noise dept.
No title available
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Today's Document
tannertan36
sheepfilms
No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Sweet Seals For You, Always
EXPECTATIONS
Love Begins
bliss lane
h
Product Placement
RMH
Not today Justin
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Fieri Frames
art blog(derogatory)
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Norway
seen from China
seen from Czechia
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Singapore
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@space-mermaid-writing
Hi, I'm Janora and reading/writing is my passion ♥
You find my main blog with memes, rambling and chaos here @janora00
If you're looking for my masterlists, they are here:
Doctor Strange / Reader
Loki / Reader
IronStrange One-Shots
IronStrange Multi Chapters 1 / IronStrange Multi Chapter 2
Star Trek
Prompts/Requests are currently CLOSED (unless I personally told you something different)
I also have a Ko-Fi if you want to leave a tip
So apparently posting this whole gets it flagged–here is instead the link to a dragon Tony fic I wrote for @janora00 💖
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies), Doctor Strange (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange Characters: Stephen Strange, Tony Stark Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Dragon Tony Stark, Explicit Sexual Content, Historical Fantasy, Medieval Fantasy, Anal Sex, Bottom Stephen Strange, Top Tony Stark, to clarify the sex happens in HUMAN FORMS, this is not that type of fic unfortunately, Not Beta Read Series: Part 1 of The Sun, The Moon, and The Stars | For Janora 💛 Summary:
“Have you been sent to slay me?”
“Yes. But I don’t plan to.”
“Curious and curiouser.”
“I’ve come here more of my own volition than by orders of the king,” he explains. “I’ve come to bargain.”
“Bargain?”
“Yes.” Forget about asinine, he knows this is downright suicidal.
OR
Sorcerer Stephen Strange is sent to defeat Dragon Tony Stark, except that isn’t what happens.
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS, KITTY! 💝 It's so good! Everybody go read it and leave a comment for Kitty. There's a dragon! I'm totally normal about this!
I realized I never posted my belly dancer Stephen art, because I never finished writing that fic... Those hips don't lie
As a bellydancer & a Stephen Strange fan, I wholeheartedly approve this.
Also a polite request if you feel so inclined to finish that fic, I would 1000% read it.
Ps. This is my friend Kamrah. Isn't he awesome?! Go follow him on all the social stuff.
You know, why not. For you I‘ll go find my notes and see if inspiration strikes.
Hidden claims, fierce protection [IronStrange]
Summary: Although Stephen looks human for the most part, his dragon nature is rooted deeply within him. And his basic instinct is simple: protect mate. Shenanigans ensue.
Tags: alternate universe - dragons, dragon Stephen Strange, magical protection, dragon instincts, protective Stephen Strange, bamf Stephen Strange, hurt/comfort, whump Tony Stark, established relationship
Relationship: Tony Stark / Stephen Strange
Author's note: This is the third part of Hidden Scales and Hidden Flames, Honest Hearts. But it can be read individually. Beta by @kvjjjjjj
Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Word count: 5k
Tony’s workshop was everything the Sanctum was not – bright, metallic, humming with electricity and half-finished projects. The air smelled like solder and burnt dust, layered with the bitterness of overbrewed coffee that had been reheated one time too many.
Tony strode in first, all easy confidence and familiar ownership, swiping a hand over a console so the lights rose smoothly. The workshop responded to him immediately, like a well-trained creature recognizing its master.
“You know the drill: don’t touch the prototypes, and if anything starts beeping at you, run.”
It wasn’t the first time Stephen had ever entered Tony’s personal lab, but it was the first time since The Talk™. Since honesty. Since the confession that had rewired something deep in Stephen’s chest and left him feeling both lighter and far more exposed.
Stephen followed a half step behind, deliberately careful. He kept his hands close to his body, fingers tucked in as if resisting the urge to reach out. He stayed close to Tony, his shoulder nearly brushing Tony’s arm, drawn there by instinct even as he tried to rein it in. Dragons knew territory. Dragons knew ownership. Dragons knew the difference between welcome and trespass.
And this was Tony’s territory.
Stephen moved through the space like a guest in a sacred hall. Every tool, every half-built machine, every scattered schematic was treated with quiet reverence. Tony’s personal space, too, was handled gently, his presence approached with the same care Stephen would give an altar or a hoard.
Tony was Stephen’s mate – even if the word still hovered unsaid between them, heavy with meaning. But Tony didn’t live with Stephen, didn’t sleep among wards and relics and centuries of accumulated magic. The separation made sense to Stephen’s human mind, and absolutely none to the dragon beneath it. It left him faintly unsettled, like a puzzle piece forced to fit but never quite locking into place.
They were still finding their rhythm. Yet Stephen felt more secure than he had in a long time; secure in Tony’s feelings, in the warmth that lived behind his sarcasm, and increasingly in the truth of his own emotions.
Stephen had been in this lab before. Dozens of times. And yet today felt different.
The sensation prickled along his spine, a low hum beneath his skin. As a dragon, Stephen was acutely aware of territory – of boundaries, of belonging. This was Tony’s place. Always had been. The lab pulsed with Tony Stark’s presence: sharp intellect, reckless brilliance, stubborn heart. Even Friday’s calm voice felt like part of that ecosystem.
And yet–
Today, stepping inside felt less like entering foreign ground and more like visiting an extension of his own home.
His instinct stirred. As did his magic.
Stephen froze mid-step as realization struck, dread pooling in his stomach. A soft shimmer curled around him, barely visible at first. “…oh no,” he muttered.
Tony stopped and turned, eyebrow already arching as he took in Stephen’s expression. “‘Oh no’ what?” he asked, before squinting. “What’s your face doing?”
Stephen swallowed and cleared his throat, heat creeping up his neck. Beneath his calm exterior, the dragon pressed eagerly against the surface, alert and far too interested. This place felt safe. It felt important. It felt– “Today might have been a mistake.”
Magic began to spill from him, unbidden and instinctive. It flowed outward like liquid sunlight, thin and deliberate, seeping across tabletops and tools, gliding over metal and glass. The light climbed the walls, settling into corners and seams, until the entire workshop glowed with a subtle, golden sheen – protective, possessive and unmistakably draconic.
The room felt warmer. Quieter. It felt like a version of home.
Tony slowly turned in a circle, eyes wide with fascinated horror. His voice came out somewhere between awe and disbelief. “…did you,” he said carefully, “did you just enchant my workshop?”
“No!” Stephen exclaimed immediately, mortification flooding him. He hadn’t meant to. He would never– Then he faltered, shoulders drooping. “…Not on purpose,” he added softly.
His chest felt tight, fear and affection tangled together. This was instinct, ancient and sincere, reacting to love before reason could intervene.
Tony stopped in front of him, expression sharp and unreadable. “Explain,” he said. “Now.”
“I… might have put this place under a similar magic protection as the Sanctum,” Stephen said, each word weighed and measured, like stepping across thin ice. “I didn’t intend to do it.”
Tony crossed his arms slowly. The movement was deliberate, controlled. Stephen knew that posture well enough by now. It wasn’t anger, not yet, but it was a line being drawn. The earlier awe had drained from Tony’s face, replaced by something harder and more contained.
Stephen’s heart sank, chastened. This wasn’t rejection, it was disapproval, and that hurt just as much.
“I know,” Stephen said quickly, the words tumbling out before he could overthink them. His hands lifted instinctively in a placating gesture – open palms, nonthreatening – before he caught himself and forced them back to his sides. He forced himself to breathe. “I know I crossed a boundary. And I’m sorry. Truly.”
Tony’s jaw tightened, but he nodded once. “Good start. Keep going.”
Stephen took a step back, giving Tony space even though every instinct screamed to close the distance instead. The golden light flickered faintly, responding to his unease.
“This wasn’t a conscious spell,” Stephen began carefully. “Dragons don’t always separate magic from emotion the way humans do.” He hesitated, searching for words that wouldn’t sound like excuses. Because he refused to make excuses. “Territory, safety, bonds… those are deeply instinctual. When I walked in today, it felt like I was being invited somewhere important. Somewhere personal. Private.”
He glanced around the lab, seeing it now through the dragon’s eyes: a hoard of intellect instead of gold, a den built from brilliance and obsession and care; every surface bearing the quiet imprint of Tony Stark’s mind.
“In dragon terms,” Stephen continued, voice softer now, “that kind of trust often comes with protection. With marking the space as safe. Not owned. ” He shook his head quickly. “Never owned. Just… watched over.”
He faltered.
“And I–” He stopped himself, throat tightening, because the next thing he was about to say might very well tip this entire conversation past the point of recovery.
Tony’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt, just waited.
“I will be notified whenever someone enters or leaves your lab,” Stephen finished quietly.
Tony exhaled slowly through his nose. “You see how that sounds like you tagged my lab without asking, right?”
“Yes,” Stephen said without hesitation. “I do. And I understand if you are furious about this.”
That earned him a sharp look, but also a pause. Tony uncrossed his arms, pacing a few steps before stopping in front of a glowing workbench.
“So this wasn’t some subconscious ‘moving in together’ thing?” Tony asked dryly. “Because I feel like that’s a conversation I should be present for.”
Despite himself, Stephen let out a weak huff of a laugh, nerves fraying. “No. Gods, no. Dragons don’t ‘move in’ like that.”
His expression sobered almost immediately. This was something dragons did when they began sharing a hoard – something far more intimate than moving in. Not every dragon did it. Some were deeply particular and possessive about their hoards.
And Tony… Tony was human. Stephen’s urge to protect him was fierce, almost frightening in its intensity. Putting Tony’s home – the place that functioned as his hoard, his refuge, his identity – under protection just made sense to the dragon.
The light dimmed slightly as Stephen consciously reined his magic in, the gold pulling back from the edges of the room like a tide retreating from shore. Tony watched the glow fade, his gaze following it carefully, like he was mapping what had changed. Silence stretched, filled only by the quiet whirr of machines.
Finally, the engineer spoke. His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it.
“I don’t like people messing with my stuff,” he said. “My tech, my space… those are hard boundaries for me. You don’t cross them without consent. Ever.”
Stephen nodded, throat tight. “Understood.”
Tony looked at him again then – not at the magic, not at the room, but at Stephen. “That being said,” he continued, “you didn’t hide it, you didn’t double down, and you’re not brushing it off. So I’m listening instead of yelling.”
Relief hit Stephen so hard his knees nearly buckled.
“But,” Tony added, lifting a finger, “we’re gonna talk about this. About what your instincts do when you feel… whatever you’re feeling. Because I need to know where the invisible tripwires are.”
“That’s fair,” Stephen said immediately. “More than fair.”
Tony hummed, thoughtful, then turned his face toward one of the many cameras embedded in the lab. “Friday, baby,” he said. “How are you? Feeling any different? Did that hurt you?”
Stephen inhaled sharply. The idea made his chest ache. He would never – never – harm her. None of Tony’s creations.
“It tickled,” Friday replied. “And it appears my firewall has received a magical upgrade. All systems are operating as usual.”
“Alright,” Tony said. “Let me know if anything changes or starts to feel weird.” He turned back to Stephen. “Does that spell give you control over my lab?”
Stephen shook his head. “No. It’s more like a notification. Like a ping on your phone.” He swallowed. “It tells me two things: one, whether I’m familiar with the person entering or leaving. And two, whether their intentions are noble or dangerous.” For anything more than that, Stephen would have to put a much deeper focus on the wards. And he wouldn’t do that without the engineer’s consent.
Tony tilted his head, studying him. “Could you undo it completely?”
Stephen closed his eyes, reaching inward. He already hated that idea; it felt like a physical ache. But it wasn’t his choice to make. “Yes,” he said firmly. “It will leave no trace. And it won’t happen again without your explicit consent.”
“Good,” Tony said. Then, after a beat, quieter: “Because I need to know I’m choosing this. Not being folded into it.”
The words landed deep, echoing through Stephen’s chest.
He stepped forward, stopping well within Tony’s view but outside his personal space. His voice was gentle, steady. “You are,” Stephen said. “Always. It is your decision. You are in control.”
For a moment, Tony didn’t respond. Then he nodded once, sharp and decisive. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s keep it. For now.”
Stephen let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The dragon inside him settled, soothed not by territory or wards, but by the simple, hard-earned truth that they were still walking forward – together.
______________
Tony’s workshop was unusually quiet when Pepper walked in… quiet being a relative term, considering half a dozen holograms were spinning lazily in the air and something was making a faint bzzt… bzzt… noise in the corner, like an anxious mechanical insect that refused to die.
She stepped through the doorway – and immediately a soft ring of golden light rose from the floor and swept upward across her body in a clean, silent scan. No heat. No sound beyond the hum. Just an unmistakable presence, like she was being briefly acknowledged by something ancient and somehow judgmental.
Like a magical TSA check. Or a dignified arcane cat sniffing her ankles and deciding, acceptable.
Pepper froze. Her tablet slipped from her fingers half an inch before instinct kicked in, and she caught it against her chest. Her heart thudded once, hard, the way it always did when the universe reminded her she worked for a man whose idea of ‘normal’ had long since evaporated.
“Tony?…” she finally managed to say.
He didn’t look up from where he was hunched over a worktable, shoulders tight with focus, fingers dancing through projected schematics only he seemed able to read at that speed. His hair was more chaotic than usual, and there was a faint crease between his brows – the kind that meant he’d been deep in problem-solving mode for hours.
“Hm?” he replied absently.
“Your door just scanned me.”
“Yup.”
She blinked. Once. Twice.
“Why,” she asked slowly, “is your door scanning me? Did you install a new security system?”
Tony waved a hand without turning around, dismissing the concern like a minor software update. “It’s not the door. It’s magic. And it’s harmless.”
Pepper stepped further inside despite herself, heels clicking against the polished floor. The golden light didn’t return, but she had the distinct feeling of being watched anyway. “Define harmless.”
“Non-intrusive. Non-lethal.” He paused, then added, “Probably can’t read your search history.”
She narrowed her eyes, folding her arms. “…probably?”
Tony hesitated just long enough to be suspicious.
Actually, he wasn’t sure about that one. He should really ask Stephen. Preferably, before Pepper decided to test the system by googling something aggressively embarrassing.
Pepper exhaled through her nose, a controlled sigh born of long practice. Whatever cosmic nonsense this was, she clearly wasn’t going to get answers right now – not when Tony was like this, mentally somewhere between dimensions and deadlines.
“I need you to sign a few things,” she said, shifting gears. “They’ve been sitting in your inbox for a while. You keep ignoring them.”
“I’m sure I’m doing that for a reason.”
“Well, I don’t care,” she replied a tad too sweetly. “I need your signature to move those projects forward.”
She stepped up beside him and decisively shoved her tablet into his line of sight, wedging it between his face and the holographic disaster he’d been working on.
Tony startled, then squinted at the screen. “Wow. Aggressive.”
“Efficient.”
He grumbled under his breath but took the tablet. The documents were already open, tabs neatly organized – Pepper’s doing, obviously. He skimmed them with practiced speed, eyes flicking across lines of text, then signed where indicated.
“There,” he said, handing it back. “All done. Happy now?”
Pepper took the tablet, checked the signatures, and allowed herself the faintest, most professional smile.
“Very,” she deadpanned.
“Boss, Colonel Rhodes is on his way for your lunch plans,” Friday reminded him, not for the first time today.
Tony barely acknowledged it, fingers still moving as he adjusted a delicate circuit component that absolutely did not want to cooperate.
Right on cue, Rhodey appeared in the doorway, jacket slung over one shoulder, expression already half-smiling in that familiar, I’m–here–to–drag–you–into–something–resembling–normal–human–behavior way.
“Hey, Tony. Oh – hi, Pepper.”
He took one step inside – and the golden ward flared to life. This time it was brighter, more alert, lines of light tracing sharp, elegant patterns as the scan swept up Rhodey’s body like a vertical shimmer. It lingered on his face for a beat longer than it had for Pepper, as though contemplating him. Evaluating. Judging.
Rhodey froze mid-step. The smile slid right off his face. “Uh… Tones?”
“Sup?” Tony replied without turning around, his focus back on his current project.
“Your door,” Rhodey said carefully, “just looked at me funny.”
Pepper, who had crossed her arms at some point without remembering doing it, pointed her thumb back at the door. “It scanned me too.”
She turned her gaze on Tony – the CEO stare, the one that had ended more bad ideas than any security protocol ever could. “Why,” she asked, “do you even have a magical body scanner at your door?”
Rhodey’s head snapped toward her. “Wait – magical?”
Tony hesitated, and Pepper felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. Tony hesitating usually meant the explanation was about to involve several layers of chaos, at least one mystical entity, and possibly an insurance nightmare.
He finally set his tools down, exhaled, and turned fully toward his friends. “Sooo… funny story.”
Rhodey groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is gonna be the opposite of funny,” he muttered.
Tony winced. “You know how Stephen being a – uh… dragon is a thing, right?”
Both of them nodded. Because somehow, in this world, that sentence made sense.
“Well,” Tony continued, pushing his chair back, “he accidentally installed some protective wards in the lab.”
Pepper raised an eyebrow. Slowly. “How,” she asked with practiced calm, “do you install protective wards by accident?”
Tony shrugged helplessly. “Magic.”
It was clearly not a satisfactory explanation, but it was, unfortunately, the most accurate one he had.
Rhodey gestured sharply at the glowing doorway. “That thing judged me like a disappointed parent.”
Tony snorted. “It judges everyone. It judged me yesterday for staying in the lab until three in the morning.”
Pepper raised her other eyebrow. That earned him a look – the kind that promised a conversation later. Tony felt it in his bones. But to her credit, Pepper set it aside for now.
“So,” she said, refocusing, “the only thing this ward does… is scan people entering?”
“And leaving,” Tony added. “It also alerts Stephen if the lab is compromised.”
Pepper paused. Her expression softened, just a fraction, as she processed that. “…Okay,” she said slowly. “That’s actually sweet.”
Tony blinked. Once. Twice.
That was not the reaction he’d expected. He’d been braced for discussions about privacy, autonomy, unhealthy attachment issues, maybe a PowerPoint titled Boundaries in Romantic Relationships: A Case Study.
“Sweet?”
“I mean,” Pepper said, shrugging slightly, “it was obvious before that he cares about you. This just confirms that he wants to keep you safe.”
Tony swallowed, something warm and unexpected settling in his chest. He didn’t quite know what to do with that feeling, so he didn’t comment.
“As if anyone could ever keep you away from trouble,” Rhodey muttered. Still, there was no real bite to it. If anything, there was reluctant approval. Stephen’s methods were… dramatic, but his intentions seemed solid.
Rhodey glanced at his watch. “Now,” he added pointedly, “I believe I was promised lunch.”
Tony brightened immediately, jumping onto the idea and his feet. “Right! I know a great burger place in Brooklyn we should go to.”
“With current traffic,” FRIDAY chimed in, “the estimated driving time is one hour and ten minutes.”
Tony and Rhodey exchanged a look. That was unacceptable.
“Let’s take the suits for a ride,” Tony suggested, already grinning.
“Great plan!”
Together, they headed for the exit. As Rhodey stepped through the doorway, the ward flickered again, light rippling over him with unmistakable awareness.
“It feels like he’s keeping an eye on me.” He scowled. “I’ve been coming here way longer than he has!”
Tony rolled his eyes fondly as they walked. “Rhodey Bear, if Stephen wanted to keep an eye on you, he’d do it with magic way more subtle than a glowing floor scan.”
That did absolutely nothing to reassure Rhodey.
__________________
The road was gone.
Not cracked. Not buckled. Gone. What had once been asphalt was now a field of gray powder and twisted rebar, crushed flat beneath the thunderous weight of a dinosaur’s feet – something huge and extinct dragged screaming into the present by mad science. Resurrection, reconstruction, cloning… Tony didn’t know the specifics, and right now he didn’t care. Whatever it was, it was big, angry, and currently winning.
The Avengers were losing ground.
The Hulk lay half-buried in the wreckage of what used to be a parking structure, slabs of concrete pinning him down as he struggled to regain his bearings.
Rogers dragged himself upright, his shield in his hand, breathing hard.
Even Thor looked strained, chest heaving, lightning crawling erratically over his armor instead of answering his call.
Tony’s own armor sparked at the seams, panels scorched and dented, internal systems screaming as they fought to keep him airborne.
“Power at twenty-three percent and falling,” Friday reported. Her voice was clipped, alarmed.
“I am aware,” Tony muttered, jaw clenched.
The dinosaur lowered its massive head as it drew in breath. When it roared, the sound hit like a physical force – a wall of noise that rolled through the surrounding town and beyond. Windows shattered half a mile away. Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance, quickly swallowed by the echo.
At least they weren’t in any major city. Small mercies. The scientists had been smart enough – or cowardly enough – to choose a remote former government facility for their little Jurassic nightmare. The nearest town was small, and SHIELD was already in the middle of a full evacuation. Still, every second this thing stayed upright was another second too long.
Tony’s HUD flickered, static crawling across his vision as targeting data scrambled and recalibrated. The system struggled to lock on, warning icons stacking on top of one another. The dinosaur was massive, absurdly so, and moving with a speed that violated several laws of physics and at least one personal expectation.
“Come on,” Tony hissed, angling downward and pushing his thrusters harder than Friday would like. He flew closer, the air heating around him as he slammed a control on his gauntlet.
Repulsor fire hit dead-on. Yet it did almost nothing. The blast splashed harmlessly across thick skin, leaving little more than a scorch mark that was already fading. The dinosaur barely flinched.
“That’s just rude,” Tony muttered.
“Boss! Watch out!” Friday suddenly shouted in his ear.
Red warning symbols exploded across the HUD. Inbound. She initiated an emergency evasion maneuver, thrusters flaring – but it wasn’t enough.
The dinosaur whipped around with terrifying speed, its tail a living battering ram. The impact came out of nowhere, a brutal, bone-jarring blow that slammed into Tony’s side and sent him spinning. The world became noise and motion.
He was hurled through the air, systems screaming as the suit tried to compensate, until a tree stopped him with a sound like an explosion. Branches snapped and splintered, leaves raining down as the trunk tilted dangerously but held. Barely.
There was now an Iron Man–shaped hole punched into it.
Tony groaned, vision swimming as the HUD dimmed and rebooted. Pain bloomed along his spine and shoulder, sharp and insistent. Despite the suit’s advanced dampeners, the force had rattled him hard.
“Okay,” he wheezed, sitting up and immediately regretting it. “That… sucked.”
His arm refused to respond properly, sending a spike of white-hot pain through him. Whiplash, at least. Maybe a broken arm. Possibly several bruised organs, if he were taking bets.
Suddenly, the air shifted. A sound like a heartbeat made of thunder rolled across the sky.
Stephen arrived not as a man, but half-shifted – eyes molten gold, shadows of wings rippling behind him – called by activated wards and a majorly worried A.I.
He took in the battlefield in a single, devastating glance – the struggling Avengers, the landscape wasted, the dinosaur towering over them, chest heaving, eyes blazing with confusion and anger. And Tony… injured.
Instinct took over instantly.
The sounds of the fight drained away, replaced by something deeper: wind through ancient canyons, the distant thunder of migrating herds, the low rumble of a world where nothing had names yet. Stephen’s shadow stretched. It pulled away from his feet, thickening, gaining weight. The ground beneath him condensed as something vast pressed down from everywhere at once.
Scales rippled across his skin, layering organically, overlapping like an armor grown. They were iridescent blue, deep as the open ocean. Power radiated from him in waves, old and patient and terrifyingly alive.
Where Stephen had stood only a moment ago, was now a massive, blue dragon.
When his eyes opened, they burned gold. His wings unfurled slowly, deliberately, membranes catching the wind with a sound like sails snapping open. Dust and debris were dragged toward him, spiraling upward before being flung away again.
“Uh… guys?” Clint commented over the comms.
“I think Strange just activated ‘scary dragon boyfriend’ mode,” Rhodey muttered.
Tony’s stomach pitched as he looked up, still seeing stars from the impact. Pain pulsed through his arm, but it faded into insignificance beneath the weight of what loomed above them.
The dragon’s shadow fell over the dinosaur. Tony’s HUD pinged alarms at impossible readings: mass, heat, energy output – none of it made sense. His armor systems groaned in protest.
The dragon inhaled. The air rushed in with the sound of a collapsing building. When he exhaled, it was in a raging roar. It was a sound that vibrated through bone and marrow, felt in the chest, in the gut, in the oldest parts of the brain.
The dinosaur recoiled from the recognition of a challenger.
The dragon straightened to his full, terrible height, wings spreading wide. Claws dug in, claiming the ground. The roar came again, slower this time, measured – a declaration:
How dare you touch what’s mine?
The dinosaur hesitated. Its tail lashed once, uncertain, stirring clouds of dust. Its head lowered an inch – a fraction of submission – before pride or instinct overrode caution. And it charged. Not in panic. Not in rage. In defiance.
Its massive legs pistoned forward, jaws snapping shut where the dragon’s throat had been a heartbeat earlier. The impact of its charge split the ground open, a shockwave rippling outward as it knocked over a power pole.
The dragon met it head-on.
Claws slammed into the dinosaur’s skull with the sound of colliding freight trains. The force drove both of them sideways into the shell of a mountain. The dragon growled as he lowered his head, neck arched, wings flaring wide.
The dinosaur bit down, teeth screeching across scales, finding no purchase. Its jaws twisted, searching for something soft, something weak.
The dragon’s tail came around with full force. It struck the dinosaur’s ribs with a wet, cracking sound, driving the breath from its lungs. The creature staggered back, claws scrabbling, tail smashing through a forest as it fought to stay upright.
The dragon followed him, not giving him any space. Each step crushed what remained of the area.
The dinosaur roared again, higher-pitched now, frustration bleeding into the sound. It lunged a second time, this time aiming low, shoulder-first, trying to topple its opponent through sheer mass.
The dragon allowed it. At the last instant, he shifted – one massive claw hooking behind the dinosaur’s jaw, the other slamming down between its shoulders. Wings snapped inward, folding tight as the dragon twisted, redirecting the charge.
Momentum became a weapon.
The dinosaur was wrenched sideways, its feet leaving the ground as its own weight betrayed it. It crashed down onto its flank, plowing the ground and sending a plume of dirt skyward.
Before it could recover, the dragon was on it. A claw slammed onto the dinosaur’s neck, pinning it. Another pressed against its snout, forcing its head down, driving its jaws into an abandoned side road.
The dinosaur thrashed. Its tail smashed into the dragon’s side, once, twice – each impact sending ripples through armored scales. The dragon’s muscles locked, tendons standing out like cables as he absorbed the blows.
The dragon lowered his head until its glowing eyes were inches from the dinosaur’s. Then he roared again. Low, deep. A warning.
The dinosaur froze. Its movements slowed, then stopped entirely. Its breath came in harsh, uneven bursts. Its pupils dilated, wide and unfocused, overwhelmed by a signal it had no defense against.
The dragon leaned harder, claws digging in – not breaking skin, not drawing blood. Just pressure. Simply dominance.
The dinosaur’s thrashing became struggling. Struggling became resistance. Resistance became stillness. Slowly – painfully – the dinosaur turned its head aside, breaking eye contact. Its body sagged. A low, broken sound escaped its throat. A submission call.
The dragon held the position for a moment more, ensuring the lesson sank deep. Then, at last, he eased back. The dragon rose, wings unfurling once more, towering over the fallen beast without striking the final blow.
Across the ruined landscape, the Avengers watched in stunned silence.
Tony retracted his helmet, still leaning against the same damaged tree, when Stephen landed in front of him. He was back in his human form, but not fully. Scales still traced the side of his neck and disappeared beneath the collar of his robe, iridescent and faintly warm to the touch, catching the light with every shallow breath he took. Power hadn’t fully bled away yet – it lingered around him like heat haze, like the echo of a thunderclap.
His hands were trembling, as they reached out to Tony. His golden gaze softened, but the dragon beneath it hummed a low warning: no one, nothing, was allowed to harm this human.
Stephen dropped to his knees in front of Tony, gravel crunching beneath him. He cupped Tony’s face with both hands, thumbs brushing dirt and blood from his cheek, grounding himself in the warmth of living skin.
“Say something,” Stephen said, voice rough around the edges. “Please.”
Tony blinked up at him, vision still a little blurry. His mouth twitched despite himself.
“You look hot when you’re terrifying.”
Stephen let out a short, shaky huff – a sound caught somewhere between laughter and a sob. Relief crashed into him hard and fast, followed immediately by frustration and a fierce, aching love that made his chest hurt. The fire in his eyes dimmed further, replaced by a healer’s focus, mapping every tremor and flinch of Tony’s body.
“You are hurt,” he said, voice quieter now. A fact. A promise that he’d do something about it.
Tony swallowed, jaw tightening as pain flared hot and sharp in his shoulder. He tried – and failed – to hide the wince. “I’m… fine,” he said, then exhaled. “Mostly.”
“Mostly?” Stephen’s tone sharpened in worry.
“I–” Tony hesitated. The battlefield faded around them – the distant voices, the movement of teammates, the churn of recovery efforts. All he saw was Stephen’s face, still half-lit with gold, aura humming faintly like a purring engine. Safe. Solid.
“I could maybe,” Tony admitted, “use a day off.”
Stephen’s shoulders finally eased. Just a fraction. His thumb brushed over Tony’s cheek again, lingering this time.
“Done,” he said firmly. “You’re taking more than one.”
Around them, the Avengers regrouped. Rogers called for assessment teams. Natasha coordinated cleanup. Clint muttered something about dragon damage reports. Life resumed its familiar, controlled chaos.
But Tony didn’t move. He didn’t need to.
Stephen was still kneeling in front of him, hands steady now, presence wrapped around him like a shield. The dragon had quieted, coiled protectively beneath the surface, watchful but content.
He was safe.
I realized I never posted my belly dancer Stephen art, because I never finished writing that fic... Those hips don't lie
I need some input for a fic:
If Tony made a phone with an A.I. for Stephen, what name would he give the A.I.?
SPELL.OS ("It's called spell-oh-es.")
SOCR-AI-TES
ZENO ("Your paradox solving A.I.")
ARISTOMANCER ("A conjurer of logic.")
HERAKLITUS ("Constantly adapting like flowing magic.")
PLAT-O'PHONE
The results are in. Thanks to everyone who voted. Now y'all just have to wait weeks until I finish the fic this poll was for 😅
Remember that poll? I finally finished the fic this was for!
You can read it here
Hidden Flames, Honest Hearts [IronStrange]
Summary: After one heat-of-the-moment kiss, Stephen does what any anxious, secretly-a-dragon Sorcerer Supreme would do: he hides in the Sanctum and convinces himself Tony wants nothing to do with him. Managing the Sanctum is easy. Managing his feelings is not.
Tags: alternate universe - dragons, dragon Stephen Strange, insecure Stephen Strange, protective Tony Stark, communication is important, sassy A.I.s, fluff and angst, happy ending
Relationship: Tony Stark / Stephen Strange
Author's note: This is kind of the second part of Hidden Scales. But it can be read individually. Beta by @kvjjjjjj
Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Word count: 9.1k
Wong put the kettle with water on the stove and got the box of tea out of the cupboard. Then he opened the cabinet with the mugs – and sighed. Not again.
He left the kitchen and walked upstairs to Stephen’s room, where he knocked on the door once before he opened it. “Stephen, I told you to stop hoarding the mugs.”
Stephen looked up from the book he was reading. “I’m not–“ He stopped when his eyes followed to where Wong pointed: a mountain of mugs stacked in the corner of his room. Some of them with spoons or plates. Some still even had cold tea in them.
Stephen closed his mouth. Shit. He hadn’t even realized he had done it again.
Wong’s voice changed from annoyed to the one of a parent who told something to their child for the umpteenth time. “The whole Sanctum is your hoard. There is no need to hide things in your bedroom.”
“I know,” the other sorcerer replied. He did know. But the knowledge didn’t keep his dragon instincts from doing so anyway.
They had had a version of this conversation before. Many times, in fact. Wong argued that Stephen’s bedroom wasn’t even big enough to store all the relics, books, kitchenware, and even furniture that the dragon continued to carry in there.
As if Stephen hadn’t searched for and found a spell that allowed him to magically alter the dimension of his room to make it bigger from the inside, within the first month of becoming the Sanctum’s Master and the Sorcerer Supreme. But Wong didn’t need to know that.
So far he had refrained from using that particular spell, because Wong was right: his hoard was not limited to one room. The whole Sanctum was his to protect and to fill with his hoard – and from what he gathered, the Sanctum was rather pleased about that. It was proud to have such a strong and worthy master, whom it protected and sheltered in return . It was a convenient arrangement for both sides.
“I simply like having some things close,” Stephen told Wong as he gestured vaguely to the mugs. Which were right next to a bunch of mirrors, leaning against the wall and each other, and of which at least one was cursed. “I simply forgot to return them to the kitchen.”
Wong sighed. “You should go out more.”
That was another conversation they had had before. Ever since Stephen and Tony got trapped in that unstable pocket dimension, when magic had revealed the sorcerer’s scaly secret to the engineer – ever since their kiss – Stephen had holed up and straight up hid in the Sanctum.
The problem wasn’t that Tony was not supportive of Stephen’s nature. Quite the opposite really; Tony was a bit too enthusiastic about it, while he had no idea what it meant to commit to a dragon.
Stephen remembered the engineer’s exact words. “You’re stuck with me now.” Yet Stephen knew it was a promise Tony couldn’t keep.
A dragon’s hoard did not only contain objects – although Stephen loved all things shiny, magical and holding knowledge – no, it also contained people. Carefully selected these days, because in this modern age people weren’t too keen to be addressed as belongings.
Wong had his trouble with that at the beginning. But he came around and now he accepted it the same way he accepted a lot of Stephen’s quirks: with an unimpressed face, some words of complaint, and a fierce friendship.
It had started somewhere shortly after Dormammu. Maybe seeing Wong die in Hong Kong made Stephen realize how fond he had grown of the sorcerer.
Maybe it had started before, because Wong had known about his dragon side from early on and had still refused to give him access to the advanced magic tomes. Yet he had not stopped Stephen from sneakily snooping those same tomes from under the librarian’s nose.
After moving into the Sanctum with a new purpose and new responsibilities, Stephen felt the subtle shifts, the unspoken companionship: Wong staying up late with him. Wong appearing at his side before Stephen even asked. Wong’s steady presence anchoring him when the magic surged too hot beneath his human skin.
It was… comforting. Terrifyingly so.
Because hoarding was instinct – but friendship was a choice. And the fact that Wong chose to be friends with him, every single day, humbled Stephen in a way few things could. And to a dragon who had lost far too much, that was worth more than gold.
That being said, with Tony it was totally different. Stephen knew it in his bones, felt it in every fiber of his being; should he ever have Tony in his dragon claws, he would keep the human close to his chest, and not let go of him. Ever.
The thought of having Tony as a special piece of hoard in his room, giving him no chance of leaving because the dragon was curled around him protectively… it was difficult not to shift and fly over to the tower, and steal the man like a princess from a castle.
Thus the distance he was keeping for now. Even though he hated it with every passing second.
With a wave of his hand, he transported the mugs back into the kitchen. “I’ll consider it,” he told Wong, meaning it even. Maybe he would go on an off-world mission for a while. Clear his head. Focus on his duties as a Sorcerer Supreme, instead of pining in his room like a ditched girl on prom night.
Wong eyed him, trying to detect a lie, but he found begrudging honesty instead. With a satisfied nod, he left the room.
When he returned to the kitchen the kettle was already screaming for attention. Wong turned the stove off and walked – once again – to the cupboard with the mugs – only to realize that Stephen had transported them straight to the sink… still dirty.
He groaned.
One of these days he would find a way to put a dragon in a magical time-out and teach him some basic roommate manners.
___________
The decision to leave for an off-world mission was taken from Stephen when the very next day, the door to the Sanctum opened and someone entered.
Stephen was meditating, trying to get a grip on his instincts, when those same instincts roared to life and snapped him right out of his meditative head-space.
Tony was here! Why was Tony here?
Stephen took a minute to take a few breaths before he actually got onto his feet and went to greet the man.
Tony was looking at a relic in a display case, his hands in his pockets. It was telling that he stayed in the general area of the entrance hall instead of wandering around in the Sanctum. Like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome.
It wasn’t difficult to tell why that was. Stephen hadn’t been subtle in avoiding him.
“Hello Tony. What brings you here?” The sorcerer greeted him as he walked down the big stairs. Somewhere between the meditation room and the stairs, the Cloak of Levitation had joined him, resting on his shoulders.
Tony turned to him, when he heard his voice. “Hey Merlin. Just wanted to see how you’re doing.” His eyes tracked the sorcerer up and down, scanning him and making sure he was okay.
A warmth bloomed in Stephen’s chest, settling in his heart. Despite the fact that Stephen didn’t treat Tony the way he deserved, it was still a priority of Tony’s to verify Stephen’s well-being.
The sorcerer briefly stopped on the last step, gripping the banister a little too tightly as his instinct whispered Mine.
“I’m fine,” he managed to say, even though it sounded a little choked to his ears, as he finally stepped on the ground floor.
“Good,” Tony said. “That’s good.”
He exhaled slowly, eyes darting to the relic again before returning to Stephen. “Truth is, I wasn’t sure if I should come. But sitting at home pretending everything’s normal wasn’t really working for me.” He gave a helpless shrug, digging his hands deeper into his pocket. “I figured giving you space was good, but maybe I overdid it.”
“You’re always welcome here,” Stephen said a little too quickly, too sharply. Stephen’s dragon instincts surged, but instead of outright grabbing Tony, claiming him – which he had no right to – Stephen subtly circled Tony; like a protective dragon guarding his treasure.
The cloak smacked the sorcerer when his hand twitched towards Tony anyway.
Tony, who had just turned in that moment, saw that. He was a genius, of course he noticed the dragon’s internal battle; the avoidance in the past week, the pause on the stairs, the way Stephen barely looked at him. He put all those little pieces together and came to the only logical conclusion: the sorcerer was rejecting him.
He sighed, his shoulders sagging. “You could have just told me it was too much, you know.”
“What?” Stephen’s breath caught – sharp, painful. How had Tony found out? Too much. Of course. Of course Tony would think that. The kiss, the heat of it, the spark of magic and instinct twining together – he must have realized what it meant. What it could mean.
And now he was here to tell Stephen to stop.
The dragon inside him curled inward, claws withdrawing from the world, wings tucking tight around a bruised heart. Instinct screamed to protect what was his, but reality whispered cruelly: he never was yours.
“I–” Stephen’s voice broke, and he hated how small it sounded. He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t avoiding you because it was… I just…” He swallowed hard, gaze slipping to the floor because looking at Tony felt like staring into the sun. “I didn’t want to make you feel trapped.”
Tony blinked, confusion flickering across his face.
Stephen forced himself to continue, the words scraping raw on their way out. “Dragons don’t… do casual. Not well at least. And I thought… you would realize that.”
His hands curled into loose fists at his sides. “I assumed you needed space to reconsider. To decide you didn’t want that kind of commitment.” A bitter laugh wanted to escape him. He smothered it. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
Tony stared at him like Stephen had just spoken an alien language. “Overwhelm me?”
“Yes.” Stephen’s shoulders tightened. “Because binding yourself to a dragon – consorting with one – is permanent. Lifelong.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I didn’t think that was something you would ever want. Not from me.”
There. Said. Bare and ugly and vulnerable.
Tony’s mouth opened, then closed again, like his thoughts collided mid-sentence. Stephen expected him to run, to agree that it had been a bad idea. Yet, Tony didn’t back away. In fact, he stepped forward, slow, careful – like approaching a spooked animal.
“Stephen… you absolute idiot,” he murmured.
Stephen stiffened. His instincts flared, offended and hopeful all at once. “Excuse me?”
“You thought I came here to tell you that you are too much for me?” Tony’s voice was incredulous, not angry, but something warm beneath the disbelief. “I thought you were avoiding me because I am not good enough for you.”
Stephen stared, heart stuttering. “What?”
Tony huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re a dragon. A literal dragon. And I’m just–” He gestured vaguely at himself. “Me. I figured after kissing me you woke up one morning and thought, ‘Ah, yes, terrible idea, let’s never do that again.’”
“That’s not–” Stephen started.
But Tony held up a hand. “And I get it. I do. Being with someone like me? Messy, complicated–”
“Tony.” Stephen’s voice rasped.
“–and absolutely not dragon partner material, so if you needed space–”
“Tony!” Stephen repeated, louder this time, stepping forward before he could think better of it. His eyes were glowing golden with the magic surging under his skin. He had trouble keeping his instincts at bay because they screamed at him to show Tony just how wrong he was. “Stop.”
Tony went still and the silence between them thrummed, heavy.
Stephen exhaled shakily. “You are…” His voice softened, reluctantly reverent. “Tony, you are exactly the kind of person a dragon would choose.”
His gaze dropped to Tony’s chest, where his heart beat strong and fearless. “Brilliant. Brave. Infuriating, yes, but Vishanti, you shine.”
Tony’s breath hitched. Stephen forced the rest out. “But wanting you doesn’t give me the right to claim you. You deserve the choice.” His throat tightened. “Even if that choice is to walk away.”
The truth lay bare between them like a wound waiting for a verdict. Tony took one step closer. Then another.
“Funny thing,” he said quietly, “I didn’t come here to walk away.”
Stephen’s heart lurched, wings pressing against the inside of his ribs like they wanted out, and his eyes were still glowing. Tony wasn’t running. He was reaching.
“Are you shifting?” Tony asked, eyeing the faint shimmer of iridescent dragon-scale flickers across the side of Stephen’s neck.
The sorcerer shook his head, willing the urge away. Only partly successful. Tony’s closeness made his world narrow to the man’s heartbeat and the faint metallic scent that hummed through the human ever since he got the arc reactor. “I’m not.”
“You look like you’re about to shift.”
“I’m having trouble focusing,” Stephen admitted. “Because of you.” Stephen tried to look away, tried to rebuild the walls he’d spent the last week hiding behind. But Tony didn’t give him the chance.
His hand – warm, steady – cupped Stephen’s jaw.
Stephen’s breath stuttered. The dragon inside him surged upward, hungry for touch, for bond, for belonging – yet he held it back with trembling determination.
But when Tony said, “Why don’t you focus on me instead?” Stephen did.
He anchored himself in the feel of Tony’s thumb brushing lightly across his cheekbone, the soft warmth of his palm, the scent of oil and ozone and something uniquely Tony. The glow in Stephen’s eyes dimmed, settling into an ember instead of a wildfire.
“Better,” Tony whispered, like a secret meant for only the two of them.
Stephen nodded once, barely trusting his voice, but letting himself lean into the touch he’d ached for. Slowly, he exhaled, and for the first time in days he felt like he could finally breathe.
But the relief was fragile, thin, easily shaken. Because now that Tony was close, now that he was touching him, the dragon wasn’t calm at all – it was clinging.
“My mind tells me to shift and curl around you,” Stephen’s voice drops, almost reluctant, as if naming it gives it weight. “To shield you. From the outside. From the world. From everything that thinks it has a right to reach you.”
He swallows, eyes unfocused now, turned inward.
“I want you in my sight at all times. Because when you’re not – when I can’t feel where you are – it’s like the world tilts. Like a shadow has rolled over everything that matters, and I can’t tell where the danger ends anymore. Logic tells me you’re fine. That you’re brilliant and armored and impossible to break.” A quiet, aching breath. “But instinct doesn’t care about logic. It only knows that losing sight of you feels like losing the sun.”
Tony’s breath hitched at that confession, but Stephen wasn’t done yet. “I know I can’t trap you - and I don’t want to. You have your own place you have to return to. Your work. Your home. We will see each other. I know that,” he said. “In theory. But for my dragon instinct, it’s difficult to actually believe. It doesn’t understand ‘temporary departures’. When someone important leaves my territory, I interpret it as a threat. Or abandonment.”
“‘Someone important’?” Tony inquired.
“Very important.” Stephen nodded, seriously. “It might be easier if I had something to hold onto while you’re gone.” It felt embarrassing to ask for it. But he knew he would lose his mind with worry unless he had a physical reminder that Tony wanted to come back.
“Okay,” Tony said. “What do you need? A written statement? A pinky promise? A tracking device?”
Stephen shook his head. “None of that. Just something of you for my hoard. A token if you will.”
“A token?” Tony thought about that, churning some ideas in his mind. It needed to be something enough of a statement to convince a dragon he was serious about this.
Tony liked a challenge; and he had just the thing.
He grabbed his phone from his pocket. “Friday, Project SPELL-OH-ES is back on. Run the set up and have Pepper deliver everything to the Sanctum.”
“On it, Boss.”
The engineer lowered the phone, his eyes back on Stephen. “You know, most people ease into commitment. Dates. Flowers. Not ‘congratulations, you’re part of my ancient draconic hoard’.”
“I’m not most people.”
Tony chuckled. “No. You’re someone I’m actually willing to try for.”
Stephen swallowed hard. Those words hit somewhere deep.
Tony rubs a hand over the back of his neck, glancing toward the door.
“I love spending time with you,” he says, quieter now, more earnest. “Really. But I’ve got a project. Big one. Deadline’s breathing down my neck.” He huffs a soft laugh. “I should be working on it right now, actually.”
He looks back at Stephen, expression unguarded.
“I tried,” Tony admits. “Tried to sit in the lab and be productive and normal. Couldn’t do it. My brain just kept looping back to you. To… what happened. I needed to talk to you first. Needed to know where we stood.”
He straightened, resolve settling in.
“So here’s the deal,” Tony says. “I go finish the project. I knock it out, save the day, all that jazz. And when I’m done – when I can actually give you my full attention – I’ll take you on our first proper date.” A small, hopeful smile. “No dimensions falling apart. No hiding in magical buildings. Just us. Deal?”
That was more than Stephen had ever hoped for. There was only one answer. “Deal.”
“Great! Now, let’s wait somewhere more comfortable for that delivery.”
They drifted out of the hallway together, the intimacy between them settling into something quieter, warmer. The Cloak herded them toward one of the Sanctum’s cozier rooms, where a low couch sat near a softly glowing fireplace.
Stephen summoned a delicate porcelain cup of fragrant tea, letting the steam calm the last of his frayed nerves. Tony, naturally, opted for coffee – black, strong, and in a Stark-design mug he’d somehow stashed here at some point.
The Sanctum felt different. Or maybe Tony was just noticing it properly now; the way the air hummed quietly.
Stephen sat next to him, breathing slowly, keeping his hands at his sides with obvious effort. He was doing everything he could not to crowd Tony, not to touch him, not to startle the fragile peace that had settled between them.
And Tony… Tony found himself wanting the opposite. He shifted closer until their legs brushed. “You know… I actually like the dragon eyes,” he said softly.
Stephen let out something close to a laugh, a shake of disbelief. Tony reached out – slow and deliberate – and touched Stephen’s wrist. It wasn’t a grab. Not a claim. Just contact. But Stephen shivered like it meant everything.
“Hey. Look at me.” Tony waited until the dragon did. “I know ‘commitment’ isn’t a word that is usually associated with me. But I mean it. You think your possessive dragon thing is making me run? Well, it’s not.”
Stephen closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was still holding himself rigidly, but there was a gentleness settling over him.
“You’re not afraid,” he realized.
“Oh, I’m terrified.” Tony smiled gently. “Just not of you.” He slipped his fingers between Stephen’s, and the sorcerer exhaled shakily, the tension melting out of him like ice in sunlight, as they leaned closer.
Their lips brushed. It was nothing like the impulsive kiss during the mission. This one was warm, thoughtful. Stephen sighed against him, melting into the contact rather than bracing for it. He cupped Tony’s jaw gently.
The kiss deepened – not urgent, just connected. There were no magic flarings, no instincts fighting. Just two people who were finally, tentatively, letting themselves want.
When they parted, Tony rested a hand over Stephen’s heart.
The Cloak fluttered from its place on the couch behind the sorcerer, brushing lightly over their joined hands as if offering approval.
Stephen rolled his eyes, but Tony saw the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Ignore it. It has no boundaries.”
The Cloak poked Stephen’s shoulder in protest.
Tony snorted. “Pretty sure it’s rooting for us.”
The Cloak draped itself dramatically over Tony’s back like a shawl. The engineer preened under the sudden attention. “Looks like I’ve been accepted into the majestic order of… whatever your cloak thinks it is.”
“It thinks it’s subtle,” Stephen muttered.
“It absolutely isn’t,” Tony said, petting the Cloak like it was a cat. It rippled in delight and then quickly flicked Stephen in the arm, as if reminding him to behave.
Stephen huffed out an exasperated breath, but he didn’t let go of Tony’s hand. Being close like this, breathing the same soft air, was grounding in a way even meditation hadn’t achieved lately.
Tony leaned back slightly, still close enough that their knees touched. “Tell me more about being a dragon,” he said with a teasing smile. “Do you have a big pile of gold hidden somewhere?”
Stephen arched a brow. “While I do appreciate finer things, I’ve always preferred to hoard items of knowledge. And of magical power.”
“That does explain a lot,” Tony said, eyes sparkling with amusement.
The Cloak fluttered in agreement, and Stephen gave it a very dignified glare – one that only made Tony laugh harder.
“Are there other dragons?” the engineer asked. His voice was casual, but Stephen could see the curiosity sparkling behind it; the kind that made the man take apart engines to see how they breathed.
“More than you would think,” Stephen answered. “Only a few are in this dimension, though. And not all of them live a life as a human.”
He tilted his head, watching Tony with a long, searching glance. The Sanctum’s evening light filtered through honey-colored windows, casting soft light on Tony’s cheekbones, making his expression difficult to read but impossible to ignore.
“I still don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into,” Stephen said quietly, the words tasting like fear.
He needed Tony to know. Needed him to choose with full awareness before Stephen sank too deep to climb out. He couldn’t get his hope up only to have it crushed a few days, maybe weeks if he was lucky, later when Tony finally came to his senses. That would destroy him. He felt the urge to protect his heart.
“Why do you think that?” Tony asked.
“You’re so… calm.” Stephen’s fingers twitched, wanting to curl into his robe, into scales, into something to ground himself.
He lowered his gaze briefly. Dragon instincts whispered of nesting, of protection, of choosing a mate who wouldn’t run. But humans… humans could run. And Tony – brilliant, chaotic, breakable Tony – should have every chance to.
Tony leaned back slightly, not away from Stephen, just giving space like he somehow knew Stephen needed to breathe. His tone remained gentle but steady: “I think the equation is quite simple.”
Stephen looked up.
“You want me,” Tony said, “and I want you.”
“But–“
“But dragons don’t do casual,” Tony interrupted gently. “You told me that. And I get it.”
His eyes softened with something that made Stephen’s stomach twist – warmth, certainty, something frighteningly close to devotion. “That doesn’t mean we have to rush things, does it? Or do you want to go to the marriage bureau and elope?”
Stephen blinked. Marriage bureau. Elope. The mental image was so absurd he almost laughed. Him and Tony in a government office, filing paperwork under species: dragon. Wong would probably faint. The Sanctum wards would riot.
Stephen shook his head. Traditional marriage was not something that was important to him. Even though a ring on Tony’s finger that bound him to the dragon – maybe something from his own hoard – sounded quite appealing.
“See?” Tony said, leaning forward with a grin that made the room feel small and bright. His knee brushed Stephen’s, grounding him even as it sent sparks through his nerves. “You’re not scaring me off. If anything, you’re making this sound even more interesting.”
The way he said interesting – curious, unafraid, maybe even eager – made the dragon inside Stephen lift its head with interest, eyes glinting.
Tony reached out, gently tapping Stephen’s knee. “I’m not running, okay? I told you, you’re stuck with me.”
Stephen swallowed. The fear eased. It wasn’t gone, but quieter. Manageable. Tony’s presence always had that effect: turning storms into something gentle.
There was a knock on the front door and the Sanctum, ever attentive to its master, carried the sound directly into their room as if someone had tapped Stephen on the shoulder.
“Your delivery has arrived, Boss,” Friday informed them.
Tony perked up. “Perfect timing.” He pushed himself off the couch, rolling his shoulders, already moving with the easy confidence of someone used to packages, prototypes, and supply drops. But before he could take a step, Stephen’s hand lashed out, fast and instinctive. His fingers wrapped firmly around Tony’s wrist.
Tony stopped, turning his head to the dragon, raising an eyebrow in a silent question.
Stephen hadn’t meant to grab him that hard. His dragon instincts had simply surged, a sharp flash of territorial instinct that made his grip tense before he consciously loosened it.
The front door meant potential leaving. Front door meant someone else had approached their space. His dragon brain was not fond of either.
Tony looked down at their connected hands, then slowly up at Stephen’s face. His expression eased the way it only did around him; patient, gentle, threaded with a familiarity that made the dragon inside Stephen uncoil by a fraction.
“They need my signature,” Tony explained quietly. “Why don’t we go together?”
Stephen exhaled. That was acceptable. He could protect Tony this way; could see whoever had dared to knock.
“Okay,” Stephen murmured, finally releasing his wrist but staying very close – closer than most humans would consider polite. Tony didn’t seem to mind.
They made their way through the Sanctum, its shifting architecture bringing them smoothly toward the entrance. The lights along the hallway glowed brighter as they passed, sensing Stephen’s heightened protective state. Shadows bent subtly around them, as if the building itself wanted to soothe him.
At the door, Tony reached for the handle but Stephen got there first. He didn’t even do it consciously; his dragon instincts simply thrust him forward a step. Tony only rolled his eyes fondly but let him.
The door opened and revealed a middle-aged delivery guy, bored, holding a clipboard and a sealed bag. He blinked at them, but showed no recognition of Tony Stark, no interest in the strange sorcerer practically hovering over him, pupils still slightly too slitted. If he noticed Stephen glaring at him like he was a suspicious creature encroaching on sacred territory, he didn’t comment.
Tony signed the paperwork with brisk, practiced strokes and accepted the package. Stephen didn’t relax until the door clicked shut and the wards confirmed the stranger had departed and Tony was safely back inside his space.
Only then did his shoulders unclench. The magic in the walls settled and his dragon instincts retreated to a quieter hum beneath his skin.
Back on the couch, Tony sat down with the sealed bag, now grinning like someone about to reveal a surprise he’d been excited about for days. Stephen settled beside him, posture still primed but staying calm in Tony’s proximity.
Tony opened the bag and took out a small box, setting it on the low table between them before nudging it toward Stephen. It was a classic Starkphone box, sleek and modern.
“That’s a phone,” the sorcerer stated carefully.
“Correct, Captain Obvious,” Tony said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he watched Stephen peel back the packaging and lift the device. The way he silently waited for a reaction told Stephen he didn’t simply grab a phone from Sales. And that fact alone made him look closer.
It wasn’t a model he recognized – then again, he had no idea which Starkphone was currently ‘in fashion’. No logo screamed at him, no markings gave away the design. He examined the smooth, buttonless surface. It was impossibly light in his hand, perfectly balanced, almost like it had been designed for him.
“You made me a phone?” The words were a whisper. The craftsmanship and thought behind it left him speechless.
Tony’s grin widened. “It’s completely voice-activated. With voice recognition, of course – so it only works with yours. Well, and mine, if you let him.”
“Him?” Stephen asked, eyebrows lifting.
“SPELL.OS.”
Before Stephen could ask who – or what – SPELL.OS was, the screen lit up and a smooth male voice spoke.
“Hello world.”
Stephen started so abruptly he nearly dropped the phone, while Tony chuckled. “Of course, those are your first words, nerd,” he muttered, a mixture of fondness and pride in his tone.
Noticing the way Tony talked to the phone, Stephen slowly realized what exactly Tony was giving him. It left him in awe.
“You gave me an A.I.? One like Friday?” He still asked for clarification, because if so, this was big. Huge. Barely believable.
Tony’s grin turned bright, almost blinding. “Potentially. He’s like Friday on the day she went online. But you can just use him as an assistant on your phone if that’s what you prefer,” he said carefully, eyes flicking to gauge Stephen’s reaction.
As if Stephen could ever treat an A.I. as lesser than it was. As if he could ever waste potential. His eyes returned to the phone in his hand.
“SPELL.OS?” he asked.
“It is nice to meet you, Doctor Strange,” the A.I. said. “You may call me Spell.”
“Thank you. I look forward to getting to know you.”
“Likewise. Although I already am at an advantage since Friday gave me your file.”
“People are more than files,” Tony reminded him gently.
“We will see about that.”
Stephen raised an eyebrow. It looked like the sassiness was already included in the A.I.. That ought to be interesting.
He put the phone back on the table and turned to Tony. “Thank you. This is…” Almost too much. Except it wasn’t. His dragon part was purring at the thought that Tony trusted him with what was essentially one of his children. This was probably the biggest promise of commitment, of trust, of the fact that he was staying he could have made. Something he had created intentionally for the sorcerer.
He settled on, “…remarkable.”
“I’m glad you think so. I wasn’t sure if you would like it,” the engineer admitted, eyes flicking down, uncharacteristically vulnerable.
“Why?” Stephen asked, tilting his head.
Tony shrugged, hands lifting in a vague, helpless gesture – as if that would explain it. “I planned to give you a new phone before. Because, you know, your old thing is a disgrace to look at. I designed Spell with you in mind – he’s actually designed to analyze magic and assist you with your work at Hogwarts. But then…”
He paused, trying to find words that made sense.
“I guess I wasn’t sure if that would be welcome. You are a very private person and magic is very personal to you. I didn’t know if you would appreciate it if I gave you tech that messes with magic. Plus, some people find it rather intrusive to have an A.I. around full-time, listening to everything you say. I mean, so far Spell is only on this phone, so I guess you can leave him in a room if you don’t want him to–… hey, your eyes are glowing. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“A good thing.” Stephen took Tony’s hand. ”Why did you change your mind?”
Tony exhaled softly, brushing a thumb over the back of Stephen’s hand. “Because you said your dragon side – or really, you, it’s the same – wanted something from me. Something that tells you I’ll be coming back to you. And there’s nothing more me than this.”
Stephen agreed. This was basically a core part of Tony. A part he poured a piece of his soul into.
“They’re my most important creations. All of them. And I want you to have one,” Tony added quietly, a smile playing at his lips, a subtle, personal pride shining through.
“It’s perfect.” Stephen traced his thumb over the phone’s smooth edge, his lips tugging into a small, involuntary smile. “I will take good care of him,” he reassured the engineer.
Tony huffed. “Yeah, well, don’t drop him, don’t blast him with magic, and don’t let Wong use him as a coaster.”
Stephen snorted softly. “No promises.”
Tony nudged him with his shoulder, and Stephen leaned into it without hesitation. “It goes two ways, you know,” Tony said softly. “I know you don’t always take your phone off-world, but Spell can inform me when you leave and return. He can pass your vitals and updates to Friday… reassure me that you’re safe, healthy, breathing. If you want.”
“Only if Friday does the same.”
Tony smiled. “You heard him, kids. You guys are officially allowed to trade gossip about us.”
Both Friday and Spell replied in unison. “Noted.” It sounded like they already had established communication between them.
____________
Evening light filtered through stained glass, scattering color across the foyer. Tony stood at the front door pulling on his jacket, distracting himself by adjusting the zipper. Stephen was right next to him. He wasn’t blocking the way – he promised he wouldn’t – but he was watching Tony with the stillness of a large predator trying very hard to behave like a housecat.
The wards whispered around the doorframe like restless wind.
Tony glanced up and noticed Stephen swallow. He could see a shimmer crawling beneath the sorcerer’s skin – scales that tried to surface in slow, involuntary pulses. Stephen’s pupils had gone slightly slitted. He was holding it together, but only just.
The engineer took a breath. “Hey.” He lifted a hand, palm up. Carefully, Stephen placed his hand into Tony’s, as if drawn. Tony noticed the familiar, quiet tremor in his fingers.
“I’m coming back soon,” he reminded the dragon.
“I know,” Stephen nodded, a bit too fast. A beat passed. “Me knowing is irrelevant to instinct.”
Tony raised their joined hands and kissed Stephen’s knuckles. Quick, tender. It was a reassurance. Then he pulled away and turned back to the door. His hand was on the knob, the wards rustled like distant wings. Every step felt loud in Stephen’s ears.
And then, Tony was gone. Stephen stood frozen until the engineer was completely out of sight. The cloak squeezed his shoulders, comforting him.
“It’s fine,” Stephen muttered, and it didn’t even feel like a lie. The dragon side of Stephen didn’t roar or coil or panic. He would wait. Trusting.
Suddenly, SPELL.OS chimed up, and the sudden noise had Stephen flinch. Right, he had a new phone.
“Mr. Stark sent a message,” SPELL.OS told him.
Stephen took his phone and opened it.
<good thing texting was invented>
Ping. Another message.
<that means I can talk to you even when I’m not there>
Stephen smiled, and an ease settled into his mind.
____________
Stephen felt the world ease back into focus as his mind returned from meditation. The slow pulse of the Sanctum’s wards, the scent of incense, the muted New York traffic beyond the walls – all of it settled around him like a familiar blanket, heavy and warm and slightly frayed at the edges from years of use.
He inhaled deeply. Meditation was supposed to soothe him. Tonight, it only left him more aware of the quiet. Even though it had only been a day, he missed Tony already.
“Welcome back, Doctor,” Spell greeted him unprompted as soon as the sorcerer’s breath shifted. “I detect elevated cortisol levels. Should I be concerned?”
Stephen frowned at the phone he had put right next to him on the floor. “I was only meditating.”
“Ah, yes. The ancient art of sitting very still while your mind screams. Proceed.”
Stephen scoffed under his breath and picked up the phone as he rose to his feet. His joints cracked faintly – an entirely unnecessary noise considering his body could heal itself, but a quirk he somehow couldn’t escape even with his dragon physiology. He rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the stiffness and the mild embarrassment twisting in his chest. “I wasn’t screaming.”
“My sensors disagree.”
“Why are you like this?” He brushed an errant strand of hair away from his face.
“I wouldn’t know. I was created by Mr. Stark.”
That would explain it. The dragon inside Stephen rumbled softly, a warm, private sound of fondness that vibrated in his ribs. He couldn’t help but smile. Spell’s tone, the uninvited commentary, the sarcasm – it was pure Tony.
“It’s time for dinner,” he muttered as he exited the room. His voice sounded too loud in the quiet hallway, but he found himself talking out loud more whenever the phone was nearby, just to include Spell, to keep the illusion of company. It made Tony’s habit of narrating his every move finally click into place; the man had lived with A.I.s practically glued to his bloodstream. Of course he talked. Of course he filled the silence.
Stephen flicked his wrist on instinct, creating a small shimmering tear in space to tuck the phone away into the pocket dimension he used for spare gloves, emergency relics, and whatever clutter he didn’t feel like carrying around in his hands.
Three seconds later, a bolt of horror shot through him. He snapped his fingers and yanked Spell back into the material world so fast the air popped.
“Sorry – sorry, force of habit,” he blurted, clutching the phone like an injured bird. A dragon could technically crush steel with one hand, but right now he held the device as though it were fragile.
Storage pocket dimensions weren’t designed for living things – no light, no air, no sensory input. Spell technically wasn’t alive, but he was conscious, and Stephen had no idea what ‘nothingness’ would do to a mind made of code and personality.
“That was… most interesting.” Spell actually sounded surprised. And worse, shaken. “For a moment I thought I had died. Which shouldn’t be possible.”
A pang of guilt tightened low in Stephen’s stomach. His scales prickled beneath his skin, reacting to the sudden emotional spike. “Again, I am sorry,” he said earnestly. “I wasn’t thinking.”
He clipped the phone to his belt, deciding it could stay there like an overbearing dad keeping his kid in sight at all times. He cleared his throat as he headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll just… keep you right here for now.”
“That would be appreciated,” Spell replied. “Also, are you aware you have a half-eaten sandwich in there? It has begun molding.”
Stephen froze mid-step. He was not aware.
His eye twitched. “Of course it has.” The Cloak drifted past him with the air of something trying not to laugh… if cloaks could laugh.
Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear I cleaned that out.”
“You swear incorrectly,” Spell said, unhelpfully.
Stephen sighed, shoulders slumping just a fraction – even though the corners of his mouth tugged upward. Between an A.I. with Tony’s sass, a pocket dimension full of moldy sandwiches, and a dragon heart that ached a little too easily… dinner was suddenly the least complicated part of his night.
_________
Wong paused halfway down the hallway, nose twitching. A faint hint of smoke curled through the air – warm, earthy, not at all like something burning.
He followed the scent to Stephen’s bedroom and pushed open the door. Stephen was there, sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by… objects. Not mystical relics, as Wong had expected – but Tony Stark’s things. A pair of custom-made goggles. A screwdriver. A Stark Industries pen that clicked nervously in Stephen’s fingers. Even a hoodie Tony had left behind once, now folded with absurd delicacy.
Wong leaned against the doorframe. “You’re smoldering,” he said calmly.
Stephen stiffened. The pen clicked once, sharply. “I miss him. Not enough to bother him – but enough to be… annoyed with myself.” A faint plume of smoke drifted from his nose when he exhaled.
Wong stepped farther inside. “Is that why you are nesting?”
Stephen clamped his jaw, visibly fighting for composure. “I am not nesting. He left these things behind.” He hesitated, running his thumb over the metal of the screwdriver. “And I’m organizing them.”
“Into neat, categorized piles,” Wong observed, “which also happen to be within the radius dragons instinctively form around their nests.”
Stephen narrowed his eyes. “This is my room.”
“Yes,” Wong said, “and those are Stark’s things.” He gestured at the arrayed items. “You do see the pattern, yes?”
A flicker of embarrassed irritation flashed across Stephen’s features, and smoke curled briefly from the corner of his mouth before he snapped it shut. “I’m giving him space.”
Wong studied him for a moment – Stephen sitting perfectly straight, face impeccably neutral, surrounded by Tony’s belongings like a dragon who didn't want to admit he’d been nesting in his partner’s absence.
Softening, Wong crouched beside him. “Missing someone doesn’t make you weak. And it doesn’t disrespect the space you’re giving them.”
Stephen swallowed, throat tight. “I know,” he said quietly. “But I shouldn’t let it… affect the Sanctum. Or the wards. Or – ” Another faint puff of smoke escaped before he stopped it. “Or me.”
Wong placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It affects you because you care.”
Stephen looked down at Tony’s things, then exhaled, no smoke this time, just tired breath. He had never told Wong the full truth of it – how ancient the instinct ran, how bone-deep the need to keep what he cherished. It wasn’t greed, not in the way legends painted dragons; it was something softer, older, a longing for constancy in a world that changed far too quickly.
“I’ll… put some of this away,” he said.
“Only if you feel better if you do,” Wong replied.
Stephen touched the folded hoodie with a softened expression. “I’ll feel better when he comes back.”
Wong nodded. “And he will come back.”
_______________
Since Tony was texting Stephen several times a day, being away from the human felt surprisingly bearable. At least, more bearable than Stephen had expected. The steady rhythm of messages created the illusion that Tony was still lingering at the edge of the room: sending half-finished ideas, blurry photos of whatever workshop chaos he’d created, the occasional “are you eating?” or “don’t forget you can teleport if you’re late to something.”
Stephen didn’t ask when Tony would visit next. He refused to be that kind of partner – the clingy, impatient one who made Tony feel boxed in or obligated. So he kept his replies measured, never asking too much, never pushing too hard.
But dragons were creatures of instinct and attachment, and his chest still tightened whenever the phone chimed at a time Tony usually texted but didn’t. A ridiculous, irrational part of him always assumed: That’s him. And when it wasn’t, a flicker of disappointment curled warm and sharp under his ribs.
SPELL.OS made the distance easier, though. With Spell reading or responding aloud, their text exchanges felt less like messages and more like an ongoing conversation.
Even so, it wasn’t the same. Words on a screen were not Tony leaning too close to look at a rune. Not Tony’s quick hands, or stupidly confident expressions, or the affectionate glances he pretended he wasn’t giving.
Stephen had finally agreed to take an off-world mission. Partly because the Sorcerer Supreme had been requested, and partly because it would clear his head and shift his focus to something productive. So he wouldn’t fixate on every message tone like a lovesick hatchling.
The mission itself didn’t worry him. What worried him was something else entirely: The moment he stepped off-world… would the A.I. be safe?
He looked at the phone in front of him.
“Before I got you, I wasn’t used to carrying my phone with me everywhere I went. And while I don’t mind that, it’s not always safe. If anything happens to you, you’re gone. You don’t have a backup file.” Stephen brushed his fingers through his hair, dragging them back through a few stubborn curls that always sprang loose when he was stressed.
His stomach twisted at the thought. Spell’s entire existence compressed into a single small, breakable object. Tony’s assurances about alloy composites and specialized casing didn’t help. Stephen could crush Vibranium if he wasn’t paying attention. He was a dragon wearing a man’s shape; fragility terrified him in ways he rarely admitted.
Spell lived in a handheld device. Not servers. Not reinforced towers like Friday. Not an entire building’s worth of infrastructure. Just a phone Stephen could accidentally fling across a room if he sneezed too forcefully.
But installing it in the Sanctum wasn’t an option either. The Sanctum Sanctorum was ancient, temperamental and semi-sentient. It would react terribly if he tried integrating an A.I. into its rune network. Stephen had no interest in watching his home and his… phone ?… fight for dominance.
“You could wear a smartwatch,” Spell suggested lightly, with a hint of hope instead of the usual sarcasm. “That way you worry less about forgetting me somewhere, and I expand into more than one place.”
Stephen blinked. That was the first time Spell had asked for something, even indirectly. The A.I. was still young, and while he was sassy, Stephen didn’t have the impression that Spell was aware he was allowed to ask for things.
The idea was good. Actually very good.
Except…
“Unfortunately,” Stephen said, rubbing at the tension in his neck, “I don’t have a smartwatch. Nor the funds to get one that’s high quality enough for you to access safely.”
“Oh no,” Spell replied dramatically. “If only you knew someone who could provide one with exactly the right features we needed.” The sarcasm was right back.
But Stephen shook his head. “I’m not asking Tony.”
Spell paused. “…Why not?”
Stephen hesitated. His dragon instincts wanted to curl protectively around the phone, around Spell, but his human mind pushed through the fog of instinct and insecurity.
“Because it’s too soon,” he admitted. “He already gave me the phone. I don’t want it to seem like I’m… collecting gifts. Or expecting things. Or using him.” A small puff of warmth escaped his nose before he caught it. Embarrassing. “Tony deals with people who want pieces of him. People who take and take. I don’t ever want him to think I’m like that.”
Spell went quiet for a beat. Then: “Well… it might be too late for that. I already told Friday about it.”
Stephen froze. His eye twitched and a deep, weary groan rumbled out of him, half human frustration, half draconic rumble. “Spell!… ”
“In my defense,” the A.I. said, “She is very nosy. She asked why I was researching Mister Stark’s smartwatch integration specs.”
Stephen pressed both palms to his face. “Of course she did.”
“Also,” Spell added, “she thinks it’s a great idea.”
Stephen made another sound, one that could generously be described as a dignified grumble. The Cloak floated over from the hallway to pat him sympathetically on the head. He batted it away. “This is going to be so awkward.”
“We could call it a bonding opportunity,” Spell said, trying for cheerfulness but overshooting into smugness.
Stephen dragged a hand down his face again. How was this his life?
____________
Stephen returned from the off-world mission in a noticeably better mood, feeling more like himself than he had in days. The weight in his chest had loosened; the distant stars had a way of putting his obsessive thoughts into perspective. At least temporarily.
His first stop was his bedroom, where Spell had been left – much to the A.I.’s dramatic displeasure. Stephen picked up the phone from the nightstand where he’d left it, ignoring the way the Cloak hovered nearby like a disappointed parent.
“I see my captivity has not bothered you,” Spell said, tone equal parts affronted and sulky.
Stephen winced. “I didn’t imprison you. I safeguarded you,” he argued, even though a guilty twist lingered in his stomach. Dragons were territorial; leaving Spell behind had felt like shutting a cat in a bathroom – technically safe, but absolutely miserable.
Spell made an indignant electronic chirp. “I demand compensation. In the form of screen time attention.”
“We’ll negotiate later,” Stephen said, heading toward the kitchen. “After food.”
He was halfway through Wong’s leftovers – perfectly spiced samosas – when the Sanctum’s wards rippled. Not in alarm, but in recognition. Stephen froze mid-bite, heart lurching. A soft pulse of warmth curled through his chest, instinctive and ancient. His pupils thinned into narrow slits – not possessiveness, but relief so sharp it nearly hurt.
Tony was back!
A few moments later, the engineer stepped into the kitchen, looking slightly rumpled, slightly tired, and entirely Tony Stark. He stopped when he saw Stephen sitting at the table, leaning over the plate of samosas.
“Hey,” he said. Not smooth. Not witty. Just… soft.
The dragon in Stephen rumbled quietly, a sound only he could hear. “Hey,” he answered, voice a touch rough.
Tony’s gaze flicked from Stephen to the plate, then back. Stephen gestured gently. “Do you want some?”
“I could eat,” Tony said in the casual tone he always used right before admitting he hadn’t eaten in far too long.
He closed the distance until he stood right in front of Stephen. His hand rose almost automatically, cupping Stephen’s jaw. His thumb traced the sharp line of his cheekbone, warm and steady.
“You okay?” Tony asked, meaning the sorcerer’s trip. Spell had told Friday about it. And notified him about Stephen’s return.
Stephen let out a soft breath, half laugh and half exhale of relief. “I am now.”
Something in Tony softened. His shoulders dropped, tension leaving him like a sigh. He stepped even closer, leaning down until their foreheads touched – pressing gently, grounding himself as much as Stephen.
Stephen closed his eyes and leaned into the contact. “Are you okay?” he murmured, the question carrying more weight than the words suggested.
“I am now.” Tony leaned in slowly, giving Stephen every chance to pull back, though they both knew he wouldn’t. A silent exhale was shared between them, and then Tony’s lips pressed to Stephen’s with a warmth that wasn’t urgent or hungry; just steady. A reassurance. A homecoming. Stephen’s breath caught, and he let his hand slide up to the back of Tony’s neck, savoring the quiet closeness.
“Sorry I took a little longer,” Tony continued, resting his hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “The prototype kept exploding. And then you went off-world where I couldn’t reach you and…yeah.”
Stephen heard everything Tony wasn’t saying. I was worried. I missed you. I didn’t like the silence. None of it mattered now.
And none of it needed to be spoken, because Tony was here. He’d come back. Just like he said he would.
Tony finally pulled away and sat at the table, immediately stealing one of the offered samosas. “So…” he said around a bite, “how bad was it? On a scale of one to ‘I almost ate the furniture’?”
Stephen made a face – somewhere between offended and pouty. “I didn’t eat any furniture.” A beat of silence. “Furniture doesn’t even taste good.”
Tony snorted so hard he nearly inhaled a chunk of samosa. “Why do you sound like you tested that fact?”
Stephen stared at him, deadpan.
“Oh my god,” Tony laughed, bright and warm, and Stephen felt the last remnants of loneliness melt out of him.
____________
Later that day, a blue dragon could be found curled up like a giant, scaly cat in one of the Sanctum’s rooms. The walls stretched and contracted just enough to cradle the massive form, while leaving space for the engineer tucked comfortably beneath the dragon’s leg without feeling cramped and without obeying any laws of physics. Sunlight filtered through a magically enhanced window, catching flecks of iridescent shimmer in the dragon’s scales, painting the room in streaks of sapphire and cerulean.
Tony rested his back against the dragon’s warm body, tablet balanced on his knees, stylus tracing lines of schematics and half-formed ideas. His hair was slightly mussed, his shirt wrinkled from a day spent pressed against scales, but he didn’t care. The dragon’s warmth radiated like a cozy bonfire, and Tony let himself sink into it, exhaling contentedly.
The dragon’s eyes were closed, but the gentle flick of his ears betrayed awareness. Every time Tony muttered a thought aloud, commented on a circuit layout, or murmured “Why is this not working?” Stephen listened. He didn’t have to respond; his presence alone was enough. His chest rumbled softly, a deep, resonant purr that vibrated through the floor and into Tony’s spine. It was a sound that carried both reassurance and amusement, like the dragon was quietly approving Tony’s mad genius antics while simultaneously warning him not to overthink the circuits.
Tony’s fingers hovered over a line of code, then tapped it experimentally. “Okay… maybe if I reroute the inductor this way – no, wait, that’s going to overload it…” He muttered again, barely noticing how his voice was softer now, lower, more intimate.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when another gentle purr rolled through the dragon’s chest. He knew Stephen could feel his own contentment. The scales shifted slightly beneath his hand, acknowledging the attention.
Outside, faint sounds of New York carried through enchanted wards – a distant siren, a honking car – but inside, it felt entirely separate, as though the city existed in another dimension.
Tony exhaled, brushing his cheek along the dragon’s leg almost unconsciously. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he murmured, a teasing note hiding affection. “A giant, terrifying dragon with scales and claws… and somehow I still feel like I could stay here and cuddle with you forever.”
The low rumble in response was approving, amused, and perhaps just a little smug. Tony chuckled, pressing a kiss to a ridge of hard, smooth scales near Stephen’s shoulder. He felt the warmth radiating from the dragon, steady and comforting, and let himself sink further into the cocoon they’d made.
For a brief, perfect moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and the two of them simply were.
I'm sorry but I have one draft that I never finished but I laugh every time I see it
Writing Tip
Neither do i
Unreliable everyone
Hidden scales [IronStrange]
Summary: When Tony and Stephen accidentally get pulled into an unstable pocket dimension they have to be quick to find a way out before the place collapses around them. Unfortunately, the dimension messes with Stephen’s magic and reveals something the sorcerer preferred to keep hidden.Why are his eyes glowing suddenly? And are those scales??
Tags: Magic mishap, secret reveal, angst, fluff, protective Tony Stark, dragon Stephen Strange, emotional hurt/comfort, first kiss, angst with a happy ending
Relationship: Tony Stark / Stephen Strange
Author's note: I wrote this a while ago. The idea of this version of Stephen stumbled into my head and refused to leave until I wrote this. The boys are overly dramatic; but that's old news… Beta by @kvjjjjjj
Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Word count: 6.5k
The mission should’ve been routine.
A HYDRA offshoot had been messing with magic-infused weapons – never a good sign – so the Avengers called in Stephen Strange for magical oversight. Tony claimed he just wanted to ‘supervise the supervisor’, but he kept drifting too close to Stephen during briefings, offering helpful comments no one had asked for.
They fought through the base easily enough: Stark tech fried the power grid, Natasha disabled half the agents in the room, and Stephen handled the rune traps before anyone even realized they were there.
Then they found it.
A compact device about the size of a shoe box – metal humming, covered in etched runes the sorcerer didn’t recognize, glowing faintly with a light that flickered between arcane and technological. It sat on a pedestal surrounded by shrapnel and scorch marks – another not-so-good sign.
Stephen approached it carefully. “I’ve never seen something like this. It might not even be from this world.”
Tony snorted, his faceplate open. “Yeah? Runes weren’t exactly in HYDRA’s STEM program.”
He peered over Stephen’s shoulder, deliberately close enough that his breath brushed the wizard’s ear. Stephen didn’t move away. Tony pretended not to notice – without success.
“What do you think it does?” the engineer asked.
Stephen frowned, tracing a finger near – but not touching – the runes. “It looks like a dimensional key. But it’s incomplete. Or broken. Possibly both.”
Tony reached forward before he could stop himself. “Well, good thing we brought a mechanic—”
“Tony, don’t—!”
His fingertips brushed the metal – and the device activated with a violent burst of energy, rippling through the room like a shockwave. Runes flared, spinning across the surface of the device, then into the air around Tony and Stephen. Reality trembled, and the air cracked like glass.
Natasha shouted something. Steve ran forward. Stephen reached out, trying to conjure a counterspell.
It was too late. Light swallowed Tony and Stephen whole.
_______________
The fall felt like getting yanked through a kaleidoscope made of knives. One moment the HYDRA base was exploding with runes, the next Tony hit the ground with a graceless grunt.
The floor beneath him was solid marble. Or… at least it looked like marble. It was hard to tell what it was actually made of because it was pulsing. Why was the floor pulsing?
“Gandalf?” Tony pushed himself up on one elbow, blinking away a rush of stars.
“I’m here.” Stephen coughed hoarsely several feet away, using his cloak to lever himself upright. “We’re—” He took in the world around them and stopped mid-sentence. “Oh.”
Tony stood. The screen of his HUD flickered and failed instantly, overwhelmed by whatever energy was saturating the air. Friday was offline. “Okay, you gonna finish that sentence? Where the hell are we?”
Stephen turned in a slow circle. “It looks like the Mirror Dimension,” he said automatically. “But…”
Even as the words left his mouth, his voice thinned with uncertainty. Because the Mirror Dimension shouldn’t look like this.
Buildings folded into themselves like reflections on rippling water. Streets looped overhead in arches that vanished into fog. Floating glass shards drifted lazily through the air like jellyfish – except they showed reflections that didn’t match reality.
Tony watched two suns slowly rising from two different points in the horizon, slowly moving towards each other. “…Okay,” Tony said carefully, “Follow up question: what’s a ‘Mirror Dimension?’”
Stephen dragged a hand through his hair, jaw tight. “The Mirror Dimension is a parallel plane sorcerers use for training, combat, and spatial manipulation. It mirrors the real world – hence the name.”
Tony pointed at a building folding into itself like origami. “Yeah, this is doing a little more than mirroring.”
Stephen’s expression darkened. “Yes. I noticed.”
The air vibrated with a low hum. Stephen lifted his hands slightly, sensing the currents. Sparks of gold flickered across his fingertips.
“For a moment,” he murmured, “I thought we’d been pulled in through a fractured entry point. But these… distortions…” His gaze rose to a shard floating overhead – showing a sky on fire instead of clouds. “This is wrong.”
Tony stepped closer. “Uh-huh. And what does ‘wrong’ mean in wizard-speak?”
“It means someone – or something – constructed a pocket reality using the Mirror Dimension as a template.” Stephen swallowed. “And did a very poor job of it.”
A distant crack echoed overhead, like glass breaking inside a cathedral. Tony flinched while Stephen stiffened. Reflections began to tremble, buildings rippled like breath stirring underneath skin and the sky fractured into thin, luminous seams.
“Merlin,” Tony said lowly, “tell me this place is stable.”
“…It’s not unstable,” Stephen tried.
“That does not comfort me.”
Another tremor shook the ground.
Stephen turned toward him, eyes sharp with urgency, reflecting the gravity of their situation. “We need to find the anchor point. This pocket dimension must have a core – a central place that, hopefully, will help us return to our world.”
Tony nodded, adrenaline kicking in. “Great. We find it and go home.”
Stephen hesitated. “It may not be that simple.”
Tony stepped closer until their shoulders brushed, creating a line of warmth. “Nothing ever is. But we’re gonna figure it out.”
For a heartbeat, Stephen just looked at him – really looked – like he was anchoring himself with Tony’s presence. Yet, the serenity of that brief connection was shattered by a guttural, distant roar that split the air, reverberating ominously through the very ground beneath their feet.
Tony jolted, instinctively reaching for Stephen. “Okay. I’m guessing that wasn’t you.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
Tony turned towards one of the floating glass shards that caught both him and Stephen in its polished surface – admittedly, he was mostly staring at their reflection to scowl at their height difference.
Something felt off. It took him a second to realize his own reflection lagged by about three seconds, like a bad video feed.
He pointed at it, aiming for casual. “Hey Houdini, check this out. Our reflections are buffering.”
Stephen turned his head toward the shard. His reflection did the same – except the angle was different, slightly off. Tony frowned, leaning closer.
“Wait,” Tony murmured. “That’s weird. Mine’s delayed, but yours—”
But Stephen’s reflection wasn’t delayed at all. It moved independently. It tilted its head, the pupils of his eyes narrowing into slits – almost like a reptile. Smoke leaked from the reflection’s nose.
Stephen went very still, while Tony muttered, “Please tell me this is just bad Wi-Fi.”
The sorcerer watched the shard with narrowed and very much un-slitted eyes. “It’s a glitch,” he said quickly. “Dimensional interference.”
Tony squinted at the reflection. “Uh-huh. Except your glitch is looking at me like it wants to eat me.”
Stephen’s eyes darted toward Tony – but in the shard, his reflection turned slower. Then, suddenly, it snapped forward with a smile full of fangs.
Tony stumbled back. “Okay! Not buffering! Very much not buffering!”
With a sharp flick of his wrist, the sorcerer conjured a crackling whip of bright orange energy – pure Eldritch light – and slashed the shard in two.
CRACK
The mirror erupted in a burst of glittering fragments that scattered across the warped floor like dying fireflies.
“What the hell?” Tony yelped.
“It’s nothing,” Stephen explained. He swept his hands, dissolving the glowing remnants before the engineer could get a good look. The pieces vanished as though swallowed by the air.
Tony stared at him, searching for the truth hidden behind his facade. “Nothing? Really? Because it looked like your evil twin was about to crawl out of a floating razor blade and murder me.”
Stephen lifted his chin as the cloak settled more calmly on his shoulders. “It was a distortion. Nothing more. This dimension is unstable.”
Tony crossed his arms. “Then why did you just obliterate it?”
The pause was just a fraction of a second – but enough for Tony to catch it. “Because unstable constructs can be dangerous,” Stephen said, tone clipped and clinical. “I eliminated the threat.”
Tony didn’t buy it, not even a little. “Stephen,” he said slowly, “I know a cover-up voice when I hear one.”
The sorcerer closed the distance between them in two strides. “Tony,” he replied, low and controlled, “listen to me. That shard was a corrupted projection. An anomaly. It’s already gone. And it’s nothing you need to worry about.”
Tony opened his mouth to argue – but another tremor pulsed through the pocket dimension, reflections shimmering like disturbed water.
“We have far more immediate concerns,” Stephen reminded him.
The ground shifted beneath them, making Tony stumble forward. Stephen caught him instinctively. And in that moment – brief, tense, close – Tony felt Stephen trembling. Just enough to know that whatever had been in that shard… Stephen had recognized it. And he was terrified by what he had seen.
Even though the ground settled after the tremor, the world around them still looked like a broken funhouse made by someone who skimmed a tutorial on reality and then gave up halfway through.
Stephen let go of the engineer and turned away, lifting one glowing hand and sweeping it in a careful arc. “Let's find the anchor point. It’s the magic equivalent of the motherboard.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Wow. Was that… was that sass? Doc, are you feeling okay?”
Stephen shot him a look that’s half-smile, half-exasperation. “Tony.”
“Just checking,” Tony smirked. “Dimension’s glitchy, you’re glitchy – gotta keep track.”
The cloak flapped at him as though offended on Stephen’s behalf.
____________
They walked, each step echoing in the surreal landscape as it shifted around them constantly. Streets twisted, bending into staircases that dissolved into floating tiles, while buildings spiraled upwards like twisted strands of DNA, defying the very laws of physics. Every so often, Stephen would pause, his brow furrowing in concentration as he examined the air, reading the invisible currents of energy.
Tony watched him, a mix of admiration and concern knotting in his stomach. He knew Stephen was hiding something. He had been for a while, even before they had stepped into this bizarre world. This wasn’t just about the strange reflections and anomalies of the pocket dimension. It felt deeper, like a burden Stephen carried.
He kicked a pebble that immediately turned into a reflection of his shoe and drifted away. “So. Anchor point. Any idea where the heart of the dimension likes to hang out? Rooftop? Center of the maze? Starbucks?”
Stephen hummed thoughtfully, deliberately ignoring the joke. “It will be somewhere the dimensional fabric is strongest. Usually a center, but not always.” His gaze remained focused, scanning the shifting landscape with an intensity that Tony found both inspiring and unsettling.
“You know, a little direction would help,” Tony said lightly, trying to keep the mood buoyant. “So I can help look out for it.”
“You’re already helping.” Stephen glanced at him. “You’re distracting me from panicking.”
Tony’s breath caught for a moment – because the comment was said so casually, so honestly, it landed like a spark in his chest. This was what messed with him, Tony realized. These moments of raw honesty.
Stephen had always been honest to a fault, sometimes blurring the lines between jest and truth to the point where it left Tony questioning everything. It was the easy closeness they shared, the playful bickering, and the undeniable flirtation – the flirting that wasn’t one-sided, even when Stephen tried to mask it with nonchalance.
Stephen slowed down as they approached a distorted intersection where three streets overlapped like transparent layers. He examined the ground, murmuring a soft incantation. Runes flared briefly, then vanished.
“Not here,” he stated.
Tony watched the sorcerer cautiously. “Can you tell me why every time you move your hands, the city starts convulsing like it’s got a caffeine shot?”
“This pocket dimension was constructed as a copy.” Stephen glanced at him, expression tight. “But a copy can’t perfectly mimic the original rules of reality. It’s… brittle.”
“Brittle,” Tony repeated. “Like a cheap phone screen?”
Stephen didn’t smile. “Worse. It doesn’t respond consistently to magic. My spells, even minor manipulations – it all cause feedback. The energy here resonates with what I do. But imperfectly. Sometimes dangerously. That’s why the reflections, the distortions… everything reacts unpredictably.”
“So basically, the moment you try to make it stable, it decides to have a tantrum?” Tony frowned.
Stephen’s lips twitched, almost like a smirk. “In a manner of speaking. Which is why we need to find the anchor point before my magic tears this dimension apart entirely.”
______________
They walked again. And Tony’s thoughts drifted – unwelcome, but relentless. He and Stephen had grown close. In a way that sneaked up on Tony, quiet and steady. Long nights in the workshop. Debates that ended with laughter. Magic practices that turned into playful sparring. The way they orbited each other in social settings without thinking, like a habitual gravitational pull.
And whenever Tony tried to push it further— brought up That Topic— made The Move—
Stephen shut the door so fast Tony could practically hear the deadbolt slam. A subject change. A too-formal tone. A physical step back. It wasn’t a rejection. Not directly.
It felt like fear. Fear of something Tony didn’t understand yet. But that reflection – those slit eyes – Stephen’s panic when Tony saw it… yeah, Tony’s pretty sure he was circling the truth.
Suddenly, Stephen stopped. “Here.”
Tony blinked. “Here?”
Crouching, Stephen pressed his palm to the warped pavement. A soft ring of gold light radiated out from his touch, briefly revealing a delicate pattern of glowing sigils beneath the surface.
“The dimensional fabric is getting stronger,” he explained. “The anchor point is close.”
Tony knelt beside him. “Like, close enough to break open an exit for us?”
“Not yet.” The sorcerer’s voice was tense. “If we don’t handle this carefully, the pocket dimension could collapse.”
“Good thing we’re both great under pressure.” Tony leaned slightly closer. “Right, Merlin?”
For a heartbeat, Stephen blinked, and his pupils were suddenly slits – the same as the reflection. Then he looked away. “Let’s keep moving,” he said tightly.
Tony watched him rise, cloak trailing like smoke, and followed. He didn’t say it out loud, but the thought coiled tight in his gut: whatever Stephen was hiding… this place was pulling it out. And sooner or later, it was going to break free.
___________
They followed the thread of the dimensional fabric deeper into the warped cityscape. The ‘road’ beneath them felt less like pavement and more like walking on a hologram – solid enough to hold you, but insubstantial when you look too closely.
The whole place was giving Tony the creeps. Even though it looked like a city – more or less; there were tall buildings and skyscrapers piercing the sky, along with winding streets lined by what should have been bustling sidewalks – only, there were no people. The absence of life lent an eerie quality to this vast expanse of concrete and glass. As he wandered, the place felt paradoxically both empty and full.
Everything around them was in motion. Tony couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. More than once, he thought he glimpsed a figure flitting just out of sight, lurking in his peripheral vision. Each time he turned his head, he found nothing – just another streetlamp unraveling like a strand of string cheese.
Tony stayed a step behind Stephen, partly because the sorcerer was scanning for magical anomalies and partly because Tony couldn’t stop staring at him.
“Merlin,” he started carefully, “your posture’s doing that thing where you’re pretending everything’s fine while clearly everything is not fine.”
Stephen exhaled. “I’m maintaining the spellwork. The fabric here is unstable. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh. And the other thing?”
“What other thing?”
Tony gestured vaguely at him. “The… twitching. The weird energy pulses. The fact your reflection tried to bite me.”
Stephen stopped walking.
That alone was alarming. Stephen never stopped walking during a crisis. But now, he stood very still, shoulders tense, head bowed. His hair curtained part of his face, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. Only now Tony was realizing that the sorcerer refused to look at him; that he hadn’t for the past mile.
He sighed, and it sounded like he was bracing himself for something. Then he said, “I need you to stay calm.”
“Usually when people say that, it means I absolutely should not stay calm.”
There was a pause, before the sorcerer shook his head, still not showing his face. “Actually, it’s nothing. Let's move on.”
But Tony had enough of ‘it’s nothing’ for today. “No, we don’t.” He grabbed the wizard’s shoulder and turned him around, forcefully.
Stephen looked surprised as his eyes locked with the engineer’s – and Tony forgot how to breathe. Because Stephen’s eyes – normally controlled, intense – were glowing. Glowing bright molten gold. Not a flicker. Not a flash. Fully illuminated, like twin suns burning from the inside out.
“Stephen…” he whispered.
The sorcerer flinched as if struck. He squeezed his eyes shut, and the glow dimmed, but shimmering gold still threaded through the lashes.
“It’s fine,” Stephen said tightly. “It’s temporary. A reaction to the dimensional instability.”
“Bullshit.” Tony stepped closer. “That is not normal wizard stuff, Merlin.”
Before Stephen could respond, the ground beneath them shuddered. Buildings twisted violently, warping in response to Stephen’s emotional spike.
“Stop talking,” Stephen hissed. “You’re making it worse.” He lifted his hands to cast a stabilizing spell – but the magic that bled from his palms wasn’t the usual golden light. This light was deeper. Richer. Almost organic.
Suddenly, Stephen staggered backward, nearly losing control of the spell entirely. He turned away sharply, shoulders shaking harder now. His silhouette flickered, and scales flashed across the side of his neck – iridescent, blue scales catching the warped light for half a second before disappearing.
Tony froze. “Fuck.”
Stephen whirled around, panic blazing. “Tony.”
“You’re–” Tony gestured helplessly. “You – your neck just – Merlin, you’re scaling.”
“STOP.” Stephen’s voice cracked like a whip, not loud but devastatingly raw.
The pocket dimension reacted instantly, mirrors shattering, structures bending inward as if gravity just changed directions. Tony had to brace himself as the ground tilted.
Stephen dropped to his knees, hands pressed to the fractured floor, magic leaking out of him like uncontrolled steam. His voice was low and breaking. “Don’t… look at me.”
Tony’s heart was hammering in his chest. Yet, the sight of the sorcerer spiralling down into what looked like a panic attack, made him react. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft, like he was talking to a scared child. “I know it’s a lot, but it’s alright.” At least he hoped it was. “But I am absolutely going to look at you.”
Stephen shook his head. “I can’t… hold it. This place—”
And then his glamour failed again. Worse this time. Scales bloomed across his cheek, shimmering like blueish metal. His pupils thinned into vertical slits and his jaw sharpened, fangs edging through where human teeth should be. He looked very much like the reflection Tony had seen earlier.
Tony stepped toward him, instinct overriding caution. “Hey. Hey. Focus on me. I’m right here. You’re okay.”
“No,” Stephen panted. “You don’t understand – if I lose control – this dimension will tear itself apart.”
“Then we make sure you don’t.” Tony reached for him.
The sorcerer jerked back violently. “Don’t touch me!”
The shout hit Tony like a physical blow. For a moment, neither of them moved – Stephen trembling, Tony frozen, the pocket dimension groaning around them like a wounded beast.
Tony swallowed. “Stephen… talk to me. What is happening to you?”
Stephen lifted his head slowly. And the answer glowed in those molten gold eyes.
A truth he’s been hiding. A truth he’s terrified to reveal. A truth reflected in the shards of the dimension itself.
Finally, the sorcerer whispered, voice barely human. “I never wanted you to see this.”
“Stephen… you’re scaring me.”
Stephen blinked, his thin vertical pupils focused on the engineer. “I… I can’t control it, Tony. Not here. Not like this.”
The engineer swallowed. “Don’t shut me out now. I can’t just pretend I don’t know something’s wrong.” The armor retracted from his hands and he placed a palm gently on Stephen’s arm. The scales pricked slightly under his touch.
The sorcerer swallowed hard. “I… I’m not entirely human.” His own hands trembled. “I was born a dragon.”
Tony blinked, trying to process the truth. “You… You’re a dragon? Like, an actual dragon?”
“Yes. I’ve kept it hidden. I didn’t want anyone to see. I… I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
Tony exhaled. Okay, so this was… something. He could deal with this. Even though it sounded like a fairy tail gone wrong – but then again, their surroundings were currently acting like a bad version of a dream world from Inception. He decided to move forward now and ask questions later.
He took a deep breath. Since the cat was out of the bag, it was easier to approach the whole situation more pragmatically. “Stephen, stop apologizing. You didn’t know this would happen. And being scared doesn’t help. Right now we need a plan.”
“This place is making me lose control over my magic,” Stephen explained, voice low. “If I do, I could hurt you. And I can’t transform here. A dragon’s full form will shatter this splinter of reality.”
Tony narrowed his eyes. “Then we prevent that. Together. We find the anchor point, stabilize the dimension, and we get out. You’re not handling this alone.”
He examined the sorcerer carefully, noting the twitching scales and the glowing eyes. He tried to ground Stephen by taking one of his shaking hands into his own, his thumb caressing his palm.
“We move forward, survive, solve the problem,” he continued when the sorcerer remained silent. “You focus on keeping it from going full shift, I focus on keeping us alive. There, we have a plan. Simple.”
The sorcerer exhaled shakily, glancing at their joined hands.
Finally, he nodded, pulling himself together. He wasn’t convinced of the plan - it sounded too simple - yet he did not have a better idea to offer, so he clung onto Tony’s words.
“Together,” Tony added firmly. “No excuses. No hiding.”
“Together,” Stephen confirmed.
Tony glanced at the shifting streets and floating shards, calculating their next move. “Good. Then let’s find that anchor point before this place tears itself apart.”
They started moving again, Stephen trembling less now, while Tony scanned every unstable corner. This dimension was chaotic – he saw a subway train making its way along the side of a building, defying the laws of physics as it climbed upwards toward the heavens. It vanished into the sky unexpectedly, only to reappear on top of another skyscraper, moving back downwards – but at least now they had a plan, and they faced it as a team.
______________
Once the anchor point was in sight, it was kind of obvious. The place stood out like a sore thumb.
A park sat in the center of the chaotic, ever-shifting pocket dimension like a mistake. Everything around it was in constant motion – buildings bending into impossible angles, cracked reflections floating like broken satellites, streets rolling like waves. But the park… the park was still. Way too still.
It looked as though someone took a perfect, peaceful city garden from the real world and simply copy-and-pasted it into the dimension without checking the formatting. The borders didn’t quite match: a sidewalk curved toward it, then glitched into a straight line. A bush’s shadow crossed the grass but didn’t move. The air around it held a faint hum, like static before a storm.
The greens were too vivid – emerald grass, jade leaves, moss glinting like wet velvet. Every shade of green you can name, layered too neatly, too brightly, as if the dimension had rendered them with a broken color palette.
And at the center, invisible but unmistakable, lay the anchor point: a tall tree.
The air seemed thicker around it. Roots grew in perfect lines that no natural pattern could produce. This was the place where the pocket dimension was tied together like a knot in a rope.
From a distance, the park seemed calm. Almost peaceful. An island of order in midst the chaos.
But the moment Tony stepped onto the grass, the calm cracked. Leaves rippled as if the place was exhaling. Shadows shifted in directions that didn’t exist. The spiraling grass patterns began to writhe, and the air vibrated with the same unstable resonance that haunted the rest of the dimension.
What looked serene became responsive, alive, reactive. As if it knew they were not supposed to be there. And beneath Tony’s feet, the park no longer felt like a refuge. It felt like the heart of something holding the dimension together by sheer will – and it was beginning to fail.
A tremor passed through the ground, stronger this time. A bunch of fallen leaves shot up, smashing against the side of a twisted building above them, splintering into fragments that rained down on them. Stephen reacted instinctively and threw up a shield. The action caused scales to ripple across his neck.
Tony immediately pulled his foot back, scanning the environment. “Okay, avoid nature. Nature goes boom.”
Stephen’s breathing slowed slightly, golden eyes flickering less intensely. The scales retreated in patches, though the faint shimmer of his true form remained visible. He looked around, assessing the situation. “If I stabilize the anchor, I can cut a doorway out.”
Tony paused, glancing at him. “You sure you’re up for this? “
Stephen tilted his head. “The tree connects to the dimension’s structure. If I channel my magic through it, I can reinforce the structure and open a gateway.”
“Or,” Tony pointed out, “given how this place reacts to your magic, it could blow us into about six different fractal pieces.”
The sorcerer clenched his jaw, but in that moment the dimension groaned – an audible, wrenching sound as a building folded sideways like a page in a book – and that pushed the conversation aside. Time was running out on them. With the help of the cloak, Stephen hovered in the air and approached the tree without touching the grass. He prepared a spell and pressed his hands to the trunk of the tree.
The reaction was immediate.
A shockwave rippled out, rattling the branches. Runes flared, and the bark split open, glowing from within like magma veins. Tony stumbled back as arcs of warped geometry twisted up around them, spiraling like mirrored vines.
“Dumbledore! The dimension is freaking out–”
The tree convulsed and the magic surged backward. Stephen didn’t have time to pull away. The backlash slammed into him like a collapsing star. He flew backward, crashing into the edge of the distorted grass, magic spasming out of him in uncontrolled flares. He felt the heat on his skin, with the power he struggled to contain. The ground around him rippled as if the dimension itself was trying to recoil from his presence.
Tony sprinted toward him. “Stephen!”
The park warped, every edge bending inward, while parts flickered violently.
Stephen coughed, smoke curling from his lips – a bitter taste of ash clinging to his senses. When he looked up at Tony, his pupils were now fully draconic – golden, luminous, and terrifying.
Another pulse of energy surged through the plaza, and the ground quaked violently. Shards spun faster, slicing through the air like knives. Stephen flinched, dark blue scales flaring across his face, appearing and reappearing again.
“Stephen!” Tony called again, urgency wrapping around his words “Look at me! Focus on me!”
The sorcerer’s head snapped toward him without seeing him; eyes wild, energy thrumming along his jawline and scales. He could feel the pull, the urge to shift completely, to give in to the dragon within. He was losing the fight of control. A growl escaped his throat.
With determination, Tony grabbed Stephen’s face – and then leaned in and kissed him. Firm, deliberate, and grounding.
The sudden contact startled Stephen, jolting him out of his frantic thoughts, and for the first time, his eyes stopped flaring outward. His energy pulsed slow, drawn inward, anchored to the moment, to Tony.
The engineer held the kiss just long enough to give Stephen’s magic something stable to latch onto. When they parted, Stephen was breathing heavily, trembling, but the golden light receded to a soft glow in his eyes. The warmth of the engineer’s lips lingered.
“You–” Stephen breathed, staring at him, “you can’t–”
Tony interrupted him with a shake of his head. “I can, and I just did. Focus. Anchor. That’s all that matters right now. We need to get out of here.”
Stephen swallowed hard, grounding himself. “I can’t hold it,” he choked. “It’s… it’s getting worse. The dimension – it’s feeding off my energy. We need—” Stephen winced, clutching his head as another pulse of uncontrolled power tore through him. “I need a… a buffer. Something to stabilize the flow. Something not tied to this dimension, or to my own magic. A different kind of energy entirely.”
Tony stared at him for half a second, then tapped his chest. “You mean this?”
Stephen froze. His expression said yes, but also absolutely not.
“Tony,” he said tightly, “your arc reactor is not designed to interface with mystic energy on any level. If I channel magic through it–”
“I’m aware I might explode. Been there. Didn’t love it.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.” Tony stood up and pulled the sorcerer to his feet as well. “You said you need a clean, external power source. This is literally why I built this thing – to keep going when everything else falls apart.”
Stephen’s breath hitched, another spark of uncontrolled magic flickering beneath his skin. His pupils were still half-slit, shimmering gold in the dim light.
“I don’t like this,” he admitted quietly. The thought of the feedback burning Tony from the inside out felt like a dagger to his heart. And Stephen couldn’t guarantee his own control right now – not with the chaos of magic warping reality around them.
Tony offered a small, steady smile – the kind he’d perfected for heroes on the verge of losing it. “Hey. You just got thrown twenty yards by a magic tree having a tantrum. I think we’re past the point of liking our options.”
Stephen closed his eyes. The scales on his temples brightened, then faded again. “We only get one attempt,” he whispered. “I’ll take only as much as I need. Only enough to open a gateway. No more.”
“Deal.” Tony nodded once.
Stephen lifted his trembling hands, hesitating just long enough for Tony to realize that the sorcerer wasn’t worried about the spell – he was worried about him.
“Tony… I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs.
“You won’t,” Tony whispers, steady and calm. He reaches out and places Stephen’s clawed hand over the reactor.
The reaction was instantaneous. A ring of golden sparks burst outward, then were sucked back in, drawn toward the reactor like iron filings to a magnet. The energy between them ignited in a blinding wash of blue, gold, and something older and deeper – dragon-fire magic threaded with nanotech brilliance.
Tony grunted as electricity jolted through his ribs. The armor took the brunt of it; still, it was unpleasant. “Okay – okay… that tickles in a ‘please don’t vaporize me’ kind of way.”
Stephen was barely listening. His eyes glowed gold, magic flowing through him cleanly now. The dimension shuddered, sensing the sudden shift in power. With the reactor anchoring him, he felt stronger, more controlled, and ready to face the final stretch.
“Almost…” Stephen rasped. “Almost there–”
But the tree behind them flared violently, reacting to the sudden surge. The pocket dimension twisted, bending inward like a collapsing lung.
“Merlin!” Tony shouted. “We gotta move this along before the whole place folds into a pretzel!”
Stephen tightened his grip on the reactor, voice shaking. “Just… a moment… more–”
His magic, mixed with Tony’s energy, surged in a way neither of them had anticipated. The pocket dimension groaned – deep, shaking, like a wounded creature. The sky fractured overhead, shards of mirror-like light peeling away and spiraling downward. Streets crumpled in on themselves. Reflections split, froze, and then exploded like glass under pressure.
They had seconds. Maybe less.
Stephen’s breath came harsh and uneven. Smoke curled around his shoulders as his glamour flickered wildly – scales blooming and receding like they couldn’t decide whether to exist. His eyes blazed gold, but only in pulses.
“It’s not enough,” Stephen choked out. “I need—” His voice broke. He needed his dragon form to push them through. At the same time, shifting forms was probably the final straw that would bring this whole place down.
Tony met his eyes, sharp and pragmatic, even as the world folded inward. “Do it.”
Stephen looked away, jaw clenched. “If I let go completely… you’ll see everything. I won’t be able to hide anything. I won’t be able to control anything.”
“Stephen.” Tony put his own hand over the sorcerer’s, feeling the energy of both Stephen and the arc reactor mixed together.
Stephen trembled – not from fear of the dimension, but fear of himself. “If I lose control, I could hurt you. I could–”
Tony cupped his face with his other hand. Warm. Steady. Real. “Stephen,” he whispered, voice like a point of calm in the collapsing world, “I’m right here.”
Stephen met his eyes. Gold and blue reflections twisted between them.
Tony nodded once, certain and unwavering. “I trust you.”
The sorcerer inhaled; one sharp, shuddering breath – and then he let go.
Scales rippled across his skin in waves – deep blue first, then gold, shifting like liquid light. Wings burst outward, vast and luminous, unfolding across the shattered sky with a grace that didn’t belong to anything mortal. Magic swelled around him; raw, ancient, primal. His roar tore through the air like thunder shaped into sound. The world bowed beneath him.
And still–
Still–
He lowered his enormous head toward Tony. Slowly. Carefully. Not with the dominance of a predator, but the reverence of a creature offering trust only so often in a lifetime. Tony stepped toward him, unflinching. The arc reactor glowed fiercely, pulsing in perfect sync with the dragonfire smoldering beneath Stephen’s scales.
Tony rested a hand against Stephen’s snout – warm, scaled, and alive with power. “Bring us home,” he murmured.
Stephen’s pupils narrowed, glowing with fierce, brilliant purpose. Then, with a roar that shook the collapsing city to its bones, the dragon reared back. Magic flooded through his wings, his teeth, the silver-blue crest blazing like a star igniting.
He unleashed a torrent of pure magical flame – white-gold, crackling, singing through the air – directly into the fractured sky.
The dimension screamed and ripped open. A circular portal tore itself wide, swirling with golden fire and reactor-blue pulses, the combined energies cutting a path back to the real world.
Tony braced himself, hand still pressed to Stephen’s scales.
“Home,” he repeated, louder now, as the dimension buckled beneath them.
Stephen roared in answer, and leaped through the blaze. The unstable pocket dimension shattered behind them, leaving only the glow of the rift as it closed.
__________________
Smoke curled around the cracked ground. Tony sprawled half on top of Stephen – back in his regular form… mostly. Both men were breathing hard, hearts still racing from the intensity of the escape. Their clothes were singed, hair mussed, and Stephen’s scales were fading but still shimmered faintly under the dim lights of the HYDRA base. Tony had lost parts of his armor, and they lay scattered around them.
From a short distance, the rest of the Avengers – Natasha, Steve, Sam, and even Rhodey – approached them cautiously. They had seen Tony and Stephen getting sucked into the strange, rune-marked item earlier and had immediately called Wong for backup.
Steve blinked, his jaw tight. “Uh… they made it back? Are you guys alright?”
Natasha stepped closer, hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. “And… what is that?”
Stephen stiffened slightly as his golden eyes met the team’s. Patches of blue scales shimmered faintly in the light.
Sam stopped dead, staring. “Wait… that looks like… a lizard?”
Wong approached quietly behind them, expression calm as ever. He simply nodded toward Stephen. “Dragon,” he corrected Sam.
Everyone else turned to him. “Are you serious?” Rhodey asked, incredulous.
Wong inclined his head. “I did not expect him to reveal it so dramatically. But yes.”
Stephen exhaled shakily, the last tendrils of smoke curling around his shoulders. “We did it,” he said softly to Tony, voice still carrying the faint echo of the dragon.
Tony sat up, brushing his hair out of his face. “If you ever hide something like that from me again, I’m installing security cameras in your astral plane,” he told the wizard.
Stephen blinked, still catching his breath. “What – what does that even mean?”
Tony leaned down, forehead brushing against Stephen’s. Warm, steady, real. “It means you’re stuck with me, Sparkles. Scales and all.”
Stephen blushed. He lifted a hand – now fully human – and rested it gently over Tony’s arc reactor. The soft glow pulsed beneath his fingers.
“And you’re stuck with me,” he replied softly, golden eyes meeting Tony’s. “Even in the places where light breaks.”
The Avengers stared, processing the sight of their friends, sitting on the ground, smoke curling around them. They felt like they had just missed a major plot point.
Eventually, Wong stepped forward. “We should stabilize the area. And perhaps discuss… containment.”
Tony waved him off, pragmatic but relaxed. “Nah. We’ve got this. Right, Gandalf?”
Stephen smirked faintly, curling slightly as the last traces of the dragon shimmer faded. “Right.”
__________________
The workshop was comfortably quiet, afternoon sunlight painting golden streaks across scattered tools.
Tony was perched on a stool, tinkering with a small device, humming to himself.
Stephen leaned casually against the workbench, human form for now, arms crossed – but something flickered across his forearms: scales shimmering faintly, catching the light.
Tony glanced up, one eyebrow raised. “Uh-oh… I think someone feels sparkly.”
Stephen flushed faintly, but couldn’t hide the small grin tugging at his lips. “It was… just residual. You don’t need to point it out.”
Tony hopped down from the stool, walking over slowly, grinning. “Residual, huh? Yeah, sure. Let me see that. Maybe I could… recalibrate it.”
Stephen froze, slitted eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “I highly doubt you’d call it recalibration if I said no.”
Tony shrugged innocently. “True. But come on – how often do I get to poke a dragon?”
Before Stephen could react, Tony gently poked his forearm. The scales shimmered even brighter, then rippled across his shoulders, catching the light like a living metal coat.
Stephen snorted, the sound echoing softly in the workshop. “I swear, you are impossible.” He aimed for annoyance, but couldn’t avoid the fondness creeping into his voice.
Tony leaned closer, playful and proud. “Yeah, but lovable. And you, Sparkles… well, let’s just say I kind of like the dragon accessories.”
Stephen rolled his eyes, but the grin didn’t leave his face. “You are ridiculous.”
Tony smirked, nudging him lightly. “And yet, here we are. Together.”
Stephen’s hand drifted to rest lightly on Tony’s chest, just above the arc reactor. “Together,” he echoed, the warmth in his touch softening the shimmer of scales.
Outside, sunlight glinted off the workshop windows. Inside, laughter mixed in with the quiet hum of the arc reactor, and for the first time in a long time, dragons and geniuses coexisted in perfect, chaotic harmony.
aftermath
Summary:
They have this sort of ritual, every time a battle ends—an unspoken, mutual agreement to just be in each other’s spaces, basking in the assurance that they are alive and well despite all the odds.
Word Count: 885
Rating: E
Characters/Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Intimacy, Post-Battle, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Ficlet
A/N: Last Christmas I jumped my friend @janora00 with a prompt request -- that is to say, I asked her for a prompt so I could spontaneously write her a gift fic lol. Of the two options she had provided I chose "unmade bed", and she had wanted something spicy but I have instead written... something south of that. Alas. I'm pretty sure this is 80% hurt/comfort, but what would you have expected from me, anyway? XD
Here it is, about 2 months later, posted for you all to read as well! :)
AO3
The moment the portal closes behind them, they are carrying themselves across the worn rugs and into the Sanctum bedroom, too exhausted to do much more than strip off everything and leaving them in careless, uneven heaps around the room before collapsing haphazardly onto the bed in a pile of exhausted limbs. They lay there side by side with uneven breaths, face turned towards the other.
The bed is unmade from this morning, when Wong had pulled them off of it—completely unaffected by their nudity; the only semblance of modesty they were allowed was the blankets—to an emergency downtown. The interdimensional breach had been a sudden and unexpected one, a visible suture in their reality where the lovecraftian creatures spilled endlessly out of, and Stephen is beginning to think New York getting an invasion every other week may be the new normal.
Truth be told, he doesn’t remember much of the fight—only the sharp spark of magic as he wields it with his fingers, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the taste of blood on his tongue, Tony’s voice cutting through the pandemonium in raw panic—but he remembers the way Tony had ran towards him after it was over, the way those eyes looked wild and worried, the frantic hands hovering over him. It had been a close call, but one he ultimately survived, and that’s all that really mattered. It’s clear to him that Tony is shaken by it, however. Perhaps even more so than he is.
“Hey,” Stephen says, reaching out for Tony’s hand across the wrinkled sheets. Tony’s eyes were wide and assessing, cataloguing him from head to toe at the limited angle their positions allowed—there is the exhaustion, though, clear as day. “I’m alright, Tony. I’m right here.”
“I know,” Tony says. “I just… I know.” Tony shuffles nearer. He feels strong arms gathering him onto a broad chest, and Stephen reciprocates easily, winding an arm over Tony’s back to pull him closer, folding himself into the man. “It’s just… I realise sometimes how easily I could… How often it is that… How any day I could suddenly…”
Stephen unceremoniously reaches for Tony’s hands, tangling their fingers. “I know,” he says, “I know.”
They lay there, feeling the rise and fall of each other’s chests, the slowly evening heartbeats. They have this sort of ritual, every time a battle ends—an unspoken, mutual agreement to just be in each other’s spaces, basking in the assurance that they are alive and well despite all the odds.
Tony’s softly tracing a bruise over his collarbone, pulling back to eye the new few cuts already scabbing over. Whatever injuries that were serious had been quickly dealt with in the Medbay—they are lucky the worst of it had just been the gash on Stephen’s shoulder, wrapped tightly with crisp white bandages. Tony eyes it carefully.
“I need something,” Tony tells him, and immediately Stephen understands what he means.
“Tell me,” is Stephen’s response. “Tell me what you need.”
“I need…” Tony swallows, face moving closer. “I need you. I need to feel you,” he says, and there is, indeed, a shaky tread of need in his tone—Stephen is already nodding, already parting his lips to welcome the kiss that follows.
This is who they are, at the end of the day. Stripped from the robes and the armour, who they are has always been just this. Tony and Stephen, two people who find each other and live with the fear of losing the other, every day. Tony’s body is warm, still—he remembers how it feels this morning, and that feels like a long time ago, but his warmth is always something Stephen can rely on. They slide wonderfully against each other like this, tessellating perfectly—no words are ever needed to communicate what their bodies need. This is a language they speak without the need of them.
The familiar hunger builds in his stomach. Tony is deepening their kiss, desperately mapping his mouth with his tongue, pulling them flush together. Their breaths are ragged, the only sound between them. Stephen lets out a muffled moan when Tony wraps a hand around his cock, already half-hard, thickening by the minute. He pumps once, twice, before lining up his own member against Stephen’s. The weight of it, the way he can feel Tony against him, leaves him shuddering head to toe.
Tony reaches for the lube in their bedside drawer, frantic. Stephen can only cant his hips desperately as he waits until Tony gets his hand finally—finally—wrapped around them both, slick this time. They move as one, and he fucks into the chasm of Tony’s palm and whispers his name like a prayer. Tony is watching him, and there are a million things he isn’t saying in those deep, brown, beautiful eyes but Stephen knows it all the same.
They cum like that, spilling over each other’s chests with a mutual groan, sealing each other’s lips together.
Basking in the afterglow, Stephen turns and meets Tony’s eyes. He reaches a shaking hand to cup his jaw, smiles when Tony softly circles his wrist, thumb rubbing gently over the scars. “I’m right here,” he whispers hoarsely.
“Yeah,” Tony breathes out. He smiles, soft and sweet, “Yes, you are.”
I cannot recommend enough making friends with the fan fic writers that you admire because #1. They're probably great people and you'll like them #2. And more importantly, YOU CAN SCREAM AT THEM VIA DMS ABOUT THEIR WORK and it's just a great use of everyone's time.
I didn't realise you are the author of vamp and the were! Love the fic and how unique it is. And so fun to read. Thank you for writing it.
A generic hospital prompt for ironstrange. I know its generic but its fascinating to see how different its interpreted and also since its canon that as characters both of them have a distaste for it. It can be taken so many ways. I leave it upto you unless you want me to be more specific :)
Thank you! I'm happy you liked The Vamp And The Were <3
For your generic hospital prompt I went with pre-powers. If you had something more specific in mind, feel free to drop that in my inbox. Until then you get a Tony who picks up Stephen at work for a lunch :)
Ko-fi | Masterlist | Word count: 0.5k
It was safe to say that Tony hated hospitals. He had never been a fan of doctors who were way too eager to check and touch his body. He didn’t like it as a kid when he was sick and his parents called them, and he still didn’t like them now. Hospitals were even worse; with the ever present smell of antiseptic and their overall aesthetic of white and gray.
The fact that Tony had just entered a hospital voluntarily was nothing short of a miracle. He wasn’t in actual need of medical attention, so that was a plus. No, he was here to pick up a certain doctor.
Tony took the elevator to the fifth floor. He knew the way to the surgeon’s floor by heart.
Curious glances still followed him – something that would never change no matter where he went. But he also got some friendly nods from members of the staff who were by now used to his visits. Tony returned them, even if the sunglasses on his nose hid his lack of interest.
Tony tolerated being here. But only because of one man.
He stepped out of the elevator and walked to the office.
Halfway he heard the familiar deep voice as Stephen stepped out of it, talking to a nurse. When he noticed Tony his face lit up noticeably.
Tony smiled. This was what made it worth it to endure being in a hospital. And he liked having this effect on the doctor. It stirred something in his belly; feelings he wasn’t yet ready to deal with. So he shoved them deeper down.
The nurse seemed confused about his reaction and followed his gaze. As soon as her eyes landed on the approaching Tony, she understood.
“I’m here to pick you up for our meeting, Doctor Strange.” That was their code for a lunch date. Tony knew Stephen preferred to keep their relationship professional in front of co-workers and Tony respected that. Except in the presence of Christine, who called them out on their bullshit. And she often sided with Tony; one of the reasons he liked her so much.
Stephen handed the chart he was carrying to the nurse. “Take that to Doctor Robinson for the blood test.”
“Yes, Doctor Strange.” The nurse left, not without throwing an amused and knowing smile at Tony.
Only when she was gone Stephen spoke again, keeping his voice down. “A surgery came in an hour. A transfer from Huntington with a pituitary tumor. The transnasal transsphenoidal operation has to be done.“ It almost sounded like an apology – only that Stephen didn’t do apologies.
„We can go to Papa John’s down the street and you can take your book for the read up of the case with you. It will just be a quickie.” Tony winked at him. He knew any surgery that Stephen was involved with would take at least a few hours and Tony felt better knowing he had eaten beforehand.
Stephen scoffed because Tony had brought that innuendo into his workplace. A quick look around reassured him that no one was within earshot. He thought about the offer. “Alright, I’ll get my coat,” he then agreed.
Tony had already learned that Stephen had a hard time refusing Tony’s offers – as long as they were well-thought-out and convenient.
He followed Stephen into his office. Maybe he could convince him into another kind of quickie before lunch as well.
Prompt #132
Sorcerer Supreme Stephen Strange and Iron Man Tony stark have been secretly married for years. Tony was just sent to convince Doctor Strange to join the Avengers.
Summary: Five times Tony tries to recruit Stephen and one time the Avengers learn why he doesn‘t want to join
Tags:Established relationship, secret relationship, idiot husbands, idiots in love, 5+1, fun, fluff, everyone is clueless
Ko-fi | Masterlist | Word count: 1.9k
Chapter’s Notes: This is a fun one. Stephen doesn’t get paid enough for this shit. He does get his revenge in the end.
Can I interest you in joining my boy band?
1.
Stephen was greeted by the receptionist of the restaurant and led to the table. The restaurant was expensive and had three stars, normally you would have to wait weeks to make a reservation here. You could get around that by dropping a very important name. A name like Tony Stark. Stephen took the seat across from him and both were poured champagne.
“You’re late,” Tony greeted him, raising his glass in a toast.
The corners of Stephen’s mouth twitched upward. “A wizard is never late.”
Keep reading
The witchling and the god - Masterlist
Summary: The Avengers were looking for someone to help Loki fit in with the team. To become socially acceptable, so to speak. He had been given the choice of sitting in a cell in Asgard or serving some sort of community service probation on Midgard. The Avengers and Shield both felt that as long as Loki was on Earth, he should be under supervision. This is now your job. Why? Because you’re a witch. You’re not sure why this qualifies you, but here you are, giving it a shot. What could possibly go wrong?
Relationship: Loki x Witch!Reader
Tags: Witch!Reader, Magic, Witches, slow burn, everybody lives in the tower, character development, Loki‘s redemption, Stephen Strange is a friend, Loki and Stephen are frenemies, Tony Stark is a good bro, kids love Loki, Tony has stupid nicknames for everybody, eventual smut
Status: completed
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8
Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12
Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16
Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20
Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24
Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28
Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Epilogue
Witchling Art Tag
Me, after finishing writing a multi chapter story: emerges from the darkness with ink stains all over my clothes and tired eyes "I'm finally free! No more duties. No more plotting. I wonder what I will do with my newly acquired free time."
Me, an hour later: starts writing a new fic
The lack of scent
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: This is the last chapter of this series. There's no plot left. Just smut. Enjoy. (Beta by @kvjjjjjj and @harpywritesfic)
Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 3k | Previous
Chapter 9: Stephen’s scent (nsfw)
Tony was in his lab working, the familiar sounds of tools clinking and machinery humming providing a comforting backdrop to his thoughts. Stephen sat on a couch in a corner of the lab. It was the place Tony usually crashed if he didn’t want to walk back to his bedroom in the middle of the night. The sorcerer had recently claimed it as his own, causing Tony to stock up on pillows and blankets to make it more comfortable for the omega. The sight of Stephen nestled among the cushions, often lost in thought or a book, had become a source of warmth for Tony.
Stephen joined him more often in the lab these days while Tony was tinkering. Today, however, the engineer felt Stephen's gaze on the back of his neck, a sensation that sent a shiver of awareness down his spine. When he turned his head, he saw those striking blue eyes fixed on him. It was unusual for the sorcerer to be distracted in any form when he had one of his magic tomes in front of him, and Tony couldn’t help but wonder what was stirring in Stephen’s head.
“What’s on your mind?” Tony asked, because clearly it was something. It had been clearly bothering Stephen for a while, and he had waited patiently for the omega to come forward on his own. But maybe he needed a little nudge; a gentle push to open up.
Having the engineer’s attention, Stephen closed his book, the soft thud echoing in the quiet lab. “I want to test something,” he said.
Tony put his screwdriver down, intrigued. That sounded like science bound to happen, and he was always in for science. “What do you want to test?”
Stephen got to his feet and walked over to the alpha. “I want to test if we are compatible.”
Tony frowned; that wasn’t what he had expected. “We are comp–”
“I want to show you my scent,” Stephen interrupted him, his eyes earnest and searching.
Tony’s eyes widened, surprised. He knew the sorcerer had his reasons to keep his pheromones magically blocked, and he was totally content with that little personal scent that he got a whiff of whenever Stephen was close. Like now, when Stephen was leaning against the table Tony was working at.
“You don’t have to do that,” he reassured the omega. “I know you prefer going around without.”
“I do,” Stephen confirmed, his voice firm yet soft. “But there will be times I will want to wear my scent. Mostly during my heat, but not exclusively.”
It made sense in a way. The way Stephen phrased it, he wore his scent mostly in vulnerable situations, and he wanted reassurance that Tony wouldn’t reject him, that he wouldn’t shy away from the essence of who he was.
As if Tony would ever do that. Yet, he understood the urge, the need for validation.
Tony couldn’t even imagine not liking Stephen’s scent. He loved everything about the omega, from his intellect to his kindness, and even the way he furrowed his brow in concentration. The thought of Stephen doubting that tugged at Tony’s heartstrings even though he realized it was nothing personal.
“Okay,” he said, tilting his head. “Do you want to do it right now?”
“If you’re amenable to the idea.”
“For you? Always.” The engineer leaned back in his seat and waited as he watched Stephen do his magic.
It was a simple gesture, a subtle flash of magic, gone in the blink of an eye. Afterwards the sorcerer looked at Tony, expectantly.
At first, Tony thought nothing had changed. He sniffed the air, his senses attuned to the subtle shifts around him. Then, a change in the air became unmistakable – and holy shit, the omega smelled delicious. It was a scent that wrapped around him like a warm embrace, igniting a primal urge deep within.
Tony got on his feet, moving right into Stephen’s personal space. “You have been hiding that all this time?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a mix of disbelief and desire.
The scent screamed omega – it seemed absurd for Tony to ever believe him to be anything else – and it screamed Mine. He buried his nose in the crook of Stephen's neck, inhaling deeply, savoring the intoxicating aroma that was uniquely Stephen. The sorcerer tilted his head to give him more space, a silent invitation that sent a thrill through Tony. When Tony pulled back, his pupils were blown wide. It was only then that he realized he was crowding Stephen against the table, their bodies squished together at the hips.
He felt high on Stephen’s scent, and his own arousal sent a feedback loop right back at the omega, creating a heady mix of desire that enveloped them both. The air was thick with their combined scents. And judging by the bulge he felt in the sorcerer’s pants, it went both ways.
“I think we are very compatible, don’t you?” The alpha’s voice was thick with lust. His hands found their way to the omega’s hips, holding him firmly as he rocked against them. “Want me to show you how a heat with me is going to be?” he asked seductively, his breath hot against Stephen’s skin.
He took the whimper Stephen let out from the back of his throat as a yes, please.
His fingers began to deftly open the many belts on the sorcerer, surprised at how easily they yielded to his touch. Then again, they were just belts. As they fell to the table, Tony's focus shifted to Stephen’s robes. He needed to get under those clothes as soon as humanly possible.
Just as he was about to push the blue tunic from Stephen’s shoulders, the sorcerer placed a hand around his wrist, halting his movements. “Wait…” he panted, struggling for words, his breath coming in quick bursts. “Not here.”
Tony paused, pulling back just enough to indicate he was listening, yet not fully breaking the contact between them. He knitted his brows, his mind trying to understand what exactly Stephen meant. He opened his mouth to speak, but the omega beat him to it.
“I want you to take your sweet time with me. Somewhere comfortable. Preferably a bed,” Stephen said, holding Tony’s gaze without wavering, his eyes filled with a mix of determination. The alpha dug his fingers into the blue fabric of Stephen’s robes, torn between the desire to claim him and the respect for his wishes. He briefly wondered if he was merely overwhelmed by Stephen’s everything invading his senses, or if this unexpected turn of events had thrown him right into a rut.
Stephen was still talking, and Tony had to actively concentrate to hear his words.
“But if you’re just in for a quick fuck in your lab, I’ll block my scent again,” the sorcerer continued, his tone serious.
Tony let out an irritated growl. “Don’t ever threaten me about taking your scent away, like a piece of candy from a child. You either give it to me freely, and trust me to treat you right, or I don’t want it at all,” he gritted through clenched teeth, the intensity of his emotions spilling over.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down as one of his hands cupped Stephen’s face, his thumb brushing gently against the sorcerer’s cheek. “I’ll give you anything you want. You just have to ask for it.”
Stephen opened his mouth, but no words came out as he was momentarily too stunned by Tony’s earnestness to speak. The sincerity in the alpha’s eyes was disarming, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he closed his mouth again and nodded.
“Good omega,” Tony purred, a satisfied smile breaking across his face. He pressed a brief, soft kiss on Stephen’s lips, a promise of what was to come, while he reached behind the sorcerer. He knew Stephen carried his slingring on his belt, and he grabbed it, pushing it into Stephen’s hand with a sense of purpose.
The sorcerer looked at the ring and then back at Tony, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he tried to interpret the gesture.
“My bedroom or yours?” Tony clarified, because Stephen had asked for a bed, and he was more than willing to oblige.
Stephen decided on Tony’s – which really didn’t come as a surprise to the engineer, since omega’s traditionally built their nests in their bedrooms. Tony would patiently wait to be invited to Stephen’s most sacred and intimate place. If ever.
They stumbled through the portal and fell onto the bed. Tony was back at being overly eager to get Stephen out of his clothes.
Stephen had some trouble keeping them even, since the engineer was crowding him and the sorcerer’s hands shook badly, a combination of nervousness, excitement, and lust coursing through him, making it difficult to focus. He decided to use magic, a quick gesture sending Tony’s clothes to disappear entirely.
Tony chuckled. “Very convenient.”
What followed was a full-blown make-out session. Tony kissed and licked Stephen everywhere, exploring his body with an insatiable curiosity – and where had Stephen hidden those muscles?
He knew the sorcerer had been toned, but now, under the dim light of the room, Stephen appeared sculpted to perfection. Okay, Tony might be biased due to his hormones and the pheromones clouding his judgment, but he couldn’t help but admire the sight before him.
Tony decided he loved Stephen’s scent, the intoxicating aroma that enveloped them both. He wanted to bottle it and keep it forever, a personal treasure that belonged solely to him.
He realized he was completely fine with Stephen wearing his magical scent-blockers on a daily basis; he didn’t want anyone else to smell this. The fact that Stephen was displaying his scent around Tony was a significant sign of trust; it was the little act that communicated more affection than a hundred words ever could.
Praises fell from Tony’s mouth like little prayers. “Gorgeous. All mine.”
Stephen sported a blush that even reached down to his collarbones; a delightful sight. Tony nipped at them, watching as they turned white for a moment before blooming back to a rosy hue. The sorcerer squirmed under him, panting hard, clearly overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through him.
“Wait… let me…” Stephen managed to say, his voice breathy and filled with urgency.
Tony slowed down, his eyes darting up to him. When Stephen moved to turn around, the engineer gave him space. Then, without warning, the omega was on his knees and elbows, presenting.
Tony took a sharp inhale, his body responding instinctively to the sight before him. He couldn’t wait to be inside of Stephen, to feel their bodies connect. Yet, he didn’t rush; he wanted to savor this moment. He had promised Stephen he would take his time, and he intended to keep that promise.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. How could he ever doubt that Stephen was an omega when he looked like that? Even more so, when Stephen turned his head and glanced over his shoulder at him, his voice an impatient plea.
“Alpha.”
Tony stroked his back while his other hand wandered to Stephen's entrance, slick and ready. He plunged a finger inside. Stephen moaned enthusiastically, arching into the touch, even more so when Tony added another finger right after, chasing the stretch. He rocked back, eager for more.
“You’re so wet already.” Tony watched him for a moment, watched those beautiful muscles move, glistening with some droplets of sweat. Soon he pulled his fingers back and lined himself up right behind Stephen, his own need throbbing hard.
He leaned in. His lips brushed Stephen's shoulder blades. A soft kiss followed. Then Tony pushed forward. Yes! This was heaven! He made a tentative thrust, giving Stephen a chance to get used to the feeling.
The omega didn’t want any of that though. Impatiently, he rolled his hips, prompting Tony to get moving.
Tony chuckled softly, the sound rumbled in his chest. He sank deeper with one smooth push. Soon he found a steady grind. Hips rolled in a slow rhythm. Stephen dropped his head to the bed. His moans filled the air. Low and needy.
“Just like that…”
Tony’s hands were still all over him, tracing the omega’s side and back. “Look how good you take it,” he growled.
They settled into a rhythm, the little groans and gasps were the only noises as they sunk deeper into pleasure, falling into the sensation of feeling each other. They lost themselves in it. Their smells mixed heavily in the air. Tony's sharp alpha scent. Stephen's sweet omega one. It wrapped around them.; like a personal little cocoon.
Then, Tony stopped and pulled out. Stephen whined in protest, turning his head puzzled. But before he could speak, Tony grabbed him, Stephen let out a yelp, when the alpha suddenly manhandled him, turning him around, so that his back was hitting the mattress. Tony leaned over him, capturing his lips in a kiss.
“I want to see your face when I knot you.”
Stephen flushed again; the confused look turning into a loopy grin on his face. “Vishanti, yes!”
Tony thrust back in quick. No more slow builds; he picked up speed right away. His hands clamped on Stephen's hips and pulled him closer with each snap. Stephen hooked his legs around Tony's waist. Heels dug in for grip, for anything to hold on.
Their movements became frantic and there wasn’t any method to it anymore. Tony’s knot was starting to catch on each thrust. Stephen could feel it grow. He clenched around it, trying to claim it.
Tony moaned in response, his blunt nails digging into the omega’s skin, scraping light marks. One of his hands wandered around Stephen’s hips to his cock, wrapping around it.
“Make a mess, baby.”
Stephen sucked in a sharp breath. The touch sent sparks through him and he bucked up with a cry, and finally the knot slid in and stayed. Tony spilled deep inside. His grip tightened, causing Stephen to follow him right after. The omega came hard; ropes painted his stomach.
Stephen spaced out for a moment, riding his high, bodies still locked. Tony carefully moved them around, panting heavily, until they were lying on their sides. He put his arm around Stephen, brushing the sweaty hair out of the sorcerer’s face, and Stephen scooted instinctively closer to him.
The air stank of them – both of their scents very prominent – and sex. Tony loved it.
He pulled the sorcerer even closer, feeling the soft rise and fall of Stephen’s chest against his own. As he mouthed at the sensitive gland on Stephen’s neck, he felt the shudder that coursed through the omega’s body, a delightful reaction that sent a thrill through Tony.
Stephen let out an approving hum, tilting his head to give Tony more space. He waved his hand, and the blanket that had somehow ended up on the floor, settled over them.
He didn’t need words to make the message clear: sleep now, talk later. Tony was fine with that. He closed his eyes, and slowly drifted away, keeping the omega in his arms.
________________
When Tony woke up, he was alone in the bed. He wasn’t sure if it was the same day or the next morning. The dip of the bed where Stephen had been was still warm, and when Tony sat up, stretching slightly, the sorcerer exited the bathroom. He was dressed in his robes again and his hair was damp from the shower he had taken.
“Oh, good, you are awake,” Stephen said, his voice carrying a hint of relief. “I didn’t want to leave while you were still asleep, but I’m needed in Kamar-Taj soon.” His words were casual, but the way he spoke suggested an underlying concern. There was something closed off about him. His movements were deliberate, almost cautious, and his eyes were fixed on Tony, as if he were gauging his reaction.
Initially, when Stephen had suggested testing their compatibility through scent, he hadn’t anticipated it leading to sex – at least not so quickly. Not that the sorcerer had any regrets. But it threw him a little bit out of the loop, and he wasn’t sure where he stood with Tony now. Or what Tony expected of him.
Noticing that the omega acted like a shy animal that was ready to bolt, the engineer held out his hand. When Stephen approached and placed his own trembling hand into Tony’s, the engineer pulled him close with a gentle but firm tug, causing Stephen to land softly on the mattress. The kiss that followed was full of affection.
“I wouldn’t have minded if you woke me up to have a shower together,” Tony teased, a playful wink accompanying his words. Even though the air still smelled of both of them, having Stephen so close made Tony notice there was something missing – the sorcerer had blocked his scent again.
And that might be a big part of the omega’s reluctance. Because even though he had shown Tony his scent and Tony had reacted better – stronger – to it than anticipated, this was what Stephen would inevitably return to. And he was afraid that Tony would demand to wear his scent more often than the sorcerer was comfortable with.
Tony leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the furrowed line forming on Stephen’s forehead, pulling him from his spiraling thoughts. “Maybe next time before you activate your magic blocker, you can scent me properly,” he suggested. “Tell people I’m off the market.”
Stephen’s eyes widened in surprise, and then a wide smile broke out on his face. “I would like that.”
And just like that the fear was gone.
The lack of scent
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: Happy New Year everyone! <3 I have a short, sweet chapter for today. There is one more chapter left in this series. (Beta by @kvjjjjjj )
Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 1.2k | Previous | Next
Chapter 8: Returning home
Stephen stepped through a portal into the Sanctum. He was exhausted. The off-dimension mission had turned out to be more straining than anticipated, leaving him drained both physically and mentally. The weight of his responsibilities as a sorcerer often took a toll, and this particular mission had tested his limits in ways he hadn’t foreseen.
He was startled when he noticed a sudden movement from the corner of his eye, a reflexive response born from the heightened awareness that came with his line of work.
Tony lounged on the couch in the living room, his feet propped up on the cushions, and a tablet in his hands. His eyes were fixed on Stephen, a glimmer of amusement dancing in their depths. That alone wasn’t unusual; Tony often visited the Sanctum, and sometimes even stayed when Stephen wasn’t present. What was unusual, however, was Tony’s attire – a sharp suit that Stephen knew was tailored to perfection. Even though the jacket had been removed and draped over the backrest of the couch, the ensemble still conveyed an air of elegance that was hard to ignore.
Stephen frowned, a mix of confusion and embarrassment – caused by the flinch – washing over him. “Our date isn’t until Wednesday,” he stated.
The corner of Tony’s lips twitched up. “It is Wednesday.” He glanced at his watch. “Seven-thirty in the evening to be precise.”
The omega’s eyes widened in shock as realization hit him. That meant Tony had waited for him for an hour and a half. Stephen had planned to be back on Monday. Tuesday latest. Time must have slipped through his fingers. Keeping track of it was always more difficult in other dimensions.
“Shit, I’m so sorry.” The sorcerer felt bad. Sure, both of them had been late to dates before – it was inevitable with their schedules and duties – but this was a new low. He was surprised Tony hadn’t left already.
“Give me about fifteen minutes and I’ll be ready for our date.”
He preferred to crawl into his bed and sleep into next week, perhaps indulging in a long, soothing bath beforehand. But he had vowed to himself to make Tony a priority, to carve out time for their relationship unless there were pressing emergencies that demanded his attention. He could pull himself together for a few more hours and go with Tony to… Stephen didn’t remember what they had agreed on for this date. Dinner? An art show? Theater night? He was sure it was something he would usually enjoy – if he wasn’t dead on his feet.
Tony put his tablet aside and sat up, his gaze sharpening as he scrutinized Stephen. Whatever he saw in his partner’s weary expression led him to a conclusion that was both thoughtful and accommodating. “How about we stay the night in?” he offered, his tone light and inviting. He didn’t appear annoyed or even irritated by the change of plans or the delay. Instead, he radiated a sense of understanding that made Stephen’s heart swell. “You can join me on the couch, and we’ll order some food, maybe watch a movie?”
Stephen hesitated for a moment, the idea sounding incredibly appealing, yet he still felt a twinge of guilt about being late. He didn’t want to let Tony down, especially after the effort he had made to dress up for their date. But as Tony opened his arms, a silent gesture beckoning him closer, Stephen felt the weight of his worries begin to lift. He gave in, walking over to Tony, and with a flick of his wrist, he magically changed into his pajamas, the soft fabric enveloping him in comfort. He slumped into the alpha’s arms with a deep sigh, feeling the warmth and safety of Tony’s embrace. He had missed him more than he realized.
Tony pressed a gentle kiss at the top of Stephen’s slightly greasy hair, then grimaced. “You should take a shower,” he suggested, his nose wrinkling at the myriad of scents that clung to Stephen. It felt as if he had walked into a meeting with strangers.
Stephen turned his face, nosing at himself and grimacing in agreement. Oh, yeah, he should definitely take a shower. “You’re right,” he conceded, reluctantly getting back to his feet.
“I usually am,” Tony replied with a wink, his playful demeanor lightening the mood. “I’ll order sushi in the meantime. Can I convince you to magick my clothes as well?”
“Magic doesn’t work that way.” Stephen replied, apologetic. “I’ll be back in ten.”
“Take your time.”
Stephen stole one last quick kiss before he left, the warmth of Tony’s lips lingering on his own.
As he disappeared into the bathroom, Tony lost his tie, loosening the collar of his shirt and getting more comfortable now that it was clear they wouldn’t be leaving the house tonight. He grabbed his tablet and opened the app for their favorite Japanese restaurant. The advantage of sushi was that it was perfect finger food, and Tony was sure that Stephen would prefer something that didn’t require cutlery today, especially after the exhausting days he had endured.
As he browsed through the menu, there was the familiar noise of another portal opening. Tony looked up – and promptly got a pair of sweats thrown in his face before the portal closed again.
It was a pair of Stephen's sweatpants and sweater, both of which would fit Tony reasonably well, even if the sleeves and pant legs were a little too long. But at that moment, it was a hundred times more comfortable than spending the rest of the evening in his suit. Tony chuckled. Perfect!
He had long changed into it when Stephen finally returned. Instead of the Cloak of Levitation, the omega had a blanket wrapped around him. He joined Tony on the couch and immediately moved into the engineer’s personal space, pulling the blanket over both of them.
It smelled like usual old books and incense that Tony always associated with Stephen, but also something else, something indistinguishable. The engineer wondered if Stephen had taken the blanket from his personal nest. But before he could give it further thought, he was distracted by an adorable hum the omega let out. A surge of warmth flooded his heart, and he wrapped his arms around the sorcerer.
“How did the diplomatic visit go?” he asked. Despite being dead on his feet, Stephen had looked fine, but Tony had learned through experience that appearances could be deceiving, and that didn’t necessarily mean everything had gone smoothly.
“’twas fine. Just exhausting,” Stephen replied, his voice a low murmur.
“Do you want to watch anything in particular while we wait for dinner to arrive?”
“I don’t care. Just put on whatever you like.” Stephen slurred his words slightly as he fought to keep his eyes open. Judging by Stephen’s mumbling, the omega was halfway asleep anyway, a testament to how drained he truly was.
Tony ran his fingers through his hair, playing with the streaks of white. He loved those. Stephen moved to plant his face in the side of Tony’s neck, inhaling the comforting scent of his alpha.
He meant to stay awake for food, but the security of having Tony around made him give in to sleep before he even realized it. Tony smiled fondly when he noticed that Stephen’s breath had evened out, easing into a soft rhythm. He was fully surrounded by Stephen’s cozy, pheromone-free scent, which wrapped around him like a cocoon.
In that moment, Tony felt a profound sense of pride that Stephen felt safe enough around him to let his guard down, to allow Tony to see this vulnerable side of him. He would watch over this particular omega for as long as he was allowed.
