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darkkitty1208 · 1 year

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Hello there, may I steal a bit of your time? I recently reread Defender Strange's comic and couldn't get this idea out of my head, so I'm asking ya out, can you please write something regarding this- Stephen was gathered from a battle field and SIMTony takes him to Tower with him after kicking the bad guy's ass and takes care of that worn out.

That's it. Thanks ya for hearing me out. Lots of love!

Thank you for the prompt, lovely! 💖 Super sorry it took quite a while. (I say, knowing full well it took longer than just 'quite a while' for me to finish this. *stares at my towering pile of WIPs and prompts sitting in my ask box that I've yet to finish*)

I feel like I've sort of lost touch on my writing style (and writing as a whole) a little bit but, hey, I finished this! Haha.

Disclaimer: I haven't read the defenders or SIM comics yet, so this whole thing is just based on my assumptions of their characters. I'm only familiar with MoM's Defender Strange, and prompter seems okay if I'd write him instead, thankfully, so yeah. ^^ Feel free to point out anything that stood out, though!

TW: This fic contains NON-CONSENSUAL TOUCHING but NO RAPE.

Stephen stumbled back with a grunt, but quickly managed to catch himself before his back could land on the ground. Dodging the whip Mordo sent his way, he conjured twin mandalas over his wrists that glowed a bright blue.

"It's not too late, Stephen!" the man called out, and slid his feet away from Stephen's attack. He took rapid, calculated steps towards the other sorcerer, getting close enough to loop his arm over the man's neck in a tight grip.

"You can still join me," he said, "we can work together."

Stephen struggled against him, clawing at the arm that constructed his breathing.

"Like hell that would convince me," Stephen huffed out, strangled, and knocked Mordo's stomach by his elbow, who stumbled back, enough to let go of him. He panted, readying his next attack as Mordo stood back up. His limbs worked almost on their own volition as they danced their familiar dance in battle, and for a moment the only sounds echoing in the air were their grunts and puffs of air, the way their boots slid against the ground, the swish of their robes flapping at each turn, the way each new band and shield and mandala they conjured emanated familiar sparks.

Just when Stephen thought he had the upper hand, one slip of his feet and a kick to his chest had him toppling to the ground with an 'oomph', and quickly found himself wrapped around bands. He let out a yelp as his hands were squeezed against his body, and struggled against the constraints. But it was to no avail, as it held a tight, inescapable grip around him. Struggling against it only proved to make the pain worse.

It was useless, he thought, as he stopped his ministrations and settled on glaring at the eyes staring down on him. Mordo's stern eyes, looking straight at him, suddenly shifted at the sight, turning almost… soft, to his dismay, and Stephen hardened his glare in return.

"We could've been so good together," Mordo breathed out, almost in a whisper. "I didn't want it to end this way, Stephen. But you must know I have no other choice. You must know that this is for the greater good."

Mordo lifted his hands, and Stephen knew that, at that moment, despite his panicked struggling, he couldn't do anything as the spell was about to be cast on him. It was a simple spell, really – even a novice could cast it – but it was a deadly one. It would render any sorcerer useless if cast against them, blocking their access to channelling interdimensional energy permanently, reducing them to what they once were before being introduced to the Mystic Arts. Mordo always had great capabilities, especially in terms of magic, but to think that he had managed to master that spell for such purposes was… beyond Stephen, to put simply.

The spell wasn’t meant to incapacitate him, he knew that much. Mordo needed something more permanent – he couldn’t risk the possibility of all else.

The spell, he knew, was meant to break him.

“You should be grateful, you know. Many sorcerers have died at my hand in my quest to rectify what they have meddled in the natural law,” he remarked, and Stephen scowled at him. “I do not wish for you to fall in the same fate as they do, Stephen. You are like a brother to me. And perhaps… Perhaps so much more.”

His eyes flickered away for a moment, before they resumed their steely gaze towards him.

Stephen turned his head to the side, clenching his eyes shut and taking in ragged breaths as he braced himself for the inevitable pain. His mind swirled about in a million ways to think of an escape, but he knew there wasn't any counterspell to this, knew that hoping would only lead to nothing.

Mordo sighed.

"It was the only way I could think of that would be quick and painless, Stephen," he said, "So please, consider this a mercy."

Before his mind could process the words, he felt a hit over the side of his neck that made him let out a choked sound. Just as he was about to lose consciousness, there was a sudden, almost electrifying flash of blue that blasted somewhere from beside him to hit against Mordo's head, and the last thing he heard was a familiar, menacing voice that drawled in a way that had always made the hair on his nape bristle.

There was only one thought that flitted through his head as he finally lost consciousness; Tony.

*.~ ◇ ~.*

Mordo stumbled to the ground as something blasted against him, head whipping about as he quickly looked around for its source.

He heard heavy footsteps thump against the ground, and it took a while for him to regain his footing to face whoever – or whatever – it was. Once he adjusted his vision, he noticed there seemed to be a sharp blue glow emanating as the smoke dissipated away from the shadowy figure that was stepping towards him. Mordo wasted no time and automatically went on fighting stance, his defences up in case the man prepared another surprise attack against him. He looked to the side, finding Stephen's unconscious, prone body on the ground a few feet away.

"You really thought it'd be that easy to get your hands on him, did you?" The low voice said to the air.

"Who are you?"

The smoke cleared out. A very light blue, almost white, sort of liquid danced about to then solidify into an armour, its helmet forming around a grinning face.

"C'mon. Everybody knows me," he said, a toothy smile on display but no emotions found in his eyes, his arms spread out. The smile dropped suddenly, and the next words were spoken in a way that could send shivers down anyone's spine: "Now back off. He's not yours."

Mordo's eyes flicked hastily to Stephen's body, back to the man, trying to think of a quick way out.

"Tony Stark," Mordo frowned, "I should have known Stephen had gained… unexpected allies. I didn't know he was so desperate."

There were no possible ways to escape this, he thought, and begrudgingly decided to face him. Mordo conjured a band that whipped through the air and towards the man, but failed to have any intended effect as Stark flew up to avoid it. He conjured a couple of more blasts, which were easily avoided as Stark twirled about with little 'Woah!'s and an 'Oh! Almost got me!', occasionally forming a shield around him but ultimately left unscathed at each attack, as his laughter rang in Mordo's ears. Mordo continued to grunt at each conjured attack, getting irritated by the second. At some point, the laughter ended with a nonchalant sigh.

"Okay, it's getting boring now," he said, "My turn."

He thrusts out his repulsors, whining a short warning before an electric flash of blue striked right ahead to send Mordo flying backwards before he could think of a way to dodge it. And then he blasted another, and another, slowly floating down to the ground as he did so, playfully experimenting different positions on each blast, humming a tune meanwhile. When he was satisfied, he took his time to step ever so slowly towards Mordo's body, which was lying on its side. He turned him over to lay on his back by nudging his side with a foot. Tony stared down at him, and then tilted his head to the side, huffed, and let a menacing smile slowly form on his lips. When Mordo tried to lean up and land a punch on his face, quite successfully, he clicked his tongue, wiped the blood trickling down the slight cut on his face, huffed again, and then carded a hand through his hair. He kicked the man then, straight in the stomach, and repeated so just a couple times. Just enough so that moving any muscle would hurt. And then he pressed his foot down over the sorcerer's chest, delighting in the pained wheeze and the cough that sent blood splattering about. He pressed his foot harder down, twisting it just so that he could hear another one of Mordo's wet, ragged cough, and made a sound that was intended as a delighted giggle but came out sounding like a huff as he leaned down to whisper: "Now let that be a lesson for you to never touch what's mine ever again."

He gave the body a last kick, turning around just as Mordo's body rolled helplessly on the ground.

"Well, that was easy," he huffed, dusting his hands off, and turned to look at Stephen's still unconscious body. "Now to claim my lovely prize…"

The smile returned, but this time, something glinted in his eyes.

*.~ ◇ ~.*

When Stephen came to, it was to the sight of bright, blue lights assaulting his eyes and vague, muffled sounds of what sounded like whirring machines filtering through his ears. His eyes shut closed against the onslaught of light almost on its own accord, and he quickly regretted shaking his head as it did nothing to lessen the pounding in his temples – if anything, it grew much worse.

Gently, he fluttered his eyes back open, squinting as he adjusted to the lighting. He looked down on himself, noting the wrapped up and bandaged wounds over his body and the absence of his robes.

“Ah, my sleeping beauty has finally awoken.” Stephen barely suppressed a flinch at the voice. “How was your sleep, sweetheart?”

He tried to make out the blurry figure walking over to him – even though he already had a solid guess from the voice he had heard – and when the shifting blur of the man finally came to a focus, he lifted himself by the elbows.

"T–" he tried to croak out, and then coughed when he realised his throat was dry as a desert.

Tony sauntered over, grabbed a cup of water from a nearby bedside table, and gently lifted it to his lips, making a gesture with his head to urge Stephen to drink. Stephen stared at the cup, glared up at the engineer, and then snatched the cup with his own trembling fingers. If Tony saw the shaking in his hands and the way he tried desperately to look casual as the water splashed onto his fingers (and if anything, was failing to), he didn’t say anything.

He did, however, huff out in amusement.

Stephen downed the rest of the cup, and then placed it carefully upon the table Tony had taken it from. He felt the bed dip as the engineer sat beside him, and resisted the urge to scoot over and distance himself from the man.

A calloused hand sneaked its way to a loose strand of hair on his face, tucking it over behind his ear in unsolicited gentleness. The same fingers – again, ever so gently – gripped his chin, leaning his head down to face the man. Tony traced a thumb over the cut on his lip, and Stephen tried not to bodily shiver.

The smirk he earned, coupled with the intent stare of the man's steely blue eyes on his own, told him he had probably failed to do so.

Tony’s eyes were a sharp blue, and now that Stephen was looking directly at it, he noticed there seemed to be something in it he couldn’t quite put his finger on. There was something buried in them, something sinister and twisted and wrong in a way that made him feel unsettled.

"You cut your lip…" Tony mumbled, "Does it hurt, sweetheart?"

"Stop calling me that," he spat out.

"I can call my sweetheart whatever I want," was his response, followed with a nonchalant shrug. "Now, answer my question. Does it hurt?"

"Not if you stop touching it like that."

Tony hummed.

"He hurt you…" Tony said, a sudden sternness in his voice, a sudden shift in his expression, a silent burning in his eyes. The grip on his chin tightened, and Stephen had to stifle a wince. Tony's face gentled at that, thumb moving to rub (not) soothingly over his jaw in apology.

"What did you do to Mordo?" Stephen asked. If and whenever Tony was involved, nothing really ended well. Mordo was his business, after all – Tony had nothing to do with it.

"Took care of him." was the only response he received. The hand gently made its way to card over his hair, pulling out his tie and settling over his nape. Tony pulled him forward, breath inching closer to each other. "And now, I just need to take care of you."

Stephen's breath stuttered as he exhaled.

"Stop touching me."

"But you aren't pushing me away."

"I still don't want you to."

Tony smirked.

"You can continue to deny yourself, sweetheart, but I know you want it."

And that was the last straw for him. Stephen lifted his hand, tried to call upon his magic, but barely managed to create sparks before he realised the ever present tingle of magic in his fingers had faded. There was… something blocking his access to channel energy and conjure magic. What previously felt like a steady stream was now blocked by some sort of unbreakable dam.

He inspected his hand, finding what seemed to be… a bracelet, of some sort. A quick check over his other hand confirmed that a matching one wrapped around his other wrist, effectively blocking him from channelling any of his magic.

This wasn't any worse than Mordo's spell, he thought, and a sour expression took its place upon his face.

"Like it?" Tony asked, hands finally pulled away. "Made them just for you."

Stephen grunted in frustration, and attempted to swing a punch towards the man, only to find it unable to move.

A chain formed from his wrist from what seemed to be nanites that crawled its way to attach to the headboard, the other following suit. Stephen tried pulling himself forward, only to be pulled back harshly as the chain suddenly shortened itself. He struggled against the constraints, for only God knows how many times in how many occasions he had that day, and tried not to growl in frustration as Tony just chuckled at him.

The hand snaked back towards his chest, rubbing back and forth in a way that made acid burn in the back of his throat.

"Look at you," he said, "I like it when you struggle. It’s cute. I like having you like this, baby,” Tony smoothed out Stephen’s hair again, fingers tracing the lines of his face and down his cheekbone, thumb tracing his lips as those blue eyes flickered down on it. “Now be a good boy and stay still."

Before Stephen could protest, his words were quickly cut short as a sudden, heavy feeling clouded his head.

"Shh, it's alright. That's it, darling. That's it," he heard Tony murmur, voice slowly morphing away.

"Wh… 've you d…" his tongue felt heavy, his voice felt far away. His vision was blurring out at the edges, eyes drooping, and Tony's voice sounded muffled when he spoke.

"It's okay, sweetheart, it's okay. Just go back to sleep for now. Go back to sleep.”

Stephen: Fuck off. Don't touch me.

SIM:

SIM: Denial is a river in South Africa. You love me

Stephen: I literally told you to fuck off???

Once again super sorry took a while to get back to you, prompter. My writer self is not The Best at the moment and needs some time to get back to my past writing rhythm. There's no guarantee I'll be as active as last time?

But I really do hope you enjoyed this. <3 Despite the whole… 'lowering Defender's capabilities and overpowering SIM for plot purposes' thing. I really couldn't think of another way to write it without it seeming like that. :P

#ironstrange #fanfiction #stephen strange #tony stark #defender strange #SIM!tony #superior iron man #tw #non-con #non con touching #no rape #my fic #my writing

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