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This prompt was left as a comment on my prompt me post... for future reference, please send prompts in as ask. I'll go through the ones on the post, but it's easier for me if they're in my ask box! But thanks for the prompt @gscapri.
When tony and Stephen meet young during their college days and fell in love
“Can I steal your psych notes?”
Stephen looked up from his textbook to see a fellow student sliding into the seat across from him. Stephen frowned. He’d seen the student in class today, but… “You’re not in my psych class.”
“Nope,” the student said. “I’m on spring break. Columbia has one of the top psych programs in the US. Plus Professor Burkes is top of his field. I wanted to hear him lecture.” The student looked Stephen over. “You look like you take thorough notes.”
Wait. “You don’t go here?”
“Nope.” The student grinned. “I’m getting my PhDs at MIT.”
Stephen stared. What was an MIT student doing here? During spring break? “But you’re here… and you want my Psych notes.”
“Yep.” MIT grinned. “And dinner, if you’re up for that.”
Desire swooped in Stephen’s stomach. MIT was attractive. “You’re asking me out on a date?”
“I was thinking more you’d fill me in on a whole semester worth of Psych classes,” MIT admitted. “But we can call it a date, if you want.”
Stephen considered that. It’d be good prep for finals. Plus, Stephen bet he could get an actual date by the end of dinner. “You’re paying.”
“Deal.”
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Hi I was just wondering if you always upload your drabbles here in ao3?
I've been slowly uploading my Wednesday short snippets (though some of them have gotten distinctly less short). I hadn't really thought about my drabbles, yet. Would people like to see those on ao3?
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"let's get a dog"
"we literally have 13 alpacas"
fluff/crack
Tony cooed over the video Peter had sent to the group chat of the fluff ball of a dog running on tiny legs. “Let’s get a dog.”
Stephen looked up from where he was tossing a salad for dinner. “We literally have thirteen alpacas,” he said flatly. “We’re not getting a dog.”
“We have one alpaca,” Tony argued. “Gerald. I don’t know what those magical abominations you brought home are, but they’re not alpacas.” Sure, they looked like alpacas whenever anyone visited. But they weren’t. No one believed Tony when he said they were demon creatures.
Tony didn’t know where the tentacles, wings, and fangs disappeared to when they had guests. Stephen had hidden the books that would tell Tony more. Tony suspected Stephen was waiting for the abominations to grow on Tony before he revealed they were something mildly terrifying.
Tony was onto him.
Unfortunately, the demon alpacas were kind of adorable when they wanted to be.
“I don’t think my ‘magical abominations’ want to share space with a dog,” Stephen said. “They were here first.”
Tony considered the situation. “What about a demon dog?”
Stephen paused. “Huh.” His eyes brightened with an idea. “I have the perfect thing.”
#ironstrange#stephen strange#tony stark#prompt fic#Stephen's demon pets#Gerald the alpaca now has a herd of demon alpaca buddies#Tony refuses to admit he likes them
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The Confabulation Complication
“It’s called confabulation,” Stephen said, not quite looking in Tony’s direction. It was… disconcerting. Confusing.
Tony hummed, trying not to let his frustration with the situation show. “Sounds like a party.”
Pepper let out a pained noise. “Tony.”
Tony winced a little, because Pepper had been crying almost since the moment he’d woken up. He didn’t like it when Pepper cried, but he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to fix this.
Especially when… when he wasn’t actually sure what was wrong.
“It is the creation of false memories,” Stephen continued, still not looking at Tony. “As compensation for the loss of real memories.”
Tony froze, because… because confused by the situation or not, he was smart enough to put together the pieces. He stared at Stephen for a long moment before glancing at Pepper.
Stephen looked painfully awkward, Pepper looked devastated. “So,” Tony started slowly, looking back at Stephen. “When I asked for my kiss and you looked like I was talking gibberish, it wasn’t because you were sticking to the ‘No making out while in the hospital’ rule and it’s because you and I… don’t kiss.”
“We are not together, no,” Stephen agreed. Was he… was he even Stephen? Did Tony… Did Tony actually know him at all? So many of his memories didn’t match what Stephen was telling him.
He looked away. “And Pepper?”
Pepper’s smile was tremulous. “We do kiss,” she said.
Everything felt surreal. “I… I thought…” He tried to search his memories, but he didn’t know what he was looking for. He remembered kissing her, but that was… a long time ago. “You broke up with me.” He knew that.
Didn’t he?
“We got back together,” Pepper explained. “Both times.”
Both times. He only remembered her breaking up with him once.
Tony… Tony didn’t know how to deal with any of this. “We’re together,” he said, trying to wrap his mind around it. He glanced at Stephen. “And we’re not.”
“Never have been,” Stephen said, he still wasn’t looking at Tony.
It… hurt.
Conceptually he knew it shouldn’t. Because he and Stephen… they weren’t a thing, apparently. But Tony was having a hard time making himself believe it. The memories were stark and visceral. Laughing with Stephen, kissing Stephen, curled together on the couch with Stephen doing their separate work.
“What are you even doing here, then?” Tony asked, feeling suddenly defensive. “You’re not still a practicing doctor, and I’m pretty sure there was no magic in that fight.” He wasn’t certain of that, because the memory of the fight was confused and messy.
That was probably something he should let someone know. Especially since he was, apparently, having memory issues of a different kind. He kept his mouth shut.
Stephen sighed. “You told me you had trust issues and asked if I would be involved in any future medical emergencies so much as I could be. You said that as far as doctors went, I ‘wasn’t bad’.”
“I…” He swallowed, tried to make sense of everything, but he couldn’t. “I’m checking myself out,” he said. They were in the compound—right? Was he actually sure about that?—it should be easy to get out of here.
He couldn’t deal with this.
“Tony, you should—“ Pepper started.
“Against medical advice if necessary,” Tony said. “I don’t want to be here.”
He wanted to be somewhere safe. Wanted to be in his lab where he could start trying to piece together the truth.
“Tony.” Stephen’s voice was gentle; Tony flinched. “There are tests that that the doctors should run.”
Instinct told Tony to give in, because this was Stephen. Tony always gave into Stephen when he used that sort of voice; Tony had made too many jokes about being weak for Stephen’s pretty eyes.
But apparently those memories didn’t actually mean anything, because they weren’t real. Tony had never made those jokes. It would be incredibly inappropriate to start now. He shook his head, ignoring the pulsing ache that came with the movement. “I’m not exactly dying right now. Any tests you take will only tell you things that you apparently already know. I want out.”
“We don’t know how bad the damage is,” Stephen said.
Tony ran a hand over his face. “Well, if I die from unexpected complications, you can both say ‘I told you so’, but frankly—“
“Tony.” Pepper sounded distressed. “Don’t say that.”
“I don’t want to be here,” Tony repeated. “I… I need to be alone. I need to figure this out.” He ignored both Pepper’s and Stephen’s protests as he got himself unattached from the hospital bed.
They gave in.
Mostly because Tony didn’t give them a choice.
Stephen eventually disappeared in a portal—Tony’s instincts said to go with him, but those instincts were wrong—while Tony fled from the compound med wing he’d been trapped in.
The lab was gapingly empty when he reached it. It was a relief in some ways, in other ways it felt wrong. His body ached—he didn’t even fully remember what had happened to get him into the hospital wing, the fight blurred, especially near the end—and his head hurt.
“FRIDAY?” he asked.
“Yes, Boss?” she asked, her voice was careful and tempered, as though she knew he was vulnerable.
“Is it true?” he asked. “The whole… confabulation thing Stephen was talking about?”
“Yes, Boss.”
Tony swallowed hard. “So, I’m not in love with Stephen.”
“You and Doctor Strange are friends, boss.”
Friends. Friends. Right.
“And me and Pepper?”
“The two of you are engaged.”
Engaged. Engaged. Tony was engaged. To Pepper. He didn’t remember that. He remembered her breaking up with him. He remembered her telling him that he was just… too much for her. That she just needed him to stop. That had happened, right?
Tony had never been able to stop. Had she changed her mind or was this just another attempt at something that was doomed to fail?
Or was the break up he remembered even true? Tony thought he knew why she had broken up with him. But what if that was a lie too?
He struggled to breathe for a moment. Everything was messed up.
He wasn’t in love with the person he thought he was in love with; no, he was in love with someone he remembered moving on from.
He wasn’t in love with Stephen. That was just his brain lying to him.
He was in love with Pepper.
Pepper, who he could only remember hearing say he wasn’t enough and was too much and… and that they weren’t right for each other. But he wasn’t sure if that was even true. She had agreed they’d broken up, but maybe he was remembering wrong the reasons why. Because he was engaged. So he couldn’t have been too much and not enough and not right for her.
Right?
Tony didn’t know.
Because he didn’t know which memories were real and which memories were false.
He just knew that everything was wrong.
And now… now what was he supposed to do?
#ironstrange#stephen strange#tony stark#pepper potts#pepper/tony#amnesia and confabulation#which is a real thing#I however am taking liberties#may continue in a longer story#just trying to figure out how it would develop#wasn't sure whether to actually Tumblr post this one#because this is once again WAY too long
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If you would like a prompt: Tony keeping Stephen's hands warm as they walk through a park or something in cold weather? Like fall/autumn or winter? I think it would be super cute.
Also, I love your drabbles and stories! <3
Thank you so much! Tony's a *little* oblivious here, but he gets with the program...
“This doesn’t need fixing, Tony,” Stephen snapped.
Tony froze, hands stuck in an aborted gesture and his words about thermal regulation cutting off. Confusion furrowed his brow. “You said your hands were cold,” he said slowly. “I know that makes your pain worse. You need better gloves. You don’t… want them?”
Stephen ran a hand over his face. Tony saw the world in terms of how it could be made better. Stephen loved that about him, but sometimes Tony just saw too big. “Tony. I wanted you to hold my hand.”
Tony stared at him, bafflement in his eyes. “What?”
“When I said my hands were cold, I wanted you to offer to ‘keep my hands warm’,” Stephen said. “I wanted to hold your hand.”
Tony blinked in confusion. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I thought I’d been obvious,” Stephen muttered. Not obvious enough, clearly.
Tony took Stephen’s hands with his own. “All right then. Let me try again.” He smiled crookedly at Stephen as he brought Stephen’s hands up to kiss his knuckles. Stephen’s heart melted. “Let me keep your hands warm, Stephen.” He paused, looking conflicted. “I’m still making you better gloves, though. Just in case.”
Stephen laughed.
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since you asked for prompts: ironstrange within a winged!universe?
Stephen stared at the picture of Tony from before Afghanistan. He looked majestic with his dark wings flared behind him. Tony was only a few inches shorter than Stephen, but without wings he’d always felt… smaller.
Stephen traced the outline of the wings. The feathers would have been soft, well cared for. Tony would have had quality wing-care product.
Would Tony have let Stephen touch? Let him preen those golden-brown feathers with all the intimacy that required?
Tony had never touched Stephen’s wings. Stephen longed for it but didn’t know how to ask.
“Looking at my golden age?”
Stephen startled at Tony’s voice. He flinched back from the computer screen and turned. Tony leaned against the doorframe, watching him.
Tony’s eyes were the same color as the wings in the picture, rich brown with undertones of gold. Beautiful.
“Sorry. I…” didn’t have a good excuse.
“It’s fine,” Tony said. “I get that I’m a rarity.”
It was no excuse. Stephen had worked in a hospital, he’d had exposure to those who had, for one reason or another, lost their wings. He knew how painful a subject it could be. After his accident there had been concern that his own wings would need amputation. They’d healed, but even now Stephen’s left wing hurt with too much exertion. The cloak had kept him in the air more than once when the pain got bad.
“Do you miss them?” The question slipped out without permission.
“Sometimes.” Tony tapped the arc reactor. “I don’t let it keep me down.” It made light of the situation, but it had been a sensitive question. Tony’s gaze ran over Stephen’s tucked wings. Understanding flickered in his eyes. “You have beautiful wings, Stephen. They could use a good preen, though.”
Stephen’s heart jumped at the implied offer.
“Please.”
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You're not supposed to be this good at lying to me.
Hurt/comfort
“You’re not supposed to be this good at lying to me.”
Tony sat next to Stephen on their bed, keeping space between them. Tony wasn’t sure if it was the act of lying or the lie Stephen had chosen—I don’t need you—that hung between them.
Stephen glanced at him. “Not nice being on the other side of the situation, is it,” Stephen said, tone stiff. Stephen always got defensive before he got apologetic.
“That’s it? Revenge?” Tony asked; his frustration flared. “I lied to you, you lie to me? I thought we were above that.”
Thought they’d agreed that they’d clear the air instead of getting bitter.
Stephen slumped forward to bury his face in his hands. His next words were muffled but Tony heard the quiet “—didn’t know how—” and filled in the blanks.
His frustration faded. Because he understood. Tony never lied out of spite, not to Stephen. He lied because he didn’t know how to tell the truth. How to be vulnerable. How to open himself to weakness.
What a pair of pretty liars they made.
“Try. Please.”
Stephen’s words, when they came, ached with honesty. “I can’t do this alone, Tony. I need help.”
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Prompt Me!
Okay. So I'm really enjoying my new drabble exercises. They just make my brain move a different way and I think that's helping me in a lot of different ways. I don't know if anyone is interested in seeing more of that from me, but if you are... I'm now taking prompts for drabbles!
Remember these are drabbles... So no super long prompts that I can't fulfill in less than three hundred words (a triple drabble), please! I may, at times, choose a prompt for my Wednesday post (which tends to be between 500 and 1k words), but that is NOT going to be the norm, so please don't aim for that.
I won't be trying to post every day, given the other writing I do, but the aim is a drabble 4 days a week (probably, Tuesday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday) with my longer fill on Wednesday.
As for prompts, I'll take most prompts for IronStrange. However, I do not do smut, so alas, no smut prompts, please.
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Double drabble... and I'm back to hurting Stephen. I need a new hobby, I think.
The sound of the door opening and shutting wasn’t enough to get Stephen to move from his slumped position against the wall. The bottle of alcohol in his hand had done its job. He didn’t care anymore.
Footsteps approached—not Christine’s, he just couldn’t imagine who else would be here—and then someone sat next to him.
Stephen didn’t open his eyes.
His visitor broke the silence. “Christine called me.”
Tony.
Stephen hadn’t thought he’d ever hear from Tony again. It was enough to have him opening his eyes. “What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice was raspy. The last time he’d spoken had been to yell at Christine.
He looked at Tony sitting next to him as though… as though Stephen hadn’t told Tony that nothing was more important to him than his job, that Tony was a distraction that needed to go.
Tony had wished him luck and left. Stephen had never seen him again.
The irony was not lost on Stephen.
“You lost the most important thing in your life.” Tony pulled the bottle of alcohol from Stephen’s trembling grasp and took a swig. “I know how that feels; I figured you shouldn’t be alone.”
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Autumn Wedding
“No.” “Absolutely not.”
The words mixed together and Tony glanced to the side to see that Stephen looked just as disturbed as Tony did.
Pepper crossed her arms. Tony could hear the menacing ‘tap, tap’ of the toe of her shoe against the tile of the floor that meant only bad things for Tony.
“It is your wedding, Tony,” she said. “Under no circumstances are the two of you running off to Vegas and getting married in some… drunken ceremony.”
Tony pouted. “I don’t see why we should be denied the opportunity to be as irresponsible as we like. And no one said it was going to be drunken.”
“Tony will be perfectly sober when he marries me,” Stephen agreed. “Too many jokes about drunken mistakes, if not. I refuse to put up with those. But Vegas is an excellent option.”
“No,” Pepper said firmly. “I have run your life for over a decade at this point, Tony. I reserve the right to run this. In fact, I claim running your wedding as my reward for all of my hard work.”
That made absolutely zero sense. “I’m pretty sure you had a nice salary as your reward,” Tony pointed out. “But also, why would you want more work as a reward for all of your work?”
“Because without me this will be a mess.” Pepper shook her head, she gathered up the documents she’d brought into the room with her when she’d overheard his and Stephen’s plans to just run off to Vegas the next weekend they both had free.
“But Pepper,” Tony started.
Pepper arched an eyebrow at him, daring him to finish his complaint.
Tony decided it might be better not to. “Fine, but only if you can convince Stephen.” Hopefully Stephen held out longer than Tony had.
She turned her gaze to Stephen whose face was a picture of stubborn defiance. “Oh, that’ll be easy. All I have to do is promise not to tell Christine that he was planning on getting married without inviting her if he lets me run things.”
Stephen blanched. “You know what, now that I’m thinking about it, having you help us plan our wedding sounds like an excellent idea.”
Tony winced, because yeah, if he’d just been threatened with Christine’s wrath, he’d have changed his mind, too.
“Excellent.” Pepper’s smile was entirely too smug. And really, Tony was starting to think she got her way a little too often. Not that he was about to tell her that. “I’m thinking an autumn wedding.”
Autumn!? “That’s months away,” Tony complained.
Pepper looked unswayed by his protest. “That’s me rushing it. Do you know how much effort goes into preparing a wedding?”
“Absolutely none if you run away to Vegas,” Tony muttered under his breath.
Pepper narrowed her eyes at him, which meant that he had absolutely been heard.
“Not that I’m going to do that,” he added. He sighed as long-sufferingly as he could manage. “I can wait until fall.”
“Exercising a bit of patience will be good for you,” Pepper said. She handed him the paperwork. “Now go through these, I need your signature on them by tomorrow.”
Tony made a face, but accepted the paperwork. “Fine. Can our wedding colors be red and gold?”
“Seriously?” Stephen asked, and this time he was the one who sounded unimpressed. Where was his loyalty? Tony had an image to maintain. “Red and gold?”
“No,” Pepper said. “This is going to be a tasteful wedding.”
The outrage. “Red and gold is tasteful.”
“Not your idea of red and gold,” Pepper said. “Which is why I’m in charge.” She turned toward the door. “Paperwork, tomorrow.”
Tony let out a mournful sigh as she left. “You know, I’m an expert at refusing to listen,” he said, turning to Stephen. “We can still run to Vegas.”
“Christine would kill me,” Stephen said, sounding bereft. “Then you. Then bring us back to life so she can kill us again. And Pepper will help her.”
Tony sighed. “Autumn wedding it is.”
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A double drabble this time with no angst in sight!
“Is it too late to change my mind?” Tony asked, eyeing the portal with unexpected hesitance.
Stephen snorted. “If you’d wanted to change your mind, you should have left me at the metaphorical altar this morning.”
Tony sputtered. “Not about that. I’m very happy being Tony Strange.”
Stephen couldn’t help but smile at the easy way Tony claimed Stephen’s name. Stephen hadn’t actually asked Tony to take his name, but… well, Tony knew Stephen well.
Tony didn’t notice the smile, too busy eyeing the portal. “I’m just doubting the wisdom of me living in a haunted house. That seems… unwise.”
Stephen laughed. “Tony, you’ve been sleeping in the sanctum for over a year.”
“I didn’t live there,” Tony muttered mulishly.
Stephen moved closer, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist. “Is Tony Stark—“
“Tony Strange,” Tony corrected.
Stephen was going to get heartburn if Tony kept up with that. ”—Afraid of the big, bad sanctum?”
Tony sputtered. “No! That’s not what I was saying.”
“Sounds like what you’re saying,” Stephen teased. He pulled Tony closer and rested his chin on Tony’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Tony. I’ll keep you safe.”
“I hate you.”
Tony might say that, but Stephen knew the truth.
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Still trying this drabble thing... and still hurting Stephen.
He felt the laugh as a breath of air against his skin.
“Tony,” Stephen murmured, keeping his eyes closed. Exhaustion weighed him down.
“Stephen,” Tony whispered back, lips so close they brushed against the skin of Stephen’s cheek in a kiss, a soft comfort. “You’re so tired, sweetheart. I wish I could help you sleep.”
“You do,” Stephen promised. He sighed. “I love you.”
“Oh, Stephen,” Tony’s voice was quiet. “I love you, too.”
A tear trickled down Stephen’s cheeks, erasing the memory of the kiss.
Tony was dead; the only place he’d ever loved Stephen was in Stephen’s dreams.
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I’m reading Fused Souls and once again I am beyond delighted with how you portray The Ancient One. 🥰
How has this been in my inbox for forever!?!?
Thank you! I have a lot of fun writing her, though I admit I'm always a little unsure with her. So I'm glad it's working!
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Hi! I was just wondering if there's any types of genre you would/wouldn't do?
When it comes to writing, I don't do smut or horror and I'm pretty picky about the sort of AUs I write, though that last one is partially in terms of not having any interest/inspiration and less because I have something against them. I also don't tend to write unhappy endings.
As for reading? I'm a lot less picky, if my brain is in a reading mood (which admittedly, it isn't always) then I'm willing to give most things a try.
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Silence
Kamar Taj.
Tony stared at the building in front of him. It looked entirely innocuous. Not like the place someone might run to if they were searching for miracle healing. But Tony had traced Stephen’s steps. He had found Johnathon Pangborn and his miracle healing. Had followed Stephen’s steps to Nepal. Had wandered the streets of Kathmandu. Had asked stranger after stranger until one had pointed him here.
Perhaps this wasn’t Kamar Taj at all. Perhaps this was nothing.
Maybe it was, though. Maybe Stephen lingered somewhere within, still as far out of reach as he’d been when Tony had walked into their apartment to find Stephen gone without so much as a note.
God, silence spoke volumes.
Tony stared at the door. Grief twisted through him as he realized that he wasn’t going to knock. That he had never been going to.
Say what people would about him, but he could take a hint.
Silence spoke volumes.
He chose to ignore it, sometimes. But he could still read a room with the best of them.
Stephen had left. Stephen had chosen this unknown miracle over Tony and their life. Stephen hadn’t said a word.
The silence spoke volumes.
A woman watched him from across the street.
Tony met her gaze, read in her eyes the weight of someone who saw too much. Was she from Kamar Taj, he wondered. Waiting for him to choose to knock or to walk away. Could she guess what had brought him here?
Would she let him in, if he asked?
For a long moment they just stared at each other.
He looked away first, back at the door that hid Stephen behind it. He could knock. Could try to find Stephen. Could try to get answers. Could try to heal this chasm that had opened between them.
But god, the silence spoke volumes.
Because Stephen didn’t want to be found. Stephen didn’t want to let Tony in. Stephen didn’t want to heal the gaping wound between them. Stephen didn’t want… didn’t want Tony.
Stephen had chosen.
Tony… Tony loved Stephen, loved him with a devotion that ached. He’d always feared that Stephen didn’t love him back the same way.
It turned out Tony had been right.
He stared at the door for one moment longer, just hoping. But there was nothing.
Grief was rope around his neck, tightening and stealing his ability to breathe. He closed his eyes, blocked out the sight of the door that taunted him with the possibility that Stephen stood just on the other side.
It didn’t matter either way, though. Because he and Stephen…
Stephen had chosen.
Tony didn’t think he’d ever stood a chance at being the one Stephen chose.
He turned away.
He never saw the door to Kamar Taj open.
The silence spoke volumes.
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Trying this drabble thing. 100 words of Stephen's heart breaking.
“Don’t marry her.”
He’d fought the need to stop this wedding before it ruined him for weeks. Stephen couldn’t fight anymore.
Tony froze. “I don’t think I asked your opinion,” Tony said, tone neutral. Stephen’s words clearly unwanted. Stephen couldn’t—wouldn’t—take them back.
“Don’t marry her,” Stephen repeated. “You don’t love her.”
Anger crossed Tony’s face. “I tried the ‘marrying for love’ thing,” Tony said icily. “It didn’t work out.”
I’m sorry, Stephen’s mind screamed. “Give me a chance.” I love you.
“To break my heart?”
Stephen stepped closer, touched Tony’s cheek. Tony’s breath hitched. “To love you again.”
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