#vampire stephen strange

[space-mermaid-writing]

A bat experience

Relationship: Tony Stark / Stephen Strange

Tags: Vampire Stephen Strange, Cursed Stephen Strange, Humor, Fluff, Established Relationship, Supreme family, Magic mishap

Author's note: I blame @darkkitty1208 for this. She showed me a picture of a vase and put this idea into my mind. My contribution for @harpywritesfic's vampire themed birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Beta by my trusted @kvjjjjjj HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!

Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | More vampire Stephen| Word count: 1.5k

Peter’s eyes followed the zig-zag flight pattern of the little bat. “I didn’t know Doctor Strange could do that,” he admitted in awe.

“Oh, no. That’s new,” Wong said. “He got cursed two days ago, and now he can’t change back.”

“Cursed?” Peter’s eyes widened. “But he looks adorable.”

The bat screeched.

It would have made so much more sense if turning into a bat was part of Strange's vampire powers. Sure, it was a fictional cliche, but some fictional cliches were indeed true.

Although, Peter was sure he would have known by now if this particular skill was part of Doctor Strange’s powers. After all Strange was dating his mentor slash father figure.

Doctor Strange had even become an additional father figure to him during this time. A currently very small, and flying father figure.

“Will he become human again? I mean, a vampire? With arms and legs. Vampire arm and legs.” Peter asked the sorcerer.

“We are working on that.”

It would be easier for them if Stephen was able to help with the research. But the bat had been banned from the library after his last attempt to read an ancient tome had resulted in an accident in which he clawed through several pages.

Wong had not yet forgiven him for that.

“Why are you here anyway?” Wong asked the boy, raising his eyebrows in suspicion. Peter had strolled in for no apparent reason, his backpack slung over his shoulders.

“It’s Wednesday,” Peter said as if that explained everything. There was a pause as Wong waited for more. So Peter added, “I always swing by Wednesdays to do my homework while Doctor Strange reads.”

Since Peter had quite the habit of talking while he was working – he really took after Tony – more often than not Stephen put his own book aside and just had a conversation with the boy. Sometimes he even helped with the homework.

The vampire didn’t seem to mind the interruption. On the contrary, he had prompted Peter to turn the occasional visit into a weekly fixed routine.

“Well, as you see, Stephen is unavailable today.”

Peter pouted, making Wong sigh, defeated.

“But you can use the library for your studies if you want.”

“Can Doctor Strange join me?”

Wong didn’t give in. “Absolutely not.”

Peter’s pout deepened but Wong was one of the few people who could still resist it. At least partly.

The teenager strolled up the stairs, his phone in his hand, texting.

Wong turned back to Stephen, who hung upside down from a wooden beam at the ceiling.

“You are being unreasonable,” he told his friend.

The sorcerer was pretty sure the screech that followed was an insult, but he had no way to prove that.

______

The noises died down after that. It was never completely quiet in the Sanctum; there was always something going on that would reach the ear - whether it was students arriving or leaving, the woosh of the cloak, or the low hum of magic in the background.

Still, it felt peaceful.

It lasted about half an hour. Then, the Sanctum’s door was yanked open with force.

“Where is he?!”

A worried, almost frantic Tony Stark stood in the door. His eyes darted around as if he was expecting someone to jump at him.

His behavior would be alarming on any other day. But today, Wong, who had heard Stark even in the kitchen, had a pretty good guess what had the Avenger upset.

He walked out of the kitchen and into the big entrance hall. Without a word, he pointed at a vase on an ancient-looking dresser.

It looked like a regular vase, the perfect size for a big bouquet of flowers. It was green-ish with a mostly black pattern which remotely looked like edgy flowers in a field.

Nothing remarkable.

However, Tony knew there was hardly anything regular in the Sanctum. Not even some of the doorknobs were regular – he had learned that the hard way.

Having that experience etched in his mind, he moved closer to the vase. Frowning, he peeked inside. It was pitch black.

“Stephen? Can you hear me?” He almost yelled into it. There was no way a grown man could physically fit in this thing. In conclusion, it must be some magic shit, like a soul captured or an aura stored away. “I’m here, bab-”

Something small and furry shot out of the vase and right into Tony’s face, screeching. Tony shrieked in surprise, trying to get it off.

It was small but had sharp claws that dragged over his skin.

Tony cursed. Finally, he managed to snatch the little thing and held it in his hands. He was surprised to find a bat, panting heavily.

Tony stared at it. Then he looked up to Wong, who had watched the whole thing unimpressed. Tony looked at the vase. Then back down at the bat.

He was putting two and two together.

No way…

“That’s…” he started but the sentence seemed too ridiculous to finish.

Yet, Wong confirmed it. “Yes.”

“The curse turned him into a bat?”

“Unfortunately.” Wong tilted his head. “How do you even know about the curse?”

Peter answered that question, suddenly standing at the upper end of the staircase. “I texted him.”

The teenager was still on his phone.

Tony’s pocket made a low chime noise. It was probably another reaction gif from Peter. He loved to send them.

Wong needed a break. “Have you finished your homework yet?”

Finally, Peter looked up. “No.”

“Go back to the library,” Wong and Tony told him at the same time.

Peter pouted but sauntered away.

Tony watched the bat, who had calmed down, and approached his boyfriend slowly.

“Why did he just attack me?” the engineer asked. Did Stephen forget who he was? Did he have the mind of a beast?

The answer was far more simple.

“Because bats are neither blind nor deaf. He probably didn’t like it when you yelled into the small space he hid in, and that amplifies your voice even more.”

Stephen flapped his wings, agreeing with a chirp.

Tony winced.

“Sorry.” He lowered his voice to a stage whisper.

With his finger, he brushed Stephen’s soft fur. The bat was actually really cute.

Stephen climbed onto his finger and curled his long toes around it. Tony raised his hand and the bat hung upside down from it. He barely felt the claws, they were more like small pressure points.

Adorable.

“We are looking for a way to break the curse but in the meantime, there’s little else we can do besides making sure he is safe.”

Stephen’s small bat size was problematic since it was easy to overlook him. It made him prone to accidents, like getting crushed in his tiny body.

“What about his regular condition? Did that change?”

“He is still a vampire. Which makes it easier to feed him but complicated in breaking the curse.”

Of course. Stephen was known for complicating things.

By now Tony had calmed down as well. He knew all the facts now, and had convinced himself with his own eyes that nothing truly dangerous had happened to his mate.

Honestly, this wasn’t even the weirdest shit the sorcerer had gotten himself into since Tony met him.

“I’ll look after him while you work on getting him back,” he reassured Wong.

The sorcerer nodded, actually looking relieved at the offer. He left to get his tea and then return to his research.

Tony climbed up the stairs and walked to Stephen’s room. He had a Starkpad there that he could use to entertain himself and Stephen.

It made him think of something else.

“When was the last time you ate? Are you hungry?”

He offered his wrist to the bat.

After a brief consideration, Stephen lapped onto it, his small black eyes glowing red for a second – that was the only sign so far that this bat was not a normal animal.

When the tiny teeth broke his skin it felt like the prick of a needle, the pain gone just as fast.

Tony was used to Stephen drinking off him, but this time felt different. Normally it was an intimate gesture. It had to do with the fact that they were also lovers. Tony knew that for other people it was different, sometimes nothing more than a business transaction.

Now it was just… over in an instant. The small body didn’t need much blood; no more than a few mouthfuls.

Afterwards, Stephen rubbed the soft fur of his head against Tony’s thumb as if to thank him. Then he spread his wings and took to the air, moving in a zigzag pattern as if he were drunk.

Back into Tony’s hair.

“No. Absolutely not, you little menace.”

Tony scooped him out of his hair before Stephen could get too comfortable.

Stephen complained loudly and slipped out of his hand to claw at Tony's shirt, with mediocre success. He slid down – right into Tony’s breast pocket.

The engineer glanced inside and watched the bat wiggling around, but not trying to get out. Instead, he settled against the warmth of Tony’s chest, chirping happily.

Tony sighed dramatically to cover up a smile.

“Fine. I guess you can stay in there for a while.”

[hayanwulf]

Hi hello I hope you’re doing well! :)

I was going to prompt, for spooky season, another vampire Stephen? Maybe a continuation of the Ironstrange one if you’re interested?

(Though I might have already asked. I’m sorry if I have. I remember thinking about sending a prompt and I have no clue if I ever actually did)

Thank you for the well wishes. And, gee, aren’t you a lucky ducky, cause there’s a couple of strangefrost vamp!stephen prompts soon after yours in the queue.

Click here to read the first part of IronStrange Vamp!Stephen

The lust is going haywire, Stephen thought dryly as he came to.

His body felt oddly numb, and the urge to drink, to kill, pushed violently against the semblance of control and stability in his mind’s Sanctum even as his own rational thoughts tried to hold them back. He tried to open his eyes, and groaned at the bright lights that instantly filtered in through his eyes, squinting. He had a headache.

His head was splitting, and his body felt numb, and the lust was pushing its way up relentlessly, and Stephen felt like absolute shit.

The brightness of the room dulled a little, and Stephen tried to open his eyes again, finding a sterile looking ceiling above him. He also realized that he was laid out in a bed. Why was he in a bed? Better yet, where was he?

“Stephen?” A gentle voice called to him, a voice that Stephen was all too familiar with. He stilled, only now catching onto the sweet, inviting scent of blood just to his left.

Oh, Vishanti, he thought as he realized that Tony was not only sitting right next to him, but held one of Stephen’s hands in his hold. He turned to look at the genius, and found a pained look etched in his face. All the memories of what had happened returned to him.

The werewolf fight.

So much blood spilled.

So much blood lost.

And here he was, lying on a recovery bed with Vishanti knew how many wounds while his bloodlust raged inside his mind, rapidly fraying the control and discipline he had worked hard for years to establish. And right in front of him was the love of his life, the one who he had silently sworn to protect at all costs, smelling oh-so-delectable, completely unaware of just how much of a danger Stephen was to him.

Stephen hated himself for it. Would forever hate himself for it.

He swallowed, nervously licking the inside of his lips, and froze, his eyes widening.

If Stephen’s blood had been warm, it would’ve gone cold right at that moment.

His fangs were out.

Which meant his eyes must also be red.

Which meant his true identity was on full display for Tony, for his friend and the love of his life, for the hunter that sat not a foot away from Stephen.

He yanked his hand away from Tony’s grip and tried to stand up, because he needed to get away, he needed to run far far away and never show his face to this man again.

In reality, all he managed was a grunt and a pathetic crawl away from Tony, until he reached the other edge of the bed, wanting to topple himself off but simply having no energy left in his body whatsoever, nor the courage. His wounds tugged painfully, whatever medication was in his system not enough to curb the pain.

“Stephen, hey,” Tony stood up, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay.”

“What..” Stephen asked in a shaky voice as he tried to prop himself up on elbows and miserably failed at that, even. “I’m.. I..” He tried to form words, but couldn’t find any. What did he even say? I’m sorry for deceiving? I never meant to lie?

I love you.

You smell delicious.

Each thought that flashed through his mind was even more appalling than the previous.

There was nothing, nothing that he could say to Tony.

“You bled a lot, Stephen,” Tony said carefully. “You need blood.”

Horror crept up Stephen’s spine as he realized what Tony meant, when the other man slowly climbed into the bed with him. His mind screamed at him to act on the chance. To pin the human down and drain him dry. And he couldn’t. He couldn’t. It took all of his willpower to not give in to the raging lust inside of him, to keep his control holding true, weak and frail as it was now.

“You need to leave,” Stephen pleaded, shaking his head in denial when Tony’s hand came to gently cup his face.

“No,” The genius declared, and then grabbed the back of Stephen’s head to pull him in until his face was buried in Tony’s neck. Stephen made a strange noise at the back of his throat when his senses were suddenly so full of Tony, the warmth of the genius’ body, the saccharine, tantalizing smell of his blood, the distinct scent of Tony which Stephen, at some point, had come to associate with home.

Stephen squeezed his eyes shut as his fangs itched fiercely, his instincts now a roaring voice inside of his head. His lips were practically touching the tender skin. It would be so, so easy to just give in, sink his fangs into that same skin which he had fantasized many a nights about caressing, kissing tenderly, worshiping.

“Please, Tony,” Stephen begged, wishing that the genius would just leave. He was teetering at the edge of his control. “I can’t hurt you. Please.”

At that, Tony pulled him away to look down at him. He wore a look similar to the pained expression Stephen had seen in his face when he had woken up.

“Stephen, you’re the last person on this planet who would hurt me.”

Stephen’s breath stuttered, tears falling from his eyes. How could Tony have so much trust in him? He did not understand.

“I.. I’m a vampire, Tony,” Stephen whispered in a broken voice, because maybe that would give Tony the wake-up call. Maybe now the genius would realize that this was all real and that he was hugging a vampire so damn close to his neck. That he needed to let go, run, and abandon Stephen for good.

Instead of doing any of that, Tony huffed and spoke in a dry voice, “Yeah, your eyes kind of gave it away. Or, I don’t know, the fact that you don’t have a heartbeat. I am mad at you about it by the way. But I’ll feel like an asshole if I yell at you when you’re looking like this.” He shoved Stephen’s face back into his neck, and when he spoke next, his voice was much softer. “So what you’re going to do now is feed on me, and we’ll figure out the rest later. I trust you. You won’t hurt me.”

Tears steadily streamed out of Stephen’s eyes as he pressed his nose into the soft skin, inhaling Tony’s natural scent, and the scent of the blood rushing just beneath. He didn’t know what he had done to earn such an absolute trust of this beautiful, impossible man, who never gave his trust away to just anyone.

Tony’s trust was not something to be taken lightly. It was an utterly precious thing. And so Stephen found all the fight leaving his body as he gave in to Tony’s demand.

He recalled years of training and discipline. He firmly clamped a tight vice around his bloodlust, his determination fueled further by his need to protect his precious love from himself. He would feed from Tony, but he would be the one in control throughout. He would stop when he had drunk a safe amount.

I will let myself be hurt before I ever hurt you, he silently vowed, and sank his teeth deep into Tony’s veins.

[airas-story]

I’m a simple person. I see a request for prompts, and the vampire Stephen obsession makes itself known. So, how about vampire Stephen? With h/c, perhaps?

There was a vampire hunter in his home.

Stephen examined the hunter for a long moment: dark brown hair, olive skin, and a piercing gaze. “Are you here to kill me?” Stephen asked.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted the answer to be. He refused to lay down and die. At the same time… he’d been alive so long. Sometimes he wondered what it’d be like for someone to catch him off guard.

The vampire hunter in his home was the closest anyone had gotten in a long time.

Maybe this time Stephen would lose the fight that was sure to come.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead,” the hunter said. Stephen found he believed the man. He’d heard a lot of false confidence over the years; this man was certain. “I’m not here for that.”

“What are you here for?”

The hunter didn’t answer immediately, just watching. “My kid,” he said finally. “He got too close. Came home with a bit of a blood craving.”

“And you didn’t kill him?” Stephen asked, surprised. He’d saved more than a few kids from their hunter parents. 

Most kids didn’t last long in the aftermath, too much self-hatred for what they’d become. But still, Stephen tried.

“No, I didn’t.” The hunter sounded disgusted by the very prospect.

Stephen tried to integrate that new information. The best vampire hunters were almost always the cruelest. “Who are you?”

“Tony Stark.”

Stephen froze. Tony Stark was the most well-known vampire hunter in the world. Partially because he was the best. Mostly because other hunters wanted him dead for letting ‘innocent’ vampires go.

Stephen had never crossed paths, but Wong had encountered Stark before and lived to tell the tale.

Stephen didn’t know this man, but he owed him.

“How can I help?”

[spicemaidenfic]

The Secret in the Undercroft • Doctor Strange (MCU) • Stephen x Reader

🩸 Summary: You’re a single girl trying to pay her way through college, and your current gig is a summer one at the mansion home of one Doctor Strange. There's a nasty rumor floating around about the good doctor, and you reckon the truth might lie somewhere in his basement...

🩸 Pairing: Vampire! Stephen Strange x Reader (F)

🩸 Warnings: Smut (18+), blood drinking (AFAB reader + smut + blood drinking = you do the math, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED DEAR READER)

🩸 Length: One shot, 5.3k words

🩸 A/N: This one's got some pulp mystery vibes, set in the 1980s, heads up for age gap (reader is an adult in college, Stephen is really however old you want him to be lol)

He was on top of you with startling speed, a hand at the small of your back, his lips hovering an inch above your throat. You gripped his shoulders. “Are you afraid?” “Yes.” “Don’t be. It’s not like in the movies. I can take it or leave it.”

➢ Read the full fic here

image sources: x, x, x, x, x

[space-mermaid-writing]

That's the vase in question

Bat vase by Richard Freiwald

[illyanarasputinfan]

Alden Kaye

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞!

𝑻𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔! 𝑮𝒆𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒍𝒚!

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐎𝐍𝐄: Head over to your camera roll. The last celebrity or fictional character saved to your gallery is your Valentine's date --- oh! what a cutie! 💗

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐓𝐖𝐎: Sneak a peek at my Valentine's Date scenario chart! Here's how it works: Choose the first letter of your first name, your birthday month, and your star sign to reveal the ins-and-outs of your romantic getaway! 🥀

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: Share the deets and share the love! Tag any lovely moots or followers that you think might get a kick out of this! Cheers! 🥂

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐓�� 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄! 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓!

I'll go first...

Okay... the Governor and I are headed to Vienna to catch a show at the theatre and I'll be gifted a love letter! I love this man to bits but I'm expecting a double cross... ❤️🥀

moots, assemble! *no pressure, of course!*: @starstruck-loner @goldencherriess @astudyinlaura @lumosouls @misaverawrites @selcouthangel @asherloki @baby-bloos @thespiritoflife @lydiablack-m @starryeddie @andthevillainshallrises @bakerstreethound @silverdaydreamer @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @classickook @lucywrites02 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @blogthebooklover @imeternallylove @fictional-hooman @waiting-for-cas-to-save-me @amplifyme @frostandflamesfanfic @mindibindi @foxmulderlovebot @space-helen @inlovewithfictionalcharacters666 @paperheartsarts @aephereal @christinasyellowflowers @natti-ice

[itsagentromanoff]

[Bruce, Stephen and Tony investigating evil sorcerers]

Bruce: You seem to know a lot about them.

Strange: I didn't get this job because of my looks.

Tony: I really, really believe that.

[el-on-mars]

he bites

[pinkthick]

You’re okay

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Fem!Reader

Summary: His throat begged for relief as if scorched by an unseen fire. The burning sensation clawed at his senses, a relentless reminder of a desperate need that seemed perpetually out of reach. The elusive promise of a drink lingered just beyond his grasp, taunting him with its absence.

Warnings: Blood, Minor Character death

Credits for the art with Stephen lolojefie/jay on Tiktok.

In the dim haze of consciousness, Stephen Strange found himself suspended in a disorienting void. A throbbing ache enveloped every fiber of his being, a cruel symphony of pain that rendered him powerless. The mere thought of opening his eyes seemed an insurmountable task, as if the weight of the universe bore down upon his lids. His body, a canvas of agony, pulsated with an unrelenting torment. Each attempt to move was met with a searing reminder that something was profoundly wrong. The world around him felt like a blurry, chaotic whirlwind, and the mere notion of steadying himself slipped through the cracks of his fragmented awareness.

His throat begged for relief as if scorched by an unseen fire. The burning sensation clawed at his senses, a relentless reminder of a desperate need that seemed perpetually out of reach. The elusive promise of a drink lingered just beyond his grasp, taunting him with its absence. So so thirsty.

A tempest of anguish stormed through his mind, his head a battleground where every thought waged war against the others. The ache within intensified with each passing moment, a merciless crescendo that threatened to shatter the fragile remnants of his composure. A disconcerting vertigo gripped him, the world spinning in a disconcerting dance that left him suspended in a disoriented limbo. His attempts to move only deepened the sensation, as if the cold floor beneath him had become an unstable sea, threatening to capsize his already battered senses.

His neck, a tenuous link between consciousness and the void, throbbed with a relentless pulse. It felt as if it were melting away, dissolving into the chaos that surrounded him. The sensation of bones breaking echoed through his perception, each imaginary fracture adding to the cacophony of torment that consumed him. Amidst the symphony of pain, he questioned the nature of his own sounds—were they screams of despair or tears of anguish? The line between agony and expression blurred, lost in the tumultuous storm that raged within the confines of his battered body.

A new wave of torment surged through Stephen, a peculiar agony that seemed to originate from within his own mouth. His teeth, usually stalwart guardians of his resolve, now betrayed him with an intensity that bordered on the surreal. It felt as if new teeth were erupting from his gums, an excruciating transformation that defied all logical explanation.

In the midst of his cries, a desperate symphony of pain, he was almost certain he heard a haunting giggle—an unsettling sound that echoed through the darkness, as though mocking his suffering. The cryptic laughter added an eerie layer to his predicament, an unsettling presence that danced on the periphery of his awareness.

His attempts to move, to escape the relentless agony, were thwarted by an unseen force. Something, insidious and unyielding, held him in check. Every strained effort to break free only intensified the pain coursing through his body, as if the very fabric of reality conspired against him.

With a surge of determination, he managed to pry his eyes open briefly, revealing a darkened room that enveloped him in shadows. The feeble illumination hinted at the cold glint of some chains.

What..I..I was on a mission, right?

As Stephen forced his eyes to remain open, the dim light of the room gradually revealed obscured figures in the shadows. His vision, still clouded by the remnants of disorientation, struggled to bring the mysterious shapes into focus. The people in the room appeared as mere silhouettes, their features shrouded in a veil of uncertainty.

A disconcerting realization gripped him—his Cloak of Levitation, a constant companion in the arcane battles he faced, was conspicuously absent. The absence of the sentient garment left him vulnerable. Levi?

He didn’t feel okay. There was a hunger that had never experienced before and it gnawed at his insides.

And then..

A sudden, sharp pain jolted through Stephen's lower lip, drawing his attention to an unsettling discovery. In the dim light of the room, he felt an unusual protrusion—fangs, elongated and alien, had emerged where none had existed before. The realization struck him with a disorienting force, amplifying the dread that coiled in the pit of his stomach. As he explored the newfound appendages with his tongue, a metallic taste of blood lingered in his mouth.

Confusion mingled with horror as he retraced the fragments of memory that now clawed at the edges of his consciousness. He recalled going on a mission..to eliminate some vampires. He couldn't believe that he had become the very thing he sought to eradicate.

“No," he muttered in disbelief, the word escaping through his bloodied lips.

The mocking laughter of a woman reverberated through the dimly lit room, a cruel echo that punctuated Stephen's grim realization. Her voice, dripping with amusement, sliced through the air as she observed his plight. "You know, I really thought you wouldn’t have made it, but look at you. A sorcerer turned vampire, we don’t get to see that often," she taunted, reveling in the incongruity of his transformed state.

Stephen's response was a hiss, an involuntary reaction fueled by a potent mix of defiance and the primal instincts that now coursed through his vampiric veins. The expletive, a defiant retort, betrayed the frustration and desperation that festered within him.

"Fuck you," he spat, the words laced with venom as he strained against the chains that bound him. The metallic taste of blood lingered in his mouth, a visceral reminder of the surreal reality he now faced. Unfazed by his outburst, the vampire woman continued her cruel commentary, addressing the unseen others in the room. "Look at him, a newborn vampire. Isn’t he just so cute?"

The condescension in her tone deepened Stephen's sense of helplessness. Each tug on the chains echoed his futile resistance, a symbolic struggle against the insidious fate that had befallen him.

The entrance of a human woman, tears streaming down her face, marked a chilling turn in the macabre tableau. Her anguish was palpable, a visceral counterpoint to the cruel amusement that danced in the eyes of the vampire woman who orchestrated this nightmarish scene.

As they positioned the sobbing woman almost within arm's reach of Stephen, an insidious scent wafted through the air, igniting an unholy hunger within him. His mouth watered involuntarily, and his eyes betrayed a feral transformation—deepening shades of crimson replacing the once-familiar hue.

Sharp Claws extended from his fingertips, catching him off guard. The realization that he now possessed such predatory appendages intensified the surreal horror that gripped his every sense. What had he become? The question reverberated through his newly altered consciousness.

His gaze fixated on the wounded human, a profound conflict raging within him. A sinister smile played on the vampire woman's lips as she observed his internal struggle. The scent of her blood was intoxicating, an irresistible lure that goaded the primal instincts now coursing through his vampiric veins.

A guttural growl escaped his throat, the struggle against his burgeoning hunger manifesting in the tense rise and fall of his chest. The internal battle played out on his features—a dance of torment, desire, and self-restraint.

The vampire woman, reveling in the macabre spectacle, posed a taunting question to Stephen. "Aren’t you hungry?"

The words hung in the air, a malevolent invitation that pierced through the cacophony of his internal turmoil. Stephen's breath quickened, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions churning within him. The pull of his vampiric instincts clashed with the vestiges of his human morality, and a desperate plea for restraint echoed in the recesses of his mind.

In the grip of his insatiable hunger, Stephen succumbed to the primal urges that now dictated his existence. With an explosive burst of strength, he shattered the chains that bound him to the wall, his predatory instincts propelling him forward.

He practically lunged at the weeping woman, driven by an overwhelming need for the crimson elixir that promised both sustenance and a dark euphoria. The taste of her blood, once a distant temptation, now coursed through him like a potent nectar, momentarily drowning the turmoil within.

The woman's anguished cries filled the room as Stephen, consumed by the ravenous frenzy, sank his fangs into her neck. Each swallow was a macabre communion with the darkness that enveloped him, an unholy ecstasy that eclipsed reason and morality.

"No! Please—I... It hurts so much. Please stop!" she pleaded in vain, her desperate pleas echoing through the chamber. Stephen, lost in the throes of his predatory trance, remained deaf to her cries as the life force drained from her.

It was only when the woman went limp against him that a dreadful realization crashed upon Stephen's consciousness.

The haze of bloodlust began to lift, revealing the haunting truth—he had just taken the life of someone innocent.

As he withdrew from the now lifeless form, horror etched across his features, he recoiled in shock. The woman's face was no longer obscured, and in the ghastly revelation, he beheld the face of his wife, Y/N. A profound wave of grief and remorse washed over him, his heart heavy with the weight of an unspeakable atrocity. He recoiled from the bloodstained reality before him, grappling with the monstrous act he had committed. Y/N's lifeless eyes stared back at him, accusing and haunting.

Stephen's anguished cries reverberated through the dim chamber, a heart-wrenching lament that echoed the depth of his despair. Clutching Y/N's lifeless form to his chest, tears streamed down his face, mingling with the blood that stained his hands.

"Y/N! I’m sorry; I’m so sorry darling. I didn’t—" he wailed, the sound of her name a tortured plea that hung heavy in the air. The weight of his grief, compounded by the monstrous act he had committed, bore down on him like an insurmountable burden.

Amidst his mourning, the cruel laughter of the other vampires resounded, a sinister chorus that intensified the throbbing ache in Stephen's head.

In the cold grip of the night, Stephen bolted upright in bed, his labored breaths betraying the remnants of the nightmare that had seized him. Disoriented and consumed by the lingering horrors, he found himself enveloped in the soft glow of Y/N's presence. Her eyes reflected concern as she observed the anguish etched across his tear-streaked face.

Y/N gently cupped his face in her hands, her touch a soothing balm against the spectral memories that haunted him. "Hey hey, Stephen. Breathe, come on," she murmured, her voice a tender reassurance that cut through the lingering echoes of his night terrors.

Stephen struggled to obey, his attempts to draw breath feeling stifled by the lingering shadows of the dream. His hands trembled as he desperately clung to Y/N, seeking solace in the tangible reality of her presence.

"Stephen, love, breathe. You're here, you're home," she urged, her voice a lifeline that pulled him from the abyss of his subconscious terrors. Her words, a gentle reminder of the sanctuary that surrounded him, began to coax him back to the realm of wakefulness.

But as Stephen's breaths steadied, a haunting revelation clawed its way to the surface. His voice, choked with remorse, cried out, "You were... I was the one that killed you. I—"

Y/N, recognizing the depth of Stephen's pain, brought his head to rest against her chest, offering the solace of her heartbeat as a grounding rhythm against the lingering echoes of the nightmare. Silently, he continued to weep, his tears a testament to the profound weight of the dreamscape that had ensnared him.

"I'm not dead, I'm okay. You’re okay. It was just a nightmare," Y/N reassured him, her voice a gentle melody that sought to dispel the haunting remnants of the dark visions that had tormented his sleep.

Pulling away from her chest, Stephen clung to Y/N, his arms wrapped around her in a desperate embrace that refused to let go.

His words, uttered with a mixture of relief and residual fear, broke the silence. "It wasn't a nightmare with Dormammu at least."

Y/N chuckled softly, her fingers gently tracing soothing patterns on his back. "You don't need to tell me if you don't want to," she offered.

A heavy silence lingered between them before Stephen found the courage to articulate the haunting images that clung to his consciousness. "I was back in that room, and it was exactly how it happened, except that the woman I killed was..."

Y/N, sensing the weight of his unspoken words, pressed a tender kiss to his lips, a gesture that spoke volumes of her understanding and unwavering support.

"You know it wasn't your fault," she whispered, her voice a soothing balm that sought to dispel the shadows of guilt that clouded his mind. Stephen scoffed, his self-reproach evident in the lines etched across his face. "It sure felt like it was mine."

Undeterred, Y/N continued to hold him, her arms a comforting embrace that refused to let go. In the quiet sanctuary they had carved out for themselves, she reaffirmed, "It wasn't your fault, Stephen. And you know that.”

He didn’t respond as he clung to her, the echoes of the past began to lose their grip, dissipating in the warmth of their shared embrace. Y/N's presence, a steadfast anchor, reminded Stephen that in the sanctuary of their love, the wounds of the past could heal. In that moment, they found solace in each other's arms, reaffirming that, despite the darkness that lingered in the recesses of memory, they were okay.

Notes: Not sure if I should have posted this, but there’s that. 🙃

Hope you enjoyed reading this.

[space-mermaid-writing]

"Send me any prompt"

VAMPIRE STEPHEN 🦇

i see a prompt request and i trip and choke and die in my haste to ask for vampire stephen. prepare for paragraphs of inane vampire rambling over discord.

I expected nothing less from you :D Have this 5+1 sequel of 'The Vamp and the Were'. Beta by KJ <3 Everyone listen to 'Secretly A Vampire'. It's very vampire Stephen coded.

Summary: 5 times the team didn’t know Stephen was a vampire and 1 time he didn’t realize they knew

Tags: Vampire!Stephen Strange, Werewolf!Tony Stark, IronStrange, established Relationship, 5+1, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff, revealed secret, whump Stephen, protective Tony

Ko-fi | Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Word count: 4.8k

Secretly a vampire

1

Stephen stepped through his portal and into the Avenger’s tower. More specifically into a conference room.

“Thank you for joining us today, doctor,” Rogers greeted him.

Stephen answered with a nod and sat down on one of the many free chairs. At least he wasn’t the last one to this meeting. It was the first one he attended. So far he had always refused to go; not because the Avengers were publicly known for hunting vampires – and Stephen was a Vamp.

It was problematic on several levels.

Stephen himself hunted vampires as well but only those who posed a danger to society. Those Vamps who had lost their minds and succumbed to their blood lust.

Unfortunately, there were a lot of those. And they were – rightfully – feared by the public eye.

But there were other vampires as well, living a normal life. At least as normal as life could be if sunlight killed you and your species was hunted down.

Stephen was the best example of those kinds of Vamps.

Well, Stephen was a mediocre example because he was a Master of the Mystic Arts and thus did not represent the norm.

But in his work he distinguished between dangerous and harmless vampires. Just as the Avengers should do it.

Albeit they were a long way from it.

Stark entered the conference room, carrying a mug that held probably an unhealthy ratio of coffee to liquid. He dropped into the chair right next to Stephen.

Tony was the only other person in the room who knew Stephen's secret. He had found out by accident; a mission gone bad. Although it had probably been inevitable, considering how they had circled around each other.

Tony threw a wink at him and Stephen scoffed affectionately. Tony knew Stephen wasn’t a fan of pda – at least outside of what he considered family – and thankfully the werewolf kept his hands to himself.

Clint was the last one to arrive; also with a coffee in his hands. He slid into a seat in the back and Rogers started the meeting.

Stephen listened only with one ear. If he was honest, he was just here to show some Sorcerer-Avengers alliance. And because he got tired of the Avengers asking him to join.

Bored, his eyes wandered to the big panorama window. They were on the east side of the tower and since it was late afternoon there was no direct sunlight coming in. Tony had installed UV filtering windows in the whole tower anyway, so that Stephen could move freely within it at any time of day or night, without worrying about getting burned.

“… they reported traces of vampires in Middlesex, New Jersey.” The map of a neighborhood near the sea could be seen on the large screen on the wall. "So far it's been narrowed down to this area. We'll look into it. Get ready to strike soon."

Stephen's jaw tightened when Rogers circled a specific block in South Amboy. He had meant to stay in the background and not attract attention. But if they keep following that specific lead, innocent people might get hurt.

Given two choices, Stephen always chose the one that protected others; instead of himself. That was why he spoke up.

“Actually, the Vamps in that area aren’t dangerous. Quite the opposite: they proved to be useful in providing valuable information on illegal cargo several times.”

All heads turned to him, surprised – even Tony, although for a different reason.

“Vampires are always dangerous,” Natasha chimed in. Her eyes were as sharp as her facial features. Stephen was pretty sure there was some fae somewhere in her blood line. It would explain so much about her.

The sorcerer gritted his teeth. They didn’t know this was a sensitive topic to him. A very personal one. He refused to back down.

“Not all vampires are mindless beasts. I’ve talked to several individuals who are actually very pleasant to be around. And they don’t kill humans for blood.”

“It’s true,” Tony added and Stephen's eyes shot over to him. Of course Tony backed his partner up.

His support seemed to help Stephen's case, because Rogers gave in. “Alright. But we will keep an eye on it.”

Stephen just nodded.

In a subtle gesture Tony put his hand on Stephen's leg, calming him. It wasn’t really necessary, but it was the thought that counted.

Self-preservation hindered Stephen from revealing more in front of the team. He decided to warn his contacts in New Jersey anyway.

The rest of the meeting he leaned back, listening in silence.

Tony didn’t move his hand away the whole time.

2

The wooden stake to his chest was a surprise. It had come out of nowhere. An improvised weapon, pulled from the rubble of the construction site where they were fighting.

White-hot searing shards of pain erupted from the wound.

Stephen hissed in agony. He managed to whirl a spell at the attacker, but the damage was done. He staggered sideways.

“Doctor Strange!” Peter rushed to his aid.

It had been movie night and he, Tony and Peter had been comfortable on the couch when Jarvis had informed them about the attack. Some other Avengers – who had also got the call – had joined the fight.

Stephen was bent over kneeling, trying to regain control over the pain, when the boy crowded his personal space.

“Are you okay?” Peter, who had no problem facing scary monsters, was overwhelmed by the situation. He had no idea what he could do to help Strange - and the fact that the vampire didn't respond only increased his panic.

“Are you going to die?” Peter’s worried face was hidden under his mask but his voice was breaking. A wooden stake to the heart was one of the big myths about killing a vampire.

Fortunately, a wrong one.

“No,” Stephen pressed between his teeth. And then a not very convincing, “It’s going to be alright.”

Sam landed beside them. His wings retreated into the pack on his back as soon as his feet touched the ground. “Shit, doc. Paramedics are on their way.”

Stephen wouldn’t wait for them.

“I need you to pull it out.” The sorcerer gestured to the stake. He didn’t want to burden Peter with the task. And he couldn't do it on his own; he needed all his strength to hold back his teeth from kicking out. It was a shock reaction of his body to defend itself.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. “That looks nasty.”

It probably did. More so because the Avengers thought he was a regular human being. He was probably wondering how Stephen was still standing on his feet.

“I’m a doctor. And I have magic. I will heal in no time.” Stephen’s voice was pressed. Just because he was a vampire didn’t mean he wasn’t suffering. He was indeed in a lot of pain.

Finally, Sam stopped protesting. Instead, he put his hand around the stake; and pulled.

Stephen's lips tightened, wrinkles forming where none existed before. His breath seized – even though a vampire didn’t have to breathe at all. But it helped with the pain. At least that was what he told himself.

Stephen managed to cast a spell that mended his robes, concealing the wound from sight. His vampire powers would take care of that one. He just needed some rest and a blood bag from his refrigerator.

As soon as Sam got the wooden stake out completely, he threw it away in disgust. It was drenched in blood and other liquids the Avenger didn’t want to think about too closely.

There was an angry growl approaching them fast.

Oh yeah, now Sam had to calm down a concerned and very feral lover, who had probably smelled the sorcerer’s blood on the other side of the battlefield, as well as heard his cry of pain.

3

Stephen avoided going outside during the day. Understandably, since it would literally kill him – if he didn’t take precautions. Usually, there was no reason for him to hit the streets in broad daylight anyway.

Usually.

But this was a magic-related emergency right in the middle of bustling central New York, and Wong wasn’t currently available. Which was why Stephen was here, wearing several protection spells so the sun wouldn't burn him to a crisp immediately. The cloak rested on his shoulders, expanding his collar to a full hood to provide extra protection.

The glowing box that hovered six feet in the air in Central Park better be worth this.

Tony didn’t leave his side. Ever since the incident in Australia, this was a sensitive topic between them and the werewolf acted overly protective. Stephen didn’t argue with him. He had learned his lesson. He did accept Tony’s sunglasses though.

“For your eyes,” the Were muttered.

Stephen wasn’t sure if it was meant to protect them, or if they currently betrayed his true nature by turning into a bright shade of red. So he hid them behind the tinted glasses.

It was late in the morning, not yet noon, and the day not too warm. He could work with that; as long as his time outside was kept short. Despite all precautions, he felt a headache approaching.

“Thank you for coming by,” Natasha greeted them, approaching from the side. She and Clint had been the first ones to the scene. But as soon as they had seen that flying box, they had called the sorcerer.

Stephen turned his head to her, shielding his face from the sun with his hand. Even with the sunglasses it felt too bright. And maybe he imagined it, but his skin felt itchy.

Natasha took in the unfamiliar style of the Cloak of Levitation, and the accessory that obviously belonged to Tony. As well as his defensive posture. “Are you alright, doctor?”

Stephen wasn’t surprised she noticed something. She was very observant.

Before Stephen could open his mouth, Tony chimed in, chuckling. “You see, our wizard here has a bit of a hangover. It got late yesterday and we may have opened one bottle of wine too many.” He looked at Stephen with mischief dancing in his eyes, “Next time you should stick to grape juice.”

The vampire didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to; it was written on his face that he was not impressed by those words – even with half of it hidden.

When Stephen didn’t object – and really, why should he? This was the perfect excuse – Tony grinned broadly and bumped his shoulder with Natasha. “We should avoid loud noises and bright light,” he stage-whispered, prompting her to follow him towards the weird magic object – and away from Stephen.

4

Bruce opened the door to the supply room – and stopped right in his tracks. “Oh… eh, I’m… I’m sorry, guys…”

He had clearly caught Tony and Stephen in flagranti. Stephen had pushed Tony against the shelf in the back, and was currently working on the soft skin of his neck, right between his ear and his shoulder. His back was to the door and he stills as soon as he heard it open. But he didn’t turn around nor did he make any kind of move.

Tony had his head tilted sideways to give him more room. His hands were on Stephen's shoulders, grasping the fabric of his shirt, while his legs were wrapped around the sorcerer’s hips.

He clearly enjoyed what they were doing very much. His pupils were blown wide and his eyes dark, when he locked them with Bruce.

Tony was slow to react. “Oh… hi, Brucie…” He smiled lazily.

There was a low growl in the room; surprisingly it didn’t come from the werewolf.

“You should leave,” Tony still hazily smiled. “Room’s occupied”

“Yes..sorry…” Bruce shuffled away, his head red by embarrassment.

The haze on his brain lifted enough to ask Jarvis, “What was that about, J?”

“I apologize, Sir. This room has no form of locking mechanism.”

That was something Tony should change. He made a mental note to add a lock to every single door in the compound.

The thought was forgotten in an instant when Stephen started to lick over where he had just bitten Tony. It was to close the wound; and to get Tony’s attention back.

The engineer shifted his focus back on the vampire. He rocked his hips against Stephen’s and elicited another growl from him, this time more needy.

5

Stephen was tired. Not ‘I need to go to sleep because he was a regular living being’-tired. No, vampires were physically and mentally not able to sleep; even if they wanted to. They were undead. And while the dead slept permanently, the undead never did.

This could be exhausting in its own way.

When he joined the Mystic Arts, Stephen learned to meditate, which was an effective way to shut off his mind; at least for a while.

Stephen had been gone from this dimension for a few days and now he craved a drink, a quiet and dark room, and the scent of Tony. Preferably a combination of all three things together.

He opened a portal straight into Tony’s bedroom.

Of course he didn’t find Tony there. The Were was barely in his own bed when Stephen was present. Without him, he probably barely walked in here at all. Plus, the sun had already risen.

Stephen went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Tony always had fresh blood for him available - packed into innocent looking, unlabeled boxes. It made sense; this was Tony’s private penthouse, but he often had guests over; Avengers coming upstairs. Stephen wouldn't want them to ask unwelcome questions.

He took a box and a glass – he refused to stick a straw into it. It would look too much like a juice box and Stephen just knew Tony would make a joke about that.

Instead he poured the red liquid into a wine glass. It was easier for him to hold it with the stem placed between his digits to prevent it from falling.

“Jarvis, where’s Tony?”

“In his laboratory, Doctor Strange.”

The Vamp opened another portal with the intention to at least steal a kiss from his partner, before he retired for the day. He changed his robes into something comfortable while walking through.

“… can you make one that ticks like a bomb, but instead of exploding there will be a small banner popping out that says ‘boom’. And then it will explode… oh, hey doc.”

Stephen realized too late that Tony wasn’t alone. Clint was standing next to his desk, both men leaning over schematics for what seemed to be trick arrows.

Walking up to his partner, Stephen took a sip from his drink.

Clint’s eyes followed the movement of his glass. “Is that red wine?”

Stephen paused, looking down at the red liquid. He was lucky Clint was human and couldn't smell blood over that distance.

He licked over his lips and noticed Tony was watching their interaction rather amused.

“Is that a problem?” he answered with a counter question.

Clint just shrugged. He certainly didn’t judge him, even though it was barely 10 a.m. in the morning.

+1

Stephen was in Kamar-Taj when he got the call from Tony.

“Poison Ivy is attacking Washington DC. We could use some backup.”

Stephen frowned and glanced at his phone. It was early in the morning, which meant it was pretty late on the East Coast.

“Really?” he asked. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“I would also rather work in the lab right now. You coming?”

"Shields are at fifty-seven percent," Jarvis interjects. There was an explosion somewhere in the distance on their side.

"No pressure," Tony reassured either Stephen or himself, the Vamp wasn’t sure.

“Yes, just send me a-”, his phone chimed when he got a message, “…photo.”

“See you on the other side.”

Tony hung up and Stephen opened the photo. It showed a street lamp that was overgrown with vines – just like the sidewalk in the background. Everything was a bit blurry but good enough for Stephen’s magic to work. He opened a portal and with one step he was standing on the other side of the world.

There was chaos in the streets. In the dead of night, they were filled with a sense of urgent as people ran frantically in all directions. The sound of sirens wailed in the distance, adding to the cacophony of fear and confusion.

Stephen detected the general scent of panic in the air; it smelled sour and sharp with a hint of uncertainness.

Suddenly the asphalt cracked open and spiky vines shot high into the air. They chased Peter, who was swinging between the tall buildings.

Stephen summoned sharp and glowing discs and cut the stem. The heavy upper part fell – as the cloak of levitation pulled Stephen into safety – and hit the ground with a loud thud. The lower half of the tendrils, however, continued to move; like cut tentacles, but more angry now. Stephen cut them again, this time right above the ground.

The Iron Man suit stopped next to him midair, opening the face plate. “Thanks for joining. We’re currently dealing with Rose and Thorn, but her plant pets have a mind of their own and they cover a lot of ground here; destroying streets and buildings.”

“They’re Solanaceae.” At Tony's quizzical look, Stephen added, “Nightshades. They probably get stronger during the night.”

“A cousin of yours?”

“Funny,” the Vamp dead-panned. “I’ll do what I can, but our best bet is probably a giant flamethrower.” Fire killed almost everything efficiently, plants as well as vampires.

“Since when do you have a doctorate in botany? I’ll see if I can get propane from somewhere. Might take a while though.”

“Great. In the meantime, I'll take care of the weeds.”

They parted ways. Tony flew off while Stephen moved right next to where more plants breached through the street. He cut them as low as he could reach with his magic even though he knew it would be more effective to get rid of the roots.

At the same time that was more difficult, especially since he didn’t know how deep they went, or in what way they were connected to each other.

The more he attacked them, the more ferocious they got. The plants seemed almost sentient, sensing where he was, even though he remained mostly in the air and didn’t so much as touch the ground with his feet.

It made Stephen hesitate, wondering what exactly he was facing. It wasn’t magic; not really. Maybe – and that was a big maybe – he could find a way to communicate with them and make them leave.

The asphalt cracked in several places right below Stephen. The Cloak of Levitation pulled him back, but the plants seemed to focus solely on the sorcerer. They hit him before he could throw up a defense spell.

Three big branches pierced his torso and Stephen let out a cry, low and anguished that carried through the streets.

The cloak billowed, trying to pull him free. The movement only made it worse.

Another vine yanked the cloak off him. Someone called out for Stephen, but the noise was muffled in his ears.

The vines hurled him around and then threw him through the air. His loyal cloak zipped after him but wasn’t fast enough to catch him before he hit the pavement and tumbled over several times.

Ironically, the plants softened his fall – albeit only insignificantly.

Stephen gasped for air; and immediately choked on liquid. His lung must have been pierced and blood was pooling in it. He stopped breathing to avoid choking.

He propped himself up on his elbows – his hands were shaking badly – before he rolled onto his side. Deep in his stomach, a dark purple orb of anguish seemed to throb with his pulse. His vision was hazy and tinted red. The feeling of bleeding out was all-consuming.

“Stephen!”

The plants around him were burned away by a modified blast as Tony landed at his side. The werewolf crouched down to examine his partner. The suit retreated from his hands and his head. He wanted nothing more than to cradle the man in his arms, but the presence of the enemy was too close.

“Shit, Stephen, talk to me.”

“’m fine,” was what Stephen wanted to say. All that got out was a gurgling noise. Blood ran down his chin. The vampire turned his head and spat it out, even though it sent vile warnings throughout his innards.

He heard the voice of Jarvis, running a diagnostic scan of him: “…as well as his lung and abdomen. He is experiencing heavy blood loss. Immediate intervention is advised.”

That sounded about right.

“You need blood,” Tony observed what Stephen had already concluded as well. He was losing the vital liquid too fast. His throat felt dry, even though he was still choking. And he didn’t have the strength to check but he knew his fingers were sharp claws and his teeth on display. It was his body urging him to hunt.

For now he was still in control of his mind, yet he had to act fast. Or he would turn into a wild beast that would prioritize to ensure his survival.

Tony helped Stephen sit up. He groaned in displeasure as the pain intensified. Then he grunted with horror as Tony took off one arm part of his armor.

“What…you doin’?” he muttered, barely intelligible.

“I told you: you need blood. Don’t argue about it. Not now.” Not while they were in the midst of an emergency. Not again.

Stephen looked at him, shaking his head. He had already drunk from Tony twice this week. It had only been small amounts, but the body of the werewolf needed time to replenish its blood. With all his injuries, Stephen would need more than Tony had to give. Stephen might feel better, but Tony would die of blood loss.

The vampire didn’t have breath left to articulate that; except he was sure that the engineer must have come to the same conclusion.

Tony was also very aware of Stephen's stubbornness regarding Tony’s health.

“..home…” Stephen managed to get out.

There were plenty of blood bags in the fridge. His hand moved to his belt, where his Slingring was normally stored – and he touched right into a deep wound.

The Vamp hissed in pain and Tony saw the blood running down shaking fingers. Stephen knew he barely had the strength to move, much less to open a portal.

His senses grew stronger as he became more aware of possible food sources around them. Surprisingly, he also got calmer. Or maybe his body just got ready to attack at the earliest convenience.

Suddenly he was glad he was too weak to move a lot.

Tony was kneeling behind him, to support his back and stop him from toppling over; his mind running a million thoughts and calculating all options.

If not from him, Stephen could drink blood from someone else. Tony surely could find someone in this city, even though the area was evacuated. He would knock them out personally if necessary.

Stephen would never drink without consent. And animal blood wasn’t sufficient for this situation; it had to be human blood. Or at least humanoid.

A hospital!

They had blood bags in stock. Even though marching in and demanding them would raise questions. Tony would have to be careful not to reveal Stephen's nature.

On the other hand, if he waited too long, Stephen's nature would reveal on its own; when he went feral to get what his body needed.

Suddenly his trail of thoughts was interrupted by another voice.

“What’s your status?”

Rogers was jogging over to them. Maybe he had smelled the lots of blood Stephen was losing. Or he got called on the scene because Tony had ignored his comm for the past however many minutes – right after he had screamed for Stephen.

The sorcerer was trying to make his bleeding, lanky body smaller and shielded away from the Avenger. Showing his vampire features to Captain America – a very famous vampire hunter – would start a whole other kind of mess.

Tony helped him by subtly moving his armored body between them. “The wizard is out,” he explained dismissively. “I have to get him home immediately.”

This wasn’t really his plan; they were too far from New York and Stephen too weak. It was a good enough excuse though. And it gave Tony an idea: if Stephen wore the armor it would – hopefully – protect him; and those around him. It would leave Tony vulnerable in the still ongoing fight, but he would manage.

He glanced to the side where Rogers was still standing, analyzing Stephen's condition. Tony opened his mouth to throw a quip at him, but Steve beat him to it.

“What if he takes my blood?”

“What?” Tony stared at him. He was sure he misheard. Even Stephen stilled in his arms.

Rogers tilted his head. “If your werewolf blood is fine, mine should be as well.” At Tony's distrustful look, he adds, “You forget I’ve got super hearing. And the tells were rather obvious. Now,” he took the last steps towards them slowly, as if he was approaching a wild animal. “I believe we don’t have much time. I give him my permission to take the blood I can spare.”

Tony’s posture became defensive. It was subconscious, his mind still screaming: protect mate!

“Why?” he asked.

“We are a team, Tony”, Rogers said as if that were a very obvious reason. It probably was – under normal circumstances. Then Rogers spoke to Stephen directly. “And you are still Doctor Stephen Strange, even if you’re a vampire.”

Tony was still hesitant, and that said a lot about his experience with people he had trusted and who had then stabbed him in the back. Some even literally.

But then he felt Stephen weakly nudging him and he turned his attention back to the sorcerer. Stephen needed blood now; they would do the talking later. He weakly beckoned Steve to come closer.

The ground shook again, however, nothing broke through it - for now.

Rogers put his finger to his ear and spoke over the comm to the team. “We need some brief cover. South side.”

Stephen didn’t see who else moved in their direction; his focus was on the Avenger in front of him. Tony stayed with him and Stephen trusted him – as well as Rogers – to stop him should he take too much.

Rogers crouched down as well and looked at them, unsure. “So, how do we do this?”

“Your wrist.” Tony nodded towards it.

Rogers pulled the tight sleeve of his suit up and held it out to the vampire. If he had any second thoughts, he masked them well.

Stephen’s trembling hands wrapped around the warm skin. He felt life pulsing in the veins, a lot of it. Water pooled in his mouth; or perhaps it was blood. He wasn’t sure.

Instead of feasting on his meal immediately, he looked up at Rogers, his red eyes asking for permission. Steve granted it – again; this time with a simple nod.

Stephen bared his teeth and pierced the skin with them. On impact, a sound escaped Rogers, rather surprised than in pain – in fact it didn’t hurt more than a needle prick. And then the pain was completely gone. Everything was fine. Maybe he even was a bit too calm about the situation; the vampire drinking from him and the fight around them.

He had heard about a vampire’s thrall – but he still felt in control. A bit light-headed, sure. But not alarmingly so.

Roger’s eyes met Tony’s, who watched him with alert eyes.

After a while, Stephen let go of him and leaned back. He looked instantly better. He was still bleeding but he no longer made that gurgling sound with every breath. His wounds also seemed to be slowly closing. Or at least the bleeding had stopped.

He moved to stand up, but Tony held him back, gently.

“Take it easy.”

And Rogers added, “We got you, doctor.”

Bonus:

“What did he taste like?” Tony asked way too casual and out of context.

Stephen didn't have to ask who he meant. There weren't many people he had drunk directly from recently. "Artificial. Like a snack with a weird combination of flavors.” Looking at the Were he found him way too smug about his answer. “Are you jealous?”

Tony shrugged, ducking his head. It was a tell; he couldn't fool Stephen. “It was just weird seeing you drinking from someone else. It’s an intimate thing. At least it always feels this way for me.”

Because every time Stephen drank from the Were it almost exclusively led to sex.

Stephen pulled him into his arms. “Only because we make it intimate.” He kissed his temples. “What you and I have is special, Tony.”

Tony left it at that, but the scent of a very happy Were invaded Stephen's nose.

[hayanwulf]

Stephen turns into a vampire after a fight with them and locks himself up in the Sanctum until Wong has to call in Loki to help him find a counter spell. Loki offers his blood when he learns Stephen is suffering.

Feed. Kill. Blood.

The thoughts clawed at his mind, digging their ugly sharp edges deep into his subconscious as he fought for control over his own body. His throat felt parched, his fangs itched with the desire to bite into succulent, living flesh and suck it dry. But all he could bite into was the pillow of his bed.

They were supposed to have found a solution two days ago. Yet here he was, starved and shivering by himself in the confines of his room, because he couldn’t bear the thought of having to hurt someone, or even take the precious, life-saving blood from a bank.

He had locked himself up in here for three days now — three entire days of eating nothing — and his control was slipping now, escaping his fingers like water as he struggled to keep an iron grip around it.

He had caught the scent of blood once, once this morning when Wong had come to check in on him, and he had immediately thrown himself at the other sorcerer with the reflex and speed of a vampire, nearly mauling his friend in a mindless frenzy. Thank the Vishanti the Cloak had swooped in, an equal match to his reflexes, allowing Wong just enough time to react and incapacitate his friend, Stephen’s feral mind too tactless to employ the strength of the Mystic Arts against his prey.

If the Cloak hadn’t been there to stop him, and he had attacked his friend..

The thought made his gut twist with disgust.

He was a danger to every living creature.

Piercing his fangs into the tasteless cotton of his pillow, Stephen screwed his eyes shut, wishing the sickening lust would go away, would stop tormenting his mind and body with an urge to hurt another human, to kill.

Stephen would rather hurt himself than ever allow himself to hurt another.

The door of his room suddenly creaked. Stephen’s eyes snapped open, his head whirling around with lightning speed as nostrils flared to swallow the sweet, divine smell of blood, his mind going haywire with the need to suppress his predatory instincts, to yell at Wong to go—

Except, it wasn’t Wong who stood at the doorframe.

It was Loki.

A growl vibrated at the back of Stephen’s throat, anger bubbling beneath his skin that Wong had involved Loki in this.

Green eyes swept over his form scrutinizingly, betraying no emotion.

“Leave,” Stephen snapped, control entirely frayed at its edges, hanging by thin silk threads as he summoned every last bit of willpower within him to not pounce at the Asgardian standing mere yards from him. “Now. And lock the door.”

Loki gave him a deadpan expression, taking one step forward so he was on this side of the door, and used his other leg to slam the door shut behind him.

The world paused.

Stephen quickly fumbled to sit upright on the bed, tugging the Cloak closer, requesting his relic to wrap all around him, constrain him as tightly as they could. And they did, responding to their Chosen’s request. “I told you to leave,” Stephen growled.

Loki simply smiled, sauntering closer to his bed as though he was strolling around in his own house. “And I ignored you.”

Frustration stirred within him, battling against the onslaught of heinous predatory thoughts. “Loki, this isn’t the time—”

“You are starving,” Loki stated matter-of-factly.

Blood ran cold in his veins as he realized why Loki was here. He slowly shook his head. “I’m not feeding from you.”

“So you’d rather torment yourself than take blood from someone willingly offering it?”

Stephen shook his head more fervently. “No, you don’t understand. I can’t control this. I won’t know how to stop, won’t know if I’m hurting you—”

In a quick series of movements, Loki climbed a leg up the bed, coming dangerously close to Stephen. His presence assaulted Stephen’s sharp senses, and he was able to smell the blood rushing just beneath that pale skin, could hear his heartbeat, how it was slightly slower than a human’s heart rate, could tell all the differences in his scent that easily gave away that he was not human. It called to Stephen, urged him to give himself to the abhorrent instincts clawing at his mind.

And then, to Stephen’s horror, with one caress of a cool hand over the fabric, Loki convinced the Cloak to let go.

His only restraint gone, Stephen fell a slave to his own instincts as he leapt towards Loki, fingernails growing into impossibly sharp beast claws in a fraction of a second, aiming straight for that throat with inhuman strength backing his assault—

Equally strong arms stopped his assault with lightning reflexes, and his back was pushed down on the bed as the Asgardian straddled him, restraining his arms with his own, intense green eyes glaring down at him. Stephen growled and struggled, trying to overpower the man who had him pinned down, but it was nothing compared to the godly strength restraining him.

“Do not dare think that I am a helpless prey to you, incapable of stopping you should I want to. I am a god, and neither the lack of a little blood nor a vampire’s strength and inebriating venom are enough to defeat me.”

Stephen stopped struggling, some clarity breaking into his frenzied mind as he registered Loki’s words, realized their exact situation, the way he was effortlessly pinned under the Asgardian. Understanding dawned on him, realizing exactly what Loki was doing here.

He was showing Stephen, rather than telling.

Loki’s grip on his arms eased a little as he continued, “You may feed from me because I am allowing you to feed from me, not because I am allowing you to hurt me. If it truly came to that, I am more than capable of stopping you from hurting me. So let go.”

With that, Loki lifted his iron grip from Stephen’s arms.

Stephen hoped the gratitude was visible in his eyes in the last moments of his lucidity and control.

And then he let go.

Fingers that had grown into claws assaulted the god towering over him, pinning him down on the bed with terrifying ease as Loki submitted. His thirsty eyes zeroed in on the pulsating vein on Loki’s neck, and he dove down, sharp long fangs piercing the cool skin until the sickeningly sweet taste of copper assaulted his senses, immediately soothing some of the feral part inside of him, but his hunger roared louder, wanting to be quenched.

Stephen hated the way it satisfied his mind and body, loathed the way he delighted in the taste of blood in his tongue. He knew he would hate himself later, for having left twin puncture marks on Loki’s neck, for having taken from the Asgardian.

But for now, he reveled in this feeling akin to one’s thirst being quenched after hours of not having drunk water.

Loki, for his part, simply wrapped his slender hands around Stephen’s form, displaying no signs of fight as he whispered a quiet reassurance into Stephen’s ear.

“That’s it. Take what you need.”

[airas-story]

Two prompt ideas- one directly tied to the vampire!Stephen and hunter!Tony prompt fill you recently posted, the other could easily go either way.

The first- Stephen is badly injured protecting Tony in some fight, and Tony offers to let Stephen drink from him to recover

The second- Tony's wrists, ankles, arms, and neck are all injured from restraints from a kidnapping that Stephen has recently rescued him from. Because of this, Stephen tries to refuse to drink from him for a regularly scheduled meal, but Tony insists, offering the great sapphemous vein in his thigh instead (note. I know you don't do smut and I am not expecting smut from this, the bite can be near the knee and he can be clothed, I am just entranced by the intimacy of the concept and I love the way you write them)

Follow up to this triple drabble! I went with the first prompt!

Stephen fell against the wall, the burn beneath his skin agonizing as the hunter fell to Tony’s shot. “The kids?” he asked, voice hoarse as Tony stepped out of the shadows. “Are they okay?”

Tony was at Stephen’s side immediately, moving to support him. “They’re fine, Stephen. But you’re not. I told you to let me handle the hunter. They had a hex bag, you can’t—”

“You had the kids,” Stephen argued. “The hunter was after them.”

The hunting world had learned one of Tony’s kids had turned; it had been hunt after hunt after that—this time, they were all prey.

“They’re safe,” Tony assured him. “Let’s get you safe, too.”

Stephen could barely stand even with Tony’s support, the hex magic—bristling with malevolence that could stop even him—had drained him entirely. “Can’t,” Stephen admitted. “Not sure how I’m standing.”

“You need to feed.” It wasn’t a question.

There were those in the know who supplied him blood; Stephen wouldn’t be able to get to them. Not quickly. “Yes.”

Tony let out a breath. “Okay. Well, there’s an obvious solution.”

“No,” Stephen said the moment he understood. “I don’t coerce—”

“This isn’t coercion, Stephen. I’m offering.”

“Out of guilt.” Stephen couldn’t accept that. Not from anyone, but especially not from Tony. He wouldn’t taint what had grown between them. Even if the alternative…

Tony shifted so that Stephen was leaning mostly against the wall, Tony in front of him. His eyes burned with intensity. “This isn’t guilt, Stephen. This…” Tony exhaled. “You know what this is.”

Stephen’s heart no longer beat, but he recognized the feeling in his chest regardless. “You don’t mean that,” he whispered. Stephen was the monster in the closet.

Tony’s only answer was to bare his neck. “I’m not losing you Stephen. Drink.”

[imamarillys]

Happy Halloween with the Vampire Supreme! 🧛‍♂️ 🎃

And company X3 I had plenty of fun making both the main art and the little doodles. We have double vampire present with Wong dressed as a Jiangchi (Chinese Vampire), and a little plus with Miss OC as a yūrei (Japananese Ghost). Hope you guys like it! And have a safe Halloween 🎃

[fanartka]

[gotham-at-nightfall]

Clea Strange fights to save her husband!

Doctor Strange #15