Stephen Strange Cape Novels & Stories

What the fuck! The stranger shifted at the sight of me, and Stephen’s hand tangled casually in his hair, like this was normal. Like this was a random Tuesday night activity. I could see him trying to push the guy's head for more. I made a sound. I didn’t even know what it was—anger, disgust, shock but it came out sharp and ugly. The stranger startled and pulled back, half-rising, clearly embarrassed. Stephen didn’t even flinch. Instead, he looked straight at me and smirked.

He slept in sheets rather than gutters. To the world, he was still a ghost. An undocumented shadow. But inside Lucien’s mansion, he was something else. A weapon. One evening, after a mission that left two businessmen dead in their houses, Alexei returned to find Lucien waiting on the balcony. The Capo handed him a glass of whiskey. “To you,” Lucien said. “The boy I found in the gutter is gone. In his place stands a man who commands fear.” Alexei swallowed the burn of the drink, staring at the city lights.

Capra was a great fighter, he always gave off an oppressing aura, and now the grim posture made him look even more terrifying. Joe's heart clenched, he took a few steps back. Capra was still glaring at him, which made his entire body begin to tremble slightly. It was still impossible to tell whether Joe was nervous or terrified. An indication of fierceness surfaced on Joe's face again. Just like a classic scene from most movies and TV shows, he took a pillow beside him and aggressively covered Capra's face with it. Capra began to struggle, but he didn't struggle for long before his entire body went soft.

I averted my eyes from Slade, but I sensed he was still staring at me. It was unnerving. Seeing him again after two fucking long years! He didn't look as if he had aged one bit. I guess two years was too short for him to have aged. Slade was still hot and broody, but he seemed mysterious. He seemed cold and barely receptive. It was as if he'd do anything other than to be here. Was he forced to come? Was he an Alpha? He should be. He wore the Alpha's apparel- a hooded cape with intricate designs over their outfit, but Slade's cape, the hoodie was gold, and the cape itself was a royal blue. A different colour from the red everyone was on.

"Now that's more like it! Ahem, yeah, about the mech. First up, it needs a cape." "Fuck man, your mech already looks like a pimp, it just needs a cape to complete the ensemble. Trust me, it looks fucking great if your mech has a cape. It has to be red of course, or else it won't fit with the theme. Make it long and flowy, and don't think about using cheap fabric. If you need access to something fancy, I can refer you to a few friends I know."

In his arms, he was fiercely protecting a box wrapped in a waterproof tarp. "Scarlett!" His voice cracked. He practically shoved the box in front of me. "Look. Just look at it. One glance, please..." It was the porcelain mug Camilla had shattered. The one I threw in the trash. The words For S. Forever on the bottom were barely legible. He had glued every single piece back together, but the jagged, spiderweb cracks were still painfully obvious. I couldn't even fathom how the ruthless Don of New York dug through a landfill to find these shards, or how he sat there, bleeding from the sharp edges, piecing them back together.

I shake my head again to get rid of these thoughts and remind myself that I didn’t have time for this. Searching the room, I find no clues here as well. I am about to leave when I notice a box under the huge bed. I manage to drag it out and open it. At first, I’m not sure what I am looking at but then it hits me. In the box is a ski mask, black gloves and a black vest and a black trouser. Under the black ensemble is a large Ziploc bag. I slip it open to reveal a cape stained with blood. Tears flood my eyes as I stare at the cape, memories filling my head.

The three of us made quite a trio. Promptly at eight, Carmella and Kappy had arrived at my doorstep decked out in some of the most exquisite fashion they'd found in Paris two weekends ago on a spontaneous trip in search of new purses. With kisses to the cheeks, I welcomed them into my home while I went in search of the perfect shoes to accompany my Dolce and Gabbana dress. The plunging neckline accentuated some of my best assets, perfect C-cups that didn't require a bra and my long, lean torso. Tiny straps rested elegantly on my thin shoulders while the skirt clung to my ass and thighs like it was designed around them. I couldn't imagine this dress ever looked better on anyone else. The pewt

stephan said in a nasty tone i held my breath. i still had no clue what was going on "so if you are not stephan, then who are you?" circe asked stephan smiled mischievously and looked directly at the camera with his cold eyes. he maintained eye contact for some moments and it made me feel so uneasy. it was as if he knew that i was watching him or maybe he knew that i would be watching this video in the future, i was not so sure "i am void or mr. void, pleased to meet you, circe croft," stephan said

It took several powerful strokes to catch up with it, but when they did, there was no easy way to describe what had ahold of Steph. It’s skin looked like seaweed, billowing in the water. It was a dark, mossy green color, and as far as Paul could tell, it didn’t have a face. It held Steph in front of itself in a way that made him think of a criminal positioning a hostage against its chest, but it was hard to tell for sure exactly where its heart would be.