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Oh hey look!! It's time for the IronStrange Week Announcement!! The reveal of dates and prompts for IronStrange Week 2026 is upon us!!!
The dates for IronStrange Week 2026 is July 5-11 2026 and for this years prompts, we decided to ask the people in the server what they wanted to for the prompts.
Prompts
As always, we provide two prompts for each day, but it's a little bit different. Taking into account what the server asked for we divided the prompts into SFW prompts and NSFW prompts. Again you can either do one or both prompts for that day. We will leave the artistic interpretations of the prompts up to you!
SFW NSFW
Day 1 [7/5]: Wings | Magical BDSM
Day 2 [7/6]: Body Swap | Cloakie's Opinion on their Sex Life
Day 3 [7/7]: Mythology | Body Horror
Day 4 [7/8]: Different First Meeting | Micro/Macro
Day 5 [7/9]: Angels & Demons | Body Worship
Day 6 [7/10]: Time Travel | Hate Sex but Make it Soft
Day 7 [7/11]: Outsider POV | Astral Realm
Rules
All forms of fanwork are accepted, including but not limited to digital art, traditional art, fanfiction, poetry/prose, Photoshop, videos/gifs/related multimedia, cosplay, edits, music playlists, etc.
To be added to the blog and featured on the IronStrange Discord server, please (1) tag #ironstrangeweek26 in one of the first five tags of the post and (2) add @ironstrangehaven or @ironstrangeh on Twitter in your description so we can find you!
Any NSFW content must be tagged appropriately and under a “Read More” link ( for those on Twitter, the tweet should list any warnings or any other appropriate information), or it will not be featured on the blog/discord server.
Please submit fanworks to the IronStrange Week Archive of our Own Collection if possible. (The link to the collection will be shared in the next post as we get closer to the event.)
Mind your tags, and tag gore, violence, and other significant tags.
Our Tumblr (@ us or reply to the post on twitter) ask box is open, so don't hesitate to contact us if you have any questions!
NO AI!
IF YOU DON'T HAVE TIME DURING IRONSTRANGE WEEK, YOU CAN STILL POST YOUR WORK AFTER THE WEEK. JUST MENTION US OR USE THE TAG #IRONSTRANGEWEEK26 SO WE CAN FIND YOUR WORK.
If prompts are still open (I hope they are) could you do Tony visiting Stephen in the hospital after his crash? Maybe with some fluff or angst or whatever you feel like :)
I decided to tie this one back to an older ficlet. It felt like it tied in so perfectly, and it gave me a little more space to have some angst and start transitioning into comfort with some background to build on. So, sequel to this one.
You have me.
The words were almost too much. It’d been months, months, since he’d seen Tony. Not since their blowout fight where Stephen wasn’t sure if Tony had walked out or if Stephen had kicked him out. First it had been the anger and frustration that had kept Stephen from reaching back out, but that hadn’t lasted, not long—he’d been angry, but not that angry; surely had Tony known that?—as slowly the uncertainty had crept in. Because Stephen hadn’t reached out, but neither had Tony, and what did that mean?
Stephen hadn’t known, hadn’t been able to convince himself to reach out and get that answer. But he also… he also hadn’t been able to let go of what they’d had, wondering if they’d broken it forever, hoping they hadn’t, but being trapped in a limbo of his own making.
For a long moment they sat in uncertain silence. Because all of that was true, except Tony was here.
“I’ve lost everything,” Stephen said, the words ripping from him. That truth had haunted him from the moment he’d woken up. His gaze flickered away from Tony and back to his hands. Every cut, every pin, every unmistakable sign that his whole world had been shattered.
Tony didn’t answer for a long moment. “Do you want comfort or brutal reality?”
In any other situation, Stephen would laugh. “You’ve always given me the brutal reality. I don’t see why you would change that now.” Even if Stephen wanted comfort. Even if Stephen wanted Tony to tell him that, somehow, Stephen would survive this.
Tony stood, leaning carefully in, pressing a gentle kiss to Stephen’s temple before he shifted until his forehead rested against Stephen’s, somehow managing to avoid the cuts and bruises there. It was a touch of comfort, perhaps meant to soften the upcoming reality. “You were the best neurosurgeon in the country.” Were. Were. That single word was a dagger in Stephen’s soul. Brutal reality indeed. “But you are still the lead researcher in nerve regeneration. You are still one of the most brilliant minds in neuroscience, despite working 50 hour weeks in the hospital. Your research, Stephen, is going to save thousands of lives for years to come. You don’t need a scalpel in your hand to do that.”
Stephen wasn’t sure that was enough. For years, all he’d ever wanted was that scalpel in his hand.
“And,” Tony continued quietly. “For what it’s worth, you have me. I’m not going anywhere.” Tony let out a quiet, pained sigh. “I should have never gone the first time; I have regretted it every day since.”
Every day. Tony had wanted to come back. So why hadn’t he? Why hadn’t Stephen asked him to? “Every day?” Stephen whispered. “It might have taken me a few more days than that to regret it,” old habit kicking in with some failed attempt to tease. “I was pissed at you.”
Tony laughed softly. “I think it probably took you a little longer than that to miss me. You’re stubborn.”
Not that long. Stephen had missed Tony from the very start, even beneath the frustration. But Stephen supposed Tony was right in that it might have taken Stephen a while to admit it. “You really won’t leave?” he asked. He needed to hear Tony say it again. Needed it like he needed to breathe.
“I’m here,” Tony said, promise both cashmere and steel at the same time. Comfort and certainty. “I’m staying. You haven’t lost everything, Stephen. You will never lose everything, not as long as I have a say in it.”
Summary: There was no way Stephen was not an alpha. Even though he lacked the typical scent – it had something to do with magic – there was no doubt about it. He exuded a sharpness and carried an aura of command that was impossible to ignore. And yes, Tony might have a small crush on him. So where did that leave them?
Tags: Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha Stephen Strange, actually Omega Stephen Strange, Fluff, Miscommunication, Oblivious Tony Stark, Friends to Lovers, idiots in love
Author's note: Tony finally learns the truth. (Beta by @kvjjjjjj )
Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 2.2k | Previous | Next (soon)
Chapter: 5 The reveal
Stephen has been avoiding Tony ever since that gala. Tony came to the conclusion that he must have said or done something to piss the alpha off. That wasn’t unusual for the engineer, but usually, he had an idea of what he did wrong.
Tony hated not knowing. He was usually so good at reading people, but this… this was different. Normally, he could tell when he pissed someone off, especially Stephen.
He remembered being more than slightly drunk towards the end of the night, but he still had a good grasp of his memory of the event. He didn’t insult magic, didn’t ignore any lab safety protocols, and didn’t jump headfirst into danger – all of those actions that were prone to rile up the sorcerer easily.
They had simply shared a drink together and talked. It was nice. Tony had almost made a move on the other alpha; maybe he would have asked him to go to the roof terrace or somewhere else more private, where they could enjoy a more intimate atmosphere away from the prying eyes of the gala attendees. Stephen had been looking sharp in his suit, and even better without his jacket, his forearms exposed in a way that was both casual and alluring. The way the fabric clung to his form had made Tony’s heart race.
Tony knew it was a delicate topic. Some alphas were peculiar and didn’t like having even the slightest implication that they might be interested in an alpha-alpha relationship. However, noticing how comfortable Tony and Stephen were around each other, and with the way Stephen allowed the engineer to be close, Tony was pretty sure Stephen felt secure enough in his second gender to not react with hostility should he suggest it. More than that, with the glances Tony sometimes caught from the sorcerer, he was convinced they were, if not on the same page, at least reading the same book.
But the meeting with the Senator had interrupted them before Tony could make a move. So, it couldn’t be that either. It must be something else entirely.
Stephen didn’t pick up his phone and didn’t reply to his texts. Tony knew the sorcerer wasn’t off-world because he had actually seen a glimpse of him in the compound the other day. Stephen had quickly left through a portal before Tony was able to reach him, leaving behind a sense of unresolved tension. The fleeting sight of Stephen had only deepened Tony's concern, as he could sense that something was amiss.
Something was up, and Tony was determined to find out what it was. Which was why he entered the Sanctum with some take-out bags in hand. It was always good to arrive with a bribe and a peace offering.
As he walked through the entrance hall, Wong crossed his path, eyeing him. “He’s in his study,” the beta stated unprompted.
There was really only one reason for Tony Stark to be in the Sanctum, so it wasn’t difficult to guess who he was looking for. There was something about the way Wong said it – not surprised but almost relieved that Tony had finally decided to show up. It looked like Tony was right: something was wrong and Stephen had been bothering Wong these past two weeks about it.
Tony nodded his thanks and wordlessly handed him one of the bags. There went the bribe.
With a determined stride, he headed towards the study on the second floor. He had been there before; whenever a project had forced them out of the library, which was their favored working space, but was ruled by Wong with an iron fist.
Tony knocked on the door, but didn’t give the sorcerer time to answer before he opened it and stepped inside. The sight that greeted him was familiar: Stephen was sitting at his desk, surrounded by stacks of books that seemed to tower like a fortress around him. He looked up when Tony entered, and various emotions flitted across his face – frustration, surprise, and perhaps a hint of vulnerability – too fast to analyze properly before settling into a mask of neutral chagrin.
Tony raised the other bag. “I brought food.”
That was the peace offering.
Stephen eyed the bag for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he turned back to his work, dismissing the offering with a wave of his hand. “I’m busy, Stark,” he replied curtly, his tone suggesting that the matter at hand was of greater importance than any culinary distraction.
It appeared that the offering had been denied by the council of one, and Tony felt a flicker of frustration rise within him. However, he was not one to be dissuaded easily. He placed the bags on the table, ensuring they remained in Stephen's field of vision, a silent reminder of his presence and intent. With a deep breath, he decided to take the direct route.
“I did something that pissed you off. Why don’t you tell me what it was, so I can apologize and we can move on?”
Stephen made a grumbling noise. “You didn’t ‘piss me off’. I simply misjudged what we are to each other,” he replied, his gaze fixed on the scattered pages and tomes before him, avoiding any direct eye contact with Tony. He didn’t regard the other alpha in any other way than he would an irritating apprentice.
Tony frowned, still not seeing a connection between the last time they saw each other and the sorcerer’s words. Did something happen in between? Something he didn’t know of?
“Please enlighten me. What are we to each other?” he asked confused, and with a beating heart, because that was a loaded question after all.
He thought they had been pretty close. There had been layers he hadn’t unraveled yet; he had been content to simply be there for the ride, watching where it would take them.
Stephen’s next words hit him like a bullet into his chest, shattering something fragile within him.
“Clearly we are not friends.”
Tony staggered, the air pressed out of his lungs as if he had been punched in the gut. For a moment, his vision narrowed to a tunnel, and it took him a moment to realize that the feeling coursing through him was a deep, visceral ache that he hadn’t anticipated.
Stephen still refused to look at him.
Anger surged within Tony, a more manageable substitute for confronting the raw ache in his chest. “How dare you say that?” he spat, his hands balling into fists at his sides, the heat of his frustration bubbling to the surface. “And would you please look at me!”
He grabbed the armrest of Stephen’s chair and turned it, forcing the sorcerer to face him. With one hand on each armrest, Tony leaned dangerously close.
Finally, their eyes met – and Tony was taken aback by the hurt he saw in Stephen’s face. Shit, whatever the engineer had done, he must have really screwed up. The realization stomped the anger right out of him.
Stephen stood up abruptly, forcing Tony to take a step back, the sudden movement creating a chasm between them. The sorcerer carefully adjusted his expression into a neutral mask, a façade that Tony wanted to peel right off. He felt a surge of frustration at Stephen’s unwillingness to cooperate.
“Do you really want me to spell it out?” Stephen asked.
“Please do!”
Stephen exhaled forcefully, his breath escaping in a huff. “You gave quite a passionate monologue about how alphas and omegas can’t be close friends. And that you only tolerate me because of my lack of scent.”
That… didn’t actually help clarify it at all for Tony. It only added to the amount of questions he had.
“What are you talking about? I don’t just tolerate you. You are one of the most amazing alphas I know!” His voice was earnest, filled with sincerity.
Stephen stared at him like Tony had spontaneously grown a second head. “I’m no alpha,” he finally mustered to say, his tone laced with a hint of exasperation.
Tony drew his brows together, confusion knitting his features. “But you told me you aren’t a beta, and your lack of scent is due to magic.” The pieces of the puzzle were there, but they just wouldn’t fit together in a way that made sense.
“Tony, I’m an omega,” Stephen stated flatly.
Tony’s mind came to a screeching halt, the revelation crashing over him like a tidal wave. He was sure he had misheard. “What?” he asked, dumbfounded, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Did you seriously not know?” Stephen’s tone was incredulous, as if he couldn’t fathom how Tony could have missed this.
“I… how would I?” Tony asked, still grappling with the enormity of the revelation. “You never specifically told me.”
“That’s not exactly something people announce to each other,” Stephen retorted, somewhat defensive, his posture rigid.
Tony put his hand on his hips. “People usually don’t lack scents! And you have to admit you don’t exactly sport typical omega traits and behavior.”
That had been the wrong thing to say, judging by the snarl Stephen let out. Somehow Tony had a great talent to poke his finger right into sore spots.
“Well, I am an omega and you are an alpha, which means – by your own logic – we can’t have a long and lasting friendship because of our pheromones and instincts. So save your breath and just leave.”
“No!”
“What do you mean ‘no’?”
With the way Stephen was holding himself, Tony still had trouble seeing him as omega. He was tall like an alpha, and sure he wasn’t as bulky as some of them, but, to be honest, having Steve Rogers or Thor as reference wasn’t fair. In fact, everything about the sorcerer screamed the opposite of omega. The way he carried himself with an air of quiet confidence and an intensity in his gaze made it difficult for Tony to reconcile the image of an docile omega with the man standing before him.
“I mean…” What did Tony actually mean? The words felt heavy on his tongue, a jumble of emotions swirling within him. He just knew he didn’t want to lose Stephen, to lose what they had – whatever that was… or rather had been, before Tony had put his foot in his mouth.
The situation was getting out of control – and that was something Tony was not used to. His brain was working overtime, thinking of how to salvage this. He tried to think of everything he had said to Stephen that night; and now with the revelation the sorcerer had just thrown at him – Stephen being an omega – it wasn't difficult to see where he had offended him.
“I…” Tony began, but his thoughts were jumbled. The realization struck like a tidal wave, and he felt the weight of his ignorance. “I didn't mean you when I said that,” the engineer finally managed to say.
Stephen snorted. “Oh, you did,” he spat back, his jaw clenched. “The fact that you – apparently – didn’t know I am very much an omega changes nothing about your opinion.”
“It changes everything!” Tony was almost yelling at this point, and his unexpected loud voice caused Stephen to instinctively take a step back. The sorcerer stopped himself, planting his feet into the ground, willing himself not to back down from the alpha voice.
But Tony had noticed it, and he hated that he made Stephen flinch. He hated that they were having this fight. He hated everything about this. He wanted to curl his arms around the other alph-… omega and hold him close, soothe him.
“I was wrong,” he admitted with a sigh.
This was probably news worthy; Tony Stark openly admitting to be in the wrong. Paparazzi should jump out from behind the shelves, take his photo and written statement. There should be broadcast a national wide breaking news, going viral on whatever platform was currently hip.
None of that happened. Instead, the silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.
Stephen kept looking at him, visibly sad now. “Please, leave me alone. Take your food and go.”
Tony’s instinct roared to protest. He wanted to argue, to convince Stephen that he could fix this. The only way he knew how to deal with any problem was to push, push, push. But he knew Stephen well enough to realize that if he wanted any chance to salvage this, he needed to give him space.
Begrudgingly, he picked up the bags. The request stung even more because it clearly reduced them to the roles of their secondary genders. Alphas were meant to provide food to omegas, and during courting the gesture carried even more special meaning. It was old-fashioned but still very well practiced.
By rejecting the take-out, Stephen made it clear he wanted no trace of the alpha left in his personal space. Even more, he didn’t even want the option to have the food Tony brought along as a comfort in Tony’s absence.
The realization hit Tony like a cold wave, washing over him with a chilling clarity. This was exactly what he meant when he talked about alpha and omega friendships. Yet, it was his own fault that he ended up in this situation, because he had been so lulled by the convenience of the lack of scent, that somehow, he got a whole intricate part of Stephen wrong. He had misread the signs, misjudged Stephen’s behavior, and now he was left standing in the aftermath of his own mistakes. The rejection stung, but it was deserved.
Accepting his defeat for today, he cast one last glance at the sorcerer, who stood resolute, even though there were many emotions bubbling underneath that blank face. Tony could see the flicker of hurt in Stephen’s eyes, the way his lips pressed into a thin line, and it made his heart ache. He wanted to reach out, but he was aware that any attempt would only push Stephen further away.
With a heavy heart, Tony turned and left the study, the door clicking shut behind him, the weight of his own mistakes pressing down on him.
"If you already know me through 14 million lifetimes, shouldn't you be tired of me by now?"
“You’ve been quiet,” Stephen said, watching Tony from the corner of his eye as the movie ended and silence set in.
Stephen knew Tony preferred to have vulnerable conversations without the pressure of eye contact. Tony’s greatest fear and his greatest desire were one and the same: to be seen, to be known. And Stephen knew Tony. At this point, all Stephen could do was hold himself in check and wait for Tony to be comfortable with that. If Tony let them get that far.
“I don’t get it,” Tony said after a long silence, tone frustrated, yet somehow uncertain. “I’ve tried to understand it, but it doesn’t make sense.”
Stephen snorted. “You? Don’t understand something?”
“Oh shut up,” Tony muttered. A tired sigh followed. “Shouldn’t you be tired of me by now?” he asked. “You’ve known me through 14 million lifetimes. How in the world aren’t you tired of me? How in the world could you possibly still love me?”
Ah.
This conversation always came eventually. Because Tony’s greatest fear was to be seen and known and that fear threatened to overwhelm Tony. Tony who knew—though he was wrong—that anyone who saw him would only ever be disappointed. Would only ever walk away.
Almost everyone in Tony’s life had walked away, at one point or another.
This conversation… Stephen had to get it right. Stephen took a deep breath; he had to take a risk, now. He shifted to face Tony and waited. He disliked using silence as his tool of choice, but right now it was necessary. It took a few minutes, but Tony finally sighed and turned to meet Stephen’s gaze, fear lurking.
“Do you remember the fight on Titan—” Tony rolled his eyes, the expression saying obviously without Tony having to say a word, ”—when I used magic to stop Thanos’ blackhole?”
“It was memorable,” Tony said, clearly wondering what this had to do with anything. “It made butterflies.”
“Yes,” Stephen said. “My magic consumed the blackhole, that excess energy dispersed by manifesting. Magic, when manifested without intent, takes a form unique to the sorcerer.”
Tony’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Your magic manifests as butterflies?”
“It does now,” Stephen told him. “It didn’t before Titan.”
Tony blinked, then nodded slowly. “14 million timelines. That would change you. And your magic changed with you.”
“Exactly,” Stephen said. “When I first turned to magic, I turned to it in a mix of desperation and hope. Slowly, eventually, hope won. Ever since, my magic has taken the form that most closely represents hope to me.”
“Butterflies,” Tony said, smiling now.
“Yes. And no. The butterflies represented hope, and hope means you. The butterflies represent you.”
Confusion crossed Tony’s face. “Me?” A pause. “Butterflies? Seriously?”
“Yes,” Stephen answered. “You know what they say about the flutter of a butterfly’s wing? How it changes everything?” Stephen brought his hand up to cup Tony’s cheek. “You’re that butterfly. Chaotic, impossible to predict, though I have gotten good at it. I know you better than anyone in this world, Tony; yet somehow you still surprise me.” Stephen smiled softly. “I love every piece of you. Knowing you changed me, because you change everything you touch. Change is hope, and you brought me hope 14 million times. How could I possibly not love you?”
Tony stared into his eyes, searching. Stephen saw Tony, knew Tony; in this moment he would do anything he could to let Tony see him in return.
“I’m your butterfly, huh?” Tony asked, voice soft.
Stephen smiled. “Yes. You’re hope. You’re change. And you’re everything I want.”
Stephen having a very public breakdown after a really hard day mentally and physically with his hands and he's embarrassed about it, but Tony comforts him and helps him through it?
This breakdown is a bit understated, and you may have been looking for something more dramatic, but I feel like something more dramatic would involve anger as a less vulnerable method of expressing for how upset he is (or maybe just as a cover for how upset and exhausted he is), and I felt like Stephen would have a hard time accepting comfort after an angry outburst.
-
The champagne glass slips out of Stephen’s grip and hits the polished floor with a crash that seems to echo. Looking down at it, Stephen sees the champagne splash at least three feet away. It wets his shoes, and the shoes of two other people within range, one of whom is wearing a pair of very expensive heels.
He’s still holding his hand as if cradling the glass.
To his horror, Stephen can feel tears welling up. On any other day he might laugh it off, signal a waiter, clean up with some clever spell. But today, today he has been awake for thirty-six hours, first monitoring the wards, and then off to Peru with three colleagues to handle an attack on the astral plane, and one of them had been injured and he’d spent hours casting spells to keep her anchored to her body, and his hands had already been aching when that started. He has eaten nothing but hors d'oeuvres in the last sixteen hours, and when he tried to beg off this event he was informed—regretfully, but honestly—that attendance was not optional. He is exhausted, and it’s only now, when something as trivial as a dropped glass sends tears running down his cheeks, that he realizes he’s been hanging on by a thread emotionally as well as physically.
Stephen raises a hand to cover his eyes, but the tears are dripping off his chin and an involuntary sob wracks his shoulders. It’s humiliatingly clear in the bubble of silence expanding from around him.
Someone touches his elbow lightly. “Sir—”
“Do not touch me,” Stephen snaps, his voice thick.
The touch retreats, “Perhaps you’d like a moment—”
Stephen has to laugh, a humorless thing. “A moment. A moment. If only I could stop time.” There’s a hysterical edge that he doesn’t like to the words.
“Stephen.”
It’s a familiar voice, Tony’s voice, which is the only reason Stephen doesn’t lose it when an arm settles around his waist. He drops his hand and lets Tony shuffle him into another room. Possibly a bathroom, though they’re only in the little antechamber that fancy bathrooms have. They sit on the little bench there, and Stephen’s thinking, I’m sorry, but when he turns to Tony—gorgeous in a black suit, not a hair out of place, eyes soft—instead of speaking Stephen falls apart completely. He ends up sobbing into the curve of Tony’s throat, warm hands gently stroking his back, his own throbbing hands resting awkwardly between them, palm up.
God knows how long it goes on. When the tears finally dry up Stephen feels thick headed. His eyes are sore and his back aches a little from where he’s bent over to lean on Tony. He straightens up, flushing, and attempts to wipe his eyes with the backs of his wrists. “Sorry.”
Tony smiles wryly. “Ask me about the time I had a panic attack in a restaurant some time,” he says.
Stephen’s return smile is weak. They’ve all got their scars, literal and otherwise. “I will. Another time.”
Tony nods. “You want to talk about it?”
“God, no,” Stephen says with feeling, and Tony laughs. “At the moment,” Stephen goes on, “I’d prefer to just disappear.”
“Permanent disappearances aren’t my area,” Tony says lightly, “but I can offer a limited disappearance from this event. FRIDAY’s had your prescription filled—” which shouldn’t have been permitted, but Stephen wasn’t going to complain “—and dinner will be waiting for us by the time we get to my place.”
“Please tell me you aren’t driving.”
It comes out less like a joke and more like a plea. Stephen swallows hard but Tony just snorts. “We will be in Happy’s capable hands.”
Tony puts his arm around Stephen again when he walks him out.
Tall, dark and handsome was exactly Tony's type. Tall, dark, handsome and a smarky asshole? Tony was in love...
Tony leaned against the bar, bored out of his mind. Tony genuinely enjoyed most galas. Galas meant people, and people were fascinating. Tonight, however, was failing the interest test. Whoever the interesting people at this gala were, Tony hadn’t found them, yet.
He eyed the man who’d just approached the bar. Tony gave him a quick once over. Tall, dark, and handsome? 100 percent Tony’s type.
The man glanced at Tony, an all-too-familiar once over followed by a smirk meant the man liked what he saw. Tony made sure his own once over and accompanying interest was just as obvious. Tony wasn’t surprised when, after the bartender handed the man his glass, the man moved closer.
“Not everyone can make bored out of their mind look good. Not enjoying yourself?”
Tony shrugged. “Everyone is on their best behavior tonight; it’s no fun that way.” Everyone was so excessively polite. There was nothing more boring than polite.
That earned him a snort. “You’re in a room that’s 65 percent doctors, 15 percent hospital directors, and 20 percent donors. Which of those groups, exactly, did you expect to be impolite?”
“Have you met half these donors?” Tony asked. “There have been literal fights between some of them.”
The man arched an eyebrow. “Are arguments that entertaining?”
“Someone ended up with a black eye, last time,” Tony said, amused at the memory. “Cassandra Denizen has a mean right hook.” He smirked. “It was shockingly attractive.” Joseph Patterson had been an utter misogynist. He’d deserved it. “I might have invited her home.”
“A fist fight?” The man pursed his lips with exaggerated concern. “I hope that’s not a requisite to an invitation home; my oath to do no harm might get in the way.”
“Pity,” Tony said, amused at the imagery of this gorgeous, put together man, getting in a fist fight. “It would have spiced up the evening.”
The man leaned against the bar. “If you want injuries, however, I’ll have you know I excel at puncturing egos.”
Punctured egos? With some of tonight’s donors that would be entertaining—Joseph Patterson was here again and Tony throughly enjoyed seeing that man brought down a peg. “Interesting proposition. Am I on the list?”
“That’d be counterintuitive to earning an invite home,” the man pointed out. “But I suspect you have a few people whose egos you’d like to see punctured.” Tony was normally willing to do that himself, but… “I’m willing to give a demonstration.”
This evening suddenly promised to be far more entertaining. He offered his arm. “The name’s Tony. Care for a pass around the room?”
The man stepped in, accepting Tony’s arm. “Stephen,” he said. “Now, who’s my first target?”
It took less than three minutes with Joseph Patterson for Tony to wonder if he could convince Stephen that he wanted more than a night. Because tall, dark, and handsome was good for a night. Tall, dark, handsome and so damn snarky that Joseph Patterson’s face turned puce? Tony was in love.
Oh hey look!! It's time for the IronStrange Week Announcement!! The reveal of dates and prompts for IronStrange Week 2026 is upon us!!!
The dates for IronStrange Week 2026 is July 5-11 2026 and for this years prompts, we decided to ask the people in the server what they wanted to for the prompts.
Prompts
As always, we provide two prompts for each day, but it's a little bit different. Taking into account what the server asked for we divided the prompts into SFW prompts and NSFW prompts. Again you can either do one or both prompts for that day. We will leave the artistic interpretations of the prompts up to you!
SFW NSFW
Day 1 [7/5]: Wings | Magical BDSM
Day 2 [7/6]: Body Swap | Cloakie's Opinion on their Sex Life
Day 3 [7/7]: Mythology | Body Horror
Day 4 [7/8]: Different First Meeting | Micro/Macro
Day 5 [7/9]: Angels & Demons | Body Worship
Day 6 [7/10]: Time Travel | Hate Sex but Make it Soft
Day 7 [7/11]: Outsider POV | Astral Realm
Rules
All forms of fanwork are accepted, including but not limited to digital art, traditional art, fanfiction, poetry/prose, Photoshop, videos/gifs/related multimedia, cosplay, edits, music playlists, etc.
To be added to the blog and featured on the IronStrange Discord server, please (1) tag #ironstrangeweek26 in one of the first five tags of the post and (2) add @ironstrangehaven or @ironstrangeh on Twitter in your description so we can find you!
Any NSFW content must be tagged appropriately and under a “Read More” link ( for those on Twitter, the tweet should list any warnings or any other appropriate information), or it will not be featured on the blog/discord server.
Please submit fanworks to the IronStrange Week Archive of our Own Collection if possible. (The link to the collection will be shared in the next post as we get closer to the event.)
Mind your tags, and tag gore, violence, and other significant tags.
Our Tumblr (@ us or reply to the post on twitter) ask box is open, so don't hesitate to contact us if you have any questions!
NO AI!
IF YOU DON'T HAVE TIME DURING IRONSTRANGE WEEK, YOU CAN STILL POST YOUR WORK AFTER THE WEEK. JUST MENTION US OR USE THE TAG #IRONSTRANGEWEEK26 SO WE CAN FIND YOUR WORK.
The next part for Stephen without memories and Tony having them instead would be great! The last part was just now, on the 11th May I think. Thanks so much!
Sequel to one, two, and three.
Stephen knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault—well, not true, whoever had sent that spell at him was clearly somewhat at fault—but he couldn’t help the frustration that was growing stronger and stronger, an ugly pit inside of him.
He felt useless.
Tony and Wong had been researching, talking through potential causes and hopeful fixes. It looked like they were making progress, at least to Stephen’s currently uneducated eye.
“This ones useless,” Tony muttered, setting a book on a pile and then making a quick gesture. A flicker of orange danced around his fingers as the books put themselves away.
“Did you just do magic?” Wong demanded.
Tony looked up, expression teasing. “I know, I know. No magic in the library. I feel like the urgency, however, should give me a little leeway.”
“Stark,” Wong said slowly. “You don’t know magic.”
It took a second, but then Tony’s eyes went wide and he nearly jerked out of his seat, flailing backward and away. “I need—”
He disappeared and Stephen let out a shocked noise. “Where did he go?” he demanded, concern twisting in his chest. Tony was all he remembered, and that fear on Tony’s face… Tony wasn’t supposed to be terrified. Not here and now. Not in a place he was supposed to be safe.
“He must have asked the Sanctum to take him somewhere,” Wong said, tone grim. “The Sanctum is fond of Stark and sought to protect him.”
Stephen looked up at the ceiling, hoping that it was the situation the Sanctum had tried to protect Tony from, and not Stephen himself—the inadvertent cause of Tony’s fear. “I want to help him,” he said, feeling a little desperate. “Will you—”
A shift cut him off as the library disappeared around him. He found himself on the roof. Tony was only a few feet away, on his knees and breathing heavily, staring at his hands where they were flat on the ground. “I am Tony Stark,” Stephen heard him say, a desperation in his tone. “I am Tony Stark. I am the son of Howard and Maria. I have no siblings. My best friends are Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy. I became Iron Man. I am Tony Stark. I am Tony Stark.”
“Tony?” Stephen shifted carefully closer. “Are you okay?”
Tony let out a harsh laugh. “Define okay.”
Stephen grimaced. He didn’t think there was a definition of okay that Tony would want to give an honest answer. “What can I do?” he asked instead.
For a long moment, Tony didn’t answer. “I just… I need to figure out how to get your memories back to you,” he said.
Stephen wanted that, too, for more reasons now than even before. Tony had said it had taken himself time to figure out whether he was Tony or Stephen, but Stephen hadn’t fully realized what that meant. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “This shouldn’t have happened to you.”
“Not your fault,” Tony said. “And if me temporary holding your memories is the alternative to you truly losing your memories, then… then it’s worth it. We’ll get them back to you. We’ll both be… we’ll both be ourselves again.”
Stephen moved closer again, kneeling next to Tony. “Do you need to take a break?” he asked. “Maybe work in the lab. So you feel like you again?” He had a number of memories in Tony’s lab. Tony always looked comfortable there.
Tony looked over at him, brow furrowed. “Stephen, I’m not going to leave you without your memories.”
“I know,” Stephen said. “But if you need to ground yourself as yourself…” he trailed off. “Well, I already lost my memories, I can’t exactly get worse off. A day or so for you to—”
“No,” Tony said, voice sharp. He softened a moment later. “Thank you, Stephen,” he said. “For offering. But I know this is hard for you, too.”
“I don’t want you to lose yourself trying to help me,” Stephen said quietly.
Fear flickered in Tony’s eyes. “I won’t,” he said. “Just… I’ll take ten minute breaks. Eat something. Talk about engineering. Listen to AC/DC.”
“We can do that,” Stephen said. “Play AC/DC while you research.”
Amusement tugged at Tony’s lips. “Wong would kill us.”
“If it will help you, I don’t care,” Stephen retorted.
Tony finally seemed to truly relax. “We’ll save that as our backup plan,” Tony said, a smile in his voice. “Just in case. But let’s not risk Wong’s wrath quite yet.” He pushed himself to his feet, helping Stephen up after him. “Now, let’s try this again. I think Wong and I were almost onto something before… well, before. Let’s get you your memories back.”
Can we have another part to this one? https://www.tumblr.com/airas-story/816457151256133632/checked-my-phone-at-the-perfect?source=share
Sequel to one, two, three, and four.
Stephen’s hands shook a little as he stared at the door in front of them. It looked close to a perfect replica of the door the other had remembered.
“We don’t have to do this,” Tony said, tone sincere, if a little concerned. He’d said it a few times now, each time corresponding to Stephen’s own moments of weakness. Tony had said he believed Stephen, even if Stephen could see that Tony’s belief was emotional, rather than logical.
“Yes we do,” Stephen said. “I need to do this.” Of everything he’d learned while the other had been inside of him, taking over him, Stephen hadn’t learned how to fully protect himself so it could never happen again. He had to. He had to make sure this could never happen again. The people who could teach him that were just beyond this door.
Stephen took a deep breath and stepped forward to knock on the door.
It was less than a minute before the door opened to reveal a man that Stephen thought he recognized. The hair was different, but the face was that of an old friend of the other: Mordo. Suddenly, Stephen couldn’t speak, words lost to him.
“What brings you here?” Mordo asked, when Stephen didn’t speak immediately.
Stephen’s mouth felt dry and after a moment Tony stepped up to stand beside him. “We’re looking for answers,” Tony said. His chin tilted up almost defiantly. “Something—” he stopped. “Someone happened to Stephen. We want to make sure it won’t happen again.”
Hearing Tony say it, it felt almost as though Tony believed Stephen fully. Stephen knew Tony was trying to believe him, that his heart trusted Stephen—even if the other had spent months damaging that heart, ripping at that trust—even if Tony’s brain hadn’t caught up yet. Stephen didn’t blame him, not really, it sounded so… impossible.
Mordo’s brows furrowed in non-comprehension. “Someone?” he asked.
Stephen finally found his voice. “We seek the Ancient One,” Stephen said, voice steadier than he’d expected it to be. Surprise flickered across Mordo’s face, clearly he hadn’t believed they truly knew where they were. “I would prefer not to tell the story twice.”
For a moment it looked like Mordo would deny them, but it didn’t last. He opened the door wider, gesturing for them to enter.
Fear flickered in Stephen’s chest and he wasn’t sure he could move. Tony’s hand caught his, his touch warm and gentle. The touch gave Stephen what he needed to step forward Tony by his side as Mordo led them through Kamar-Taj. Tony’s breath caught the first time they saw actual magic while passing a training space, but he made no other signs that he was surprised. Stephen had explained, briefly, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to show Tony the magic himself.
Not yet.
Magic was the other’s, and if Stephen’s desperate use of it had also saved Stephen, then that just meant Stephen’s feelings on the subject were complicated.
The Ancient One’s rooms were not quite as the other had remembered them, but the tall woman who stood waiting for them, however, looked exactly as the other had remembered her. “Stephen Strange,” she said, gaze scrutinizing. “Your presence here is unexpected.”
Stephen didn’t know what he was feeling, everything in tumult. He clenched Tony’s hand so tightly he had to be hurting him, but Tony didn’t pull away. Stephen swallowed hard. “Please,” he said. His voice shook. “I need your help.”
