#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.

[space-mermaid-writing]

That's the vase in question

Bat vase by Richard Freiwald

[illyanarasputinfan]

Alden Kaye

[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.

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Introduction To My Blog

I mainly write short one-shots and drabbles about the Marvel Cinematic Universe and Doctor Who. I will occasionally post longer fics/series and some Buffy The Vampire Slayer content. Please be warned there is swearing in some posts.

I only write in the second person i.e. You said, they looked at you

My blog supports everyone in the LGBTQIA+ community. Anyone who makes hurtful comments will be blocked and can fuck all the way off.

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I'm not really into AUs unless it reverses a characters death

I'd love to hear your different ideas in asks/requests but there are a few I'm not going to write for:

Omegaverse

Soulmate AU

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I prefer the characters to stay basically themselves

Tropes:

I'm definitely open to your favourite tropes but here are a few of mine (although some may just be base plots but anyways):

Wearing each other's clothes (I wrote the first of I'm sure to be multiple fics based solely on this)

Mutual pining/idiots in love (especially when another character has to step in and tell them they're in love)

Comforting after a nightmare (both or character or reader, love it all)

One of them being a in their terms "awful person" because of murder or just letting people die and the other telling them they're perfect

Some kind of spell or technology going wrong and one or both of them falling in love (more)/telling the truth about their love

Killing for each other (you know, if they have too)

Forced proximity

One bed

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Natasha Romanoff

Clint Barton

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Tony Stark

Steve Rogers

Thor Odinson

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Stephen Strange

Scott Lang

Peter Parker

Bucky Barnes

Yelena Belova

Kate Bishop

Wanda Maximoff

Sam Wilson

Pepper Potts

X-Men

Logan Howlett

Wade Wilson

Kurt Wagner

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11th Doctor

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14th Doctor

15th Doctor

Captain Jack Harkness

Missy

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Spike

Angel

Rupert Giles

Wesley Wyndam-Price

Buffy Summers (possibly)

Willow Rosenberg (possibly)

I am open to write for other characters within these fandoms (these are just the ones I know I'm comfortable writing), just send a request/ask and I'll give it a shot!

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[el-on-mars]

he bites

[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 🎃

[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.

[popcorn-plots]

who let this man into the house

[space-mermaid-writing]

IronStrange Winter Exchange

My part for the IronStrange Winter Exchange 2024 @ironstrangehaven

This fic is for @mephsation. Happy Holidays! ♥

Beta by @harpywritesfic

The prompt: Vampires! One of them is a vampire or they're fighting vampires, whatever is of interest

Summary: Tony is a skilled hunter, so of course he helps out when a village asks him to get rid of a beast that killed their cattle. But little does Tony know that there is more than one dangerous creature lurking in the forest.

Tags: Hunter!Tony Stark, Vampire!Stephen Strange, hurt Tony Stark, angst, lots of banter, first meetings, involuntary team up

Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 4.4k

His gut told him he was watched by a predator, but it turned out it was an idiot

Tony carefully cocked the trap until it clicked firmly into place, then hid it under a few leaves making sure it blended in with the forest floor.

Standing up straight, he rolled his shoulders to ease the tension. The sun was already setting, but his work was far from over. In fact, it had only just begun.

The village he had traveled through had asked the hunter for help, and of course Tony had accepted. His decision became even more resolute when he was shown the gruesome remains of the unfortunate victims who had come face-to-face with a mysterious beast lurking nearby.

Initially, it had started with the village's livestock - several cattle had been brutally mauled, their remains left in a horrifying state. But things took a darker turn two days prior when the first human life was claimed. And just yesterday, another villager had met the same fate.

A sudden chill ran down Tony's spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise. He instinctively felt the presence of someone – or something – watching him. It was not just a vague suspicion; it was an instinct he had honed throughout his long career as a hunter. His gut told him there was a predator nearby, and he had learned the hard way never to ignore those instincts.

Despite the unsettling feeling, he reminded himself that he was still close to the village. There was a chance that some overly curious villager - probably an individual lacking common sense - had decided to follow him into the woods. It wouldn't be the first time he had encountered such reckless behavior.

Some people were just incredibly stupid.

In a calm yet deliberate manner, Tony reached for the crossbow strapped securely across his shoulder. He pulled out a sharp bolt and aimed it at a dense cluster of trees nearby, where movement had caught his eye.

"You better come out of your hiding place if you don’t want a bolt right between your eyes," he called out, his voice steady and commanding.

Tony started to count to ten in his mind. He didn’t even get to five, when the branches of the bushes were pushed aside and a man stepped forward.

He was tall, with pretty blue eyes and sharp cheekbones. Judging by his clothes, he belonged to the village, though he was clearly no simple farmer: he wore a long coat over a vest, and gloves.

Tony did not lower his crossbow. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“My name is Doctor Stephen Strange.” He at least had the decency to keep his hands raised in surrender while a weapon was pointed at him. “I’m the town’s doctor. And I came here to look for the beast that killed the two villagers; and get rid of it.”

If that was true, the man was even a bigger idiot than Tony had first thought.

“Really?” he asked, skepticism evident in his voice “Do you have a death wish? Have you ever faced a vampire before?”

The man – Strange – stiffened, his demeanor shifting ever so slightly. “Why do you think it’s a vampire?”

"The mauled cattle and the two villagers were not the only victims. I found several cattle with distinct puncture wounds on their necks. It’s a classic sign of one or multiple vampires nearby." As he spoke, he observed Strange closely, searching for any sign of fear or doubt. But there was no emotion on the man’s face whatsoever; it looked like it was cut out of marble. Something about that bothered Tony.

“Did you even bring a weapon or are you planning to face death with your bare hands?” he probed.

Strange pushed his coat back and revealed a dagger secured to his belt.

Tony let out a scoff that echoed in the stillness of the forest. The situation was almost funny to him. “Cute. Allow me to offer you some free advice: go back to your cozy little house and let me handle this.”

With that, he turned away and removed the bolt from his crossbow. He didn’t need to waste silver on this guy.

“No.” The word left Strange’s lips with a surprising force that caught the hunter off guard. He turned his head back to Strange, curiosity and confusion evident on his face. “The beast will kill again. I have to prevent that.”

The hunter felt a mix of respect and frustration. “Your willingness to help honors you, but leave it to the professionals. You’re unnecessarily reckle-…”

The snap of a twig interrupted him and Tony shut up immediately. Instead, he shoved Strange deeper into the shadows that surrounded them to hide them both from dangerous eyes. He quickly pressed his hand against Strange’s mouth, his expression tense and focused.

“Quiet!” he hissed warningly.

He heard heavy steps of something big passing nearby.

The beast.

With a combination of caution and curiosity, Tony tried to shift his position, peering around the sturdy tree trunk to catch a glimpse of whatever was out there, all the while keeping a tight grip on Strange. Who knew what stupid thing the man would do if he got the chance.

Enough people had died by this beast already.

From his careful vantage point, Tony caught sight of the creature that had stirred the underbrush. It was at least six feet high and had the physique of a bear - yet, Tony was pretty sure there were feathers as well. It was hard to tell what it was.

He waited quietly until it was out of sight, and only then he turned back to Strange.

The doctor had gone still in the hunter’s grip. Their eyes locked for a brief moment; Tony saw dilated pupils, before Strange quickly averted his eyes again.

Now, that was interesting.

A playful smirk crossed Tony’s face as he shot Strange a teasing look. "No need to be so shy all of a sudden," he joked, as he stepped back and lowered his hand.

Strange cleared his throat, visibly flustered, and instinctively moved to the side as if trying to distance himself from the hunter. He looked as though he deeply regretted meeting Tony. Well, it was his own fault. He should have stayed at home.

“Like I said,” the doctor stated. “It wasn’t a vampire.”

He was right, Tony had to give him that – not that he would admit it out loud.

“Don’t get too excited abou-…”

The roar of the beast interrupted him. It sounded angry and pained and the hunter realized it must have stepped into one of his traps.

He turned away from Strange. As fun as the banter was, it wasn’t important right now.

“This is your last warning: go home,” he told Tony before he ran off with a new found urgency.

The beast had stepped into one of Tony’s leghold traps and was furiously trying to free itself from it, roaring and kicking. And now, the hunter finally saw what it was: an owlbear.

The beast’s head was that of a great owl, wide and round, with piercing, molten-yellow eyes that gleamed with an unsettling intelligence. The beak was sharp enough to tear through flesh in a single snap. It was a miracle that only two villagers had fallen prey to it so far.

The jagged feathers of its wings - too small to allow flight - brushed against the trees around it. But it was the talons that usually struck terror - long and deadly, capable of rendering through armor and bone alike.

This was no common predator. The owlbear was a force of nature, a nightmare born of claw and beak, both ferocious and fierce. A creature whose hunger was as primal as the forests it called home.

And Tony just made it angry by setting the traps.

With its massive weight and size, the owlbear was not easy to take down. To kill it swiftly, one would need to strike precisely at its heart or pierce its eye, reaching deep into its brain. Both of these options demanded a close encounter, which was far from advisable for anyone.

Given the circumstances, Tony opted for a different approach. Although it would take more time, he decided to stealthily circle around the beast, careful not to attract its attention. He shed a short sword from his belt, feeling the cold metal in his grip. A strategic stab to the creature’s flank could cause significant blood loss. And if he hit a few organs in the process, all the better.

With determination, Tony gathered all his strength and aimed for the beast’s side.

As the blade plunged in, the owlbear let out a furious howl and lashed out with its powerful legs. Tony had anticipated this reaction and was prepared to dodge. Yet, he was caught off guard when the sheer force of the owlbear’s kick yanked the trap from its anchor, liberating the creature.

It wasted no time snapping at him with its razor-sharp beak.

And Tony reacted too slowly.

Just as the creature lunged forward, ready to bite, Tony was pushed out of the way and he stumbled roughly to the ground.

Strange was back – that idiot had probably never left – swinging his dagger at the beast and managing to slice across the owlbear’s face.

Tony winced when he watched the clawed strike that followed. But the creature must have missed, because Strange was still on his feet afterwards, even though the strength of an owlbear would knock any man off his feet.

After a brief moment of hesitation, the creature chose to retreat, stomping off into the depths of the forest rather than risk further injuries.

Sitting up, Tony took a moment to catch his breath. The brief respite allowed him to rethink his strategy. Now that he had identified the creature, he could plan accordingly.

If he could find out where the owlbear's lair was, he could surprise it there. Poison wouldn't do it for this massive unit. Maybe he could do a field test of his latest invention. Tony glanced at the cable that ran under his leather armor from his shoulder down his arm to his palm. All he had to do was insert the last piece and connect it. That should have enough power to take out even an owlbear.

As he considered his plan, he noticed movement to his side. Strange put the dagger back to his belt.

Right, that guy was still here.

Tony had to admit, the doctor hadn't done too badly. Just-... Tony noticed red liquid seeping through the doctor's sleeve.

“Shit! Let me look at that,” Tony urged because that was a lot of blood.

Yet, Strange waved him off. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

That was bullshit and both of them knew it. They didn't have time for discussions, so Tony simply grabbed Strange's arm and pushed up the sleeve, before the man could stop him. Apparently, the claws had hit him after all, because the wound was quite deep – yet under Tony's disbelieving eyes the wound began to close itself, the skin weaving together almost magically.

The hunter blinked.

He was sure it was a mistake, that he was wrong. He had to be wrong, because otherwise there would only be one reason for it.

Strange had gone still under his grip again, waiting for Tony’s reaction.

Tony placed his other hand on the pale arm, pushing the silver ring he was wearing into the skin, testing his theory. He had to make sure.

Strange hissed in pain as the silver burned into his skin.

It was just a distraction, because the next moment, Tony held a silver knife at Strange’s throat and shoved him backwards against a tree again.

It felt like a deja-vu but this time there was nothing playful or flirtatious about this

“You’re a fucking vampire!” Tony bristled. “Did you have fun deceiving me? What was the point of this charade?”

“I did not deceive you.” Strange remained quiet, and that only annoyed Tony even more.

“Oh, you’re telling me, you meant what you said? That your goal is to stop the beast from slaughtering humans? Do you really think I’m that stupid?” Maybe Tony was; after all he hadn’t even realized that the man wasn’t human.

The sharp blade of his silver knife pressed into the vampire's throat; not quite cutting the skin but still burning it. He should kill him right now and have one monster less wandering this Earth.

Still, very few vampires were able to put on human acts. And none of them were as convincing as this one.

“I fed from the cattle with the marks,” Strange defended himself. “But I did not kill anyone – neither animal nor human.”

Tony snorted, skepticism dripping from his voice. They didn’t really have time for this argument, but at the same time, he couldn’t rush this.

“You expect me to believe you’re some noble vampire who wants to coexist with humans without ever feeling the urge to drink from them?”

Suddenly, a realization struck him, sending his heart racing.

“Oh god, you weren’t flustered earlier… you smelled my blood.”

Tony had practically held his wrist to the vampire’s face as he had held his mouth shut. The only thing standing between his vein and those fangs had been luck and a bit of self-control.

“I don’t expect you to trust me,” Strange muttered, but he averted his eyes. It was obvious that Tony got at least that last part right.

The silver ring still burned into the vampire’s arm, making it difficult for him to stay focused under the pain.

Strange’s jaw clenched. “Go one, use that knife. You know it won’t kill me.” He looked at Tony and the hunter only now realized just how blue his eyes were. “I’m stronger than you, even with a slashed throat. I will walk away from this, but I may lose a lot of blood. And that puts anyone who stumbles across me before I find an animal to drink from in danger.”

There was truth in those words, and they weighed heavily on Tony's mind. Vampires were incredibly strong. A well-placed stab with the silver knife into his heart could end Strange’s life, but with the blade resting at the vampire’s throat, he realized that Strange would undoubtedly be quicker.

Tony also noted that Strange had yet to threaten the hunter’s life.

“I’m not falling for your lies,” he hissed, trying to convince himself as much as the vampire. Because it had to be lies. Vampires were natural predators and humans were their favorite kind of food. “Even if you act all nice, I won’t be giving you the opportunity to jump at my throat.”

Strange raised an eyebrow as if Tony had said something particular stupid. “I don’t intend to hurt you. But my hand may get forced if it comes down to my survival…” He paused briefly, before adding. “Or we could just take care of the owlbear problem together and continue this argument afterwards.”

He had a point.

Tony shouldn’t give in. But maybe – just maybe – the owlbear would take its anger out on the vampire. That way the hunter would kill two birds with one stone.

Plus, the beast was really big, and even though Tony was one of the best, it would be a challenge to face it alone.

The roar of the owlbear reminded them that time was essence.

“Fine,” Tony finally relented, tentatively removing the hand with the silver ring from the vampire’s arm – but not yet the knife.

“However, you will stay where I can see you at all times.”

Tony didn’t want to have a vampire behind his back.

Strange nodded – as much as that was possible with a blade at his throat. The ring's branding remained on his skin; it wouldn’t heal as fast as the wound.

Good, Tony thought. It was a reminder for Strange.

Since the vampire didn't go feral right away, he lowered the knife as well and stepped back.

Strange exhaled – something vampires didn’t have to do. It seemed to be an automatic action.

Underneath the tension, Tony felt an odd sense of kinship with the vampire. And for the first time, Tony wondered if there was more to this creature than blood lust.

He didn't have much time to think about it, as they still had to deal with the bigger problem: the owlbear. Its noises seemed to be moving in the direction of the village, and that was something they had to prevent at all costs.

Strange seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he said “We need a plan.”

“I have a plan,” Tony said, confidently loading his crossbow with quick and practiced movements. He met the vampire’s gaze. “Prevent the beast from killing people.”

With that, he took off running.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, and darkness wrapped around the forest. Tony had to tread carefully, trying to avoid any pitfalls or hidden holes in the ground that could cause him to stumble. The terrain was unfamiliar, and he needed to stay focused. Strange quickly caught up to him but maintained a cautious distance, matching Tony’s pace.

“You might want to keep your distance from the owlbear,” Strange warned him. “Humans get injured awfully easily.”

Tony shot him a glance, scoffing. “I can take care of myself, vampire.”

Suddenly, a loud rustling erupted from the nearby bushes, followed by the echoing hoot of the owlbear. It emerged, a towering mass of claws and feathers.

Tony wasted no time and fired a bolt straight at the beast’s shoulder. The projectile struck, but the owlbear barely flinched. Instead, it turned its monstrous gaze toward him, a torrent of fury igniting in its eyes.

Well, shit.

Tony dived to the side as the owlbear charged at him.

In an instant, Strange took to the shadows, his form melding into the darkness. He leaped onto the creature’s back, slashing at the matted feathers with his dagger and determination. The owlbear bellowed in anger, thrashing its powerful legs in an attempt to dislodge him.

Tony took the distraction to reassess as the owlbear shifted its weight, its muscles coiling like a spring, preparing for another assault. He had faced many creatures in his time, but few elicited both fear and awe like this one. Steeling his resolve, he remembered the villagers’ faces, their pleas echoing in his mind.

He aimed again.

The bolt flew, striking home. The beast staggered but quickly regained its footing. It let out a deafening screech, a haunting sound that vibrated through the forest as it charged at him again.

Tony dodged it, but couldn't avoid a crushing blow from the creature's massive paws. It pushed him off his feet and he hit the damp forest floor with a pain-filled gasp. He hit his head on something solid and felt dizzy. Yet, he had no time for that, because the owlbear was still right above him – its eyes locked onto him, a mixture of fury and primal instinct.

The creature opened its beak wide and lunged to bite him.

Suddenly, the beast was yanked backward, its front legs buckling in surprise. It craned its head to find what had intruded upon its attack.

Strange had jumped off its back and grabbed the owlbear by its hind leg to keep its massive form away from Tony.

Tony had heard tales of how vampires possessed remarkable strength, but witnessing Strange handling the huge creature was impressive.

His fingers fumbled with a flat disk he took from his belt. Every movement caused a wave of pain to shoot through his body, but he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He needed to act. Holding his gaze on the owlbear, which was trying desperately to shake off Strange, he placed the disk into the holder on the palm of his glove.

With a click it snapped into place and activated automatically.

It only needed a few seconds to charge, but it felt like forever to the hunter.

Tony aimed with his palm for a soft spot beneath the creature’s ribcage, trying to steady his arm despite the tremors that threatened to overtake him. The burning pain in his chest intensified as he clenched his teeth, fighting against the desire to succumb to his injuries.

Then he shot a beam of bright energy from his glove at the creature. It let out a pitiful cry, before it collapsed with a heavy thud.

It wasn’t dead, merely unconscious.

Tony’s panting felt even louder in the silence that enveloped the forest. He tried to sit up to finish the job, but as he braced himself on his forearms, a hot pain shot through his stomach, and for a moment, the darkness around him wasn't just due to the night.

His head was still dizzy, and as he blinked, Strange came into view. The vampire’s hands and face were covered in blood. Apparently, Tony had fainted briefly and in the meantime Strange had taken care of the owlbear.

And now the vampire was moving into his personal space.

Feeling a surge of instinctive fear, Tony instinctively flinched back, only to increase his pain in the process. His hand grazed his own stomach, and he noticed it was wet and sticky.

Blood.

All the more reason to keep his distance from the vampire.

“Don’t move. You’ll make it worse,” Strange gently admonished him, his voice calm and soothing. “Shhh… I’ll take care of you.”

Despite Tony’s best efforts to stay awake, the nauseating sensation overtook him, and he blacked out.

____________________

Tony was lying on a thin mattress when he woke up. His head no longer felt foggy, but his chest was still aching.

The room felt warm and inviting, wrapping him in a sense of comfort that he had not experienced in a while. As he turned his head slightly, he spotted a small fire crackling in the stove nearby, casting a gentle glow around the space. Next to his bedside stood a cup of water and a bowl of food.

He sat up, groaning. The blanket that had been covering him - soft and fresh-smelling linens - slid off his body, revealing his bare chest, which was wrapped in bandages.

He instinctively reached for the cup of water first, emptying it in a few quick gulps before moving on to the food. As he lifted the bowl into his lap, he examined the contents; it looked like a stew, but it was lukewarm, suggesting it had been prepared some time ago.

As he ate, he looked around the room.

His bed belonged to a small cot in the back of the room. There was a narrow window above him; the curtains were drawn only letting dulled light inside.

Nearby, hanging on the wall, were bundles of dried herbs. They looked like lavender, yarrow and sage, tied with twine. Dangling from little hooks, they created a curtain of healing plants.

A small bookshelf stuffed with leather-bound tomes and scrolls occupies one corner, detailing remedies and surgical techniques. Tony saw some of them scribbled with notes from the doctor.

Right next to it was a wooden shelf, holding supplies and ingredients.

Everything looked modest yet functional.

Tony's gaze drifted towards the door - and he froze when he spotted Strange standing next to it. The vampire was motionless, eyes fixed on him like a gargoyle. Their gazes locked in silence, a moment stretching between them.

After a heartbeat, Strange cautiously stepped forward, advancing slowly as if he were trying to avoid spooking a wild animal.

“How are you feeling?” Strange asked.

Tony shrugged, feeling the familiar pull of sore muscles. “Everything hurts, but I’ll live.” Thanks to the doctor.

His eyes narrowed as he regarded Strange.

“Why did you hold the beast back?” he asked, confusion coloring his voice.

Tony knew Strange’s secret. It would have been convenient for the vampire to let the owlbear solve this problem for him.

“I told you, I don’t want another human to get hurt by it,” Strange explained patiently.

“But I’m a hunter,” Tony protested. It didn’t make any sense to him. Anyone else would have jumped at that opportunity.

“If you’re implying that you will kill me as soon as you’re back on your feet, I’m taking that chance. I’m still faster and stronger than you. Even during the day.”

Tony had to begrudgingly agree with him. He didn't like the vampire's self-confidence; not while he was so nice to the hunter at the same time. Vampires weren't like that, and his behavior irritated Tony immensely. It stirred an urge within Tony to peel back the layers of Strange’s demeanor and understand what made him tick.

“I will leave this place soon. Probably even before you.” Strange continued, looking around the place; there was nothing wistful in his eyes, just acceptance. “People get suspicious anyway if I stay in one place for too long without aging.”

Tony was surprised about that revelation – but then again, it made sense. It was probably the smartest thing the vampire could do.

There was an idea forming in his head. It was either genius or really, really stupid.

Before he could discard that idea, his mouth had already started running.

“Well, if you want to continue preventing humans from getting killed by beasts… I’m heading east.”

Strange looked genuinely surprised by his words. “What?” Then his eyes narrowed. “Is that a trap? Do you want to trick me into trusting you, so you can kill me when I let my guard down?”

Despite the aching in Tony’s chest, his signature smirk was back on his lips. “I’m not denying that I would feel better if I kept an eye on you.” Tony had even the audacity to wink at Strange.

“But since you helped me out here, I don’t think I will do anything funny. At least not unless you give me a reason to.”

It was a dangerous offer. For both of them.

Strange’s face didn’t betray any emotion.

“I will consider it,” he said after a while, and Tony knew he wouldn’t leave this place alone.

“By the way,” the hunter added as he ate another spoonful of stew. “I’m not sure if it’s the right moment to tell you, but your cooking sucks.”

Strange rolled his eyes. “It's been a while since I last had someone to cook for,” he replied, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. “Or maybe owlbear meat just doesn't taste good to humans.”

Tony paused mid-chew, his attention suddenly drawn to the chunks of meat swimming in the stew. The realization hit him hard. He opened his mouth, allowing the morsels to fall back into the bowl, his earlier humor forgotten.

Yikes.

“We are going to work on that.”

[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.”

[fanartka]

[gotham-at-nightfall]

Clea Strange fights to save her husband!

Doctor Strange #15

[mariocki]

The Black Room (1982)

"I just want to know one thing up front: are there any restrictions?"

"Restrictions? No, none. This isn't the YMCA."

[itsagentromanoff]

[Tony shows Steve, Natasha and Bruce the Sanctum's library]

Tony: Check out all the magic junk.

Stephen: Our new slogan.