Taruyison

January

Stephen sighed softly while thinking over his options. Maybe going out for once wouldn’t be that bad. If he could forget about his problems for a day they might not be as hard to handle. Then again, his sweet little hay fever wasn’t as sweet as he had made it sound like to Tony. Staying home would be the best, and definitely the safest.

“I don’t know, Tony” he said, taking a sip of his tea. He savored the taste as best he could as it rolled down his esophagus. He licked his lips and clicked his tongue. “Doesn’t sound like something for me”. At best, it was a fleeting lie.

Tony scrunched up his eyebrows to give Stephen an expression of genuine concern, but also a hint of disappointment. “And here I thought you were a man of opportunity” he said.

Which was true. Stephen did like opportunities, and he would usually jump at them. Learning or experiencing something new was always on his list of things to do, and each new day always had another opportunity. Tony had come to know that part of him, and had come with him on many different events and excursions during their time together. Winter in particular was Stephen’s favorite time to hog a few opportunities. It meant he got to wear his favorite coat if the weather was cold enough.

Today, however, was not such a day. This whole week would have none such days. The only opportunities he would take were the ones that had to do with sleeping, resting, meditating, and hopefully getting a massage or two. Stephen made his best ‘I am absolutely very sick with a high fever’ impression while sighing heavily. “I’m sorry, Tones. You know how it is” he said and brought his cup of tea back to his mouth. It smelled delightful and tasted even better as he sipped from it with half-lidded eyes.

From The City Fair — ironstrange, prompt fill, established relationship, non-traditional a/b/o, no powers au, mild angst, hurt/comfort

February [nsfw]

“Happy Valentine’s” Christine giggled with glee, settling back on top of him and grabbing his wrists to pull his hands away from his face. He blinked up at her.

“Jesus, Christine” he mumbled softly, sniggering a bit more as he felt his face heat up another degree. Her sly smirk and expectant expression weren’t helping. In fact, it was only making the situation much, much worse.

“Oh?” she said, her eyebrows rising curiously.

“That’s not fair!” he exclaimed, freeing one of his hands to point a finger in her face. Attempting to look stern was however hard when; one, his face was flushed red from embarrassment; two, Christine had been idly waving a dildo a tad too close to his face; and three, he had woken up with a morning wood that had now increased to a full-fledged boner. Which wasn’t very easy to hide in the first place, but especially not when she was laying on top of him when he didn’t have any clothes on.

Christine giggled with what couldn’t have been anything but evil intent. Or at least playful. If it hadn’t been him the surprise was for, he would probably have been smirking as well. It was quite a naughty thought, and if he was being honest with himself, doing something naughty once in a while wasn’t all that bad.

The surprise was for him though, and the insinuations of what that meant-... Well, what did that mean? She hadn’t exactly been clear on what she wanted to use a firm, black, silver spangled strap-on dildo for. He wanted to ask, but almost dreaded the answer. His boner, however, didn’t. It quipped happily between his legs.

From A Very Happy Valentine’s Day — palmerstrange, established relationship, valentine’s special, pwp, strap-on

March

Pain ransacked his now vastly smaller body. What had been his hands, but now felt like something else, was pounding relentlessly. It ran like fire through what should have been his arms, into his torso, and then his entire body. He had been through pain, but this hurt. He considered, for only a moment, if perhaps it was supposed to hurt the first time you shifted.

Then he realized that he was falling. The ground was darting towards him, and threatened to ram into him at any second. He had to switch back. Biting through the pain took everything he had. He focused on the magic that was coursing through him. ‘Switch back, dammit!’ he swore to himself.

He heard footsteps approaching just as, at the last possible moment, he felt his body take its original form. He caught himself before he could fall face-first into the hard rock floor, and pain bit through every nerve in his hands and wrists. Maybe he should have taken the fall after all.

He rolled over to his back, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. He didn’t have to look to know that his hands were trembling. They shook and ached worse than they had ever done before, and he didn’t have enough force of will to hold back a grunt of pain.

Mordo was at his side within a bare moment. “Strange” Stephen heard him speak. He didn’t dare respond back. Not only did his body feel like it was burning, but he also felt shame start to build in the forefront of his mind. Something had gone wrong, and he didn’t know what. He had failed, and he wasn’t ready to look Mordo in the eye knowing that he had. He didn’t want to see the disappointment.

Unposted draft — inspired by tumblr, angst, hurt/comfort, canon divergence, magic shenanigans, au elements

April

Stephen wasn’t born as Stephen. All those many years ago, he had run away from his childhood home in bottom ass Nebraska and somehow made it to upstate New York. Nevermind his education at Columbia University, but he made quick work of erasing his previous personality completely, together with any record that he had any family at all.

Although, deleted records apparently didn’t help his situation of a broken heart. Days and eventually weeks passed after his “incident” with Stark, and Stephen became increasingly cold and distant toward his fellow sorcerers. He even started pushing Wong away, spending more and more time in his makeshift office, burrowed in borrowed books from Kamar-Taj. I’ll return them when I’m done, was all he said before turning a cold shoulder and marching out of the room.

Wong eventually stopped questioning. No more ice cream breaks, no more preparing tea in the morning, and no more how are you:s. Wong stopped trying to establish contact overall. After all, Stephen did what he was supposed and expected to do. He guarded the Earth against interdimensional threats, he helped train new recruits on the rare occasion that they would drop in, and he kept himself educated on the most recent medical, technical and magical news. He didn’t need to be reminded or bothered.

Stephen himself, however, noticed himself becoming a dark, gloomy storm cloud, ready to explode at any moment. Maybe he kept his distance for the sake of others, or maybe for himself. Either way, he had no one but his books, and on occasion the Cloak of Levitation. Even when Wong gave up on him, the sentient piece of fabric stayed by his side. Unreadable if it was feeling anything, but still — it was company nonetheless.

Unposted draft — prompt fill, mpreg, canon divergence, pre-infinity war, unrequited love, heavy angst, no comfort

May

“I’ve hated you for what you did. For five years, I hated you, and I hated you even when you came back afterwards. I quite frankly despise Stephen Strange for what he did, yes”

“So why are you here? To mock me? To make me feel even worse? I’ve already resigned myself, Stark, and you won’t see me again because I’m done. I’m staying here”

“I’m not here for Strange” Tony says, then he pauses, and his eyes flicker to the floor once, before turning back to the being’s. “I’m here for you, because when I realized I wasn’t going completely mad and seeing things, and after everything you’ve said and done for me-”

Tony breaks himself off and drops his hands back, turning a bit and bites his lip. He’s not sure how to say what he wants to say, and he’s not sure if it’s right either. He got married to Pepper, then broke it off because he thought he was cursed. He’s not sure if he still loves her and wants to get back with her, or if it would be okay to pursue whatever it is that he’s feeling for this shapeless, formless being he has shared a room with for a few weeks.

“Tony?” eldritch Stephen asks, because the silence is suffocating all of them by now. Tony looks up at him, and he’s now more human-like than eldritch. His left arm is still missing, and his left side, hip, shoulder, cheek, and part of his hair are completely woozy. The color of his clothes and skin are dulled, and the cloak is melding with him.

Tony doesn’t speak, but takes a giant leap of faith by taking a step forward and bringing his arms around not-Stephen’s neck to kiss him. Stephen is stunned speechless, not sure how to react, but when Tony pulls back, he doesn’t want him to and forms the other arm to hold him close.

“Tony, I’m-” Stephen starts, but Tony quickly interrupts him by a hush and a hand over his mouth.

“Don’t ruin it. You speak, and you’ve ruined it”.

Unposted draft/outline — eldritch horrors, spell gone wrong, canon divergence, slow burn, shenanigans

June

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stephen asked, an odd feeling pricking at his chest.

“I just mean that you-” Tony started, but broke himself off. He averted his gaze and started to fumble with the hems of his suit. Stephen knew what he was thinking.

“Just come out with it, it’s not taboo”. Tony looked up at him again with an uncertain expression. He blinked, and it changed into something softer — something … apologetic?

“You’re an omega,” he said softly, scoffing as if he didn’t believe what came out of his own mouth. Frankly, Stephen didn’t want to believe it either. He didn’t want to experience it — not like this anyway. “A claimed one at that” Tony added, turning his head to supposedly look toward where he was going. Stephen quickly gave up trying to figure out what that was supposed to mean, dropping the topic and starting to turn toward the Sanctum. It was quite a few blocks away, but it was in the opposite direction of the one they had walked for a few minutes now.

“Oh, and one last thing” Tony spoke up, stopping them both in their tracks. He quickly noticed that Stephen had subtly played him, judging by the look of betrayal on his face. “Wait, I thought you were going the same way as me”.

Stephen arched his eyebrows. “You didn’t actually think I was gonna let you see where I live, did you?”. One of those pesky smiles managed to find its way onto his lips again. Tony soon mirrored it with one of his own.

“Cute and clever,” the man said, shifting his weight to one foot and visibly biting his lip. Stephen could see that he wanted to say something more, but he was holding it back, either for Stephen’s sake or for his own.

“And you better remember that,” Stephen said, firing off a smirk despite not wanting to. It added to the warning he was trying to give. Sure, he might be an omega, but he wasn’t about to act like one. Especially not around some other irksome alpha by the likes of Tony Stark.

Unposted draft — ironstrange, a/b/o, slow burn, denial of feelings, ‘it’s not unrequited they’re just idiots’

July

Stephen leaned back to give Tony a hurt look. “Did you just come here to make fun of me?” he asked, tilting his head slightly and narrowing his eyes.

“I came here to take care of you” Tony responded, pulling Stephen in close to himself. “It’s 3am and you look like you haven’t slept in days. There are bags under your eyes, and you’re covered in cuts and bruises”.

“Probably because I haven’t” Stephen mumbled for a response, dipping his chin and burrowing his nose into Tony’s wet hair. He sighed, thumbs trailing little circles over Tony’s skin. “Can’t remember the last time I had a full eight hours of sleep”.

“Well, we better change that then” Tony spoke, smiling softly and digging his fingers into Stephen’s hair, caressing his scalp with the tips of his fingers. A soft grunt left the man, and he visibly relaxed into Tony’s arms. “Come on, turn around and I’ll soap your back”.

“Tony-”

“Nu-uh, turn around”. When Stephen didn’t listen, Tony moved his hands to twist the wizard around where he stood. He made quick work of dousing his hands and one of the loofas in the soft lavender-smelling soap, then moved to give his impromptu lover a well earned back massage. “Since you apparently can’t take care of yourself, I have to do it for you” he said, pressing his lips against Stephen’s shoulder. The magician didn’t respond, but exhaled a deep breath and hung his head. Tony continued to move his hands along Stephen’s back, then wrapped them around his waist to pull him into a hug.

From Will my Aching Wounds Never Heal? — ironstrange, technically post-endgame, mild angst, hurt/comfort

August

Nothing was written on this month :(

September

Stephen watched as he slowly floated, tiny blobs and colors assembling around his form. One had attached itself to his fingers, and was slowly spreading across his palm. He had seen many shapes that weren’t shapes in his countless visits and journeys through this plane, but the type at his hand was of the more peculiar ones. It seemed sentient — in some morbidly primal way. He had encountered its kind not more than three times before, and each was just as memorable.

He carefully moved his hand in front of his face to inspect it more closely. It wiggled peacefully as it flattened out to cover more of his palm. Had he still been able to sense more touch than the vague knowledge of proximity, he assumed that it would feel soft. Maybe a well-wanted aid for his constantly aching hands. While in this plane, his scarring wasn’t visible, and his hands were completely still, void of any distant trembles or heavy shakes. The bodily nerve damage was but a memory — one that he so wished he could forget and pretend like it never existed. In this moment, while floating aimlessly among the colors he now knew so well, he could allow himself to forget. Until he decided to go back into his body, time itself would wait.

Stephen brought his other hand in front of him to join the first, and he nudged at the colorful warble in his palm. It reacted to his touch, fizzling gently — like an egg frying softly in a heating pan. It contracted into a tight ball before reaching for the middle finger on his other hand. It brought a gentle smile to his lips. Such a peculiar thing — otherworldly and unfamiliar — and yet so brilliantly calming. It was a rarity both in this world and the next.

Stephen could reflect over the fact that he was currently hovering upside-down a few inches from his bedside, but such matters were exactly as irrelevant as the flow of time. It made no difference which way he was facing, or if he was sitting or lying down. Gravity had no impact on his current form unless he inched closer to the earthly plane enough that it would affect him. Objects such as doors or walls were an inconvenience, at most.

From Shapes, Colors, and Creatures — astral projection, nonsense, drabble, magic shenanigans, plotless

October

Nothing was written on this month either :(

November

His body collided with a cold, hard floor, and he called out as his back and shoulders was whipped with pain. It reminded him of the last time he had been here. He knew where he was. Really, there was nowhere else he could be. He had been sent through time by none other than himself, because … he was bored? Was that it? Stephen wasn’t sure why the other had spared him the first time. Maybe now he would actually have a chance to ask.

He slowly rolled over to his side, then to his stomach, coughing as he caught his breath which had been pushed out of him when he landed. He got up on hands and knees, then sat up on his haunches to look around himself. Much like last time, there was a circle of glowing red runes on the floor. He could only assume that it was a barrier that would react violently if he were to approach it. Better not risk it, right? He knew enough about magic by now to know when to keep away.

“Sorry, should I have warned you about the landing?” came a voice from somewhere in the darkness that surrounded him. Stephen felt his skin itch on his cheek where he had been tainted by whatever that had been those months ago. He preferred not to think about what any of it had been. It made him want to stick his head into a toilet bowl and barf out his insides.

“Sarcasm was never your strong suit” Stephen responded while pushing himself to his feet, still a bit winded from the fall. He heard a brief laugh echo around him at that.

“You forget the most important detail, doctor” the voice responded, now less disembodied, as Stephen could hear what direction it was coming from. He turned to face the looming shadows, narrowing his eyes to try and see better. At best, he could discern a silhouette, but he almost assumed that it was no more than happy delusions that his brain made up to keep himself sane.

Unposted draft — sequel to How’s That For Marbles?

December

When the sun was getting closer to disappearing below the horizon, they were sitting next to each other in the grass. Supreme was holding a flower that Strange had given him, and Strange had an arm around his waist. “This is to live for” he said eventually, breaking Supreme out of what thoughts he might have had at that moment. He sighed softly and elected to lean against his counterpart’s side.

“I don’t belong here” he mumbled, picking one of the petals from the flower and letting it get taken by the soft wind that still blew. He sighed and pulled off another petal, watching it disappear in the distance. It felt almost comical how he was able to see a parallel between himself and flower petals that got whisked away by the wind. He had been content with the life he thought he had in his own dimension. Just him and his beings, for so many centuries, then the other Strange had pulled him out into another world, and he no longer felt as content with what he thought he had. All of a sudden, he missed what life could be like if he hadn’t made the terrible mistakes that he did.

“Do you want to go back?” Strange asked, and Supreme felt his gaze on him. He exhaled a sigh through his nose as he watched another petal get swept up from between his fingers.

“No”. He didn’t want to go back, but did he have any other choice? What if the Watcher came back to find his dimension empty? Granted, it had been a long time since he’d seen that mystical being now, but the concern still lingered. He knew that he had been left in there as a punishment, and he didn’t consider himself worthy to skip out on that punishment. It was what he deserved. “But I can’t stay” he said, tossing the flower into the grass in front of him.

“Okay” the other said slowly. Supreme could hear the hesitance in his voice. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything more, or if he should just go back to his own lonely universe. He did neither. Strange seemed to appreciate it, as he held Supreme a bit tighter to himself.

From Belonging — gift fic, selfcest, body horror, angst, hurt/comfort, pwp, shenanigans, wibbly wobbly

I sincerely hope that 2021 wasn’t too hard on you. It was rough, but you made it through, and you should be proud of yourself! Pat yourself in the back!