. It had been a long day and a long night even before they arrived involuntarily on this continent. He wouldn’t mind sleeping for a day or two.
Tony turned his head to Wong and noticed that he was watching him. But Tony was too tired to wonder how battered he looked on the outside.
Fortunately, Wong refrained from commenting.
“Can you give me a lift?” Tony asked and Wong nodded.
“Where to?”
Home. As much as he would like to stay close to Stephen, he would be to no use right now. And he had other stuff to take care of.
So he collected his glasses and had a portal created onto the roof of his tower.
This hadn’t turned out to be the camping trip he had had in mind.
________
Tag list: @jekyllhydetrash @goopierthenyou
Tell me if you wanna be added/removed
#ironstrange#doctor strange#tony stark#Vampire Stephen Strange#Werewolf Tony Stark#stephen strange#marvel#mcu#strangeiron#The Vamp and the Were#spacemermaid writes
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I try not to get too invested with fiction, but the what...if finale makes me want to puke! I keep telling myself it's fiction, but it feels like an awful nightmare.
If it wasn't for Benedict's incredible acting, I would be done with marvel and Stephen Strange. (I'd just retreat into the beautiful world of fanfic.... which is what I'm gonna do)
Sorry for ranting, I just want to know more of your thoughts.
Ugh. I had a whole reply here, and my PC blue-screened. 2nd time it's done it in 2 weeks; I'm wondering if the poor thing's starting to die. Anyway, sorry it took me a while to get back to you, my RL crap, blah blah blah, energy, blah blah.
Anyway. My points in my original post were:
I was getting Marvel burnout in early 2022 but I figured it'd be revitalized with MoM
It wasn't and I was sorely disappointed with MoM the longer time passed between viewings.
I was also looking forward to Thor 4, and when that turned out to be a total joke, I stopped looking forward to Marvel stuff until I got proof from others that it was actually good stuff. GOTG 3 is the last film I watched since MoM and I haven't watched a full show since Hawkeye. So, yeah, I'm checked out of MCU and I live through fandom instead. I write my own stories and fix its and I worry less and less about post-Snap canon in fanfic.
What got me through that episode in particular were the wonderful Stephen fans at A Strange Server on Discord. We ranted together in the What If thread we had going and just commiserated in our disappointment regarding the episode and how it was presented. I love this community and it's a great place to be for a Stephen Strange fan.
(The community itself is filled with many types of shippers - CleaStrange, IronStrange, ScarletStrange, FrostStrange, as well as non-shippers such as myself, and generally speaking we try to discourage anti-behavior since everyone has their favorites, though naturally there was some snark against Wanda in MoM and Carter with this last What If episode since those were the characters pitted against him. Snark definitely happens from time to time. The only exception to this anti-rule is that there's really no tolerance towards AI art on the server since it's crafted from stolen material, and the artists present are not shy about pointing out this fact).
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just because i feel like it:
some random thoughts about the art i made for ironstrange week + the very rough thumbnails for each piece (putting this under the read more so this doesn't take up too much space bc this is a Very long post)
day 1 - red/wrath
first fanart for this fandom! there are a few things i don't like about this piece (questionable anatomy, use of values could be improved, + stephen's hair makes him look like a wet cat /hj) but i do like the lighting and the theme of red spider lilies. i've always wanted to draw them and i love their symbolism of death and final goodbyes—feels very fitting for these goofs :b
i started working on this a good amount of time in advance, and i'm glad i did—this was one of the only pieces i used a painterly style for despite it being my preferred style; it takes me a lot longer than lineart + color, so i didn't get the chance to use it again throughout the event (with the exception of day 6)
day 2 - nervous/orange
i struggled with the anatomy on this one—i don't draw back views often (or, at all really) so the first panel was pure pain. the second panel wasn't much better; it took several attempts to pose the hand in a way that looked somewhat natural. pretty pleased with how this turned out all things considered, though! my only qualm with this is the rushed shading, but that's what happens when you're a slow artist on a time constraint :,)
day 3 - yellow/cheerful
i think this may be one of my favorites from this event. i'm very very happy with the lighting and overall atmosphere of the piece :)
i realize now that i used flowers as a theme for every color prompt—anyways, like i said in the tags of the original post for this, i very loosely referenced yellow primrose (symbol of happiness, warmth, & love, conventionally given to those in long-term relationships or someone who has always been there for you through thick and thin)
day 4 - intrigued/green
i ended up liking this better than i expected to! i had to play around a lot with the lighting/color scheme before i was satisfied with it, though that's on me for not having much of a plan for it beforehand (with most pieces, i already have an idea of the color scheme when i start working on them). not much else to say about this one except surgeon stephen my beloved <3
day 5 - blue/serene
this was the first time i've properly drawn a kiss and holy hell how do ship artists do it. that shit is so difficult. i struggled a lot with the anatomy and ended up changing the poses a bit; i also flipped the composition because 1. it looked slightly better that way and 2. i could include tony's ring <3
and yes stephen's mug says 'cunt' (with the handle being painted in black to form the 'c'—very much inspired by jacksepticeye's mug); for tony's i had to search for funny mug designs lmfao
i was going for a very domestic/warm atmosphere, which i think was more or less accomplished, so i'm pretty happy with this overall :)
also, not really pertinent but i was listening to sweater weather on loop while drawing this so. make of that what you will.
day 6 - grief/indigo
ah, this piece. definitely my favorite of the 7, love how this turned out despite ripping my own heart out a bit while making it :,) listening to hyacinthus on repeat didn't help
my initial idea for this—the thumbnail in the top left—was going to be one of them bleeding out in the other's arms, but i had another idea that i felt more drawn to so i chose that instead (this was a very last minute change so the thumbnail is pretty much just a couple of stick figures pfft).
i decided to go back to the painterly style since it felt more fitting for this & i'm glad i did, although it was a little rushed towards the end when i was adding in the final details (the butterflies are pretty much just lasso tool + glow layer). this was also my first time drawing stephen's robes and. man that was a pain to figure out. get a simpler outfit stephen.
day 7 - purple/disdain
had to end the event on a happy note! this was very rushed but i still like how it looks, though the bg petals are a bit janky.
the prompt 'purple' immediately made me think of violets, which were used as gifts for newlyweds so. here we are (they also happen to be symbolic of faith, mystical awareness, and spiritual passion—pretty fitting for our favorite wizard)
i didn't dedicate as much time i should've to actually making the violets look like violets instead of some generic flower but again, slow artist under time constraint. i did spend a lot of time with the expressions in this one though! i really wanted to convey a sense of pure joy and love, and i'm very happy with the result in that regard :)
something that i noticed was that it had become a lot easier for me to draw these two by this point. suppose it makes sense considering i'd literally been drawing them nonstop for 2 weeks lmao, but it was still pretty cool to see how quickly i managed to finish a sketch i was happy with, compared to when i was working on the first few days (good lord was it difficult drawing stephen in the first piece, especially at that angle)
anyway, prepare to see more of them in the near future because the brainrot is far from over. if i am this attached to them without having seen the majority of marvel movies featuring them (i'd literally only watched ds1 until yesterday when i watched im1—yes i started shipping them without knowing who tony was, i don't know how either), i think i'd be a puddle by the time i catch up on everything :D
whoo that was a lot—if you've read this far, thank you and have a cookie 🍪
#ink rambles#ironstrange#not gonna use any other tags bc there's no art i haven't posted already pfft
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Unfinished Fanfic Idea
So I got this idea in the middle of the day and I just sort of wrote it but not really? It took me like 2 hours. There's over 3000 words. And it kind of phases in and out between my rambling self-dialogue and the actual story. So. If anyone out there is interested, feel free to write it. Properly, I mean. Just. Yeah. And send me a link to the fic. I'd like to read it. (To be honest anything would be better than I stuff I managed to write.)
--
In all the MCU time travel fanfics where someone went back in time to stop Thanos, Tony's always the one chosen to do it. Either it's just Tony, or it's Tony and Stephen and then they make it Ironstrange.
Personally, I think it unlikely Stephen would bring Tony back with him. Given how hard Tony would be to handle and control and how tempted he'd be to change things. Stephen on the other hand, was willing to die countless painful deaths to stop Dormammu and without recognition. Tony is selfless, much more than Stephen, but at the same time he has too much compassion. Stephen is bother line sociopathic without how great he is at distancing himself and blocking out emotional shit. I mean, the man just watched these people die some number under fourteen million times. And he's willing to trade their lives on a bet that Tony Stark would bring the back? Yeah, I don't think Tony would've handled that after knowing Peter was going to die.
I think Stephen might have been able to do the forbidden and go back in time, but I doubt he'd bring Tony. For another thing, if Tony acts any different, his company would be affected and his company affects the world. Tony's changes in behavior are not as insignificant as a celebrity surgeon who was known for being an asshole either way. So. Yeah.
Now, Stephen goes back in time. Where does he go? How far does he go? Given that he only saw the future, he might think that by not being on Titan, a possible victorious timeline might emerge. So he does that. He goes back in time to try, again and again. He's almost sick of saying: "Tony Stark, my name is Stephen Strange. I need you to come with me." Again and again and again. The Battle of Wakanda has been fought thousands of times, in his mind, at least, as the Time Stone plays in out before his eyes in the privacy of his room where Wong could not discover his breaking the natural order.
He gives up at 10 million, when the differences started to become more and more insignificant. When the wind blowing somebody's hair at the right time. Or Stephen choosing to run to Kamar Taj as opposed to fighting Ebony Maw and the hammer guy.
Regardlessly, after watching Tony Stark grow old and die with his wife, best friend, daughter and son-in-law and in his bed was getting kind of sick for Stephen. He started to wonder if he wasn't looking far enough. He decided that the end point would be when even Tony Stark of all people had given up on finding a way. At least, given up for real.
So Stephen goes further back. He starts wondering just what he could change. Stark said he couldn't contact Vision because he ran off, yeah? Well, Maybe Stephen can prevent that. If they got in contact with Vision earlier... When who knows what might have happened with another infinity stone in play?
...Except he didn't expect why exactly did Stark's synthetic-bot-human-thingy-guy decided to run off. With Maximoff, seriously??
The bot really could have done better than that. Well, then again, he's only several years old.
So now Stephen tries to stop the Avengers from splitting up at all. He's finally gone back far enough that he sees the Ancient One again. And she warns him:
"This is a slippery slope you're going down, Stephen. The consequences of your actions increase the further you go into the past."
But what choice does Stephen have? He uses the mirror dimension to spy on the Avengers in the Avengers' Compound. He finds out about the Sokovia Accords. He watches as Steve Rogers break Tony's armor. Watches as Bucky Barnes, confused and still amnesiac, follows his best friend to Wakanda and request to be put on ice, the image of what he and Steve had done to the last Stark haunting him.
There is nothing he can do. The Avengers were always slated to break, always fractured. They were never a truly cohesive team. They trusted each other' with their lives on the field, but not their secrets or their true selves. Toney wore the facade of the genius playboy, Steve forced himself to act like the Captain America of the legends, unsure if that was who he truly was and what he was supposed to be. Not understanding that he was Steve Rogers not Captain America. (Tony was right, later Stephen would think, everything special about Rogers came from a bottle. Bravery means nothing if one was an idiot. It would only be stupidity.)
So Stephen goes further into the past and tries to prevent Ultron, prevent the Sokovia Accords, prevent the breaking of the Avengers. He contains and Scepter with the subtlest magics he could, hoping against hope that the Asgardians would not notice and if they did, decide that it as only a Midgardian sorcerer who allied with the Avengers and not that they there was no foul play. Disaster averted, Stephen withdrew from the timeline and returned to his set point- on Titan. When Thanos comes, he has Mind. Time was the last stone. Loki had given it to Thanos. And Tony was not able to steer the ship from its course and their crash land meant that it was destroyed. The Guardians of the Galaxy were utterly useless, as Thanos was waiting, not coming. He took advantage of Tony's distraction and sent himself back once more.
He had to keep the stone on Earth. If it went to Asgard, that meant Loki would steal it and later be forced to give it to Thanos when he threatens Thor's life.
So now what was Stephen to do? At this point, almost half a decade before Thanos' arrival, there are so many possibilities that even with an eidetic memory, he wouldn't be able to remember them all. On Titan, there were fourteen million possibilities. With so much time in between now, the number would have to be in the trillions, at least. If he attempted to see more, he might just lose his mind.
Stephen broods and for the first time since his frantic tampering of time, he rests. He broke into his old penthouse while his current self was in a particularly challenging surgery and breaks out one of his old wines. For the first time, he indulges and lets himself just... fall. The Ancient One appears, after his second glass. Stephen's not particularly inebriated, having an admirable tolerance to alcohol. The Ancient One watches him as he sips the fine wine, overlooking the New York skyline, illuminated by lights.
"Go back, Stephen." She tells him.
He laughs, "And what? Surrender to fate or something?"
His mentor miles indulgently, "Yes. Surrender to the flow of time and trust that everything would end peacefully. We swore to uphold the natural laws, did we not?"
"Ha!" Stephen laughs again, "You're one to talk! You've only lived for so long because you've been siphoning energy off the Dark Dimension! What part of that is natural? I have to do this. I've got to. If half of all living beings die-" Stephen cut himself off. "I may have been called a fucking sociopath but I've not as- as cold- not crazy enough to just let trillions and Vishanti knows how much people die!"
"The choice is not yours to make," she says.
Stephen didn't even let her finish before sending her through a portal with a twitch of his fingers and a sweep of his arm and a "FUCK OFF!"
He breaks down, the strain of living so many years without any mental support or confidant or anything weighed heavily on his mind. His soul.
When Stephen Strange with the steady hands returns to his apartment, everything was in its original place and only a single bottle of wine gone. No matter, Stephen Strange with the unmarred hands believes that he must have drunk it one day and disposed of it. His eidetic memory did not extend to when inebriated.
Stephen wonders since when did using the Time Stone feel so much like using his magic normally. It's like the Stone's become an extension of himself... Like it's accepted him. The Time Stone's become familiar over the years in his time loop in the Dark Dimension, but time loop is different from traveling in time. He wonders if he can now use the time Stone's abilities without even being in contact with it . He wondered if he could touch the Stone with his bare hands and not die from the power of it. According to the legends, the Stones had to be handled with care, or it would turn on you, it overwhelming power running through yours veins.
The Power Stone was rumored to be able to explode anyone who held it. The Reality Stone to slowly kill whomever it merged with. The Mind Stone to take control of one's mind and destroy your sanity. The Time Stone to revert your age to before you were born. The Space Stone to teleport one to an unknown place in the universe. As for the Soul Stone... well, no one even knows where it was.
Stephen wondered... Well, what's he got to lose? He opened the Eye of Agammotto n and the Stone floated out of the Eye. He reaches and as his fingers curled around the green gem-
Stephen finds himself back on Titan. In his original timeline. He wonders if there was anything he could possibly do to stop Thanos. Or if the Ancient One was right...
But then he looks around. "Where's Stark?" He asks Peter Quill. "Or the other Peter- Peter Parker?"
"Hey, man, you just... did whatever you were doing... you looked like you were having a seizure..."
"I'm fine." Stephen tell him, "Now where is Iron Man and Spider-Man?"
"What are you talking about?" Quill asks him. "Iron Man, what kind of name is that?"
"No... Stephen whispered under his breath. Memories from this timeline- the result of a single bottle of wine drunk... The Butterfly Effect... Tony Stark was dead.
"How-? No..." Without warning, he grasped the Eye and sent himself once more, back in time. He now realizes that he must make changes, but at the same time, Tony Stark's habit of putting himself in dangerous situation and coming out by the skin of his teeth and some serious luck meant that only a little change was needed to kill the man. So Stephen sends himself back in time once more, this time, he would keep the man safe and unharmed.
He had to go further back, much further than before. There was only one way. He had to use the Time Stone directly. The Eye restricted the power of the Time Stone to prevent the death of the user, but now that his drunk ass has already proven that the Time Stone would not kill him...
Stephen finds himself in his younger body. He knows so because his hands are steady and unmarred. His chest bore no signs of being stabbed through the heart. His head held no pain from the needles the Maw had put through. He felt... good.
He also had no sling ring or anything. The only thing in his possession from the future was a glowing green stone in his hand. The green light shone from between his fingers and he feels a little power-drunk. Or just normal drunk. Because he's at a party. In his tux. And there's a champagne glass between the fingers of his left hand and his stead hands did not let the glass fall even when Stephen finds himself jumped back in time. A single blink and Stephen easily slipped back into his old behavior. The smooth, arrogant surgeon. The one everyone sought after because of his perfect record. And the one who turned away surgeries of no prestige or challenge. For a second, his future humility peeked through and he grimaced, before dropping the Stone into his pockets. Then he blinked and the half-smile was back on his face. He takes a sip of the champagne and watches the room. Wait- Was that Tony Stark?
Jackpot.
Stephen takes a deep breath before dropping of his glass to stroll over to the other genius' side at the bar.
"What's a handsome guy like you doing at a party like this?" Stark asks.
The response was almost automatic as Stephen beings to panic in the deep recesses of his mind. The flirting was almost autopilot as Stephen beings to weigh the pros and cons of sleeping with Tony Stark. For one thing, Stark was notorious for never seeing a former lover again. For another, if he dated Stark, he could keep him alive and ensure that the Avengers would not split much more easily.
He's not completely present as he tells Stark about the surgery that landed him in this party of old, rich men.
"Then shouldn't you be out smoozing and landing yourself your next gig?"
Stephen smiled, "Too easy. I don't have to go to them, they'll come to me if they need me. After all, I am the best."
At his display of arrogance, Stark's own arrogance shone through. They trade barbs and snarky comments before Stark offers to show him his lab. Stephen agrees. He's still not sure if Stark wanted to fuck him or just genuinely wanted to see what he could do with his tech but Stephen will take what he can get. Becoming an acquaintance of the man was the first step to a friendship. He only needs to be friends with the man to affect his actions. And his actions could result in saving the universe.
So Stephen agrees.
So yeah, Stephen agrees to years of friendship and eventually falling in love with Tony, except after he meets Pepper he realizes what kind of future he was taking away from the man if he did so and he couldn't pursue a relationship with him. Until Tony started initiating a relationship. Honestly, never mind. It's just they get together and they fight Thanos. They've built a little family of three, the two of them and Peter Parker, their adopted son. Stephen fails to keep the Avengers together, either way. To be honest, he wasn't sure if he wanted to have Steve Rogers around Tony after he remembers the Siberian bunker where Stephen witness the end of the Avengers silently. On Titan, Stephen looks forward to see the futures and he finds.
There was no victory. He watches fifteen million futures. Then sixteen. Then seventeen. He doesn't notice as his nose begins to bleed and Tony's coaxing him out of the trance.
"Stephen, baby, you're okay. I'm here. You're here. You're okay."
Stephen's gasping, holding back the tears the's desperate to escape. Every future he sees, they lose and their family is torn apart.
"Tony... I've seen seventeen million futures." He swallows, "We don't win. We just... don't."
An orange portal, sparkling, appears before him. He remembers suddenly, of his mentor appearing in a ring of orange sparks to tell him that it was time for him to fight Dormammu and become the Sorcerer supreme. And like before, the Ancient One steps through. "Stephen."
"...Master."
"I've told you, in a future you erased, that you must let go. That you must trust in fate. Do you see now?"
Stephen swallows and tears fall from his eyes. "Yes, I- Master-" He says brokenly before she envelopes him in a hug. Tony's hovering over the Ancient one's shoulder.
"Go back, Stephen. And let go. Surrender to the universe."
"It's not about you."
With tears rolling down his cheeks, Stephen takes the Time Stone and then he falling. Falling into Tony Sark's arms.
"Hey, doc, you're okay."
He tells Tony Stark- This Tony Stark who's engaged to Pepper Potts, whose Peter lived with May Parker, who never met him, Stephen Strange, up until several hours ago.
With a heavy heart, Stephen outlines a plan, a plan that he has no idea would succeed or not. Above all else, he keeps Tony Stark alive, because Tony Stark was the only one to ever come close to saving the universe.
"Tony, it was the only way."
He wasn't sure who he was talking to, this Tony or his Tony from another lifetime. But he knows that it didn't matter. Because it wasn't about him. He feels himself turn to dust but all he felt was peace.
When Peter Parker blames him for Tony's death at his funeral, he says, "I know. I have tried everything to save him. I even traveled back in time to the past to change everything. But we either lose and half the universe is dusted or Tony is dusted or... or this. You know, in another timeline, I met Tony, more than ten years ago. We fell in love. I loved him. We adopted a child. A boy named Peter who loved to watch my operations and Tony's tinkering. But in that universe I watched seventeen million futures until I almost blacked out. There was no victorious ending in any of those timelines. We just don't win. So I came back. I put my faith in the universe that it would guide us to a way to win. And it did. But Tony dies. Every time. But that's alright, Peter. Because it's not about us. It's about the universe. About he greater good." Stephen turns around to find that Peter was crying as much as he was. Except that Stephen's eyes were resigned and sad, but accepting. Peter's were horrified and grieving. "I've lost more than you know, Peter. But it's fine. Because the universe comes first. Our suffering does not compare to the suffering of the entire universe. We chose this, to sacrifice ourselves and hurt those around us to protect others, This is what it means to be a hero, Peter. I'm sorry, for all it's worth."
Peter let out a cry and a chocked, "Doctor Strange-" before launching himself at the man and buried his face in Stephen's chest and cried. Sobbed. Stephen embraced the boy. His arms arranged easily around the boy, his movements practiced, even though not in this world. They stood there, the father and son duo that could have been, mourning a great man that they both lost.
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Praise Kink with IronStrange; Tony seems to need a lot of reassurance.
(Continuing the trend of not being able to control myself when answering what are supposed to be short prompt fills…)
Hope you enjoy! Again, written on my phone so all mistakes are mine and also autocorrects.
Tony/Stephen, E, 1600 words (praise kink but also just dirty talk!)
-
“Total trash,” Tony says, throwing another balled up scrap of paper across the room.
This one, Stephen notes with a raised brow, actually makes it into the small hotel room trash can, an outlier to all the scattered balls of paper littering the floor around it.
He glances back over his book at Tony and sighs. “I thought we were on vacation to, what was it you said? Clear your mind?”
“And avoid that horrible Governor’s Gala,” Tony says, meeting his glance even though he’s already scribbling something new on his fresh page.
“I don’t see how what you’re doing is any different than what you do in New York, except you’ve decided to go with paper instead of your StarkPad,” Stephen says.
Tony is slightly hunched over the desk he’s at now, completely ignoring the lush view of Bali outside of the window in front of him.
Normally Stephen can admit that Tony looks good when he’s immersed in his work, and especially when he’s being quiet — but Stephen had agreed to go on this vacation and try and enjoy time spent not saving this world or another. Which meant Stark had to stop trying to save the world with water purification tech, too.
“You’re reading some ancient wizard book, doesn’t that count as work?” Tony says.
Stephen realizes with a small jolt he was narrating out loud — Tony seems to bring out the best and worst in him, sometimes. Including an honest inner monologue that tends to escape.
Stephen shuts his book with a snap. “Fine, we’ll both stop.”
Tony tears off and crumbles up his current sheet of paper and throws it at Stephen in what Stephen takes to be a childish form of agreement.
“Now what, Doctor?” Tony asks.
Stephen rolls his eyes. “You could start by cleaning up your mess over here. Your aim is terrible, by the way.”
To Stephen’s surprise, and a little to his delight, Tony comes over and drops down to his knees on the floor to gather up his scraps of paper and throw them all into the trash can.
Tony sweeps his hands around in a sarcastic gesture after he plucks the last piece of paper from near Stephen’s foot, a little gleam in his eye that looks enough like a challenge to Stephen to bait him.
For the record, he lets himself be baited by Tony. These days, at least. At first it was hard not to fall into arguments and traded quips whenever he was in Tony’s presence. At some point they went from thinly veiled annoyance to seeking each other out to trade insults like fifth graders with a crush and now — well, now they’re on a mutually agreed upon vacation. Funny how that works.
Stephen sets his book on the table. “Done already? See, was that hard?”
“Next time I’ll practice my aim with your face,” Tony says, though any threat is lost by the fact he’s still on his knees on the floor.
“If you say so,” Stephen says, as he spreads his legs into a more relaxed position in his chair. “In the meantime why don’t you move over here?”
Somewhat surprising is the way Tony complies without another remark, shuffling over until he’s between Stephen’s legs.
Unsurprising is the way Tony’s tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, or the way his eyes are suddenly hooded, his pupils darker when he looks up at Stephen.
“Good job,” Stephen says evenly, tracking the way Tony’s shoulders slump a little, relaxing.
Stephen reaches down and undoes his belt, flicks the button on his slack and then the zip. It’s perfunctory, efficient. Nothing Tony hasn’t seen Stephen do before at this point. But the way Tony is waiting patiently between Stephen’s thighs, on the floor and watching, makes it feel more like a show, a tease, and Stephen is half-hard already.
He may be confident in his own power, his own abilities, but Tony Stark on his knees in a lavish hotel suite and expensive button down, waiting compliantly and without a word for Stephen to pull his cock out, is enough to make Stephen momentarily question his place in the universe.
The way Tony’s mouth closes around the head, all wet warm heat and eager suction is enough to bring him back down to their current plane and recognize this is where he’s meant to be right now.
“This feels like a better use of our time,” Stephen says.
He positions one hand around the base of his cock, angling it better for Tony to take him deeper, and the other hand lightly around the back of Tony’s head.
Tony groans, low and soft around Stephen’s cock at that. Stephen isn’t using any pressure, not even attempting to guide Tony’s head, and yet the idea that he could seems to be enough for Tony.
“That’s it,” Stephen encourages, just letting his fingers brush Tony’s scalp through his hair.
He leans back in his chair, tipping his head and closing his eyes to better enjoy just the sensations: the way Tony flicks his tongue on ever upward pass of his mouth, the way Tony’s hand is splayed over Stephen’s thigh through his slacks.
With his eyes closed he can also hear the rustle of Tony’s other hand, knows without looking that Tony is stroking his own cock, getting off on sucking Stephen and never having the patience to deny himself his own pleasure.
“You couldn’t help yourself?” Stephen asks, lazily looking down to see the way Tony’s mouth is stretching around the head of his cock, his lips trying to curl up into a smile at being caught but barely managing it around his mouth full.
“You never can,” Stephen answers for him. “Always taking what you want, what you need.”
Tony’s expression flashes to something slightly tense, maybe annoyed, and Stephen releases his own cock to stoke down the bulge of Tony’s cheek to soothe it away.
“I like it,” Stephen clarifies. “That sucking me off gets you too hard to wait, to take your time. That you have to touch yourself instead of waiting for me, even though you know I’d gladly return the favor.”
Tony hums softly in agreement, and Stephen sees the angle of his arm change, the movement of his stroke faster even as he languidly swirls his tongue over Stephen.
“Take me further, Stark,” Stephen says. “We both know you can take more than that.”
Tony’s eyes flutter shut as he shifts to accommodate the request, sucking Stephen further down his throat, velvety smooth and tight.
Stephen strokes through Tony’s hair, down his cheek. “Just like that, you’re built for this,” he praises.
“No more working,” Stephen adds, resisting the urge to loll his head back again as Tony quickens his pace, saliva dripping down to the base of Stephen’s cock now in a reflection of Tony’s enjoyment. “This is a much better use of your time, anyway. Might have to keep you like this the whole week.”
Tony moans at that, and the sound of it shoots straight down Stephen’s cock.
He’s learned recently that nothing gets him off harder than bringing Tony to incoherency. Something about getting Tony to shut up and stop thinking and working, knowing Stephen can do it just with a well placed remark and his mouth, his hands, his cock — the power of it is more heady than magic, sometimes.
“You’re just so good like this, Tony,” Stephen says. “So good at taking every inch of me.”
Tony does just that, taking Stephen to the root, this throat sliding open and pulsing around Stephen’s length as his gag reflex kicks in and his pulls back, licking and sucking at the salty precome beading out of the head. He moves his hand from Stephen’s thigh to wrap it around the rest of Stephen’s cock, too, stroking what his mouth isn’t as efficiently able to reach as he pulls Stephen closer to the edge.
“We’re in no hurry,” Stephen says, though he feels it gritty in his throat, the words almost sticking. They have days of leisure spread out before them, and Stephen is already almost ready to come, so he doesn’t have much mind to wait.
He focuses in on the way Tony’s hands are quickening on both of their cocks, slightly out of rhythm as his mouth and motion gets sloppier.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” Stephen asks, though he doesn’t need an answer. “So good at sucking cock you’re desperate about it.”
Tony pulls off with a low “fuck,” and Stephen finally increases the pressure of his hand at the back of Tony’s head, guiding him back until his mouth is too full to say anything else.
“It’s okay,” Stephen says, “you can come when I do. I’ll just take my time later, maybe teach you more patience if you can be good for me, Stark.”
Stephen feels it building, reaches down to knock Tony’s hand off his own cock so he can up the pace, raising his hips in the chair to fuck up into Tony’s mouth a little more urgently than he means to, using the soft spread of his lips to slide deep as his orgasm builds.
“So good, gonna make me come,” Stephen says, reduced to words between pants.
“You can come now,” he adds. “Want you to, right when I come down your throat.”
Tony’s body bucks between Stephen’s thighs as he comes, following directions more perfectly than he does on the battlefield, spilling into his own hand as Stephen spills between his lips.
“Wow,” Tony says, leaning his head on Stephen’s thigh and regaining his voice far faster than Stephen, though he sounds low and wrecked. “I have the best ideas.”
“I’m sorry, who’s idea?” Stephen manages in response — but in the end, as they fall tiredly into the shower together a few minutes later, it doesn’t really matter.
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💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕🎈
Hmm. I found this question quite hard. But, I think that's bc I tried to over think it.
I have 2 fics I'm very happy with.
The first one is 'Birthdays. Don't. Matter.' It's a Johnlock fic where John learns about Sherlock's birthday. It also explains why Sherlock had never shared his birthday before. John loves Sherlock and although he's not told him, he wants to show him how loved he truly is. I've added a link to it if anyone is interested. I am proud of this one as the flashback to Sherlock's childhood is directly inspired by my own. I would sit at the window waiting just for no one to show up. I've not celebrated my birthday in several years now, and no one really knows when it is.
The second isn't finished yet. It's a slow burn called 'don't make me fuck you in space' . I'll put a little except under the cut. It's an ironstrange fic that is set after NYC attack. Stephen hasn't had the accident yet and Tony is struggling with his PTSD. All Tony wants, is to be near the man he had fallen in love with. Stephen just wants to be left alone. I am so far really liking this one as it started out as just a silly little prompt I saw but it has turned into something deeper. I'm hoping to delve into Tony's mental health issues as well as go into Stephen's. It has completely taken a life of its own. What was going to be a fun little shot, it is now a longer fic that will have a sequel.
Anyway, thank you so much for asking this. I don't tend to think about my fics. I just love to write so once it's posted, I hardly go back to them.
An Excerpt from, 'Don't Make Me Fuck You in Space'
The door opened automatically when he arrived. The room wasn't large. One wall had been made into a large window. Staring out into space and seeing Earth perfectly. There were two rows of benches with cushions along. The door was directly opposite the window. In the front left corner, Stephen could see Tony. He had headphones on and was drinking a can of rockstar.
Stephen gave a quick look over the rest of the room and started walking towards Tony.
Tony didn't give any indication that he knew he was no longer alone. He kept staring out the window.
"Tony?"
Nothing. He repeated himself. This time Tony took off his headphones. He still didn't move.
Stephen took a deep breath. Preparing to apologise and make things right, instead what came out his mouth was, "Those are terrible for your heart." He always felt more comfortable hiding behind medicine. It was easier. He wasn't even sure how Tony had gotten it. It would have had to have been included in the initial packing, but who would let a man with heart problems bring an energy drink with him to space? It didn't make sense. Then again, Tony gave the impression that no one could stop him from doing anything.
Tony smiled in response to the terrible joke. He tipped the can towards Stephen in offering. He was about to decline when he realised if he drank it, Tony wouldn't. He took it and drank some. He remembered how many he used to drink while he was still a student. He hadn't had one since. "I wanted you,"
Stephen looked towards Tony. He was still looking out the window and he was talking quietly. Almost for his ears only. "I saw you, and I wanted you. No one else. You didn't even see me," Stephen had no idea what Tony was talking about, but didn't want to disrupt him. They were finally talking - sorta. "You came into my examination room, asked my doctor where someone was," He smiled at the memory while Stephen struggled to place it. "I already had planned to go to space, I was going to come alone," Tony turned to face Stephen then, "I knew then - when I saw you - that I didn't want to be alone anymore."
He didn't know what to say.
He placed the memory. He had gotten a message on his pager from Christine, and had gone to find her. He noticed that Dr West had been in a nearby room and quickly popped in. He hardly noticed the patient. Dismissing them immediately as they were not Dr West. He had told him where to find Christine and he left without another word. He could see Tony now. Blood speckled over him. His mouth slightly open as he looked at him in the doorway. He was hooked up to a heart monitor and an IV. He had been ignored - now Stephen was saddened by his past self. This memory clearly meant something to Tony and he had practically forgotten about it.
Looking at Tony's face, he could see the blood that had marked him before.
He lifted his hand to Tony's face as if to wipe it away. His words turned in his mind. And he realised that maybe, just maybe, he didn't want to be alone either.
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I posted 10,522 times in 2022
That's 8,112 more posts than 2021!
875 posts created (8%)
9,647 posts reblogged (92%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@birdkeeperklink
@atypical-snowman
@tony-stark-ing
@kcsplace
@eventhorizon451
I tagged 2,680 of my posts in 2022
#stupid - 628 posts
#the-c-odd-prompt - 254 posts
#prompt - 196 posts
#cool art - 96 posts
#yes - 87 posts
#tony stark - 80 posts
#lol - 78 posts
#iron man - 69 posts
#lmao - 69 posts
#ironstrange - 65 posts
Longest Tag: 139 characters
#in which steve is the cool uncle and charlie has a thing for bananas and danny has to stop steve from leavin the country cause he feels bad
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Snape & Harry prompt
Make it shippy if you want, I'll keep it gen for myself.
Snape survives the war and when Harry goes back for his 8th year, Snape ignores him. No more insults, no more detention, no more asking him questions he doesn't have the answer to, nothing. Since it's after the war, Harry's a bit...traumatised, and feels kind of without a purpose, because he doesn't want to fight anymore but he also doesn't know anything else, much less what he wants to do. And so, his helper-complex kicks in and he thinks clearly Snape's traumatised too, so much so that he doesn't even enjoy his favourite pass-time anymore : tortuting Harry. So Harry's new purpose is to annoy Snape into being a giant dick again, and make him feel better. Except the whole dickishness (well, the extent of it anyway) was part of his spy gig so Snape doesn't wanna go back to it, but my god is that Potter kid a pain in his...backside.
125 notes - Posted March 24, 2022
#4
Mystrade/Mycroft prompt
Mycroft's waistcoat is a bulletproof vest. Mystrade version is Greg finding that out the hard way.
126 notes - Posted March 7, 2022
#3
All the ships
A's got some visible consequence of trauma ; maybe scars, maybe nervous ticks, maybe some obvious reactions to stuff, anything. B asks them about it and A lies, but A's a shit liar telling a shit excuse and they're in a bad place right now so when B just accepts it cheerfully, A thinks "oh, you don't care enough to call me on my bullshit". In the end, A realises "oh, you care enough to wait for me to be ready to talk about it"
144 notes - Posted March 14, 2022
#2
All the ships:
Strangers to flirty Friends to Lovers to friendly Exes to ... Well after that you can choose what you want.
So, they used to date but for some reason they broke up and they thought "well we were friends before, we can be friends again now as exes, right?" but wrong because they weren't friends, they were flirty friends, the kind where the friendship is mostly based on the mutual attraction which prevents real connection because you wanna impress. So now they realise they've got nothing to talk about and friendly Exes become "haven't talked to you in weeks but no hard feelings" kind of strangers. And then they meet again and start over.
154 notes - Posted January 3, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
One prompt all the ships:
Soulmate AU where you have "the most meaningful touch" your soulmate ever gives you as, like, a birthmark.
A has a giant handprint all across their face, covering their mouth and cheeks. Obligatory angst of "oh shit my soulmate is violent/hates me/etc" until it turns out that B (the soulmate) actually saved their lives by preventing them from making a sound while danger was near (or something else non-evil).
(an example would be that scene where Klaus covers Caroline's mouth while 'saving' her from Psycho-Alaric ; another would be a high level of "shut up now before you say something you shouldn't" slam-my-hand-against-your-face thing)
449 notes - Posted January 5, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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Tony And Stephen (Ironstrange) Masterlist 2
Links Last Checked: April 16th, 2024
part one
A Deer in Headlights (ao3) - orphan_account
T, 23k
Summary: Stephen Strange lives a simple life. He’s an accomplished neurosurgeon and he loves his job, house, and his cat, Levi. He loves his simple life. He just doesn’t love Tony Stark, who lives across the street with his annoying, little kid and their dog.
A Lapse in Judgement (ao3) - meshkol (ashernorton)
E, 22k
Summary: Stephen, the newly minted Sorcerer Supreme, is strong, powerful, and in control of his life in every micromanaged detail, because failure to do so could result in (another) cataclysmic event within the universe. He is. But then Stephen accepts an off-handed offer to spar from Tony Stark – a man who is Stephen’s non-magical equal, a man who Stephen barely sees outside of bi-weekly meetings and the few and far between fight against a villain – and Stark discovers Stephen’s biggest weakness, his most hateful secret that is a deeply fundamental part of Stephen’s psyche.
Except instead of judgement, and horror, and disgust, Stark meets him halfway, and a lapse in judgement turns into a possibility that could change their lives forever.
By the love of a child (ao3) - Dandelion (yukitsubute)
T, 987
Summary: Stephen has his precious family, and sometimes he just has to remember how lucky he was with Tony and little Peter.
Complimentary Colors (ao3) - zenkitty555
M, 32k
Summary: Tony Stark is learning how to let go and live a little after giving his all for so long. Stephen Strange is still trying to balance all of his duties and find some time for himself. When Tony has to give him some bad news, the two start to realize that they may be able to help one another out in a few different ways.
Counterfeit Boyfriend (ao3) - Shortsnout
E, 15k
Summary: When Stephen gets invited to go back and give the speech he was meant to before his accident, he’s touched, excited but also conflicted. His ex-boyfriend, Nicodemus West will also be in attendance and Stephen doesn’t want to go to the event and give him the satisfaction of knowing Stephen is still single, that he still hasn’t found anyone to love.
Thankfully, his close friend Tony Stark is willing to act as his boyfriend for the night, allowing Stephen to save face. What Stephen didn’t realise was just how easy pretence could morph into reality. Spending the evening with Tony as his boyfriend makes the sorcerer wish he could be for real.
Darkness, My Old Friend... and Silence (ao3) - IronStrange_Tales (RavenCall70)
M, 205k
Summary: Tony is getting tired of cleaning up the messes the other Avengers keep dumping in his lap, expecting him to deal with it all. They say change is healthy, but Tony wants to vehemently disagree when he finds himself alone and gravely injured in an abandoned bunker in one of the coldest places on Earth.
Expectations and Realities (ao3) - Wix
G, 4k
Summary: A brief look in how certain people’s expectations didn’t amount to what actually went down.
For Your Entertainment (ao3) - Brickgirl101
E, 12k
Summary: Tony is a kinky little shit, and if he’s not careful his mouth is going to get him into trouble.
There is more to Tony’s life then others will ever know. Thankfully there is a sarcastic, but caring and equally kinky sorcerer to keep up with him.
The world needs more Ironstrange Smut and I’m trying to deliver...
I Love You. Even Now. (ao3) - Sorelion (Miakiii)
T, 3k
Summary: Stephen Strange met one Tony Stark in a party that he usually skips. Something sparks in him that grows with each phone call until it forms into something he doesn't want to admit.
(AKA Stephen Strange in pre-Doctor Strange movies and his stubbornness to apologize and admit his mistakes causes him to lose time he could have used to get to know Tony more)
Listen (ao3) - InkDippedFingertips
T, 6k
Summary: Four times Stephen tried to hide his scars from Tony and one time he didn't.
Not A Conventional Omega (ao3) - EthanTheAnnus
M, 5k
Summary: Tony is an omega. He’s unbonded.
Stephen is an alpha. He’s unbonded, too.
This causes some problems for Tony- especially around his heat week.
Even more so because he despises the sorcerer with every particle and atom of his being.
Renew. (ao3) - IViv
M, 109k
Summary: Dread it. Run from it. Destiny still arrives.
Tony and Stephen spent the past four years preparing for the arrival of the Mad Titan. They both knew what it was like to have nothing. Now they had a team, a mentee, and each other.
But the more they had, the more they had to lose.
Scars on Your Heart (ao3) - SailorChibi
T, 44k
Summary: Determined to stop Thanos by killing him before he collects all the Stones, Tony travels back in time and seeks out the one person who can help him: Dr. Stephen Strange. With less than a week to go before Thanos's ships crashland on Earth, Tony and Strange form an alliance - and, just maybe, start falling in love.
Slight of hands (ao3) - Stark-Raving-Strange (Kayjaykayme)
T, 2k
Summary: Tony becomes aware that Stephen purposefully refrains from eating around others. He wants to make it easier for Stephen but how to do it without hurting the other's pride.....
intentional use of slight over sleight trying to be clever
Strange Dislike (ao3) - EaSnowPw
M, 3k
Summary: "What do you mean he's not good to me?"
"For you," Pepper corrected. She looked sorry.
"Look, he's a nice guy," Rhodey pointed out. "We just don't think he's the right guy for you."
"He's different when it's just the two of us." It was almost a plea.
"Is he really?" Pepper was definitely unconvinced. "Tony, I know you're probably attached already and we should've told you this a while ago, but we wanted to be sure."
"You always get like this when you're in a new relationship. Love blinds you."
The Infinite (ao3) - casstayinmyass
E, 29k
Summary: After his wife’s untimely death, Tony Stark packs up and moves himself and his adoptive teenage son Peter to the suburbs. When eerie happenings around the new house lead Tony to believe his wife is trying to contact them from the dead, he finds himself seeking the help of a psychic– one Stephen Strange. Strange agrees to help, but things don't go as planned, and Tony and Peter may be requiring Stephen's services for longer than expected.
Time After Time (ao3) - fancylances
T, 47k
Summary: Tony Stark is unstuck in time. Stephen Strange might just be the only person in the universe qualified enough to help.
variations on a theme (ao3) - meowrails
M, 5k
Summary: Stephen sees into millions of possibilities and finds only one where they win, but he never expected to end up falling in love with Tony Stark in almost every single one of them.
whatever souls are made of (ao3) - atypicalsnowman
M, 320k
Summary: Soul bonding canon divergence. Fourteen million futures and Stephen saw just one where they win. Tony has to soul bond to a virtual stranger whereas Stephen... Stephen is in love.
This is a story of how two broken men became friends, then family, then fell in love.
And saved the universe.
Zombies (ao3) - EaSnowPw
N/R, 4k
Summary: The zombie survivors welcome a new member in their midst.
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I know you talk abou st*cky in the interracial ships stuff, but can we talk about st*ny? Iron husbands is literally right there, but I also always sees Rhodey as Tonys moral support only. And ik Tony is very shippable with most characters, but the fact his ship is Rhodey is one of the lowest ships in ao3 (ironstrange, winteriron and god forbid stark*r all had more fics in ao3).. It's pretty telling this side also has racism problems...
I'll go ahead and answer this here, but letting y'all know that I do have a marvel sideblog if you want to hit me up there (@themarvelarchives).
Hey, I'm going to ramble for a good minute.
So after I posted my very incoherent, controversial take on St*cky vs SamBucky, there were a ton of ppl who came onto anon saying that St*cky shippers were racist. I think I only answered a few, but y'all were pretty insistent on it. I personally have not observed that St*cky shippers are so I'm not calling anyone out on that side of the fandom for that.
I also did not call out anyone on this side of the fandom bc that's not what my meta was about. I think I mentioned maybe once or twice in the whole post that there was underlying racist in the fandom, but since you asked, we can talk about it here.
Covert Bigotry In Fandom Spaces.
To understand what's going on in the MCU, we have to first look at what I call "woke-queer" fandom.
So "Woke-Queer" Spaces is the phenomenon where certain fandom members like to call ppl out on their bigotry, while covertly harboring their own queerphobia/racism/etc. An example of this that we're all familiar with is TERFS and how they like to claim that they are progressive and woke, while also claiming that trans women are fake and trans men are sexist.
How this translates to fandom, however, is the hypocrisy that is cancellation and callout culture.
For example, Supernatural in particular is a fandom that likes to call out the writers on their homophobia and racism, and yet, somehow, the fandom is chalk full of homophobia and racism. If you want to read more about this, here is a truly excellent article from the perspective of a queer woman of color.
Moving on, I've also talked in a previous meta post, on the internalized acephobia that exploded in 2019 after Good Omens was released. Rather than reiterate everything I said in that post, I'll just leave it at this: the controversy in the Good Omens fandom can be summed up by the fact that queer audiences are claiming that Ineffable Husbands is the wrong kind of queer. The hypocrisy oozes off the screen, doesn't it?
A final way this viably translates to fandom, is in how the Doctor Who fandom evolved over time.
So Steven Moffat takes over as head writer and showrunner in 2010. It's a new series, a new Doctor, a new Tardis, and new branding. He steps up the action, changes the color grating, and raises the stakes. Women are sexier, the Doctor is smarter (and more of an asshole, but that's another meta post), and every companion comes with their own impossible mystery that makes them Special™.
Series 5-10 got tons of woke points for having lesbian characters, an episode where the Doctor is homoerotic with James Corden, and an underlying trans narrative with the Master's reincarnation. What a lot of people forget, however, is that his series was incredibly sexiest, incredibly lesbian/biphobic, and basically turned the Doctor into everyone's fantasy sex-object.
This, unfortunately, brought out the worst of the fandom. There was RTD Era vs Moffat Era wars exploding in certain corners, TenxRose shippers vs ElevenxRiver shippers.
What does this have to do with covert racism in fandom cultures though?
Hnnngng ok, so back in RTD era's we get Martha Jones, the Actual Best Companion On The Entire Show. Except for the fact, of course, that she is written to be in love with the doctor. She's a brilliant character--smart, sassy, flawed, funny, flirtatious--and her entire plotline is reduced down to a school-girl crush on a white man.
She doesn't do well with fans, they scrap her after one season.
We move on to Donna Noble (The Other Actual Best Companion On The Entire Show) and RTD's era ends with them scraping her too and regenerating David Tennant's Doctor.
It will be five more series (not seasons, SERIES) until Doctor Who will have another black companion--who gets extra points for being gay--only to fall victim to "bury your gays" at the end of the season (but not really bc no one stays dead on Doctor Who).
The fandom's reception of Martha Jones was historically bad. The comparisons to her predecessor, Rose Tyler, were rampant and everyone was finding a reason to hate her.
The fandom's reception to Bill Potts was also historically bad, as everyone was screaming that she was being written for more "woke points" and that they wanted Clara back.
Fandom has a historically bad reputation of being problematic and, I would argue, the majority of it has to do with these toxic undertones of bigotry that slip under the radar. "Woke-queer" spaces, as I call them, are these instances above where spaces that claim to be inclusive of gender/orientation/race are covertly bigoted.
Marvel and Cancelling
Now is an excellent time to talk about the MCU.
Anthony Mackie (Sam Wilson) has recently come under a lot of criticism from fandom members for shutting down shipper speculation.
"The idea of two guys being friends and loving each other in 2021 is a problem because of the exploitation of homosexuality. [...] something as pure and beautiful as homosexuality has been exploited by people who are trying to rationalize themselves."
I can't find the rest of the quote, but Mackie goes on further to say that it was important to him to portray "a sensitive, masculine figure" without insinuating that there was romance involved.
Woke culture lost it's shit. Everyone was suddenly claiming that Mackie was calling them exploitative for shipping a gay ship as a queer audience, which could not have been further from the case.
Mackie actually makes some very excellent points in that sensitivity is not gay/queer. Woke culture loves to rag on Toxic Masculinity, but the minute someone plays a character who is loving and sensitive with no queer narrative in mind, they are immediately canceled.
What Am I On About
Okay, let's actually address what your ask was about, Nonnie. You pointed out--rather truthfully--that it is unfair to call-out racism on one side of the fandom, while ignoring it on the other side.
Well, I've gone back through my St*cky vs. SamBucky analysis (which is incoherent at best, I apologize for that) and I see maybe once instance where I called out fandom members for being racist. Here's what I had to say about racism:
"[...] Iron Husbands is a rarepair, probably because it’s an interracial ship."
"[there is] nothing wrong with shipping two white men, but it does become a problem when you ignore/bash POC/interracial ships to the determinant of your own white ship."
And then there was the post you brought up where I addressed interracial ships in the fandom. That one is probably more relevant to this topic, to be honest, as I actually addressed fandom racism there. I assume that your reason for bringing up Stony is because it's a ship that is more relevant to my side of the fandom, HOWEVER, the reason I highlighted Stucky instead was because I was comparing the fact that they've both been around the same amount of time and are relationships that feature the protagonist and their best friend.
You brought up St*ny in the ask, however, so I'm going to talk about St*ny for a minute.
As someone who never has nor will ship St*ny, it never even occurred to me that some of the problem behind the Iron Husbands tag being so small is because everyone ships the white, boring ship. You brought up a very valid point, but because I was never in that part of the fandom, I can't really speak to any possible underlying racism there, besides what I've already said above.
I would be interested in hearing a St*ony shipper or ex-St*ony shippers thought on this, but sadly I don't know any. If you have any more thoughts regarding this, Nonnie, pls drop back into my inbox.
You do make some excellent points in this ask though, and I would like to talk about racism on my side of the fandom.
So back to Mackie and his Twitter cancellation. Notice that Disney made him address the rumors and not his co-star, Sebastian Stan. Anthony Mackie is put on blast and made to answer fan demands and receives backlash, while Sebastian Stan gets to fly under the rader. This is not, by the way, a criticism of Stan, but instead of the blatant racism Disney has been displaying over the past few years.
How this ties in with the rest of my post has to do with my "woke-queer" spaces bit. The outcry across the MCU fandom over Mackie was swift and unforgiving. He was cancelled on charges of homophobia and bigotry--all the while these same fans turn a blind eye to any queer interpretation of other interracial ships and discourse in their own fandom.
The racism that I'm speaking about, of course, is an almost passive racism. Of course if you don't ship a specific ship for reasons other than their race, it's perfectly fine. It's okay not to ship Iron Husbands or SamBucky or any other interracial fandom ships. However, the distinct lack of shippers in the fandom IS telling because there are people who would ship that exact ship if not for the fact that one of men is black.
I don't have much more to say about this except to thank you for bringing it up and for listening to my long rambling post.
(Feel free to bug me about Tony Stark, MCU ships, MCU Meta and anything you want to talk me about on this blog and @themarvelarchives.)
#this got long sorry#iron husbands#sambucky#james rhodes#tony stark#sam wilson#anthony mackie#doctor who#moffat critical#my meta#ash does meta#ash does fandom#marvel#mcu#fandom critical#fandom criticism#long post
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Racism in the Marvel fandom as seen through the number of fanworks per M/M ship on AO3
I talked about this on Twitter, but I'm posting it here with tweaks and additions.
A couple of notes about the ship selection process:
I focused on M/M ships here as they're the biggest and most common on AO3 overall and, for the most part, the Marvel fandom
I put aside my personal feelings, so the following selection ranges from my OTP and ships I like to ships I dislike or am squicked by and NOTPs. The big ships and crack/niche ships are ones that have the most popular male characters or I’ve seen come up the most often, but I'm sure the pattern is consistent with more minor characters and subfandoms with fewer works
I focused on ships that exist in the MCU (film side only, no TV), only or in addition to other universes, just to simplify things. The MCU fandom is the biggest, and it gets complicated once you throw in other universes considering the vastness of the Marvel multiverse
I looked at the overall fanwork count for the ships rather than fanworks for that ship in the MCU tag as people tend to miscategorize their works
As of 6/19/20:
AO3 fanworks of big MCU/MCU-based ships:
Steve/Bucky: 50,501
Steve/Tony: 36,638
Loki/Thor: 13,071
Clint/Coulson: 10,940
Loki/Tony: 9,880
Bucky/Tony: 7,504
Spideypool: 7,271
Starker: 6,073
Ironstrange: 4,844
Bruce/Tony: 4,734
Bucky/Clint: 3,841
Stuckony: 2,331
AO3 fanworks of MCU/MCU-based ships with 1 or more POC where the characters interact a few times, have meaningful relationships with each other, or have genuine or crack potential:
Sam/Bucky: 3,023
Steve/Sam: 2,908
Rhodey/Tony: 1,434
Erik/T'Challa: 578
Ned/Peter: 429
Coulson/Fury: 264
M'Baku/T'Challa: 155
Rhodey/Sam: 149
Strange/Wong: 82
Heimdall/Thor: 50
Scott/Jimmy Woo: 36
Scott/Luis: 24
Fury/Pierce: 16 (fandom is also ageist)
The disparity between the two lists is particularly egregious when you consider:
Clint and Coulson had 17 seconds of dialogue and 7 lines with each other and never interacted again after Thor. This is a generous estimate as I included pauses
Loki and Tony haven't interacted since The Avengers
The only time Bucky and Tony as a duo and Steve, Bucky, Tony as a trio interact is in the bunker in Siberia
Spideypool includes a character who isn't even in the MCU
Ironstrange didn't exist or really exist in MCU fanworks before 2018, and Tony and Strange only communicate once in their second movie together, with Strange holding up his finger silently
Bucky and Clint never interact with each other
I’ll be focusing on the Captain America, Avengers, and Iron Man subfandoms first as those are the three biggest in the MCU. Before I start, here's my thread from last year about some of the ships I’ll be mentioning.
Okay. How does Bucky/Tony have 6,070 more fanworks than Rhodey/Tony and 4,481 more than Sam/Bucky and Bucky/Clint have 818 more than Sam/Bucky? How do Loki/Tony and Ironstrange have 8,446 and 3,410 more fanworks than Rhodey/Tony, respectively, and Stuckony almost as many as Steve/Sam?
The gap is especially glaring when you compare Steve/Bucky and Steve/Tony to Steve/Sam, Sam/Bucky, and Rhodey/Tony; however, though it's important to point out that wide gulf, I lose my mind more over the fact that ships with white characters who have never interacted or only exchanged a few lines (Clint/Coulson never even STAND IN THE SAME ROOM, and they're one of the top ships!) have more fanworks than ships with POC who do or have potential.
I will point out that at least with the MCU Spider-Man and Black Panther fandoms, you do see some diversity with their big ships (I’m including some M/F ships here to make a point in the next paragraph). MJ/Peter has 3,518 fanworks, and in addition to the two T’Challa ships above, Nakia/T’Challa has 286, MJ/Shuri 220, Bucky/Shuri 210, and Peter/Shuri 140 (Black Panther is a much smaller fandom, but some ship numbers are higher if you put BP and non-BP characters together, e.g., Tony/T’Challa (405) and Bucky/T’Challa (345).
It's important to note, however, that these two films are significantly more racially diverse than all other MCU films; in fact, they're very much the outliers. These ships and Ned/Peter are also heavy indicators of racism in this fandom. These numbers are very low compared to the big ships, and there are fewer works for these fandoms especially in BP’s case. Additionally, ships with white non-BP characters rank second, third, sixth, and eighth in the fandom (Bucky isn’t a BP character as he is only in the post-credits scene). Nakia/T’Challa is canon but outranked by Tony/T’Challa and Bucky/T’Challa, and all other ships with only BP characters, not listed here as the numbers are much lower other than M’Baku/T’Challa (second-lowest among the listed), are outranked by all the ships with white non-BP characters.
To sum up everything I said above:
white M/M ships are extremely overrepresented by a huge margin, even if they have little to no canonical basis
interracial ships are poorly represented even if the characters have meaningful relationships or potential (and even if they clearly have all the traits that would ensure that they would be a big ship had the character of color been white)
the ships with the least representation by a longggggg mile are ones that involve only POC. Their fanwork count is, aside from Erik/T’Challa (578), in the low 100s and 200s. Countless ships are below the 100 mark.
If you want to make this even more infuriating, here's a random selection of white (or in one case, AI) crack ships and ships that are more niche that I’ve seen to compare to the ships of color above:
Clint/Tony: 1,423
Loki/Steve: 1,251
Clint/Steve: 986
Bucky/Rumlow: 984
Clint/Pietro: 837
Hydrahusbands: 770
Grandmaster/Loki: 633
Steve/Rumlow: 547
Steve/Howard: 457
JARVIS/Tony: 414
And just for the hell of it because Darcy, a minor character who appears in only two movies and last appeared in 2013, shows up all the time in MCU fanworks (17,004 (these include ones where she’s not paired with anyone)) and is probably one of the top three or four little black dresses/fandom bicycles:
Darcy/Steve: 3,013
Darcy/Bucky: 2,640
Darcy/Loki: 1,558
Darcy/Clint: 1,107
Darcy/Steve/Bucky: 676
Darcy/Tony: 326
The Darcy situation is a post for another day (she has more fanworks than all other female characters except ~3 women), but in the context of this post, it’s absurd that nearly all of the non-canonical ships above which feature characters whom Darcy has never interacted with (I don’t even remember if Darcy interacted with Loki) have more fanworks than the listed ships of color.
That said, if you like the aforementioned white M/M ships, even if they have little to no canonical basis, that's okay. Anything goes in fandom. It IS a problem, though, if you have more than one ship, but ALL of them are white M/M ships or, if you like F/F and M/F, those are also all white. If you only create and consume works for a single ship, which a good number of people do (many people only get into a fandom because of an OTP!), it's fine if it's a white M/M ship. Honestly, it’s not that surprising either considering most of the screen time and meaty development is given to white characters because of racism (that's a post for another day). However, it IS a problem if most or all of your other ships across your current and previous fandoms are white—and if the only media you consume is predominantly or all white.
This post is longer than planned, but tl;dr, fandom has a racism problem which is nothing new, and we should all examine the following and see and remedy any implicit biases that we have:
our feelings about different characters and relationships, both platonic and romantic
our decision whether or not to seek or make content with characters of color. This includes content with your white ships that have POC in the work because sometimes every other white character in the MCU show up except them or all of them play bigger roles than the POC despite their relationship with the protagonist(s)
the way we interpret and write/draw those characters. For example, is Sam a yes-man? An unofficial or official therapist for white friends? The bro who cracks jokes and/or gives sage advice but seems to not have any flaws, struggles, or life of his own outside of his white friends? The BFF who thinks his white best friend is being dumb about another white guy and wants them to get their act together already?)
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Hiii! Hope you'll have a great new year! :)
I had this dialogue idea for a prompt stuck in my head:
“I’m keeping my eye on you.” - “I’m flattered.”
It's perfect for IronStrange :)
I did have a good new year, thank you! Honestly, things have been getting steadily better in my life the last month or so thanks to a change I made that I unfortunately can’t go into detail about online. I hope you are also doing well! I agree, this is an excellent IronStrange prompt. 😀
This is a no-Thanos AU, because it felt more fun. 😀
-
Tony’s first encounter with Doctor Strange—not that he knows his name at the time—is when he’s chasing a strictly C-list low life and the guy runs flat out into a glowing orange wall and bounces right back into Tony’s gauntlets. FRIDAY quickly directs his attention to a man in blue and red robes who waves, smirks, and disappears through a portal.
He does it again, except with a crimson lasso type thing, two weeks later. The third time, he turns the tide in a three on one fight and disappears through a portal immediately afterward. “I don’t need your help, you know!” Tony shouts after him. He gets a jaunty wave in return.
FRIDAY identifies him on the third encounter, which only puts Tony’s hackles up more. What the hell is a neurosurgeon doing throwing around glowing walls and portals?
Strange doesn’t only show himself around Tony. FRIDAY’s tracking him now, and he pops up all over the place, although, for some reason, FRIDAY usually only catches the ends of his battles.
The first time they talk, Tony and Rhodey are chasing a guy in a frankly insultingly shitty knock off Iron Man suit through Manhattan airspace when he’s surrounded by an orange flash of light and starts falling like a rock. They have to dive to catch up and when the three of them finally settle into a hover to catch their breath, Strange is there with them. He’s infuriatingly elegant floating there, his cape flaring in the wind.
Tony glares. “What the hell, Strange! You could have killed him!”
“And here I was expecting a thank you,” Strange says dryly. His voice is deeper than Tony expected. “Relax. If you hadn’t caught him, I would have.”
“So why didn’t you catch him in the first place?”
“Considering the—” Strange waves at the shitty armor “—infringement, I thought you might want to be able to tell people you caught him yourself.”
“I did catch him,” Tony snaps. “Magic or no magic.”
“You see?” Strange waves at him. “It was important to you!”
Tony grinds his teeth. “I’m keeping my eye on you.”
“Why, Mr. Stark,” Strange just about flutters his eyelashes. “I’m flattered.”
“Because I don’t trust you!” Tony sputters.
“Whatever excuse you need to enjoy the show!” Strange says, and gives him a little wave as he disappears through one of his portals.
Tony is still fuming when Rhodey chuckles. “What?!”
“It’s kind of fun to see you get a taste of your own medicine,” Rhodey says.
Oh, that is not okay. “He is an asshole who is driving me crazy.”
“Sure he is,” Rhodey says, still laughing. “All kinds of crazy.”
“You are not my friend anymore,” Tony announces, which only makes Rhodey laugh harder as they descend from the sky. Tony scowls. There is only one kind of crazy going on here, he promises himself.
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The Vamp and the Were [IronStrange]
Summary: Tony would mark the day he met a vampire that did not immediately jump at his throat. Just for once – that would be a nice change.
Relationship: Werewolf!Tony Stark / Vampire!Stephen Strange
Tags: hurt/comfort, idiots in love, angst, fluff
Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 4.2k | Previous | Next
Chapter 10: BBQ
Stephen stepped into the cabin’s kitchen. “Do you know if there’s any tea here?”
“You drink tea?” Tony asked, genuinely surprised.
“Not really. I need it for a spell.”
“There should be some in there.” Tony pointed to the cabinets on the right and Stephen rummaged through them until he found a box of bagged tea. He couldn't read the label, but it smelled like herbs which was good enough for the spell.
He took one of the tea bags and ripped it open with his sharp fingernails, before he dumped the herbs into a mug. Without adding water, like Tony would have expected, Stephen closed his eyes to concentrate on reciting the spell. It was in Latin, which was actually quite unusual for magic, despite what all the movies tried to tell. But Latin was a universal translation language, and that made it perfect for this magic.
Stephen moved his fingers in delicate patterns and gold lines started to follow his movements. They became liquid and poured into the mug, until it was full of a steaming, golden-bronze drink.
Tony eyed it. “You could open a fancy restaurant with that trick.” He watched the Vamp down the cup. “How come you can stomach that? I thought vampires can only drink blood?”
“Magic is an exception.”
Of course it is, Tony thought. “And what does it do?”
“It’s a translation spell. So I can actually understand our host later.”
“Oh? That’s handy,” the Were said, easily switching into Italian to test the spell. “I could also have Jarvis assist you in that.”
The corners of Stephen's mouth twitched. “It still does sound like English to me. But I will automatically answer in the language that was spoken to me without noticing it.”
“That would be an instant hit on any international press conference.” Tony easily switched into Mandarin.
“It would have made my life so much easier if I had known that spell back in my surgeon days.” Stephen took the cloak from the back of a chair it was chilling on and folds it magically into a scarf he wrapped around his neck. “I’m ready to go.”
~~
Leaving the cabin, they headed northeast. They were in no hurry and took their time, making it a leisurely walk as the forest thickened around them.
“So what is this about?” Stephen asked, meaning the invitation in the first place. It wasn’t like they knew the people they were about to meet.
“It’s a peace offering. Also an act of courtesy. Kind of like: ’hey, I acknowledge you as someone who is to trust, you can trust me too’.” Tony shrugged his shoulders. “Also there’s free food. At least for me.”
He spoke casually about it, but Stephen knew Tony wasn't one to do things without a reason. He wouldn’t give a shit about something that wasn’t at least to some part important to him. Probably another one of those Were things.
Maybe it would reflect badly on his business partner, the owner of the cabin and someone Tony obviously considered a friend, if they didn’t go.
~~
Stephen wasn't sure how Tony knew the way, but he was walking confidently enough that he didn't question it. Jarvis didn't help him, anyway, because Tony had put his glasses in his shirt’s breast pocket and the glasses had also remained silent so far.
Still, they had been heading in the right direction, because eventually they heard music. It was some kind of Balkan pop that sounded like it was being played from an old radio or speakers.
Then the smell of smoke rose to the vampire's nose.
Well, it was a barbecue after all. Even if Stephen wasn't a fan at the prospect of fire and foreign and thus unpredictable people. It had the possibility of becoming a bad combination.
Tony seemed to notice that he tensed up and bumped his shoulders. “We can leave anytime,” he told him quietly. “Just say the word.”
The Vamp nodded as a sign that he understood, but since they had already arrived and probably been noticed it would be weird not to actually show up.
They stepped into a mossy clearing with two cabins, similar to the one they had come from. They seemed to belong to a big family, most of them outside in the night.
The grill was nothing more than a fire bowl with an improvised grate laid on top. Fortunately, it stood more on the side of the clearing away from the cabins, so Stephen could have an excuse not to go too close.
There were three men and two teenage boys standing around the improvised barbecue. The adults were talking expertly about the meat that was already sizzling, while the boys were doing their best to join in the conversation and pretend to be adults. Both were a little stocky, one built a little narrower than the other. They wore their hair short but still shaggy.
On a bench next to the grill, an elderly man sat with his hands resting on a walking stick, listening to the conversations without joining in himself.
A woman brought two children into one of the cabins, no more than five or six years old, who seemed rather tired. It was well past bedtime but they probably had bothered to stay up. Now their eyes fell shut and the smaller of the two even had to be carried.
It was one way to wear pups out.
The men at the grill looked up as Tony and Stephen approached the group, and one of them broke away to meet them. Stephen recognized him as the Were from yesterday – Tony had informed him that the guy’s name was Dayan.
“Ah, you came. Great.” He said in the same broken English. Gone was the wariness from the other day, replaced by friendliness.
“Thanks for having us,” Tony replied in what he had told was a mixture of Hungarian and Finnish. “By the way, Stephen here did some of his magic and is now fluent in your dialect.”
“That’s true,” the sorcerer added for good measure.
“Oh good. That will make communication easier. Come, I will introduce you to everyone.” He gestured to them to follow him. “If you don’t mind the question, what kind of magic do you have?”
“I’m a Master of the Mystic Arts.”
“South Asia, right?”
“Not exclusively anymore, but mostly.” Stephen glanced at Tony. The engineer obviously knew about the New York Sanctum, being there on an almost regular basis. Stephen also told him about Kamar-Taj but never said where exactly it was located.
Tony smiled at him, not seeming to be openly interested in that piece of information but certainly storing it away for later.
“My Granna used to be a ved’ma. That was what they called her anyway,” Dayan explained. They arrived back at the grill and the conversation shifted to introductions. “These are my cousins Yusuf and Zahir. And Zahir’s sons Simon and Vincze.”
The adults greeted them warmly while the teens looked thoroughly unimpressed.
“You smell funny,” Simon accused the Vamp. As a response he got a smack at the back of his head from his dad.
“Simon! Be nice to our guests,” Zahir scolded his son. “They are staying over at Marvan’s house for a while.” Zahir turned to them. “Do you guys want a beer?”
Tony accepted the offer, while Stephen declined.
“I was already wondering where Marvan was," the other teenager, Vincze, said. He seemed to be the older of the two brothers and obviously the more mature.
“Yeah, he is currently enjoying the beaches of Valencia, Spain,” Tony told him.
There were whistles from the other Weres.
“If you ever happen to look for a trade again, we got two beautiful houses.” Yusuf pointed over his shoulder to the two houses.
And just like that they bonded and clinked their beer bottles for a cheer.
Dayan gestured to the old man on the bank near the grill who was watching them. “That’s my father, Virág.”
Tony stepped to him and offered his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Sir.”
You see, the stereotype of alpha werewolves was not true. Packs were family based with the parents looking out for their children and their offsprings. And as a Were Tony recognized the head of a pack when he saw them.
As a guest he showed respect by addressing him as such.
The old Were waved it off, grunting, and pointed back to the grill. Stephen wasn’t sure what he wanted to say with that, but neither Tony nor Dayan seemed offended by the lack of words.
Then Virág turned his head to the vampire and squinted his eyes. His face didn’t change, but there was something that made Stephen unsure if he in particular was welcome.
“The burgers are almost done.” The attention shifted to Yusuf. “It’s deer. We hunted it today.”
Stephen stepped back to Tony's side – who always made sure he stood somewhat between the Vamp and the flames – but still felt the old Were’s eyes on his back.
Ever since he was turned, he had avoided large groups of people – at least people from whom he had to hide what he was. And he was not sure how he felt about being here. He was glad to have Tony at his side.
The engineer was fully in his element, making conversation so that he could stay in the background.
There came a whiny howl from inside one of the cabins.
“Seems like the pups don’t want to sleep yet after all,” Yusuf commented.
“Give them five more minutes and they will be out. I saw Sara dozing off next to pops earlier.”
“Are they over their accidental shifting phase yet?” Tony asked.
“Yes, fortunately,” Dayan replied. Apparently, he was the father of the younger kids they had seen earlier.
For Werewolves, their transformation broke out when they were still children of just a few years old. For adults the shifting comes naturally, like a second skin. But for a young child, who had no idea what’s going on with their body, it sometimes was downright traumatic.
Unfortunately, all puppies had to go through this.
The pack was always there to watch out. That was their advantage, to work as a family and a team. And they had a lot of experience.
It mostly went well and without further complications. Once the kids learned to control the shifting, they got comfortable with it. But every werewolf child went through a phase at some point in their young lives where they changed shape almost uncontrollably.
It was like teething. Unfortunately, quite painful.
Dayan looked at the cabin the whine had come from. “Ah, there’s my wife Jamila.”
He took Tony and Stephen over and they met a slim woman with brown hair peeking out under a scarf she had wrapped around her head. She carried a plate with burger patties.
Another round of introductions was made, only cut short by another, older woman stepping out of the same cabin. In her hands a bowl with salad. She was small but had mindful eyes, with which she spotted the unfamiliar faces immediately.
“Ah, I was told we might have guests tonight. I hope you boys are hungry.” She noticed that Stephen wasn’t holding any beer or other beverage. “Did my son not offer you anything to drink? Where are your manners, Day’? Here, bring the salad to the table.”
Dayan knew better than to argue with his mother, so he took the bowl and followed to where his wife had taken the buns.
“No, ma’am, he did offer me a beer,” Stephen said politely.
The mother misunderstood that for his dislike of beer in particular. “Oh, I’m sure we will find something else for you then.”
Stephen doubted that. “Thanks, I’m good.”
“Nonsense. Don’t be shy, dear. There’s no need for that. We have plenty of food and drinks.”
“I’m afraid I also don’t eat.”
The sorcerer cast a help-seeking glance at Tony, but the engineer merely watched the conversation with amusement and had to stifle a laugh when the woman frowned at Stephen and asked, “Do you mean you don’t eat meat? Are you a Vegetarian?”
Another voice chimed in. “He means he is a vámpir, Maria.”
It was the father, Virág, who spoke, and the temperature dropped instantly. At least it felt like that to Stephen.
He hadn’t noticed Virág approaching them, but now the old Were was standing next to his wife with his eyes on the Vamp. His face showed the same stern expression as before.
“Step inside with me, will you.”
It was less a question and rather a command.
Tony moved, ready to step in, but Stephen signaled him not to.
“We should just leave,” the engineer said in Italian, knowing that Stephen with his spell would most likely be the only one understanding his words.
“I can handle it.”
“You sure?”
Stephen nodded before following the old Were into the cabin. There was a narrow hallway and one of the doors at the end led into the kitchen. There were dishes and leftovers from the meal preparations everywhere.
The Vamp expected the other man to be aggressive, to threaten him or at least lecture him about coming here and posing a danger to his family. He did not expect the man to get a mug out of a cupboard and then a plastic container filled with red liquid out of another. He poured some of it into the mug.
“You could have just told us what you are, boy. Then we’d have gotten you a fresher deal.”
He pushed the mug – it was dark blue with painted golden stars on the outside – into Stephen’s hand.
Sniffing at it confirmed his suspicion that the red liquid was blood. Animal blood.
He was so surprised about it, about the whole behavior, that he just blurted out, “Thank you?”
Virág just grunted as acknowledgment. He had talked enough for the night, maybe even for the whole week. He left the kitchen and thus left Stephen – a stranger and undead creature – alone in his home. The large amount of trust put in him overwhelmed the sorcerer.
He followed with slower steps.
In the hallway he met Tony, who had seen the old Were stepping out of the cabin alone, and was worried. Seeing Stephen unharmed calmed him down.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes.” Stephen nodded. “He just gave me a drink.” He gestured with the mug, before finally taking a sip out of it. The blood was at room temperature. Not Stephen's favorite, but it was better than the frozen stuff. And since he knew he would probably get dark looks from Virág all night should he just put the cup down, he decided the drink wasn’t too bad.
“Is that…?"
“From the deer that’s on the grill? Yes, I believe so.”
“Huh.”
This was not how they thought their visit would turn out. But they didn’t complain.
“Shall we go back outside?”
“Sure.”
After that, they both felt more at ease. Stephen got no more food offered but his mug got refilled every time it was almost emptied, although Stephen assured them that it wasn’t necessary.
Tony enjoyed one of the burgers, and then another right after. The other Weres dug in as well and matched his appetite. The food went fast but there was a lot of it, in wise foresight.
Conversation came easily. Tony was no longer glued to the sorcerer’s side – still, he instinctively kept an eye on him, always aware of where he was. He was already so used to Stephen's presence that it would be weird when they were back in New York and went their separate ways in the tower and sanctum in a few days. It felt natural just to be together.
Something had shifted between them, in mutual agreement. Something solid.
Stephen turned his head and their eyes met for a moment. There was a lopsided smile on the Vamp’s face, before both of them focused back on their conversations. Still, it was good to see the ever-stoic man ease up.
Tony was discussing the pros and cons of living as a werewolf in the barren land of northern Asia. Those wild parts that officially belonged to Russia, even when little was known here about what was decided and controlled in the Kremlin.
It was highly interesting to see that this modern world still had its rural parts, that everyone agreed should be preserved as such.
Tony wouldn’t want to live here permanently, though. The lack of WiFi scared him and he was glad to have his own satellite in space that connected him to Jarvis’ server back home at all times; no matter where on Earth he was.
Right now, Jarvis was sitting in the form of his glasses in the breast pocket of the plaid shirt he got from one of the cousins. The night was cold and his typical style of clothes with a band shirt and a sweater had turned out not to be warm enough.
Everyone – besides the vampire – had huddled closer to the fire. The grill grate was taken off after all patties were finished and the benches were moved closer to use the fire bowl as a heat source.
Dayan stepped into the cabin to get some additional blankets. Unlike the last few nights, this one promised to be frosty.
Tony was offered another beer and gladly accepted.
Stephen sat down next to him on the bench, choosing the side that was further away from the fire bowl. He was the only one who was still just in a shirt, even had his sleeves rolled up.
Tony was a little envious, suppressing another shiver. His nose and lips were getting cold.
“Are you having fun?” he asked.
“A lot.” Stephen took off the cloak-scarf and wrapped it around Tony's neck. “This was a great idea. These people are very nice. Aren’t they nice?”
Those were a lot of words in a very upbeat tone of voice. Not used to that from the Vamp, Tony looked at him. The grin was still present on Stephen's face, and it was hard to see it in the flickering light of the bonfire but he thought the pupils of his eyes were dilated.
“Are you drunk?”
It shouldn’t be possible for a vampire, but he had no other explanation.
“No, but I’m probably on a sugar rush. I drank a lot of this.” He indicated to the mug in his hand, before he emptied it – again.
It took a second for Tony to understand what was happening here. Animal blood. That was like candy for vampires, like marshmallows.
Like a kid with too much sugar.
Tony laughed, and it was a rich sound. He tugged his glasses from his pocket. “Jarvis, I need a recording of thi-…” He stopped when Stephen cupped his face, looking at him in awe, before his gaze became darker and more hungry.
“You’re very handsome and I would love to devour you.”
Tony gulped by this sudden change of behavior. His shiver no longer had anything to do with the coldness of the night.
He couldn't look away from the Vamp’s enthralling eyes. He still had his hand on his glasses, but didn’t remember what he wanted to do with them. Then his mind blanked completely when Stephen’s hand on his face caressed his cheek, with a hint of sharp nails.
“Not here,” Tony managed to mutter. While he couldn’t seem to break eye contact, somewhere in the back of his consciousness he remembered that they were not alone. He senses the other Weres more by smell than anything else.
It didn’t really seem important, though.
Only Stephen was important.
“Later ‘t home.”
The vampire’s smile became sharper. “Promised.”
He withdrew his hand from Tony’s face and leaned back. Tony hadn't even noticed that he had come closer. Stephen's gaze shifted to a point behind the Were and the spell between them was broken.
Almost at the same moment a blanket was dumped on Tony’s shoulders.
Dayan had returned and started handing out more warming blankets to the other Weres as well.
Tony blinked, shaking his head to clear it. He wasn’t sure what just happened. He glanced at Stephen, who was back in his giddy mood, thanking Jamila for another refill.
And somehow Tony suddenly got jealous of a mug with animal blood, because he rather had the Vamp drunk from him. But he decided to store that feeling away to analyze it later.
Someone had brought an instrument outside as well. It looked similar to a guitar with just three strings and a more boxy shape.
Yusuf started playing and a few seconds later the whole family was singing and clapping along. It was an upbeat folklore song, one that made it difficult not to at least tap a foot along.
Listening to them, Stephen learned a weird side of the translation spell, because he heard an English version of the song. It was a mix of an analogous and a literal translation, and as a whole it made little sense. Nothing rhymed. And he wasn't sure if – should he join in – his words would be translated back correctly. So he kept his mouth shut.
But the rhythm was good and everyone enjoyed themselves.
It was a wonder that the loud singing didn't wake the pups.
Some of the Weres even started dancing. They pulled Tony onto his feet and into their midst. And Tony – all for cultural exchange – let them.
The mood was relaxed and boisterous until there was suddenly a whir as something shot through the air. It was so unexpected and fast that Stephen had just enough time to turn his head in shock but not for a sound of alarm before a crossbow bolt hit Yusuf's shoulder.
He let out a cry of pain and dropped the instrument.
There was a brief moment of shock in the sudden silence as the next bolt whizzed in. Stephen was faster, appeared next to Tony and pulled him out of the way.
“We’re under attack!”
There were shouts of swear words in various languages and several things were happening at once.
Stephen grabbed the scarf off Tony’s and onto his own shoulders after it transformed into its usual cloak form in his fingers.
Tony put his glasses on to help him identify the threat.
Dayan shifted into his wolf form right away and bared his teeth angrily before running into the night, towards the direction the bolt came from.
Zahir kept the teens from doing the same. “Go inside!”
“No, we can help!”
“Go inside! Protect the pups from the hunters.”
The boys looked scared but determined, and they finally nodded and turned to the houses. They shifted their forms anyway while rushing inside.
There were sounds of ripping clothes all around. Just Tony wasn’t shifting yet. He needed to get details first and operating Jarvis without the suit was more difficult.
“Four attackers on the north side, five more in the southwest,” the A.I. informed him, using a thermal image to show them on his glasses. “Judging by their bio scans, they are all human.”
Those fuckers had surrounded them. And all of them were armed.
“Great. Send reinforcements.”
Another figure appeared on the screen with almost the lowest body temperature Tony had ever seen. It was Stephen, which hardly stood out from the cold blue of the night. Only because he had drunk blood, there was a slight change to the background that made him recognizable.
The vampire appeared behind one of the hunters. A hooded guy with broad shoulders and a crossbow, which he snatched from his hands before he could fire another bolt. Then Stephen grabbed his head and spun it around with such force that the neck vertebrae broke.
It was nasty but effective.
Around him were the growls and howls of the wolves.
Before he could turn to another opponent, a wave of magic swept him off his feet. The cloak caught his fall and Stephen turned around searching.
One of the hunters was wielding a wand, pointing it at him.
Stephen dodged another attack and replied by conjuring a red whip that clung around the wand. “I’ll take that.” He pulled and the guy lost his grip.
Then a bolt grazed Stephen's arm and the pain caused him to drop the spell. It hurt vehemently. There must be silver in it.
Angrily, Stephen hissed at them. But there wasn’t time to attend to the wound. Instead he leaped to where the wand had fallen down.
He was a second too late. The hunter grabbed it first, and with a swirl, aimed it at the sorcerer. Stephen ducked down just as the hunter took a blow from behind and fell to the ground, unconscious. Tony was standing behind him, not looking happy about the fact that somebody dared to threaten his sorcerer.
The engineer bent down to pick up the wand he had seen the guy use.
“What is this?”
“Don’t touch that!” Stephen yelled. But it was too late. His fingers wrapped around Tony's arm to stop him just when Tony's hand closed around the wand.
It exploded in front of them in a burst of magic. And in the next moment they were gone.
________
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#ironstrange#doctor strange#tony stark#Vampire Stephen Strange#Werewolf Tony Stark#stephen strange#marvel#mcu#strangeiron#The Vamp and the Were#spacemermaid writes
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masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq
previously on...
Witchy stuff! Disclaimer: I am not a witch so please do not take my theory of theory seriously. This has been taken off first page of Google, which is where I did my research. First ironstrange x reader interaction & tony being sweet and stephen radiating wife energy.
fun fact: the moodboards are just chapter spoilers without context.
Whatever protection spell the book had, it was nuclear. Burn cream didn't do much in terms of numbing the pain; I had to wear gloves throughout my shift at the café, self-conscious about the skin peeling off my palms and the light, sensitive fingertips. Saying that the day was hellish would have been too kind.
My spirits were briefly lifted when one of my favourite mad scientists walked in, nose buried in a StarkPad - his chattier, more confident friend nowhere to be seen. Doctor Bruce Banner lifted his eyes from his work only to give a brief, polite smile and mumble his order, immediately resuming the poking of the screen.
"You forgot something last time," I couldn't suppress the grin. Sometimes routine was nice, comfortable. The napkin with unintelligible scribbles and formulas in my hand was transferred to Banner's pocket with a shy smile and a reddish tint to his cheeks, as if he didn't find himself in this very situation more often than not. "Is Mr. Stark okay?" I voiced my concerns, having noticed the recent, acute absence of the rowdy man in the café. Dr. Banner rarely came here alone and it was more of a telling exception than anything.
"Oh, Tony? Yes, he's fine," the scientist nodded absentmindedly. "He's on a small vacation with his boyfriend," the last part was said with puzzlement and incredulity and I had to remind myself that a forty-something scientist was unlikely to possess at least a halfway decent gaydar. I mean, I would have eaten my shoe if Tony Stark was 100% straight.
The fact that Tony having a boyfriend surprised Dr. Banner, who appeared to be one of Mr. Stark's best friends, was quite funny to me. "Good for him, he deserves it after saving the world, like, a bajillion times," I replied honestly, attempting to hide my good-natured snicker at Banner's obliviousness. Scientists, they just are a different breed, man.
The perplexion melted off Banner's face, leaving only supportive contentment. "That is correct," he nodded confidently, exchanging a bill for his matcha. "Thank you. And, uh, congrats on your new job," he added with another one of his not-quite shy smiles.
My cheerfulness vacated the premises shortly afterwards as I struggled to keep up with the endless stream of customers all the while my hands throbbed and burned under the nitrile gloves. I was ready to call it a day and just tell Jeremy I had an accident, but my pride wouldn't let me. I arrived at Odette's feeling less than stellar, running purely on spite and several cups of espresso.
It went about as good as expected, select few customers growing clouds over their heads at the slow pace I was assembling their orders: the fact that even witches had Karens of their kind was a fact that I found both amusing and alarming. It wasn't particular comfortable, knowing that I, or any other wait staff, was always at risk of being cursed for bringing them the wrong kind of cake or messing up their white suburban mom coffee.
"You could have asked, you know," Odette's slow drawl startled me out of the trance I'd put myself in to avoid focusing on the discomfort. "Come here, girl, I'll take care of it."
My face heated up immediately as I realized the tender skin of my grubby little hands was on full display. Odette must've put two and two together, seeing my sins written all over my scarred hands and my guilty face. Not wanting to invoke a negative reaction and get on her scary bad side, I let myself obediently trot into her office.
"I, uh," the eloquence of my speech - spectacular. I was ready to fall through the floor out of of shame.
"It happens sometimes," a round jar of what looked like buckwheat honey landed on the table. Odette massaged the thick gel into my palms with gentle circular motions, shushing my hums of pain in-between. "The book called for me in the same way it called to you. The only difference, it was my grandmother's at the time so the protection wards did not go off because I was family." My eyebrows rose at the calm in Odette's voice. Composed as ever, the witch looked more amused than upset by my little snooping stint.
The pain in my hands disappeared completely, a cool sensation I could only describe as minty enveloping them and spreading throughout my body. The chill was pleasant - I hadn't even realized my body had been running on higher-than-usual temperatures ever since I touched the book. Those protection wards Odette spoke of, they really packed a punch!
"I will teach you," she must've interpreted my stunned silence as curiosity, having made up her own mind in the seconds I was basking in my newfound relief. "We'll start slow. The transition from the material world into the spiritual isn't easy," Odette warned, locking her fingers, her magnetic eyes commandeering mine for utmost attention. "But it is incredibly rewarding. If you follow the rules, you will prosper. Our kind isn't plentiful these days, with people praying to gods that condone greed and selfishness," her lip curled in distaste. "Each one of us can make a large difference in this world. The opportunities you have been given need to be taken seriously."
My lip caught between my teeth as I mulled over the words my boss spoke with so my concern and conviction. Nothing in her speech sounded amiss; sure as she was, I was still mercifully given a choice. Odette's aura, that used to seem suffocating and dense, grew around me into a non-physical hug, a comfort akin to a mother supporting her child taking their first steps.
I eyed the sixty-something year-old, tall, imposing woman, scanning her for any deceitfulness, exhilaration and wariness sitting on my shoulders and whispering into my ears. True to myself, I gave into the side that craved and lived for adventure. "I would love to learn," hoping my voice conveyed the excitement and hopefulness of being a part of something special.
Odette smiled kindly. "I knew that," with a chuckle to herself, she reached into a set of drawers and extracted a few worn, plain notebooks. "Homework," the wink she threw at me instantly took ten years off her face. I couldn't even bring myself to sigh, only the sludge still covering my palms preventing me from making grabby hands in the direction of new information.
The bell rang before I could make another comment and I was let go with the instructions to wash my hands - and that's exactly what I did, having noted the short Asian man impatiently tapping his foot next to the front desk.
The man's name was Wong and he was the sole reason for my uncontrollable flares of temper during my work hours at the bodega. Odette herself avoided him like the plague, and for a good reason: his attitude was nothing short of conceited, as if the weird robes that he wore were some kind of a hall-pass to be a demanding asshole when it came to the store's wares.
Wong could spend up to forty minutes inspecting the baggies containing herbs and other knick-knacks, meticulously picking out what he considered best and curtly insulting the items he found to be lacking in quality. I was made aware he belonged to some sort of a sect or a cult of honest-to-god wizards; as if him looking like a worker of the Ministry of Magic didn't make that fact obvious. I was unpleasantly surprised at the fact that even witches, much like doctors, had elitist pricks among their kind - and Odette had the audacity to simply vanish whenever one of those robed people set foot in the shop, leaving me to use all my mental strength to try and not strangle the wannabe Karens.
I was willing to bet my favourite star-patterned scarf that Wong hexed the waiters who made him wait longer that he considered appropriate. I just knew it.
The anger, the frustration and at times, blind, total rage came in useful - and that was a surprise to me. According to Odette's notebooks, everyone had the potential to master magick - to an extent, each individual's threshold was, well, individual - but the more a witch was in tune with her emotions, her feelings, the higher the success rate of her spells grew.
The notebooks contained enough information for me to understand that Odette was considered a High Priestess (not to be confused with Head of the Coven - not all witches wanted to be a part of those) and the amount of power she held was quite impressive. No, she couldn't turn back time, she couldn't raise the dead; the people she helped and healed were, oftentimes, made well at the expense of her own life energy. It was an endless cycle of emptying a glass and refilling it back up. The deities lended a hand with that.
Some time after I'd gone through the theory, Odette encouraged me to choose a direction I was to study in depth; much like her, I was interested in the defensive rather than the offensive. Healing spells, protection wards and the occasional light hex to deter enemies from reoffending: I was disappointed but not surprised to learn the fact that curses and serious harm done to other people quite often backfired, harming the caster themselves as well as their victim.
I had always believed in karma, to a healthy extent, but these days I was that much more aware of how I treated those around me. That's not to say I became a pushover - I simply chose to smile rather than frown at the world and replaced my longing and envy with a sense of gratitude towards the things I already possessed. Just like Odette had said, layering the spiritual values over my material, earthly ones wasn't easy - it was hard work, and what prevented me from stopping when I felt exhausted was that it actually paid off.
As I got ready to cast my first serious spell, I ran through a mental checklist of things I developed - of sorts. Positive vibes only. Having vengeful intentions when warding off potential harm-doers was not only dangerous, it was counterproductive. Intentions mattered the most when casting a spell and I could end up killing all the innocent, stray cats in the area instead of making a burglar choose the neighbouring building some five months down the line.
The spell, I considered to be a success. The atmosphere in my home lightened, the dingy walls of my rental started radiating comfort and safety I hadn't felt since moving out of my parents' home. A slight tiredness persisted for a few days after the last candle burned out; Odette reassured that it was perfectly normal as I was a baby witch and my energy channels were adapting, growing to accommodate my newfound awareness and flow of cosmic energies that I was training to harness.
Next on my list was a personal protection charm, an antique silver locket adorned with stars I had scavenged in a local pawn shop. Odette had given me instructions on how to cleanse potential magical conductors: the amount of rings and jewelry she wore directly correlated to the power of a singular spell she could cast. There was a fine hairline between charging your accessories and letting them drain you and I learned to walk South of it the hard way, but as all learning processes go, eventually I found my middle ground and was successful.
My daily routine grew small rituals like the forest trees grew moss. Slow and steady, I was transitioning from a curious baby witch into a self-sufficient practitioner of magic. Sounds crazy, I know, coming from someone who could barely believe into aliens until Thor himself had walked into the coffee shop and ordered a latte, but as all things do in life - I changed.
Working the morning shift allowed me to discreetly place a few of the good-luck charms I had made during my most recent creative stint. While they didn't have a direct effect on the customers or their tipping habits, the atmosphere on the cafe's premises had lightened enough that even Jeremy's usually sour face tipped more towards neutral these days.
The smile blossomed on my face without effort as I caught the tell-tale bespoke suit and sunglasses of the man waltzing through the doors of the café as if he owned the place. "Nice to see you, Mr. Stark. Enjoy your vacation?" I asked the smirking man, giving a respectful once-over to the tall, lithe man holding onto his shoulder.
"It's Tony," the happiness was radiating off him in waves. "Missed my favourite coffee shop and the world's nicest barista," he winked at me, causing the man behind him snort, steely blue eyes studying me in turn. "Had to introduce my two favourite people," the engineer took a step back, parting his arms with a flourish gesture. "Stephen, Starlight. Starlight, Stephen," he spoke before rattling off his usual order. And a cake on top.
I gave an amused grin to the man obviously humoring his significant other, as Stephen mock-bowed in my direction. "You're right, how could we be together without the approval of your favourite barista?" Stephen had his wits. I decided I definitely liked him. "Starlight? Is that a nickname or were your parents hippies?" Okay, witty bordering on rude. Was Stephen a lawyer?
"Now, now, honey," the crinkles around Tony's eyes deepened as he barked out a laugh. "No need to be jealous. We're all adults here, we can share. There's enough of me for everyone."
I rolled my eyes, easily slipping into the familiar banter. "Speak for yourself, Mr. Stark. I'm very selfish," I cocked an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side and pretending to size up Stephen. "You've outdone yourself this time," Stephen's eyebrows rose. The line between 'sizing up' and 'checking out' was so very fine and I walked it well, a quiet sort of confidence that had bloomed within me at the recent events in my life letting me be slightly bolder that allowed myself to be before. "I'd have to be the Devil myself to break up such a blessed union. My congratulations," my smirk grew into a warm smile as Tony beamed at me in return, content on showing off his most recent acquisition.
Who, by the way, looked a little bit lost. Evidently, Stephen did not expect such a degree of familiarity between me and Tony; which was, to be honest, most likely what had him returning to the establishment over and over. Come for the coffee, stay for the company. Or how was it?
The energy between Tony and Stephen was electric. There was something undoubtedly attractive, magnetic even, about the tall, steely-eyed man, something similar to Odette's charismatic pull but without the overwhelming ossification of the air around her. Even putting aside the fact that Stephen was a visually stunning person with his sculpted phisique and high, sharp cheekbones, he commandeered the attention to himself without even uttering a word. Definitely a lawyer, with how the type could hold the whole courtroom together with a single look.
The early birds on a Friday were few and in-between; the three of us chatted as the two men sipped their coffees with muted noises of joy. According to Tony, Fiji was delightful this time of the year. Oblivious to everything around him, the engineer rambled about his ventures without a care in the world as his partner looked up to him with earnest happiness and I- well, I wished I could go to Fiji, hot boyfriend optional. The weather in NYC was slowly becoming dreary: I did not look forward to winter sludge and the traffic congestions that it created.
"And I love what you've done with the interior. Those cat statues? Charming," Tony rambled, pointing out the good-luck charms I'd placed all over the café. Small knick-knacks I carefully selected to match the overall vibe of the room. "Tell Jeremy I send my regards. Appreciate the lack of paps, too," he winked at me, looking visibly relieved.
"Huh?" The rag in my hands froze. "I haven't seen a single paparazzi around here, since, like, ever," I admitted, puzzled.
"And I appreciate it. Ever since our thing became public knowledge, they've been hounding me wherever I go," the eyeroll Tony made was truly powerful. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it," and again, the engineer winked at me, apparently having made some assumptions of his own. "I won't tell if you won't."
The puzzlement persisted within me all throughout my shift. I lived in NYC, for fuck's sake, I wasn't unfamiliar with how things ran around here.
Every establishment I worked in had been swarmed with the annoying, persistent celebrity hunters at some point - and yellow press and paparazzi were, by far, the worst. Some of the greedier ones could go as far as to shove simple folk out of the way or order a cup of coffee with their camera hiding under the tablecloth to sneak in a juicy picture of a celebrity just trying to have their brunch in peace. I hated those vultures with a passion; their negative energy, their lack of morals when it came to hunting for a new scandal that would make them a few hundred bucks.
The only way to even slightly deter them was to repeatedly call the cops on them for public disturbance. I'd done it once or twice, egged on by Jerry and his worry of losing profit - after all, there were establishments known specifically for high rates of celebrity sightings and if any of the superheroes wanted to make an appearance, they would just go there for their cup of overpriced coffee and defrosted sponge cake. Our café was strictly for comfort and leisure - a rare thing me and my boss actually agreed upon.
As I said warm goodbyes to my favourite engineer and his newfound, dashing boyfriend, the cat statues stared at me in mute satisfaction, their hollow eyes radiating smugness and their immobile mouths stretched in what looked like pure, mocking mischief.
Taglist is open until the story is finished. Spare comment? 🥺
@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites
#bun writes#practical alchemy#tony stark x reader x stephen strange#stephen strange x reader x tony stark#tony stark x reader#Stephen Strange x reader#Tony Stark x you#Stephen Strange x you
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IronStrange Cinderella Au Fanfic
Hey guys I did a thing. I saw a post about an IronStrange Cinderella Au and I saw some art so I decided to write it. I hope you guys like it, I worked really hard on it. It also has Peter and Harley in it.
“Stephen!” He heard his father yell. “Have you swept the kitchen yet?” Stephen nodded, then realized that his father couldn’t see him. “Yes father! I did.”
His father scoffed. “It looks filthy! Come do it again! No doubt it’s because of your broken hands…” His father had said the last part quietly, but Stephen still heard it loud and clear, still felt it pierce his heart.
Stephen used to be one of the most upcoming healers in all the land. But… That was before his accident. Stephen had been riding a horse through the woods to the village over when something in the woods spooked his horse.
His horse had bucked him off, throwing him into a bramble bush. In his panic, he had struggled to escape the bush, tearing his hands and damaging them. By the time someone found him, his hands would never again be the same.
They were covered in scars and constantly shook, making him incapable of doing healing or anything else worth while, like farming. He was stuck at home being a disappointment to his family while his brother worked the fields and his sister worked at the local tailor’s shop.
Stephen grabbed the broom and went to the kitchen. It looked spotless. Well, except for one place where there was a pile of dirt next to a bucket. His father walked back in the room. “I forgot something.” He tells Stephen, before kicking the pile of dirt, sending it flying.
Stephen winced but didn’t say anything, knowing it wouldn’t do anything. He sighed and started sweeping, his father leaving the room.
It was a few hours later when his brother and sister got home. “Look at this Victor! An invitation to the ball. From the prince!” Victor grabbed the invite from his sister. “It has both our names on it.” Stephen looked up and Victor scoffed. “Not yours. Mine and Donna’s. It’s this weekend.” Donna danced away from the door and towards the dining room. “I can’t wait! Maybe the prince will choose me as his bride!”
Victor scoffed again. “Yeah right. I heard he doesn’t even like girls! He’s going to choose me! Not you!” Donna scowled at her brother and stomped off to her room. Victor turned to his brother. “Even if you were invited, I don’t think anyone would even want you to go.” With that he left, going to his room to change.
***
The weekend had come fast. For the ball, Donna had bought herself an orange dress with a low back. It was modest, but not eye catching. Victor had bought a white suit with a red trim. It made him look like a prince, which Stephen thought the actual prince wouldn’t appreciate.
Stephen watched his siblings and his father leave with an air of sadness. At least his father had given him the weekend off. Stephen thought with a sigh. Stephen was walking back towards his house when he spotted something shimmering in the dirt.
When he got closer, he realized that it was a wand of some sort. He bent down in the dirt and picked it up. There was a shimmering in the air in front of him, and Stephen heard two voices arguing.
“I can’t believe you lost your wand Parker!” A young male voice said. Another boy huffed. “It’s not my fault! I think it’s over here.” The shimmering grew strong and two boys appeared. Both boys were wearing baby blue robes and had wings coming out of their backs. They both had dark brown hair and seemed to be teenagers.
“Who are you guys?” Stephen asked. The two boys turned towards him. “My wand!” The boy Stephen thought was called Parker cried. Stephen held it out for him and the other boy grabbed it.
Parker pouted at him. The other boy turned to him. “I’m Harley. This is Peter. Have you seen a man called Stephen Strange?” He asked. Stephen nodded at them. “I’m Stephen Strange.” Peter broke out into a smile. “Perfect! We’re your fairy godfathers!” Stephen raised an eyebrow.
“What?” Peter cried. “We’re here to get you ready for the ball.” Peter told him. Stephen sighed. “I wasn’t invited to the prince’s ball. Even if I was, my brother was right, no one would want me to go.” Harley huffed. “Do you know how many people we’ve gotten into a ball uninvited?” He asked.
“But Harley, we’ve never done that-” Harley turns and scowls at Peter. Peter just blinks. Harley turned back to Stephen, a dangerous look in his eyes. “I’m not failing our first assignment because you want to stay here and feel sorry for yourself! Now are you going to corporate or am I going to have to force you?” Peter looks scandalized. “Harley!” Stephen shrugged.
“I guess I can go. At least I can help you boys.” Both teens smiled at him. “Let’s get you ready for the ball!” Peter says, grabbing his wand from Harley and dragging Stephen into the house.
Harley grabbed a few things from different rooms as they headed towards the sitting area, which had a large mirror in it. “You can work on his clothes and I’ll work on getting him a ride.” Harley tells Peter before going back outside.
“Let’s try to find you an outfit! Bippity boppity boop!” He says waving his wand at Stephen. Stephen felt his clothes transform into a pastel pink suit with a baby blue trim. Peter shook his head. “This doesn’t match your eyes at all!” He tells Stephen. “Bippity boppity boop!” He says again.
This time Stephen feels his clothes shift again and now he is wearing tacky multi color pants and a flower printed shirt. Both of them grimace. “Nope.” Peter says and waves his wand. “Bippity boppity boop!” Stephen feels his clothes turn into a beautiful flowing blue gown. Peter sighed again.
“I’m sorry. I always seem to get dresses.” He tells the man. Stephen smiles. “Peter, I think this is perfect!” He tells him. Peter perks up. “Really? No one seems to like my dresses.” Someone made an offended noise from behind them. Harley was leaning against the door frame. “I always like your dresses!” He tells Peter. “Well you don’t count.” Peter tells Harley. “Why not?”
“Because I said so!” Peter says loudly. Stephen decides to interject, not wanting an argument to start. “I still need shoes.” He tells them. “Shoes? I can do shoes.” Harley says. “What kind of shoes do you want? Boots, sandals-”
“I want stilettos.” He interjects. Harley looks at him before shrugging. He takes two small stones out of his pocket and puts them on the ground. “Abra kadabra!” He waves his wand. Nothing happens. “Wrong words.” Peter tells him. Harley, being mature, sticks his tongue out.
“Bippity boppity boop!” He waves his wand and the smooth stones turn into baby blue stilettos. Stephen grabs them and puts them on his feet. “Do you know how to walk in those?” Peter asks. Stephen scoffs. “Of course I do. Let’s go see my ride, shall we?” Both boys nod and they all head outside.
In front of the small house there was an elegant carriage with a horse and a horseman. However, looking closer, Stephen could tell that the horse’s fur was more like scales and the horseman’s eyes seemed too large for his head. Stephen turned to Harley. “Is that horse a snake? And is that horseman a frog?” He asked. Harley shrugged. “I worked with what I had.” He tells him.
Peter snaps his fingers. “Before we forget! You have to be back by 12 o’clock. That is when the spells will unravel. Your shoes will turn into stones, your dress will turn back into your normal clothes, and your carriage will turn back into a potato.”
“You made my carriage out of a potato?” He asked incredulously. In response Harley shoulders him into the carriage and nods towards the horseman. “Have a nice night!” Peter calls as Stephen begins his trip to the palace.
***
The journey to the palace was quite long, but very worth it. When Stephen layed eyes on Stark palace, he could not hold back a gasp.
The palace had tall towers and large walls. Banners with the Stark emblem were flying high on flag posts. Stephen could hear the sound of horses through the left side of the wall.
As they drew closer to the palace walls, the carriage slowed to a stop. There was a knock on the door and Stephen stuck his head out of the window.
“Business?” A large guard asked him. “I’m here for the prince’s ball.” Stephen says. The guard nodded and waved to someone to open the gates. “You’re good to go sir.” The guard tells him, and the carriage starts to move again.
As they come to the entrance of the palace, the carriage slows to a stop. Stephen opens the door and carefully steps out. He only stumbles for a second before finding his balance on the high heeled shoes. He picks up the bottom of his dress so it’s not dragging, and walks up to the large doors in the front.
“Are you here for the Prince’s ball?” The one of the guards by the door asked him. Stephen nodded. The guard nodded and opened the door. “If you’re nobility go to the left and someone will announce you, if you're not, just go straight in.” Stephen nods and goes straight towards the open door and into the ballroom.
Stephen looked around in breathless awe. The ball room is huge- big enough to fit multiple medium sized houses and still have room for more.
He scanned the room, looking for familiar faces. He spotted one or two people from his own village, but most were faces he didn’t recognize, probably from other villages in the kingdom. A waiter walked up to him, holding a tray of drinks. “Would you like one, sir?” He asked. Stephen was about to say yes, until he looked down and caught sight of his shaky hands. He shook his head. “No thank you.” He says and the waiter turns and walks away.
Stephen had been wandering the dance floor when he caught sight of his siblings staring enviously at a group of people. He decided to move closer and see what they were talking about.
“I should be the one over there with him.” He hears Donna say. Victor scoffs. “As if. No, I should be the one over there.” Upon closer look Stephen could see a man in a well fitting red suit with gold trim in the middle of the people. Everyone in the group seemed to be focusing on him. It was the prince, Stephen realized.
Now that Stephen had seen the prince, he couldn’t seem to look anywhere else. Even from a distance, Stephen could see that he was extremely handsome. He had honey brown eyes and a smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts. His red suit was perfectly tailored, with gold stitching around the waist and on the ends of the sleeves and coat.
Stephen was wrong when he thought Victor looked like a prince. Victor looked like a beggar next to the star that was Anthony Edward Stark. Their eyes met across the room. Anthony smiled at him from across the room and Stephen felt his heart skip a beat. He blushed and turned away, heading to one of the waiters.
The waiter handed him a glass and Stephen started sipping at it, willing his face to cool down and his hands to not shake. When the glass was empty, Stephen handed it to a waiter and was about to start walking again, when someone came up behind him.
“Hey.” Stephen jumped and spun around, both things a hard feat in high heels. It was Prince Anthony. “H-Hello Prince Anthony.” The prince waved his hand in the air. “Call me Tony, Anthony sounds too stuck up.” Stephen smiled. “I thought Anthony was a noble name.” Prince Tony snorted. “Oh I like you. You’ve got spunk. So, what’s the name, my fine fellow?
Stephen blushed. “My name is Stephen.” The prince smirked. “Well then Stephen,” The prince practically purred his name, making Stephen want to swoon, “Would you care to join me for a dance?” Stephen shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. “I-I don’t really know how to dance.” He tells him. “Why not? Surely everyone is lining up to dance with such a handsome man as you.” Stephen shrugged. “People don’t like my hands.” The prince looked quizzical and Stephen held up his trembling hands.
The prince gently takes one of Stephen’s damaged hands in his calloused work hardened ones. “I think they’re beautiful.” He tells the man, before lifting the hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to it. Stephen fights the urge to swoon.
The prince looks at him playfully. “And besides, I can teach you how to dance.” He tells the man. Stephen agrees and Prince Tony leads him to the dance floor.
The prince gently guides him through the moves and steps. They were now almost effortlessly going through the steps when the prince brings up a topic Stephen was perfectly happy to ignore. “You know, I’m sort of looking for someone to get married to.” Stephen snorts. “You don’t want to marry me.” He tells the prince. “And why not? You seem like the perfect suitor.” Stephen moves away from the prince. “I’m really not.” He tells him. “I think I should be able to decide for myself who I want to marry.” Tony says. Stephen sighs.
“And I agree with you, but still, you deserve someone better than me. Someone that’s still functional.” Prince Tony looks like he’s about to start arguing, when Stephen catches sight of the clock. Five till twelve. Stephen pales. “I have to go.” He tells the prince, before hurting to the door. “Wait!” He calls, but Stephen isn’t listening. He makes it to the door and runs outside, losing one of his shoes.
Stephen barely notices the lost shoe as he runs towards his carriage, the Prince still cashing him. Stephen trips over his long dress before throwing the door open and telling the horseman to drive. The carriage starts moving and the prince chases after it until it becomes too fast. He watches it go with a heart broken look on his face. Stephen wants to go back and tell him that it isn’t his fault, but he can’t bring himself to do it. The prince deserved better than him.
A few minutes later the carriage slowed to a stop and started to shrink. Stephen quickly pushed open the door and threw himself out. When he turned to look back at the carriage, he saw it had turned into a potato with pins sticking out where the wheels were. He felt the clothes he was wearing shimmer and shift until; he was left wearing his dirty work clothes. He sighed. Good things never last for him.
He picked up the pin filled potato and the stone sticking to his foot and put them in his pocket, along with the frog he had seen hopping around. He looked around for the snake and found it was still a horse. He looked around and sighed. He was still too far from town to walk home, and he couldn't leave the snake here.
He steeled his nerves and approached the horse. He quickly hopped on and started off on a slow trot. When he got home he was tired from the ride and his nerves were fried from jumping at everything that seemed to move in the forest. He carefully slid off the horse and it immediately became a snake that slithered out into the garden. Stephen sighed and let the frog go, before going inside the empty house.
His family had opted to stay in an inn near the palace, so he was going to be alone tonight and tomorrow. He trudged up the hall to his room and didn’t bother putting on clean clothes, simply opting to fall down on the bed and go to sleep.
***
Tony sat down at the table, head in his hands. It was all going so well. What did he do wrong? He felt his butler, Jarvis, put a hand on his back. “Sir, maybe you should try to find him. Even if he doesn’t want to get married, you can still get to know him better.”
Tony sighed again. “But how can I find him again Jarvis? The shoe was fairy magic and turned back into a stone.” Jarvis seemed to ponder this for a moment. “Isn’t Thor’s brother Loki a fairy godfather?”
Tony nodded and sat up. “So what?” He asked Jarvis. “Why don’t you ask Loki if he can replicate the spell for a time so we can see if it fits anyone.” Tony looked at Jarvis incredulously. “Why would I do that? Plenty of people have the same sized foot in this kingdom.” Jarvis nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Was there anything that made him stand out?” Tony pondered this for a moment.
“His hands were injured and he seemed to like the healing arts.” Jarvis seemed to ponder for a moment. “Why don’t we check the records for someone who is- or used to be- a healer near his age.” Tony nods. It was the best bet at finding him. “His name was Stephen.” He tells Jarvis.
Jarvis nods. “I’ll make sure to tell them that.” He says, and leaves the room. Tony sighed. He really hoped they were able to find the handsome man who had taken a place in his heart.
Tony jumped as a heavy stack of paper landed on his desk. He looked up at Rhodey, who had dropped the paper. “What is this, Honeybear?”
“It’s a list of men who match your description, all nobility.” Tony furrowed his brow. “I don’t think he’s nobility, Rhodey.” The prince says. Rhodey sighs. “Just look through the paper. One of them might be him. And Pepper worked hard on getting those.” Tony sighs and nods. “I’ll look through them.” He promises.
Rhodey leaves and Tony looks at the large stack. He sighs. This is going to take forever.
Tony was still going through the papers when he spotted a familiar name on one of the records. The record was for a woman named Christine Palmer. Tony didn’t know how it got in there, as he was looking for men, but he was glad it did. “Christine Palmer, age 23 blah blah blah trained under Healer Helen Cho alongside Stephen Strange.” Tony smiled. He had a name. “Jarvis!”
***
“I can’t believe the prince didn’t choose me! He spent the entire ball looking at some jerk in a dress.” Stephen smiles a little as he hears Donna rant. Even if he’s never going to see the prince again, it doesn’t take away the satisfaction of hearing Donna and Victor complain about being ignored for him. Not that they knew it was him, mind you, but still.
Stephen heard a knock at the door, and saw Donna get up to answer it. He heard a gasp when it opened and Donna started stuttering. “H-Hi! W-What are you doing here? My name’s Donna. What's yours? Wait, that's silly, I already know your name.” Donna trails off and a familiar voice starts to talk.
“I’m uh… I’m looking for Stephen Strange.” Stephen can practically feel Donna’s scowl. “STEPHEN! GET OVER HERE!” Stephen sets down the rag he was using to clean the counter and walks over to the door where the prince was standing. Tony grinned at him. “Hey.” Stephen smiled slightly in response. “Hi.”
“So, I know we might not know each other very well, but I just- I just have this feeling. Stephen Strange, will you marry me?” Stephen smiled softly and walked towards the prince. “Yes.”
Tony smiles and leans forward, before hesitating. Stephen, however, doesn't hesitate and grabs the lapels of his jacket, pulling him into a kiss.
It wasn’t an automatic happily ever after, as they still had to get to know each other better, and there was the matter of Stephen’s family, but it was close, and they were happy.
#ironstrange#ao3 author#au#crossposted on ao3#prince tony stark#tony stark#Stephen Strange#happy ending#Stephen is afraid of horses#Stephen kinda hates his hands#fairytale#Fairytale Au
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You seem like a nice person & I don't have anyone to talk to, so I hope it's okay to make a confession to you? I'm tired of creating for IronStrange. Nobody seems to like what I do & I don't get any recognition, even though I have been in the fandom since IW. I don't know what I'm doing wrong & if my art is really that bad that nobody cares. Nobody will tell me, everyone I ask always says it looks amazing, but they're either lying or the rare exception. I'm just tired of being overlooked.
First of all: Virtual hugs! (If you want them.)
I'm glad that I come across like a nice person, I really want to be one! I'm sorry you don't have anyone to talk to and of course you can come to my inbox. 🤍
Without knowing who you are I can really not say anything about your art - although I have spent almost 3,5 years in the Ironstrange fandom by now and I can honestly say that I haven't seen any bad art. Of course there's art I like more and some I like less - that's the nature of art. Be it illustration or words. (I'm looking at the post I made right before answering this ask and am laughing and wincing at the same time. It get it. Really, I do, I'm feeling this so hard I want to wrap you up in a hug and cry into your shoulder at the same time.)
Also, I can't imagine that you don't get any recognition? Probably not nearly as much as you want (because, really, is there ever enough? Let's be honest here) but none? Sorry, I really can't imagine that.
Your art is great just because you made it. It's an integral part of Ironstrange fandom, especially since you've been here for so long. I'm sure you have a lot of silent fans. Hell, I'm probably one of them! (I've been really bad at reblogging and even worse at adding tags. I'm sorry.)
I'm not really sure if this rambling, Aperol-filled answer is of any help to you but please know that you're not alone out there with your feelings. There's at least one lonely writer who's paddling in the boat right next to yours and I'm pretty sure there's an armada of us out there. (Ugh. Sorry for that. That was bad.)
#inbox#anonymous#i'm sorry you're feeling so bad anon and i want you to know that you're treasured#no matter what you might tell yourself#you're here and every single artist who creates for ironstrange is important and beautiful and has an amazing taste in pairings
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