Miles to Go Before I Sleep - Chapter Four
Something There is That Doesn't Love a Wall
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> James "Bucky" Barnes x Original Nonbinary Character (Soldierbug).
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Gen.
Old habits die slowly.
But sometimes the simplest things — a sneeze, a shared view, a few honest words — begin to feel like home.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
‘Stay where you are until our backs are turned!’
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
‘Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.’ I could say ‘Elves’ to him,
But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father’s saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’
Mending Wall - Robert Frost
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 2044.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Vague mentions of exorsexism/enbyphobia.
𝐀/𝐍 -> Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Masterlist can be found here.
I woke first, the morning light catching on dust motes that swirled in the air. It was quiet, the AC above the window clunking occasionally, punctuating Mars’ soft snoring in the bed beside mine.
I couldn’t remember when I’d last woken slowly, giving myself time to feel the bed beneath my body, to meet the day with a few moments of quiet stillness before rising. But as I lay there, one hand behind my head, gazing sightlessly at the ceiling, I felt surprisingly content.
They stirred only a few minutes later, sitting upright with a yawn, hair standing out in all directions and their stuffed panda still tucked beneath their chin.
I turned my face away, lips pressed together hard to keep from grinning.
The silence that settled as we got ready and packed our things was surprisingly comfortable. I expected everything to feel a little strange and unsettled after the impromptu intimacy of our evening, but instead we moved around each other with ease, Mars humming under their breath as they passed by me.
The truck packed, I returned the key while they snagged a couple of chilled bottles of water from the vending machine, and we were on our way once more.
We’d been on the road for thirty minutes when I heard it — a small, discreet rumble in their stomach, subtle enough that most people would have missed it. But my enhanced senses missed little, and I turned off at the next roadside diner without a word, shooting them a half-smile.
“Fancy some breakfast?”
They looked the establishment over quickly, and their eyes lit up. “Pancakes?” they noted, features splitting in a grin. “Hell yeah, I fancy some breakfast!”
They were in the middle of a dedicated explanation as to the proper way to have pancakes — fruit and real maple syrup, not the synthetic stuff — expression set into one of intense seriousness when it happened. They froze, fork halfway to their mouth, nose scrunching minutely.
Then their head half-turned, and they emitted the tiniest, most offended-sounding sneeze I’d ever heard, immediately looking personally betrayed by their own body as I stared helplessly.
My face split into a grin after a few moments, warm and genuine, and I laughed. A deep, rumbling, honest sound — the kind of laughter that once came easily, but hadn’t in a very long time.
They set their fork down, hiding their face in their hands. “Don’t laugh at me,” Mars groaned.
“I’m not,” I protested, still smiling. “Not at you. That was… Cute.”
They peered at me through their fingers, half amused and half mortified, cheeks tinged with pink. “It was not.”
“It was,” I pressed, voice softening a little, head tipping infinitesimally to once side as I considered them through the gaps in their shielding. “Really cute.”
Their flush increased, but their hands lowered obligingly, returning to pick up their fork. With a clear of their throat, they refocused, returning to detailing the importance of correct pancake toppings, shooting a derisive look at my chocolate chip, chocolate sauce monstrosity.
But the moment lingered between us, light and sweet and painfully innocent, making the already-pleasant morning feel a little brighter.
Sometimes it was easy to forget we’d barely talked much before yesterday.
Already the atmosphere in the cab of the truck felt easy, backed by another of Mars’ playlists and their stacatto rhythm of speech and silence.
I made another stop without asking, this one more whimsical, in the early hours of the afternoon. Another choice to pause when I could have continued, to take my time instead of racing ahead.
I wondered if their presence was starting to get to me in ways I wasn’t yet ready to unravel, but I pushed the thought aside as I parked.
Mars sat up a little straighter, looking about themselves, head cocked. “Where are we?”
With a small smile, I gestured to the sign. “Figured it could be a good place to just… Stretch our legs a little.”
They grinned as they read, voicing the words aloud. “‘Scenic Overlook’. I didn’t take you for the type, Bucky.”
Snorting, I opened my door, getting to my feet with a stretch and a low groan, wincing minutely at the decades-old protest of the metal in my shoulder. “I don’t strike you as the type to stop and smell the flowers every now and then?”
They waited until they rounded the hood to respond, gaze flicking over me deliberately — six foot and change, shoulder length dark hair still half-secured in a bun I’d been too lazy to redo when the wind through the window began to batter it, vibranium flashing as my arms crossed playfully over my chest.
“… No,” they deadpanned, amusement shining in their eyes. “Not particularly. But I’m pleasantly surprised.”
I laughed at that, leaning against the hood and gazing out over the landscape spread before us. Just off I-81, the roads became rockier, and the spot where I’d come to a stop looked out over forests, backed by mountains that hid Monongahela National Park from our view. The high sun had gotten stronger as we’d drifted south, our rest stop having come on the outskirts of Washington, and the Virginia heat was unforgiving at the peak of day. With a quiet groan, I tugged my shirt over my head, leaning back on my metal fingers, eyes closing.
“I’m not built for the heat,” I grumbled. When no response came, I cracked an eyelid, finding Mars staring out over the trees with a faint flush in their cheeks. My face twitched into something between a grin and a grimace, and I stood straighter. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t even… I should have checked.”
Their eyes widened as they flicked to me, blush intensifying. “No! No— I mean, it’s fine— I didn’t— That’s not, um…”
My eyebrow raised, and their jaw snapped shut with an audible click.
“I…. Didn’t want you to think I was staring. You know, because of your arm,” they mumbled eventually, toeing the ground in a sheepish motion.
With a short, sharp laugh of surprise, I looked down at the limb, considering it. “I hadn’t even thought about it. I guess I’m pretty immune to the stares at this point. I mean, everyone’s seen it by now.”
“Well, maybe, but not like…” They gestured at me vaguely, my shirt still gripped loosely in one hand. A soft chuckle escaped me, and I rested back against the bonnet.
“I’m not worried about you looking at me,” I assured them softly, “but I’ll put my shirt back on if it makes you more comfortable.”
They paused, then looked up at me again. I could see the fight behind their eyes; the more they told themselves they shouldn’t look at it, the more it was proving difficult, and I grinned a little. “Just do it, I can see you struggling,” I laughed.
Their gaze flicked immediately to the scarred part of my skin, where flesh and metal met in a ragged line that never seemed to truly fade to silver. Their expression shifted minutely, brows pinching together, and I rubbed the back of my neck. “Pretty gnarly, huh?” I chuckled weakly.
Mahogany eyes drifted to mine, and they frowned a little. “No,” they replied gently. “Not gnarly at all. Just… Cruel.”
I couldn’t speak for a moment, the lump in my throat too thick and cloying. In the end, I simply nodded, leaning back on my palm and turning my gaze to the view once more.
After a moment, they moved to stand beside me, silent for a few minutes. My focus followed a stream snaking in a ribbon of silver until it disappeared between the distant peaks, while they seemed more interested in the robin perched on the fence before us, singing intermittently.
“You know, American robins aren’t like European robins,” they noted after a moment, their tone soft and conversational.
“Is that so?” I asked, glancing at them with a small, amused smile.
They nodded, still watching the bird as it hopped along the wood in seemingly random movements. “Yeah. So, basically what happened is that settlers from Europe, when they came, saw this little guy and were reminded of the robins back home. But they’re not even in the same family — this one’s a thrush, like blackbirds.”
“Oh?” I considered the bird again — taller, in fact, that the images I’d seen of the rotund bird so famous in England, with a more slender body and a darker back. “Yeah… I can see it.”
I saw a grin split their features, and a rush of warmth flooded my chest. “I thought that was pretty cool.”
I nodded softly, glancing towards them once more, a fond smile curling my lips. “It is,” I agreed, watching them quietly. “It is.”
In the end, we stood out there for almost an hour, just watching the sun move between one peak and the next. We spoke, sometimes, but other moments passed in an easy silence, soaking in the sun and the birdsong.
“I don’t remember the last time I got out of the city,” they acknowledged softly. I hummed in agreement, still leaning back with my palms against the hood, letting the heat sink into my bones.
“You’re not from there, though, right?” I clarified without opening my eyes, chin tipped up towards the sky.
“No,” they agreed. “I moved from England a decade or so ago.”
“Captivated by the bright lights of the Big Apple?” I teased, cracking one lid as I grinned.
With a snort, they shook their head. “Came for love,” they admitted. When they didn’t say anything more, I stood a little straighter, a frown creasing my brows.
“Ended badly?” I guessed, my tone soft.
“Something like that,” they agreed, barely audible. Something in it gave me pause, and I watched them silently for a moment, then nodded.
“You don’t have to say anything else,” I assured them, “not if you don’t want to. But, hey… Some people consider me a pretty good listener, too. And we both know you’re a good talker,” I added with a smile, earning a laugh that fractured the heaviness somewhat.
Once we were back on the road, Mars stayed subdued for a little while, silent as they flicked through songs with a restless uncertainty. I kept one eye on the road while I considered them worriedly, watching as one foot bounced with nervous energy.
“You okay?” I asked eventually, once we’d pulled back onto the interstate and no longer felt quite so alone. They nodded, hand coming up to their mouth to chew on their thumbnail.
“It wasn’t why I wanted to come along,” they blurted after a moment, and I paused, turning my eyes fully towards them for a beat with my eyebrows raised.
“I didn’t assume it—”
“It didn’t end great, but it wasn’t, like, abusive or anything. We just drifted apart, you know?” They nodded again, the motion jerky and insistent. “It happens.”
“Yeah, I imagine it d—”
“I came because…” They trailed off, and their eyes shifted to stare out of the window. “Some stuff went down, with someone I knew. Turns out they weren’t the most accepting type of the whole enby situation.”
I grimaced sympathetically at their soft confession, slowing the car a little so I could look at them properly. “I’m sorry.”
They shrugged a shoulder, almost stubbornly. “It happens.”
“It shouldn’t,” I enforced gently. “I was born over a century ago. If I can learn to live in a world with more social awareness about individual differences, people of your generation should have no issue.”
They shot me a small smile, then went back to gazing at the road ahead. “I just… I needed to get away for a little bit. Let the heat cool off, you know?”
“So you decided to go on a road trip with a guard dog?” I asked. They turned to me in horror, mouth open to object until they caught me grinning, and snorted, shaking their head.
“You’re mean.”
“It was funny,” I defended.
“Yeah,” they agreed, grinning fondly, their posture relaxing at last. “Yeah, it was.”
Every Man is Guilty of All the Good He Did Not Do.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Something is amiss, and there is a reunion at last.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 2772
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) Smut, guilt, generally being damaged by shitty experiences, implied/referenced torture and SA, STI and incontinence mentions, panic attacks. Guilt, again. All the guilt.
Please proceed with caution. Or, you know, skip.
𝐀/𝐍 -> A Companion Piece to Multitudes, exploring the relationship of Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. This chapter best corresponds to Multitudes Chapter Thirty-Two - I recommend starting with M&M if you're reading both. Multitudes masterlist can be found here!
Check it out below or on AO3 here! Dividers come from yours truly.
<- Previous Chapter (21/46)
We were, through force, reluctantly keeping our distance as Natasha was allowed to acclimate back to a more comfortable reality.
I’d exchanged a few brief messages with Clint when Tony retired to his workshop - pressing his lips to my hair and muttering about ‘special projects’ - but he’d offered very little by way of updates, save for the odd question about Lia’s reticence or Nat’s anger. Not that I could complain, of course; I understood that his attention was entirely focused exactly where it should be, but I couldn’t help but worry.
It took five days.
With their previous cell still being somewhere in South America, and given that I hadn’t yet had the privilege of hearing from them, I had no number saved – no distinct and always-on tone to mark their communication. And so, at the second soft, nondescript chime, I simply continued whimpering around my clenched jaw, Tony’s fingers caressing on my hips as he leant over me.
“Look at that, baby boy – seems someone else quite wants you,” he purred. “Shall I stop?”
I whined desperately as his stunning, mahogany eyes found mine, shaking my head furiously. “D-Don’t you dare…”
He'd been beautifully, deliciously delicate with me these last few days, sensual and tender as he, by his own admission, made love to me. His patience and devotion left me breathless, and I couldn’t help but gasp for breath as he rocked himself deeper inside me, my eyelids flickering in pleasure. “That’s it, my sweet boy… Just like that. You’re so beautiful.”
I still blushed shyly when he spoke to me like that, his touch firmly guiding me towards release as he dropped to trail feather-light kisses over my collarbone as I writhed in delight. “You-you’re so good to me,” I breathed, back aching in ecstasy as he slowly unmade me. Despite himself, his thrusts always became rougher as he lost his rhythm, as much as he tried to restrain himself, and I knew exactly what was coming as his teeth grazed my throat with a staccato groan.
“Such a good boy… God, Stephen, I love you so much.”
His hands smoothed my skin tenderly, and I purred, leaning into his touch. “You never checked your cell,” he breathed, pulling me closer against his chest with a soft, contented sigh.
“I never remembered to care,” I murmured back, but reluctantly cocked a finger, sending the inconvenient device flitting toward me as I propped myself up on my elbow.
Uh… Hey, Doctor Strange. It’s me. Nat, specifically. I guess I’m due for a check-up or something? Figured we could use the opportunity to catch up, if you’re up for it. (Received forty-three minutes ago)
I get it if you don’t want to see us, though. I mean… That’s definitely fair. I can call Bruce in a little while. It’s no problem. Sorry. (Received twelve minutes ago)
“Shit,” I hissed, bolting upright. “Shit.”
Tony’s arm wrapped around me as he joined me, head cocked. “What’s- I- if it was too important, Friday would have…”
“No,” I sighed, shaking my head as I leant into him with a light purr. “No, I- It’s Nat. She wants to see me.”
It's been a while, indeed. But I’m more than happy to see you. Shall I come to you, or have you already reached out to Bruce? Though I’m still happy to collect you, if that’s the case.
I chewed on my thumbnail apprehensively as Tony’s hand rubbed my back comfortingly. Despite myself, I couldn’t help but regret not interrupting our lovemaking to check who had contacted me – especially considering everything. I should be available. Always.
Nope, not yet. You coming here would be great. Milk, two sugars, right? See you soon.
Sighing with relief, I smiled fondly, touching my temple gently to his hair. “I guess I’m being summoned.”
“I guess you are,” he purred, sliding behind me to wrap his arms around my waist as he pressed gentle kisses across my shoulders, making my laugh softly.
“You’ve been very… Tender with me lately, Tony.”
“Sorry. I’ve just been… In love, I guess,” he finished weakly, shrugging, lips trailing over the nape of my neck. “Has it not been-”
“Oh, it’s been… Beautiful,” I sighed contentedly, wrapping his fingers in mine. “Just a little surprising, perhaps.”
He growled lightly as his fingernails skimmed my abdomen, eliciting a soft whine. “I’ll be sure to mix it up a little more. We’ve got to keep you guessing, right?”
“You always do,” I snorted, shaking my head. “But hey, if you want to be gentle with me, you can. I’m far from complaining. I love everything you do to me, light as a feather or fierce as a damn wildcat. I love you,” I added affectionately, reaching back to pull his head to mine and kissing him softly, making him smile softly.
“I love you too, baby boy. Now, go on. Away with you. Go and check on our spiders, okay? They likely need your attention more than I do… Even if I want it more,” he added, smirking.
I adjusted my collar, uncharacteristically nervous, before my knuckles found the wood.
She looked… Well, like hell.
Like beautiful, blessed hell.
“Hey, Nat,” I offered gently, unable to keep from smiling despite the macabre horror of her sharp bones and bruised flesh. “I… I missed y-”
My words were smothered, first by the dog darting between my legs, then by the armful of assassin I found myself stumbling under, her fingers tangled desperately against my back. “I-I’m sorry- I’m so sorry. I didn’t know if you’d come, I- God, I was so- I’m so sorry, Stephen, fuck-”
Momentarily surprised by the strength left in her wiry, malnourished muscles, I nodded in a daze before holding her gingerly. As strong as she seems, I’m pretty sure her bones would break easier than a breadstick right now. “You have nothing to apologise for, honey. Nothing at all. I… I’m just… I’m sorry you couldn’t stay. I hate that I let you-”
She scoffed, shaking her head fiercely. There’s the Nat I know, I reflected, blinking back fond tears as she drew back to slap my chest. “Shut up. We both know that there was no keeping us once we decided to leave. Even Clint…” She trailed off, wincing, and looked away. “Thanks for taking care of him. Again.”
I nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “It was the least I could do.”
“… So… What’ve I missed?” she murmured as I checked the healing wounds on her ribcage, and I hummed gently.
“Not… A great deal…” I offered weakly, consciously aware of her eyes narrowing as she glanced at me.
“You know I know you’re lying to me, right?” she pressed, and I snorted.
“Yeah. I know. You always do.”
“… Do I need to be worried?” she muttered, catching my hand with hers as I probed at her skin. I raised my gaze steadily, meeting those damaged, delightful emerald eyes.
“No. You don’t,” I promised softly, squeezing her fingers. “I swear.”
She watched me closely before nodding once, squeezing back. “You’re lucky I trust you, Strange.”
I laughed as I shook my head, sliding my hand from hers to take a sip of my coffee. “I know. There’s just… Things that aren’t up to me to share. But everything is… Good. Perfect, now you’re home,” I added, offering her a grin that was returned only briefly before she looked away.
“… He… He said he… Looked for us, but I don’t think he’s doing it justice, is he?”
Sighing, I shrugged lightly. “None of us know – not really. He wasn’t part of the more… Co-ordinated efforts. He largely worked alone. But no… I don’t think he is. He… I don’t think he slept the entire time you were gone.”
I’d already been told that Natasha didn’t know about the extent about of our searches; Clint had, at least for now, opted not to fill her in on the scenes we’d uncovered, the tapes circulating the darkest recesses of the internet, or the man still rotting in a S.H.I.E.L.D cell.
Or about the three young ex-Widows she’d briefly shared accommodation with, who were now under the careful care of an unnamed friend of Fury’s.
Their nature had come to light the day before we found her, the truth finally spat over a carefully chewed meal at the unknown safehouse when gently questioned. We’d been told immediately, and, by all accounts, Clint had been incensed, demanding the location of the ‘owner’ so he could show him exactly what torture felt like.
I’d be lying if I said no part of me was disappointed when it hadn’t been provided for him – though Nick assured him that he was doing everything he could to trace all contacts and free the other girls, Red Room survivors or not.
“He shouldn’t have…” Nat muttered, her gaze low. “I still can’t fight the thought that he shouldn’t have bothered. And once he found us, he definitely shouldn’t have made the choice to save us. Not like… Not like this,” she added shamefully, wincing. “… Do you know?”
My head cocked, brow furrowed in curiosity. “Know… What? Nat, my knowledge is pretty much exclusive to the things you’ve told me here.”
“I… I mean, you definitely know about some of the things that… Happened, right? Or you… I mean, you can probably make some guesses.” I nodded softly, gentle and patient as my fingers found hers once more and I waited for her to continue. “I… I mean, they gave me antibiotics in the hospital, and it seems to have worked? But I guess there’s… A few things I wanted to ask you.” Her head dropped shyly, and I smiled, recognising the dear, sweet girl before me immediately.
“C’mere, Lia. Let’s settle you down, yes? Get comfortable, and we can talk.”
She curled against my hip as I draped the blanket from the back of the sofa over her shivering form, fingers finding her hair lightly. “I-is this okay?” she stammered uncertainly, glancing up at me through wide, nervous eyes, and I smiled weakly.
“I seem to recall reading Nat to sleep many times in much this way. It’s more than fine by me, sweet girl. Is it okay with you?”
She purred under her breath as she nuzzled closer into my side, smiling weakly at my caress. “Mhm.”
Oh, my poor, dear, damaged girl. I would die for you. I’m so sorry.
“So… What did you want to ask me?” I prompted softly, unable to tear my gaze from the sharp, starved cut of her jaw as guilt compressed my heart.
It's getting awfully hard to tell myself that it wasn’t my fault.
“I… They, um. They said ten days? A-and it’s been, you know… Twelve, and everything’s… Cleared up, but… I’m not…” My hand stuttered minutely, and I bit back a grimace.
What the fuck did they do to you?
She curled tighter in on herself at the microscopic hesitation, stiffening. “I-I’m sorry.”
“No, Lia. You have absolutely nothing to apologise for, do you hear me? Not a thing,” I assured her softly, blinking back the tears in my eyes to offer her a reassuring smile as she glanced at me uncertainly. “I learnt a pretty cool new trick, you know. I can… Test you, just by touching your forehead.”
I really, really fucking hoped I wouldn’t need this, but I’m infinitely glad I took the time to learn it when they came home.
She nodded weakly, pressing closer into my hand, and purred as my thumb brushed her skin lightly, eyes closing trustingly.
My own flickered shut, breath arresting in my chest, jaw tight as I scanned. “… All clear,” I murmured, my voice thick with relief.
Nothing irreversible. There was nothing irreversible. I couldn’t help but wonder…
As much as I felt for her humiliation, and – undoubtedly – discomfort, the fact that she’d not been exposed to anything untreatable seemed to be nothing short of a miracle.
She grinned gratefully, nuzzling ever nearer to my side. “Thanks, Stephen.”
They were half-asleep when Nat grunted, eyes flicking open in surprise. “Oh. Hey. Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I replied quietly, fingers unfaltering on her hair. “Happy to help. Lia seems just as eager to sleep like this as you were.”
She sighed softly, lids closing once more. “You were too good to me, Stephen.”
I snorted, caressing the red curls affectionately. “I’m afraid I must disagree.”
“… I couldn’t… Talk about that. She offered to ask, and I…”
Nodding tersely, I rolled my jaw as I hummed. “Were you around?”
“Yeah. Thanks for being… Unobtrusive.”
We flinched in unison at the last time I’d had a hand in her more intimate care, and she trembled minutely. “I… I’m happy I could help. Just so very sorry that it was needed.”
“There’s something… Else. We’ve been struggling with… Self-control.” She flinched as she spoke, and I opened my mouth the clarify, but the blush burning up her throat made me pause.
“Urinary?” I offered gently, and she nodded shamefully. “I imagine you experienced some… A significant amount of abuse, Nat. It typically takes a lot, and it’s not the most common of after effects, but it isn’t unheard of. It often goes away on its own, though. It just… Takes some time.”
She nodded again, red-faced and humiliated, and I leant to press a kiss to her temple with a sad sigh. “I’m so sorry that those things happened to you; I’m sorry that coming home can’t make it all go away. I… I wish I could fix this for you.”
I should have been more prepared. I should have looked into it. Idiot. Useless.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, pulling the blanket tighter about herself. “It’s okay. I just… It’s worst at night, you know? I-I… And Clint has to get up, and it’s just… Embarrassing.”
“You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, honey. Not a thing. But if it bothers you, there’s things that can help to minimise the-”
Her head shook fiercely, jaw set in mortification. “No. No. This is bad enough. I’m not… I’m a grown woman, Stephen. Not a chance.”
“There’s nothing wrong with-”
“I know, and I wholeheartedly agree. For anyone else, it’s fine. But I can’t apply that to myself. I can’t… I can’t go to bed with my fiancé in a… No.”
I nodded softly, fingers smoothing her hair once more. “It’s okay. I understand. I guess all you can really do is take comfort in the fact that this too shall pass. You’re going to be just fine, Nat.”
And nothing bad is ever going to happen to you again. I swear it.
Tony was pacing, muttering under his breath across the bedroom by the time I reappeared a little after noon, his eyes cutting to mine instantly. “…Well?” he pressed softly, but I could only shake my head, heart hammering.
“What… What the hell did I do, Tony? What did I- I-I was supposed to be there for them, I was supposed to keep them safe. And I know it’s not my fault but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty – it doesn’t mean I don’t – and I-I just- I- I can’t- I-”
His hands found my forearms as my breathing reached a fever pitch, catching in my throat as I whimpered. My fingernails digging desperately into his flesh garnered no reaction as he guided me to floor, eyes locked on mine. “Honey, baby boy. It’s okay. Everything’s okay, you hear me? They’re safe. You’re safe. It’s going to be okay, I promise you.”
“Th-the things that they- the things that h-happened- I sh-should have-”
He shook his head firmly once, then again. “No, Stephen. This is not on you. Breathe, sweet boy. Please, just breathe, okay?” I hiccupped in a hesitant gulp of air, and he smiled weakly. “Look at me. Right at me, and breathe with me. Okay?” He inhaled, slow and deliberate, lips pursed when he exhaled, and I fought to mimic him around the seizing of my lungs and the tears on my face. “That’s it. And again.”
He sat that way, chest inflating and deflating with considered emphasis, until I could pull in oxygen under my own steam – though still somewhat staccato and uncertain. “I-I… It… They… It was horrible, Tony. And they’re… Somehow, they’re still… Fierce, and sweet, and…”
He nodded, softly pulling me to him, and I curled into his shirt with a quiet sob. “I know, sweet boy. It's okay. They’ll be okay… You’ll be okay.”
So, if you read and enjoyed my most recent @42donotpanic promo Worried and Excited, then hoo boy do I have a gift for you!
Matt and Foggy are invited to join a children's birthday party at the ice rink.
There's a lot of pain, overthinking and grief working up to it, but in the end, it's all worth it for the joy in Lilly's laugh.
Panic once again caught the feels square on. The excitement, the fear, the all-encompassing what if's that seem to dominate the desire to just enjoy the occasion. As always, they don't shy away from the reality of disability and chronic pain - that sometimes in order to do something we'll regret avoiding, we have to go into it knowing that it's going to make us suffer after. Sometimes that fear wins.
But not always.
This was so beautiful and heartbreaking and uplifting. Thank you for sharing.
The Conflict Between the Will to Deny Horrible Events and the Will to Proclaim Them Aloud is the Central Dialectic of Psychological Trauma.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Homecomings, Clint makes a call, and Tony has secrets.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 2863.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) The physiological effects of prolonged torture (of another), panic, domestic violence through desperation mentions and discussion of injuries sustained. Guilt, self-blame, etc. Mentions of mind control and pain caused as an effect. Fear of relapse (SH/alcohol abuse). Secrecy. Smut mentions.
𝐀/𝐍 -> A Companion Piece to Multitudes, exploring the relationship of Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. This chapter best corresponds to Multitudes Chapter Thirty-One - I recommend starting here if you're reading both <3. Masterlist can be found here!
Check it out below or on AO3 here! Dividers come from yours truly.
<- Previous Chapter (20/46)
Next Chapter (22/46) ->
Distraction, and endless walks, were largely effective to prevent me from just opening a portal and dragging them home myself as one night turned to two, then three.
But that didn’t stop me from demanding updates every time I went more than a few hours without hearing from them.
Clint’s still just waiting for the all-clear, Stephen. Not long now – would you relax? You’re a million miles away, and you’re still stressing everyone out! W x
If they came back to the compound, my medical experience could more than suffice, and we wouldn’t have to wait.
Do you really think making them go anywhere except their quiet and peaceful home with Clint is really a good idea? I hope you’ve been looking after Arrow, by the way. Cap loves that dog, and I wouldn’t want to be the one that tells him you’ve traumatised him.
Arrow is fine. Sleeping. Plenty of walks, plenty of food.
I glanced across at Tony dozing on the sofa, the dog sprawled against his side contentedly, just as exhausted. I’d been sure to keep them both occupied – though one is with throwing sticks, while the other…
I bit back a smirk at the thought, smiling fondly at the duo before snapping a photo and sending it across to her. He’s absolutely fine. Snoring away.
I was asking about the dog, Stephen, not your boyfriend ;D
I started to tap out my reply, but my cell buzzed insistently with a new message – four words that made my heart tighten in my chest.
Discharged. On our way.
“I… I can’t.”
I blinked in surprise, and he flushed, looking away. “I want to – of course I do. More than anything. But having to spend a week in hospital, even if Clint was only there for three days of it to push for release, isn’t a great sign, baby boy. And I want to see them more than anything, but I…” His jaw clenched in shame, muscles trembling minutely before he continued. “I need to acknowledge the limitations of my own recovery. I… Seeing them like that wouldn’t be… Good, for me, and I need to accept that. The most important thing is that they’re safe, after all – there’s no point in me… Not for a stolen glance they’ll never even know about.”
I sighed as I pulled him against my chest, pressing a soft kiss to his hair. “I understand, honeybee. Of course I do. I… I have to do this, though. You know that, right?” He nodded weakly, burying his face in my throat timidly, and I held him tighter. “I need to see them for myself. See that they’re… That is to say, I understand they’re very much not okay. But I need to see that it’s them. That they’re… Okay.”
He simply nodded again, curling closer. “I understand that, baby boy. Can you… Is it okay if I… Don’t?”
I kissed his hair lightly, gentle and loving. “Of course, sweetheart. I’ll send you home whenever you’re ready.”
The sound of the quinjet made his eyes flare in alarm, and I smiled weakly. “I guess ‘ready’ is ‘now’, huh?” He nodded stiffly, and I nuzzled into his hair, stepping around the corner to open a portal. “I’ll be right with you, honeybee. And I’m so proud of you,” I added, kissing his shoulder lightly and nudging him forward.
The door opened as he walked through, and I stuck my head around the beam, flinching violently.
Lia. Oh, Lia…
Her hair was limp and matted, eyes somehow both emotionless and wide with fear as she looked up, and my breath caught as she regarded the dog with detached disinterest.
With a silent, pained noise, I backed up as Clint encouraged her forward quietly, snapping the portal closed behind me and dropping onto the edge of the bed. Tony’s arm found my waist as I scrubbed a hand over my face, sniffing. “Well. I… They’re… She is alive, at least. Okay, I guess. Malnourished and bedraggled, but okay.”
He nodded once, then pulled me against his chest firmly. “It’s not your fault, baby boy. It’s okay. They’re safe now, and Clint’s gonna look after them – just like I’m going to look after you, do you hear me?”
I sighed softly, nuzzling closer to his shirt. “… Yes, please.”
“Cuddles and Chinese?”
“And movies you’ll hate?”
“Sure. Let me guess-”
“Don’t bully my rom-coms, Stark.”
“Never. I’ll call in your usual. You get in bed, little one.”
I was jerked from my fitful sleep by Friday’s melodic but unwelcome voice. “Doctor Strange, you have an incoming call from Clint Barton.”
No. No, no, no. Please, no.
“Wh- What’s happening?” Tony murmured sleepily as I scrambled for my earpiece, but I simply shushed him in my panic, tapping into the connection quickly and waving up the screen.
“Clint? What’s going on?”
“Calm down, Strange. It’s fine.” His head was turned as he looked away, voice quiet, but I flinched when his eyes met mine.
“Jesus, Barton.”
He grinned ghoulishly, tipping his chin up to display the injuries littering his face in all their macabre glory. “Yeah. I know. But that’s not why I called. Think you could come and fit a cast? It’s me,” he added quickly as I felt fury bubble under my skin. “I… I guess we’re even now.”
Silently, I catalogued the violent bruising around his evidently-broken nose, gaze flicking to the purple welt spanning one side of his jaw and the fingertip shadows pressed into the flesh of his throat. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
“When you get here.”
“You need painkillers?”
“… Strong ones. Yeah.”
After a hurried explanation to my half-conscious but fully-concerned partner, and a soft kiss pressed to his forehead, I found myself once more in the lounge of the farm, Clint pottering slowly around the adjacent kitchen. “Coffee?”
“I… Wh… Clint, sit down. I’ll make the damn coffee,” I snapped, eyes narrowed as I moved to his side.
With a sigh of reluctance and a grunt of pain, he nodded, sinking onto a stool with a grimace. “… Thanks.”
“...Well?” I prompted when he simply sat in silence, save the wheezing of his breath in his lungs, as I made his drink. His hands curled around the steaming mug with a groan, inhaling deeply.
“They tried to leave. We both know I can’t let that happen.”
I sighed as I sat beside him, wincing as I examined his swollen wrist. “Well, you weren’t wrong…. It’s definitely fractured.” My eyes closed as I encircled his injury, visualising bones and tendons. “… A clean break, at least,” I muttered, the ring of light fading as I met his gaze once more. “No complications, if you leave it alone.”
He watched me with a raised eyebrow, surprised. “… Neat trick, Strange.”
A necessary one, I corrected softly, teeth tight at the memory of examining veins and arteries and nerves, night after night. “Yes, well. I thought it may be helpful to learn.”
“Thanks, Stephen. I… I know it’s late. You didn’t… You don’t owe me anything.”
“We may never have found them without you, Clint. I think I can overlook your previous… Indiscretion - provided it doesn’t happen again,” I added pointedly, and he snorted.
“Not on my life.”
My hands were gentle as I followed a procedure I knew far too well, but I couldn’t help but wince at the marring of his face. “… They really wanted to leave so badly? Did they succeed?” I added hastily, eyes flickering in panic around our empty surroundings, and he snorted.
“No chance. Nat’s asleep upstairs,” he murmured, his free hand touching the swell of his jaw.
“Nat?” I prompted, eyebrow raised. “I thought…”
“Lia, when she got home. Ashe, when I went to sleep, and then again, when I woke. Nat, when they got… Determined.” He flinched, looking away, and I grimaced sympathetically.
“I… I’d have thought they’d be happy to be back.”
“I think they are… Underneath it all.” Smiling weakly, he shook his head.
“It took Lia some time to accept that she was here, but… The way she held onto me, Stephen. The way she just… Like I was the only thing- the only thing in her life. She…” He closed his eyes against the memories I couldn’t fathom, and flinched. “They’ve destroyed her. I… I just want her to be okay. And then they wanted to leave, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t let them run off – not again, not now I’ve… I wondered, for a while, right at the start, if I was doing the right thing by looking for them. If they’d truly be happier, you know? But then I started seeing the reports, and the places they’d been… Kept. And I couldn’t let them go back to that – couldn’t understand what was so terrible about this life we’d built that they could want to.”
“And?” I pressed gently, wrapping plaster carefully over padding. “Did you get your answer?” God knows I’ve been wondering the same. I know why they ran, but… With everything? I can’t understand why they didn’t come back.
“They were trying to spare me,” he laughed shakily, a stray tear spilling down his cheek. “They didn’t think I could have my perfect life with them. I… I should have told them – my perfect life can only exist with them in it. They’re the only requirement. They’re the only thing that matters.”
“You’re not an option, you’re a necessity, Stephen.”
He… He really does love me, doesn’t he? And Clint really does love them.
“… Clint?” He met my eyes uncertainly, and I offered him a weak, tremulous smile as I wrapped the last of his cast in place. “… It’s not your fault.”
He blinked in shock for only a fraction of a second before his forehead fell to my shoulder as he dissolved, breath hiccupping in his chest, sobs falling breathlessly.
I stammered in surprise before wrapping my arms around him firmly, a few tears of my own hitting his hair as he grasped at me, united in our grief. “I should never have let them go,” he whispered raggedly, and I nodded once.
“I know. I know… Exactly how you feel. But it wasn’t my fault, and it wasn’t your fault. What happened was a… Terrible, horrific thing, but we are not culpable, do you hear me? You did everything you could, Clint. I promise. This isn’t your fault.”
By the time he peeled himself from my t-shirt, saturated with his tears and his coffee long cold, sunlight was beginning to creep over the horizon.
“Sorry,” he muttered shamefully, scrubbing at his face. “I… I just-”
“I know,” I interrupted softly, shaking my head. “No apology needed, Barton. I actually… I had a similar experience with Tony. I-”
His eyebrow raised incredulously, anger flickering across his features.
“With Tony? Strange, what the fuck were you-”
I raised my hands with a wince, head shaking. “Easy, Clint. It’s… A lot has happened since you’ve been gone, okay? Just… There’s a lot you don’t know, and a lot it isn’t my place to tell you. Just trust me, okay?”
He growled under his breath, uninjured hand curling into a fist, then rolled his jaw. “… Fine. But if this is just because you’re fucking him, or whatever the hell-”
“It isn’t, and I’m in love with him,” I snapped back, cheeks heating gently as he stared at me openly.
“You’re… After everything? How? What if he-”
“Clint, I can’t answer your questions, okay?” I interjected gently, shaking my head again. “There are answers, but it isn’t my place. Just… Look,” I sighed, shaking my head. “I can, technically, tell you everything. But we – the entire team – have been sworn to secrecy. He wants to tell Natasha himself – something about owing her that much.”
“He is never-”
“You have more in common with him than you think, okay?” I hissed, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. “Much more.”
He opened his mouth, armed with a furious retort, before it closed with a click as he blinked in shock. “He… I… What?”
“There’s proof. It… He was no more culpable for the pain he caused to them than you were. HYDRA and the Red Room have become far more sophisticated in their methods over the years since they took the Soldier,” I added softly, letting myself fall back to my seat as his anger gave way to confusion.
“He… He… What, he was under mind control?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Sargeant Barnes was dispatched to infiltrate our water supply. He was unclear on the details – though I doubt anyone sat down to explain the intricacies of their technology to him – but, essentially, we were all exposed, and Tony was activated; he was chosen simply because of the level of access,” I clarified, flinching. “He… He’s still sober, anyway. Seven months now. And he still absolutely despises himself for what happened to them, despite it being no more his fault than it was Bucky’s, or yours. That’s why he wants to tell them himself – so you can’t, Clint, do you hear me? I don’t want to push him before he’s ready, but if you can’t keep this secret, I need you to tell me now, and I’ll let him know he’s running out of time. But I don’t think-”
“Not now,” he muttered, shaking his head softly. “Not now. They’ve been through enough. I… I’ll keep his secret. Fine. I’ll want to see that proof for myself, though,” he added, gaze cutting to mine, and I nodded.
“Of course. I appreciate your discretion, Clint – and I’ll leave you to your morning.” I stood to gather my supplies around the dazed archer, and he simply nodded weakly.
“I… Y-yeah. Thanks, Stephen. For the cast, and for the… The explanation. I’m… Sorry. Nobody should know what that’s like. And I understand why he can’t forgive himself,” he murmured with a flinch. My hand found his shoulder, and I smiled softly as he met my gaze.
“It’s going to be okay, Clint. They’re home. Everything is going to be just fine, I promise.”
Tony was absent when I got back, a hand-scrawled note on his pillow, the scruffy, beautiful penmanship unmistakable.
Couldn’t sleep, baby boy. In the workshop. Needed to keep myself busy. Hope everything’s okay. I love you, beautiful.
My heart ached with love and adoration, and I padded slowly through the halls, using the physical motion to ease the pain in my soul, his note slipped into my wallet tenderly.
The glass walls usually demonstrated his intelligence and perseverance to any innocent bystander, darkened only for the most secretive of his projects – many of which even I still didn’t know about. But the wall of dull onyx that stretched before me made my heart race not with anticipation, but with fear.
“Friday? Can you clear the glass?” I offered hesitantly.
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I cannot do that, Doctor Strange.”
I rolled my jaw, pressing a hand to the smooth surface. “Is he okay?”
“Mr. Stark’s vital signs are all within a nominal range, with only the exception of his heart rate, which is moderately elevated.”
The trace appeared on the glass before me, and I followed the line with my finger as it ebbed and flowed. “Emotional, not physiological… Right?” It’s too inconsistent for injury. Or… Anything else.
“Yes, Doctor Strange.”
“Can you let him know I’m here? I- There’s no rush, and I’ll go, if he wants,” I added quickly. “I’m not… I trust him.” … Mostly. I didn’t technically ask for his vitals – only if he was okay.
“Yes, Doctor Strange.” There was an eerie silence as I stepped back, the compound’s typical bustle of life absent in the early hours, and a shiver ran down my spine.
“Hey, baby boy. Give me two seconds, okay? I got… Wrapped up.” His voice wrapped around me, no less beautiful in its disembodied state, and I nodded with a soft smile.
“No problem, honeybee. Shall I wait, or…?”
“Actually… I’ll meet you in the shower,” he murmured, making a blush raise in my cheeks.
“Interesting. You know, after… Recent revelations, there’s a spell I’ve been wanting to try out. Think of it as… Magical noise cancelling,” I added, purring, and biting back a laugh when I saw his heart rate spike dramatically.
“You see what you do to me, sweetheart?” he growled, and I realised in horror that he could see the same display I was shown. “I give you my heart – both literally, as reassurance, and in the metaphorical sense – and you make it stutter like this. That seems… Unfair.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” I grinned, and snorted when another spike jerked up the screen.
“You’re a horrible, torturous man.”
“You won’t be saying that soon, my good boy…”
He ground out a groan as the display flashed in alarm, and I smirked as he sighed. “Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming.”
“Oh, not yet, you’re not…”
“… Y-you’re the worst, you know that?”
“You love it.”
“I love you.”
I beamed contently, purring. “I love you too, honeybee.”
One Gathering night, ThunderClan warrior Bramblethorn and his apprentice discover newborn kits abandoned beside the Thunderpath.
ThunderClan chooses to raise the foundlings as their own, despite the doubts of the other Clans and the quiet complications that come with unknown blood.
As the kits grow, the forest watches. So do the cats who first found them, and the ones who chose to love them.
Some bonds are made by blood. Others are made by choice.
This one comes with COVER ART BY @stripedscribe. LOOK AT IT ISN'T IT WONDERFUL?!
Chapter One - Cries in the Dark
ThunderClan does not abandon kits.
In the quiet of a nursery, two cats set about following the path upon which StarClan has set their paws.
CW: Deceased kitten mentions, animal cruelty mentions, themes of abandonment.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> ThunderClan does not abandon kits.
In the quiet of a nursery, two cats set about following the path upon which StarClan has set their paws.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 3534.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Gen - Deceased kitten mentions, animal cruelty mentions, themes of abandonment. Relatively typical WC content.
𝐀/𝐍 -> Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Masterlist can be found here.
The forest at moonhigh was a place of silver and shadow.
Bramblethorn led his apprentice along the edge of the Thunderpath, broad shoulders cutting through ferns slick with evening dew. Behind him, Stormpaw moved with all the grace of a kit chasing his own tail — too fast on the slopes, too slow in the open, his white paws flashing against the dark earth every time a monster’s glowing eyes hurried past on the black stone beside them. The youngster had almost leapt out of his pelt the first time, but now, three monsters later, he only flinched, ears flattening.
It was a Gathering night. The four Clans met in peace beneath the full moon, and Bramblethorn could already catch the scents of Fourtrees in the air, the gathering aromas of WindClan, ShadowClan and RiverClan cats layering themselves on the breeze. Oakstar was somewhere ahead with the rest of the patrol, but Bramblethorn and Stormpaw were running late. The apprentice had insisted on grooming his ear-tufts again before they left camp, and Bramblethorn had let him, because the youngster was nervous and trying very hard to pretend not to be.
“Bramblethorn — listen!”
Stormpaw had stopped dead in the path, his ears pricked forward, head tilted towards the Thunderpath. Bramblethorn paused, opening his mouth to tell his apprentice to keep moving — and then he heard it too.
High and thin and impossibly small.
Mew.
Mew.
Mew.
His fur lifted along his spine before his mind caught up, and he pushed past Stormpaw without hesitating, moving into the tall grass at the verge of the black stone, the smell of monster-stink thick in his nose, and stopped.
A twoleg box lay half-tipped on its side on the verge, the lid torn open, the cardboard already softening from the dew. Four tiny shapes had spilled from the opening, three mouths open and protesting weakly.
Bramblethorn’s eyes found the fourth before he truly realised what he was looking at. A small dark scrap — smaller than the others — lying close against the inside wall of the box. The fur not puffed against the cold. The flank not rising. Still, in a way that, even in the low light, was unmistakable.
For a heartbeat, Bramblethorn could not speak.
Then he turned his attention to the three that were moving, because that was what a warrior did, and the dead would have to wait.
Newborns — eyes still sealed shut, fur damp and matted from the night air. Their tiny bodies trembled, too small even to crawl back into the weak shelter of the box. The smallest — a fluffy silver scrap — was furthest from the others, his nose pressed to the cold cardboard as if searching for something he couldn’t find. A blast of wind from a passing monster rolled him half a tail-length closer to the Thunderpath, and Bramblethorn growled deep in his chest, low and ugly.
“Twolegs,” he spat. “They took them from their mother and dumped them here like carrion. Four of them. They could not even—” His voice caught, and he paused before starting again. “They left them.”
“Bramblethorn.” Stormpaw was at his shoulder, eyes huge. “They’re alive. They’re moving. Look at them — look at their colors.”
Bramblethorn looked. In the moonlight, even half-soaked and trembling, the kits were striking. The first was a fox-red she-kit, black tipping her ears and the very end of a fluffy tail — even at hours old, he could see the size of her paws promising a large frame. The second, a sleek black she-kit, had a vivid blaze of her sister’s red running down her chest, like a flame amongst a smolder. And the silver, a tom — the small one, already worryingly close to the Thunderpath — had four vibrant russet socks and matching eartips, like a storm cloud on a summer dawn.
“They’re beautiful,” Stormpaw breathed. “Bramblethorn, we can’t—”
“No.” Bramblethorn was already moving. “ThunderClan does not abandon kits.”
Another monster screamed past, and the wind of its passing nearly dragged the silver tom onto the Thunderpath entirely. Bramblethorn lunged forward, scooped him up by the scruff in a single careful motion, and stood with the small body resting against the warm fur of his chest. The kit weighed almost nothing. For a moment, Bramblethorn stood very still, the tiny creature pressed against him, and felt the small, frantic flutter of a heartbeat that had no business being so strong.
“Stormpaw. Take the black one — carefully — by the scruff. Support the neck. That’s it.”
He bent and lifted the final she-kit, setting the two damp bundles between his front paws briefly to adjust his grip for the pair. She let out a single, startled mew at the movement, and then a second. Louder. Almost indignant. A small, sharp sound that said: I am here. I am alive. Notice me.
Bramblethorn’s chest did something complicated and tight.
“Oakstar can hear about this at the Gathering,” he decided roughly. “These three need milk and a queen’s warmth now. Camp. Move.”
Stormpaw, wide-eyed and careful, was already moving.
Bramblethorn paused for one heartbeat at the edge of the long grass, and looked back at the box.
“I’ll come back for you,” he murmured, the words muffled by the pair of scruffs in his teeth, meant only for the small dark scrap inside the box. “We don’t leave them out here. Not even the ones we couldn’t save.”
Then he turned, and he ran.
The fox-red kit, of course, knew none of this.
She knew warmth, suddenly — a great, rolling warmth, smelling of pine and damp earth and cat, more cat-smell than she had ever known existed in her world of darkness and confusion. She knew the rhythm of a heartbeat that wasn’t hers, stronger and sturdier; the prick of teeth in her scruff; the vibration of paws on ground and the lurch of being carried; the cold air rushing through her damp fur.
She did not know that the warmth was a tom, and that the tom’s name was Bramblethorn. She did not know there were trees overhead or that the moon shone beyond, or that somewhere nearby another cat carried her sister through a similar dark.
She knew two of her littermates were close. She could feel one tucked against her flank, fluffy and soft and his body swaying in time with her own, and another’s scent caught on the breeze every few strides. They were amongst the only scents she had ever known; they were the whole shape of the world.
She mewed once more, because she was hungry and cold and very small, and because the last time she had been lifted there had been noise and hard bright pain. It was a mew of protest, in case this strange new lifter needed reminding that she did not want that to happen again.
The mouth did not drop her.
The warmth did not stop.
Somewhere against her ribs, the great steady drumming kept on, and on, and on.
And the rocking and the warmth and the feeling of her littermate’s body against hers, and the absence of the hard bright pain, proved soothing for her exhausted little body.
She slept.
The nursery smelled of milk.
That was the first thing she noticed — before the warmth, before the rasp of a tongue over her ears. The smell hit her face like something physical, and her whole body turned toward it on instinct. Milk. Milk. She had not known she was looking for it until she found it, and the moment she found it, she was made entirely of want.
Above her, there was speaking. The voice rumbled into her world in a low, melodic way, and even though the words meant nothing, the tone felt like safety.
The tongue rasped over her head again — bigger than her whole head, almost — and she felt the cold and the damp and the strange terrible smell of the box and the pain being licked away in long, patient strokes.
“By StarClan — newborns. Three of them. Bramblethorn…where—”
“Thunderpath. Twoleg box. They’d been dumped.”
“Give them to me.”
She was lifted again, moved again, settled into something soft and deep. Warm bodies on either side of her — fur tickling her ear, a tail twitching against her flank. The new cat — the milk-scent cat — curled her body around all three of them like a barrier against the world.
And then her mouth found the teat.
The fox-red kit had little experience of taste. She had no word for taste — though she had no word for anything. But the warm sweet flooding into her mouth went straight to the cold places in her belly and her bones, and the sound that came out of her was a tiny, rumbling one, round and full, vibrating through her whole small body.
A purr.
She did not know it was called that; she only knew it felt like the very opposite of being in a box.
Above her, the milk-cat made a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob.
“Look at them. Look at them, Bramblethorn. What a beautiful litter. Those colors, those markings… So striking.” A slow, tender lick travelled along the red kit from ear to shoulder. “StarClan must have plans for these three.”
The tom’s voice came from somewhere closer than the kit had expected, low and rough.
“Aye, Dawnmist,” he replied quietly. “They must.”
The Gathering ran long that night.
In the nursery, three kits nursed and slept and nursed again, oblivious. The fox-red kit dreamed, in the way an hours-old kit can — of a heartbeat against her cheek and the flood of sweet liquid warming her bones. She woke once when her brother squirmed beside her before returning to her slumber against the warm, shifting curve of the milk-cat’s belly, where something fluttered beneath her paws. She did not understand the fluttering, but she liked it, and kneaded at it sleepily until she dropped off again.
Beneath Fourtrees, on the Great Rock, four leaders sat in a row.
Oakstar spoke last, and when he did, he did not waste time.
“Bramblethorn came to me as our Gathering began and informed me that there were three newborn kits abandoned beside the Thunderpath tonight, not far from where we now stand. Twoleg work — left there to die.”
He let the words settle as expressions flickered between outrage, disgust, and shock, his amber eyes slowly sweeping the clearing. “We have brought them to camp. ThunderClan will raise these three foundlings as our own.”
He had clearly intended to say more, but did not get the chance.
A ripple ran through the assembled cats below — the kind of quick, low murmur that rose when unexpected news broke the usual hush of a Gathering. Bramblethorn, sitting at the base of the Rock with the rest of the ThunderClan cats, felt Stormpaw stiffen. The youngster had clearly thought this would be a quiet, simple announcement after they’d quickly relayed the story through ragged breaths; Bramblethorn had not.
The RiverClan leader’s tail lashed first. “Kittypet kits?” Her voice carried in the night air, sharp and clear. “ThunderClan already has many mouths to feed, and more on the way. Why burden yourselves with Twoleg castoffs?”
“They were not kittypets,” Oakstar replied evenly. “They are kits. Hours old. Eyes still sealed. Whatever twoleg did this, they took them young enough that they likely never even tasted a kittypet’s milk, let alone their pellets.”
“Then they will taste a Clan queen’s? Grow into Clan cats, with blood we do not know?” The RiverClan leader’s ears flattened. “That is not a small thing, Oakstar. The Code is older than any of us; the forest is for forest cats.”
“The Code does not demand we leave kits to die.”
“The Code does not demand we raise them either!”
Silence fell once more, heavier at the implication.
The ShadowClan leader broke it after a moment, his voice its usual low rasp that did not need volume to carry. “Three of them, you said. In one litter, found at the edge of the Thunderpath on a Gathering night. Curious.” His eyes narrowed a little. “But which queen, Oakstar, will give her milk to three foundling mouths while greenleaf turns and the prey thins?”
“Dawnmist has taken them in tonight,” Oakstar answered steadily.
“Dawnmist is expecting,” the ShadowClan leader replied flatly. “Her own litter is barely days away! You would have her give the strength of her body to twoleg castaways before her own kits are even born?”
“I would have her do nothing,” Oakstar replied sharply. “I would not force any cat to nurse them. Dawnmist lay down with them before anyone asked, demanding them. The choice was hers; the kits are hers. That is also Code.” There was a new edge to his voice now, hard and strong, deafening without needing to be loud.
The ShadowClan leader’s tail flicked once, slowly, but he gave no answer.
WindClan, fourth and silent, only watched. Their leader’s eyes moved over the assembled group slowly, then nodded once, barely perceptible.
Oakstar held the clearing in silence for a moment, his own gaze flicking between clustered groups.
“They were left on our border,” he said eventually. “On a Gathering night — the only night when cats are usually out at moonhigh. With the moon full, and StarClan watching. If that is not a sign that has been placed in our path, then I do not know what a sign is.” His voice rose, just slightly, authoritative and final. “I will not stand on this Rock and tell my Clan that StarClan has brought us three kits, and that we will send them back to the Thunderpath to die because it was complicated. These three will stay in our camp, under our protection, and any cat who would have it otherwise can come and tell them so to their faces — when they are old enough to hear it.”
A beat, then two, and a few ThunderClan voices yowled in approval. Bramblethorn heard their deputy, Tigerstripe, among them, low and proud. Some of the senior warriors of other Clans looked uncertain — one or two looked openly disapproving. But the RiverClan leader’s tail lashed once more, then fell still, and she did not push it further. An agreement, of a sort.
The decision was made.
Stormpaw let out a long, shaky breath beside him. “Bramblethorn—”
Oakstar held the clearing silently for a moment longer, and only when no further protest rose did he move on to the news of borders, of prey-running, of the ordinary business of four Clans sharing a forest. Almost as if he had not just set the fate of three small scraps on a new path for their paws to follow.
Bramblethorn let out a slow breath, gazing up at his leader. Stormpaw practically vibrated beside him, in the way that only an apprentice could when his mentor had just indirectly won an argument with three other Clans at once.
“Bramblethorn,” Stormpaw whispered. “Bramblethorn, did you just adopt them?”
Bramblethorn was quiet for a moment, then nodded once.
“Aye,” he murmured at last. “I found them.”
Back at camp, as the moon began to sink, the nursery smelled of milk and moss and warm new fur.
Dawnmist lay curled around the three kits, her tail resting gently over their backs. Her own litter turned and stretched beneath her ribs in a slow, lazy roll, and the fox-red kit, half-latched and milk-drunk, kneaded at the movement with both tiny paws.
The ferns at the entrance to the nursery rustled.
Bramblethorn ducked through with the careful slowness of a tom who had spent the walk back from Fourtrees realising how loudly his paws fell when he wasn’t paying attention. He looked at the nest for a long moment without speaking.
“All three?” he clarified at last, his voice quiet, strained at the edges with worry.
“All three,” she assured him, her own soft and tired, and full of something that wasn’t tiredness at all. “Eating. Warmed. Sleeping, mostly. The black one tried to climb me already.”
“Already?”
“Already.”
Bramblethorn let out a soft, surprised laugh, and lowered himself to the moss beside the nest, careful not to crowd as he bent his head to gaze at their newest Clan members. The fox-kit, the blazed black, the silver tom with fire paws. All three breathing. All three warm. All three asleep with their noses tucked against his mate’s flank, knit tightly together with their limbs entwined.
“They’re going to be something,” he declared quietly.
“Mm.”
“I mean it. Look at them. The size of those paws on the red one. The black one’s already a climber, and her eyes haven’t even opened. And this little one—” he added, his nose hovering an inch over the silver tom’s head, “he feels like he’s listening, doesn’t he?”
“Mm,” Dawnmist repeated, her eyes half closed. “You sound like a queen.”
“I sound like a father.”
She opened her eyes at that, but he did not look at her. He was looking at the kits.
After a moment, very gently, he laid his chin on the rim of the nest — not touching, just close. The fox-red kit, deep in her milk-sleep, twitched her tail once in a small, unconscious flick, and the black tip brushed against his nose.
Bramblethorn closed his eyes. “Aye,” he mewed softly. “All three.”
The silence that followed was drawn out, punctuated only by the sound of sleepy kit breathing and Dawnmist’s tail flicking gently, thoughtfully, against the moss.
“Bramblethorn.”
“Mm?”
“… How many were there?”
Her mate did not answer for a long time, and in the quiet, her heart ached.
“Four,” he replied at last. “A she-kit, I think. Dark — almost all dark, by the bit of moonlight I had. Smaller than these three. She was… She was already gone when we got there.” He paused. “I went by on my way back. I intended to go at first light, but I couldn’t…”
Dawnmist closed her eyes, and said nothing for a moment. Her tail lay still now, an unnatural stillness that settled over all of her. A stillness of a grief that didn’t quite fit right, but regardless, insisted on being felt.
When she spoke again, her voice was steady, in the way a queen’s voice is when they do not have the option to be anything else.
“I’m glad you brought her home. She was ours, from the moment you found her.”
Bramblethorn nodded once, his gaze echoing the ache in her chest. “Aye.”
Another long quiet passed between the pair, with Bramblethorn’s chin still resting on the rim of the nest. The fox-red kit shifted in her slumber, letting out a tiny mewl and pushing her face deeper into her brother’s fur, though the silver tom did not stir.
“Bramblethorn,” Dawnmist said again softly.
“Mm?”
“Shadowkit.”
He opened his eyes once more to find her looking at him, green-eyed and tired and entirely sure.
“Just for us,” she explained quietly. “Just so she has one. The others don’t need to know; not yet. Not for a long while. Not until they’re old enough to hold it.” Her voice did not break as she spoke. “But she should have a name, Bramblethorn. Even if it is one only we say. She is our daughter for as long as her brother and sister will be our son and daughters.”
Bramblethorn looked at his mate for a long moment without speaking.
Then, very softly, in the way one echoes something they intend to hold close, he said:
“Shadowkit.”
“Shadowkit.”
“Aye.”
He laid his great dark head down once more, closer to his mate’s now, and Dawnmist pressed her cheek against the top of his skull, and for a time, the only sounds to be heard from the small family were the soft shiftings of three sleeping kits and the steady drum of two adult hearts grieving — privately, gently — a fourth.
A name that would never be called across camp. A name that would never be spoken at a Gathering. A name that would live only in the mouths of two cats — and, one day, in a long-off conversation neither of them was ready to have, in the mouths of three more.
Shadowkit, Bramblethorn repeated quietly to himself. You were here. We will carry you with us. You are ours.
The fox-red kit, who would one day have a name of her own, would one day know the names of her sisters and her brother, would one day know the names of her parents — both as Mother and Father and as Dawnmist and Bramblethorn — slept on.
She did not know she had been abandoned.
She did not know she had been found.
She knew only that there was warmth around her, that there was a heartbeat against her cheek that beat in a different time to her own, and that the slow, turning, fluttering thing beneath her paws felt, in some way she could not begin to explain, like the world saying welcome home.
Outside the nursery, the moon set.
Inside, three small, full bellies rose and fell in the dark, safe and sound.
The Water Crests and Sinks Away (He Looked Just Like a Navy Man)
Epilogue Nine - Brooklyn, New York - December, 1945.
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> James 'Bucky' Barnes x Original Male Character (Winter x Lt. Gregor Tyne)
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> In which something once mentioned comes to fruition, and the shape of their life together shifts once more.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 2924.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> E - Vague mentions of war-related injury, implications of societal homophobia, vague mentions of post-war societal melancholy.
Please read mindfully and be aware that this will be set in the arena of WWII and naval service, with corresponding themes, including but not limited to mentions of military procedures and weaponry, and era-typical attitudes to homosexuality.
𝐀/𝐍 -> Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Masterlist can be found here.
<- Epilogue Eight
Christmas came quietly, as most days did.
The world became louder, busier — the first Christmas since the war ended, a mixture of relief and grief combined into something bittersweet. Those who had been away were still trickling home — and some families were having to face another year of uncertainty or loss.
But in their apartment by the waterfront, Winter and Greg woke as they usually did. Legs entwined beneath the sheets, their warmth shared, and Greg’s arms occupied by his partner — his fiancé — on one side, and his dog on the other, each with their head resting on him as they snored in unison.
The lieutenant woke first, as he usually did. He rarely rose alone these days; instead, he relished the moments of peace before the morning truly began, fingers drifting lightly through Winter’s dark hair.
But eventually, one would stir, rousing the other, and both sets of eyes — dark and light together — would turn to him, one with a smile, and the other with a soft thump of a quickly-growing tail.
Greg made tea while Winter took Ana to the sidewalk. They would drink in the quiet together, usually looking out over the sea. Late in the year, they often saw the sun rise, the water turning from lavender and lilac to burning oranges, before passing to the golden glow of the sunrise proper, setting the ocean alight — just as Greg had once described.
It was their routine, as predictable one day as the day before. While the content of their days changed somewhat, the morning stayed the same — even as they rose on Christmas day.
On that day, there was one difference. As Winter returned from taking Ana to the street, shaking snow from his hair, he found Greg sat by the window already, waiting. A small bag sat on the table before him, and the younger man paused partway through removing the shepherd’s leash, eyes shining.
“What’s that?” he asked, grinning, straightening at last, and his partner smiled.
“You know, gifts are traditional at Christmas,” Greg replied evenly, earning a laugh and a fond roll of the eyes from Winter.
“Traditional, perhaps… But unnecessary. I already have everything I want,” Winter replied simply, crossing the room to brush his lips against Tyne’s.
“Oh?” Greg clarified innocently, one eyebrow raising as his hand reached towards the bag. “Perhaps I’ll take it back, th—”
“Don’t you dare,” Winter laughed, dropping into his lieutenant’s lap and hooking a finger through the handle. “Mine.”
Greg chuckled and inclined his head, indicating for his partner to continue. With a soft sound of glee, Winter reached into the bag, pulling out a thin silver chain with wide eyes.
“Greg… I… It’s—”
“I thought it would pair well with this,” Greg interrupted softly, pulling a small box from his pocket. His hands shook as he opened it — though whether from nerves or his injury, Winter couldn’t tell.
The band was simple, silver, and exquisite. Perfectly understated, elegant and graceful.
Greg’s fingers came up to cup his partner’s cheek gently. “I know there are times that wearing a symbol of our love may not feel like the safest thing. So… I wanted you to have a way to know I’m always there, even when society means we must keep our heads down.”
The younger man’s eyes stung as the slender chain was passed over his head carefully, his forehead meeting Tyne’s as he offered his hand.
“A perfect fit,” Greg murmured as he slid the ring into place, rubbing his thumb over the shining metal tenderly.
“Anyone would think you’d been planning this,” Winter replied with trembling chuckle, earning a grin from his partner, and a pass of his lieutenant’s lips along his cheek.
“Anyone would think.”
It was decided without discussion; Effie had simply informed the boys that dinner would be at four.
They arrived at one, and Winifred was almost speechless when Tyne presented her with extra sugar rations, leveraged through his connections. He’d already stopped by a few days before with a ham from the Dockyard’s Commissary, earning a tight hug from his mother, who had informed him that it would be significantly better than the mock turkey recipe she had intended to use.
Winter had stared at him, one eyebrow raised, wondering how the hell his lieutenant - honorably discharged, but discharged nonetheless - had managed it, and earned only a wink in response.
Even now, it’s strange sometimes, Winter mused absently as they settled at the kitchen table to keep Winnifred company as she cooked. His eyes drifted to his partner, deep in thought. His lieutenant looked more relaxed these days — easier to smile, with less tension in his shoulders. But still, on occasion, Winter found himself surprised when he looked at his partner. How odd it still felt, sometimes, to see Greg without his uniform. Without the rank and chain of command dividing them.
His hand reached out to entwine his fingers with Tyne’s instinctively, and the older man paused in his laughter with Effie and glanced at Winter.
“You okay?” he clarified softly, gaze gentle, and the younger man nodded with a smile.
“I’m wonderful,” he replied simply.
While Greg helped Effie in the kitchen, Winter took Ana out to relieve herself.
He wandered over towards the docks — the place where it all began a lifetime ago. Retracing streets he’d walked while lost in thoughts of mahogany eyes, contemplating his future and his fate.
“This is where we met,” Winter informed Ana quietly, leaning against the entrance to the docks. “He knew what I was to be before I did, of course. He saw me far more clearly than I ever saw myself, even then.”
Ana let out a quiet huff, seemingly unimpressed with her human’s story, and strained to sniff at the dock just ahead of her, undoubtedly enticed by the scent of countless boots, sea salt and fish.
With a soft chuckle, Winter looked around, hesitating. The dock was quieter on Christmas — but still not silent, and he doubted anyone would thank him for letting his overeager puppy explore.
“… Okay, fine. Five minutes.”
When Winter returned thirty minutes later, he was quiet.
Greg cast him a worried glance, rubbing his fingers over their dog’s chilled ears, but the younger man didn’t look up, brow furrowed a little as he gazed sightlessly at the table before him.
“Jamie, you’re ruminating,” Effie informed him, placing a cup of tea in her son’s eyeline.
He looked up with a soft hum, expression clearing. “Huh? Oh. Sorry.”
She shook her head with a small smile, running her fingers gently through his hair. His mother knew, hard-learned through years of experience, that if something was troubling her son, he would undoubtedly bring it up when he was ready.
But Tyne had no such experience, and he leaned forward, his own expression tight with concern. “What’s going on, Win?” Winter went to wave away the question, but Greg shook his head a little. “You’ve been quiet since you got back… Did something happen?”
The younger man pursed his lips, considering his tea thoughtfully. “I… Bumped into someone I used to see around the docks sometimes,” he replied slowly. When Greg only waited for him to continue, he shrugged a little. “Nothing happened, as such. We just… Caught up a little. I actually said that I — or, rather, that we — would meet up with him for a little while this evening.”
“It’s Christmas,” Effie pointed out unnecessarily, and Winter snorted.
“Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” he deadpanned, earning an affectionate swat with the tea towel. He chuckled, brushing it away, and then paused. “No, I know. But he sails out again in the morning.”
“Sails out?” Greg prompted quietly, his head cocked.
Winter nodded once. “Yeah — it’s how we met. He shows up every month or so at the docks. He’s a nice guy; I think you’ll like him.”
The younger man didn’t say more — not then. Instead, he simply turned to his mother, and began to make small talk about how good dinner smelled.
The meal went down amidst laughter, conversation and groans of delight.
When Winter declared it the best thing he’d eaten in years, his mother blushed, placing her hand on the lieutenant’s arm gently. “Well, it wouldn’t have been so special if it wasn’t for Gregor. I doubt many people are having such a beautiful ham with their meal.”
Greg grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was nothing, really…”
She shook her head, squeezing his forearm. “It was a Christmas miracle!”
He laughed a little at that, shaking his head, and turned his gaze to his partner. "So what's the plan, with meeting this... Friend, of yours?"
Winter arched an eyebrow, biting back a grin. "You sound suspicious."
"You've being secretive. It's concerning."
With a soft laugh, the younger man shook his head. "Not secretive. Cautious. And you realize Christmas presents are supposed to be a surprise, right?"
Greg's brows rose. "What does he have to do with my Christmas present?"
Winter simply grinned, shaking his head. "Nope,” he replied. “You can wait and see. I’m not saying anything.”
Effie looked between her son and his partner with a small, fond smile. She knew that there was no point pressing her son once his mind was made up; Greg would find out what Winter had planned exactly when the younger man decided, and not a moment before.
With a soft chuckle, she got to her feet. “How about another cup of tea before you both disappear into the cold again?”
The snow was falling softly once more by the time the men ventured out into the gathering dusk, full of food and warmed through by the cup of tea that turned into two, then three. The pup between them was unfazed by the chill, her white coat fluffed up as she trotted along eagerly.
“So… Where are we meeting your friend?” Tyne asked, smiling a little as he tipped his head.
“At our place?” Winter replied sheepishly, earning a laugh and a fond eye roll.
“I see,” Greg answered with a grin, lips twitching — but then he paused, brow furrowing a little in concern. “Is he… Aware? Of our relationship?”
“Not as yet — there were a few too many people around,” the younger man admitted. “But I have no doubt that he will be more than accepting. I’ve known him for a few years.; he’s of the… Open-minded type.”
Greg arched an eyebrow, but nodded once, his fingers entwining with his partner’s. “Okay,” he replied simply.
Ana got to her feet with her boys when there was a soft knock at the door, earning a grin from both men.
“Sorry about the welcome committee, George,” Winter chuckled as he ushered an older man inside. Greg examined the newcomer in his usual way, eyes passing over form and features with military precision, analyzing a weather-worn face from a life at sea and the ingrained scent of salt spray. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite, either.”
The seafarer laughed — an open, joyous sound — and shook his head. “I'm mair feart o' the dug than the lad,” he chuckled, eyeing Ana with a hint of nervousness, strong Scottish edged by uncertainty. “I like them fine, but I've never been able tae understand what it is they want frae me."
“Your boots, in all likeliness,” Greg replied, meeting George’s gaze evenly for a moment before cracking a small smile and extending a hand. “Gregor Tyne. L— it’s… Good to meet you.”
Winter caught the small wince as his partner cut himself off, and leaned in a little. “Lieutenant Gregor Tyne, formerly of the USS Ananiel, United States Navy. My lieutenant, back in the day. Now… Simply my partner. My fiancé,” Winter amended with a soft smile.
Greg’s gaze shifted instinctively to George’s face, surprised to find no hint of a reaction, the older man only nodding once. “It's a pleasure tae meet you, Lieutenant,” he responded, shaking Tyne’s hand firmly. “I'm glad tae hear that Bucky found someone in the end. Always worried aboot the lad — worked ower much, kept tae himself. Shouldn't hae been like that, no' at his age. Shouldae been oot makin' mischief. ” He grinned as he glanced back at Winter, eyes bright. “Kept tryin' tae convince him o' takin' a job on the boat, but he wasnae haein' ony o' it. Just kept treadin' those docks."
“Turns out I was exactly where I was meant to be,” Winter noted, glancing at his partner with a small smile. George grinned again, clapping him on the back.
"What's a' this I hear aboot a potential new recruit, anyway? You finally decided tae gie SDI a chance?" he asked, eyes dancing, though his smile faded a little when Winter laughed and shook his head.
“Not me. I’ve had enough of the ocean for one lifetime, I think. Maybe for short, recreational stints on occasion… But that life isn’t for me, not anymore.” Winter paused, glancing at his partner with a soft smile. “But I thought Gregor might be interested.”
Greg blinked in surprise, looking between the two men. “… What’s SDI?” he asked at length, and Winter grinned.
“I’ll make some tea. You two talk.”
"... So that's it, really. Efter I got oot o' the Army, I wanted tae make a difference in a mair positive way. It's bad pay and a dangerous life, but what we dae matters. And your service, your injuries, your fiancé... None o' it will stand oot there. We're a' waifs and strays and damaged in our ain ways."
Greg watched him quietly, his fingers trembling softly around the long-emptied mug in his hands. “How long?” he asked, his voice low as he glanced at his partner. “How long would we… Be away for?”
"It can vary,” George replied honestly. “Sometimes it's a wee while, sometimes it's a few months. Rarely mair than six."
Winter nodded once, already familiar with the ship’s changeable schedule, and squeezed his fiancé’s wrist gently. “If you want to go, you can go,” he assured the older man softly. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you come back.”
"Some folk on’y join us for one or two expeditions a year,” George added with a sympathetic smile. “You're no' required tae sign on for a' o' them.”
Greg paused again, his gaze finding the younger man’s quietly. “I…” He swallowed dryly, gathering himself before continued. “You’d do that? You’d put yourself through that — the waiting… Just so I could be on the sea again?”
“I know who you are, Gregor,” Winter replied softly, pressing his forehead to his partner’s. “I know the man — the sailor — I fell in love with. If I can give you back the ocean… Well, I think that might win the Christmas present contest this year, at least.”
Greg laughed shakily, his mouth claiming his officer’s for a brief moment before he turned to George, nodding once.
“I’m in.”
It wasn’t until they were lay in bed together that night, the evening passing in a few drinks and the sharing of their more light-hearted war stories until George bid them goodnight, that Greg’s fingers found Winter’s and squeezed gently.
“I can’t believe I’m going back,” he murmured into the darkness. The younger man smiled, curling against his lieutenant’s chest and wrapping his fingers in his shirt.
“Nervous?” Winter asked softly. Tyne hesitated for a moment before nodding.
“It’s impossible not to be, after what happened last time I was at sea,” Greg acknowledged. His free hand found Ana’s head where it rested on his thigh, absently rubbing her ears and earning a soft thump of her tail in response. “But… You’re right. It’s who I am. Staring at it through a window… It isn’t the same.”
“And the job?” Winter asked, resting his chin on his partner’s chest to gaze up at him. “You don’t mind it?”
Greg’s lips curled a little, and he brushed a kiss over the younger man’s forehead. “I don’t mind it,” he replied honestly. “In fact… I think I quite like the idea. Helping out, saving lives… I’ve spent enough time in the company of death, I think. I’ve killed, I’ve watched people I care about — and people I commanded — die… I think I’m ready to spend some time giving instead of taking.”
Winter smiled, brushing his thumb over his partner’s cheek gently. “I’m glad.”
“And you?” Greg prompted, gazing down at him. “Are you really okay with the thought that I might be gone for months at a time?”
Winter paused, his eyes lowering for a beat. “I won’t lie and say I relish the idea,” he admitted quietly. “I’ll miss you — of course I will. But we survived almost a year apart. We can do a few months.” The younger man smiled, pressing a kiss to Greg’s chest. “And the difference is… This time, if we ever decide it’s too much, we can just… Stop. We’re not bound to it. If a time comes when the thought of leaving me is harder than the thought of not returning to the sea… Then you can choose to stay.”
Greg nodded, jaw tight with emotion, and held his fiancé tighter. “I’ll miss you too,” he replied simply.
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒-> Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov/Steve Rogers
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Is it a trap if you don't really want to escape?
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 5265.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ->(E) Injury detail, STI mentions, grief, sadness, domestic violence in desperation, attempted absconding, threats, incontinence.
I mean I guess the end is... Nice? Ish? A relief? IDK.
𝐀/𝐍 -> Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Please read the warnings, and proceed with caution. You know the drill. Covered by Magic and Madness chapter 21. Read this first, but the masterlist can be found here.
For some reason the underline distinction between Ashe and Lia isn't taking??? Oh it turns out tumblr doesn't support underlining how have I only just noticed this?? But it's clear on AO3 if you get muddled. Sorry ><
Check it out below, or on AO3 here! The snazzy Black Widow divider comes from @/firefly-graphics and I love it <3 The Multitudes Universe one is our own!
<- Previous Chapter (30/72)
The flight was endless amidst my desperate pleas to return, hands secured to my seat after I had tried to run off the ramp. The seat below me grew wet with urine - it had been a long time since I’d known the luxury of a bathroom, expected instead to simply go where I lay, like the filthy creature I was. I barely even noticed. I was pretty sure I’d lost the capacity to control it anyway.
One by one, the team looked away, disgusted and ashamed. Even Wanda looked repulsed. Only Clint had no reaction, simply staring at the ground in silence beside me.
(Lia:) He’s not even surprised anymore.
(Ashe:) Why did he come?
I don’t know.
I want this to end.
Me too.
We landed with a bump, the pain between my legs making me grit my teeth to keep from screaming.
“What are you going to do?”
“Whatever it takes.”
“Clint, you know that if she disappears again-”
“I know, Cap. I won't let her.”
I didn’t look up at the hushed conversation, but I did flinch when a gentle hand touched my wrist, undoing my tethers to free me from the seat. I fought the urge to run, casting a glance around at the feet of the clustered heroes. Six pairs – too many.
(Ashe:) Not yet. Bide your time.
“Come on, Lia. Let’s go inside, okay?”
I fell into step before him as he gestured me ahead, eyes lowered obediently, shuffling into the sunset.
(Lia:) Just another master.
For now.
Yes.
The door opened and a significantly larger dog than the one I’d last seen barrelled out, pausing briefly before frantically licking my hands as recognition dawned. Clint glanced at me, grinning, but I simply watched with disinterest, and his smile faded.
“Come on, Arrow. Back inside.”
There was a distant, unmistakable crackle of sparks backing the archer’s voice, and I glanced over his shoulder curiously, but saw nothing amiss.
He steered me gently inside, the door thudding shut behind us, and I winced at the slide of heavy bolts into their housing.
“Lia… It’s okay. You’re home now.” His fingers found mine as I stood, trembling and silent, while he paused uncertainly.
“Well… First thing’s first. Do you want a shower? Or a bath?” I pushed away thoughts of the comfort of hot water, and kept my gaze on the ground. He sighed as he pressed his lips to my forehead lightly. “Come on, little one. Let’s go and get you cleaned up, huh?”
Following obligingly, I let him steer me through the house, my weak legs faltering they finally failed halfway up the stairs. I whimpered my apologies, desperately clawing my way to my feet, but he simply lifted me up, cradled against his chest.
Don’t do it. It’ll only make it harder when we leave again.
Please. Please don’t.
Lia?
I turned my head shamefully, burying my cheek in his shirt as Ashe sighed, the scent of him filling my mind in a comfort I hadn’t known in a long time. His fingers caressed my jawline gently, and I purred, eliciting a smile. “There’s my girl,” he murmured, lips finding my matted and torn hair without complaint.
I don’t want to leave again.
You think I do? But we have to. It’s for him.
Is it? I challenged, glancing up at the sharp lines of his face, the circles violently violet under his eyes, and the bruises on his knuckles. He doesn’t look like he’s doing so good.
He'll adapt.
We’ll die.
He's worth it.
“But I’m scared,” I whispered aloud into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, shivering. “I don’t want to die.”
Clint pulled back slightly, iridescent gaze finding my face. “You’re not going to die, Lia.”
I shook my head once, fingers tightening against his chest. “Not here. When we leave.”
“You’re not going anywhere. I promise.”
“But… We have to.”
Clint sighed, sitting me on the closed lid of the toilet and kneeling by my feet. “My poor, sweet Lia. You listen to me – actually, all of you listen to me. Look at me, Li.”
My eyes flicked to his in surprise at the nickname, and he smiled weakly. “Y’all are everything to me. And if I have to lock you in this house for your own protection… It’d break my heart, but I’d do it. You liking me is far less important than you being safe. When you were identified in that hospital, and we got a call… It almost killed me to see you like that. To imagine the things you’ve been through. There’d been… Reports, but we were always too late. And I promised Steve, just like I’m going to promise you – nothing like that is ever happening to you again. Okay? Even if you hate me, and even if you beat the crap out of me on a daily basis trying to escape. I’m not going to find some magical, perfect life with someone else; y’all are my perfect life. If only you could stick around for more than a few days at a time,” he added with a wry smile, and I sobbed softly.
“But what about-”
“Kids?” he guessed, and shook his head. “If I could never have kids, I’d accept that to be with you. Like I said – y’all are my everything. But what the Red Room did to you doesn’t take away our options, Lia. There’s adoption, fostering, surrogacy… And there’s the bunch of scientists we know. Didn’t Tony once become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics in a night? I can’t say I know much about… Well, much, but I’m pretty sure the intricacies of life are only mildly harder.”
I snorted around my tears, wiping my eyes. “You really think we can do it?”
His lips brushed mine, tender and loving. “The four of us against the world, my love.”
Wincing, I looked away once more. “Three,” I corrected softly. “We… Haven’t seen Nat in a while.”
He swallowed dryly, sinking back onto his heels. “How long?”
“Five months.”
Exhaling shakily, his ass met the tile, face disappearing between his arms.
We only ever cause him pain.
“So… What? Is she… Gone? Dead? Can she die if the body is alive?” he asked the floor, voice cracking, and I simply shrugged helplessly.
“I-I don’t know… I’m sorry.”
“Maybe she’s still around,” he offered hopefully, glancing up with a weak smile, which I attempted to mirror.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe she’ll come back when she knows it’s safe.”
“Yeah… Maybe.”
He sniffed, wiping a hand over his face. “But… We can do this. Together. Even…” he swallowed dryly, jaw hard. “I’ll always love you, even if she’s not around. I promise.”
Clint…
His fingers found mine, wrapping hard. “We can do this, Li. I swear… I’m never going to let anything hurt you. Not ever again.” He smiled tentatively, standing. “Come on. We might as well start making it a safe and happy environment, just in case.”
He only wants us around for her.
No… He loves us. He said.
And you believed him?
…Why would he lie?
To keep us here. Because he hopes he’s going to get Nat back.
… And if he doesn’t?
Then we won’t be of use anymore. He’ll get rid of us.
I… I don’t…
Lia. We can’t stay. You know that. Even more so, now. It would be cruel to leave him waiting for someone that might not ever return, right? If you really love him… We have to go.
But… What about… He said about the science. Children.
Even if it was possible – and I don’t think it is – do you really think anything that comes from us is going to be the child he deserves?
I winced, looking away as I stood. … Can I have tonight? Then I’ll go. I promise.
… Fine. But if you don’t leave, I’ll do it. It's for the best, Lia.
… I know. Thanks, Ashe.
I let him lead me slowly toward the bathtub, setting the water flowing at an amicable temperature before turning to me. “… Do you want me to go?”
Don’t make it harder than it needs to be. Again.
“I…”
Lia. No.
“I just…”
Don’t even think about it.
His head cocked, eyes wide and sympathetic, and I wrapped my arms around his waist as I cried. “I don’t want to be alone.”
His hand smoothed my hair in shock, gentle and comforting. “Hey, hey… It’s okay, little one. You never have to be alone again, I promise. Not for a second, okay?”
You stupid, stupid girl, Ashe scolded softly, tears in their voice. You’re making it so much more difficult on all of us.
I can’t help it.
You’re being selfish.
I know.
Why?
I… I’ve been alone for so long, Ashe.
What am I, chopped liver?
He's so kind. So gentle with me. I just… I want that. Just for today. You don’t have to watch, not if you don’t want to. You know how to hide now.
… Fine. I’ll see you tonight. They sighed, weary and worn. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop you. I really wish I had been able to. You’re going to regret this when we go. It's going to make everything harder.
Clint’s arms held me tenderly, his chin resting lightly on the top of my head, humming under his breath as I wept into his shirt. “It’s okay, Lia. I’ve got you now. I’m never letting go,” he murmured, which only served to make me cry harder, fingers clenched desperately in flesh and cotton, legs trembling under the strain.
“Come on, little one. Let’s get you in the tub, huh?”
He unpeeled me from his soaked shirt gently, chuckling. “How can someone so tiny produce so many tears?”
I shrugged, sniffling, as his thumb brushed my cheekbone. “I-I dunno.”
His fingers found the bottom of my sweatshirt, and I trembled nervously, his eyes meeting mine. “Is this okay?” he prompted softly, hesitating until I nodded uncertainly. “Are you sure?”
I’m really going to miss you. I’m really going to miss people asking if they can take my clothes off.
“I’m sure,” I mumbled as I nodded again, raising my arms as he lifted the heavy material over my head, letting out an audible hiss.
His eyes roamed my body as it dropped to the floor, and I fought the urge to cover myself. The burns and scars on my hands were proof enough of that never being a good idea.
Like Ashe said. Just another master.
Let him do what he wants. Make him happy.
Just for today.
He flinched and blanched, his trembling touch finding the bruising that coated my stomach. “Shit, Lia… What happened to you out there?”
I cleared my throat, standing straighter. “I-I started in Belarus. I needed money, but I didn’t have access to my cards, so I-”
He shook his head quickly, the motion silencing me. “No. No. I-I don’t… I can’t. Not right now. I need to take care of you first.”
Nodding, I moved my own hands to my waistband, and he raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want me to? I mean, it’s fine, I just…”
I winced shamefully, gesturing to the dampness seeped into my clothes. “I’m… You… You don’t want to.”
He snorted, dropping to his knees. “This is nothing, Lia.”
I stepped back swiftly, flushing with shame. “It’s worse.” His head cocked curiously, and my cheeks grew hotter. “I… There’s… Something happened to me. It… It’s not… Pretty. I think I… Got something.”
His jaw twitched, but he nodded slowly. “I know, Li. Your doctor… I’m your next of kin, remember? They told me everything. They’ve given you a shot – you’ll be fine in a few more days.”
I winced in horror. “… Oh.”
Great… Another person who is repulsed by me.
He reached out to take my hand in his, eyes on mine sincerely. “Lia. I love you more than my own life. Each and every one of you. And this?” he enthused, gesturing at my stained and malodorous leggings. “This is nothing. I’m not… Grossed out, or disgusted, or repulsed, okay? You could never make me feel any of those things. No matter what. Do you hear me?”
I nodded slowly, and he pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around my hips, head on my bare stomach lightly. He chuckled as it rumbled, making me blush when his chin rested on my navel to meet my eyes. “Now. Will you please let me help you, little one?”
I nodded again, muscles frozen as his fingers hooked into my waistband. I shouldn’t let him do this. But… It’s what he wants to do. I don’t know what to do.
Wincing as his hands brushed my thigh, he lent his shoulder into my side to steady my trembling legs. I blanched at the sight of my stained underwear, looking away in shame, but Clint gave no reaction as he carefully slid my feet free, placing them delicately on the floor.
“There we go, sweetheart. Come on, let’s get you in that bath. Nice and warm, yeah?” His hands found my waist, helping me step up and sink into the hot water, shivering madly at the sensation. “How long has it been?”
“I don’t remember,” I admitted, trailing my fingers through the rapidly darkening liquid.
I spent too much time chained up on a dirty mattress to even think about bathing.
“Well, I’ll run you one every night for as long as you want, princess,” he replied easily, kissing my hair. Blinking back the tears, I smiled.
“That sounds nice.”
His hands were gentle as he washed my hair, carefully teasing out the gnarls and knots with deft, talented fingers, until the auburn strands once more flowed individually, and I purred with pleasure. He kissed my forehead amidst tousles with a soft towel, wrapping it around my abused body without a reaction, despite the hipbones I could feel digging into him when he drew me close.
Well… Nat always wanted us to be thinner.
“How about some food?” Clint offered softly, lips brushing my jaw lightly, and humming when I shook my head. “Lia… I know you’re hungry, remember? Please. Let me make you something. Even if it’s just some toast.”
When I nodded reluctantly, his eyes lit up, rushing to wrap me in a furry dressing gown I’d forgotten we owned, pulling the hood over my damp hair and tweaking my nose. “Cosy?”
“Mhm,” I agreed with a grin, and he chuckled.
“Go on then, you. Go and get in bed, and I’ll bring you some food.”
When I’d picked and nibbled my way through three slices of buttery toast – surreptitiously feeding most of it to Arrow on the sly – he drew me down next to him, fingers shaking as he traced the sharp angles of my face.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” he whispered, smiling sadly. “I can’t believe I have you, Ashe and- … You and Ashe back.”
“Me either,” I offered, blushing under his delicate ministrations.
Not for long.
“Are you… You’re not going to try and run again. Right?” His voice was quiet as he spoke, and I had to lean closer to hear.
“…No.”
“Promise?” he prompted, meeting my gaze intensely.
“I-I promise,” I breathed, eyes squeezing shut as his lips found mine.
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I-
~Ashe~
I’ve got you, Lia. It’s okay. I… I know you can’t do this. Don’t watch, okay?
I can’t… I can’t.
I know, it’s okay, I soothed, fighting to stay steady. You go and sleep for a while, okay? You’ve been so strong for so long – you deserved to be looked after, even if it was just for a little bit.
The second she faded, I let a lone tear run down my cheek. Clint’s eyes widened in panic, and he brushed it away. “Lia? Lia, it’s okay…”
I smiled softly, touching my forehead to his tenderly. “It will be, my love.”
He can’t tell us apart any more, I realised with a jolt, my heart aching. He… He doesn’t recognise me. He doesn’t know me.
He sighed as he rolled me until my back found his chest, one arm under my pillow while the other wrapped around my waist. “There aren’t words for how much I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”
“I know,” I murmured, sliding my fingers into his. “I’ve missed you too.”
He fell asleep quickly, comforted by my steady breathing against him, but the plush mattress felt too soft beneath my sharp bones. It was still dark when I slid from his embrace, skimming my lips against his hair, blinking back tears so they didn’t fall and wake him.
“I’ll always love you, Little Hawk,” I breathed, safe in the knowledge that his hearing aids rested on the table beside him. Bending, I touched my forehead to Arrow’s, smiling as I cried. “You look after him for me, okay, buddy? You’re the first piece of his puzzle. I hope you help him find the rest of his dreams. Be a good boy.”
I stole from the room in darkness, gathering clothes in silence and pulling the black hood over my head, weeping openly as I descended the stairs.
“Going somewhere?”
I turned with a start, my hand on the last bolt of the front door, heart hammering. Clint stood at the bottom of the stairs, sweatpants low on his hips, and I couldn’t help but reflect on how his previously toned muscles had become stringy and thin through malnutrition – but I still wanted to fall to my knees and beg to stay. “I… I can’t. I’m sorry. Ashe needs me,” I lied fluidly, pulling the final bolt as I rediverted my attention.
“Pet.”
I froze, fingers hesitating.
“Here. Now.”
Swallowing dryly, my hands fumbled for the handle.
“Don’t make me ask again. You know what happens when you disobey.”
My mouth ran dry as I opened the door a crack, but I couldn’t help but hesitate once more at the snap of leather.
“I thought you were my good girl. I guess not… Maybe my plaything needs their punishment.”
The door closed slowly, and I turned despite myself, eyeing him nervously as his gaze blazed in anger and pride, belt in hand.
“Here. Now.”
My feet moved of their own accord, drawing me back toward him, dropping to my knees before him with my head bowed, a low tremble working its way through my body.
“You thought you could lie to me, pet?”
I shook my head, and his hand found my jaw, forcing my eyes to his.
“Try again.”
“I-I…” I gulped nervously, fingers shaking. “I thought… I didn’t think you recognised me anymore.”
He winced minutely before his thumb brushed my lip, soft and sensual. “I will always recognize what is mine, babygirl. Don’t you worry about that.” His head jerked at the door, sharp and unambiguous. “Where do you think you were going? And don’t lie. You know what happens when you lie to your master,” he added, the belt still folded in one hand warningly.
He's never used a belt on me before… Would he? I-I don’t… I don’t want this. Not like this. Not now.
“I was leaving,” I confessed immediately, body clenched tightly. “I-I had to go.”
“Why?”
“You deserve more.”
“I already told you – we can find-”
“We shouldn’t,” I interjected softly. “Even if we could, we shouldn’t. I… Anything that comes from me is… You deserve your own biological kids, Clint. And they definitely shouldn’t be mine. I’m a monster. You don’t know what I’ve done. You don’t know what I’ve become.”
“I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.”
“Maybe you should.”
“You didn’t,” he countered, eyes narrowed. “You know my past. The things I’ve done. But you never let it stop you from loving me. Once upon a time, I was sent to kill a scared, confused child. And it wasn’t the first time. But it was the first time I made a different call.” He raised me by my chin to stand before him, shaking with nerves. “If you’re a monster, you’re not the only one.”
I whimpered and wrapped my arms around myself, the scars littering my back burning with memories. “A-Are you going to hit me?” I murmured, my eyes flicking to the belt in his hand.
He followed my gaze, and then looked back, head cocked. “Do I need to?”
On cue, panic won out, and my poor muscle control from the months of abuse and lack of access to a bathroom took over, a shameful pattering filling the silence. “I-I-I… Please don’t. I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
I dropped once more, curling into a ball of humiliation as I waited for the blows to land, breathing ragged and terrified.
Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Don’t-
~Nat~
My breath came sharp and stuttering, hands on my shoulders pulling me upright as my body continued to release, horrifying and mortifying. Clint found my eyes and I backed up, wild, penned.
“No. No. What are we doing here? I didn’t want this. I told them. I didn’t want this. I didn’t care where we went – just let me die, and leave him alone. That was all I asked for. Why am I back? Why are we back?” Panic seized my body as my back found the door, and I cried out in agony as my skin burned at the contact. Clint raised his hands in panic, a belt in his grasp.
“What the fuck did you do to them?!” I screamed, feeling my muscles tremble in fear, despite the rage in my veins. “Haven’t they been through enough?!”
No, Nat, he-
That’s enough from you. We were never supposed to come back, and now we are. You’d do well to be quiet, I snapped, and Ashe recoiled, cowering from my misdirected anger.
Nat, he-
That goes for you too, Lia. Enough.
But I-
Be quiet. Now.
Clint stepped closer, eyes wide with alarm. “Nat? Honey? Oh, God, I thought you were-”
“Don’t,” I warned, hissing. “Don’t get any closer, and don’t finish that sentence. I am dead, at least to you. Just pretend you never saw me, okay? Pretend I was never here.”
I wrenched the door open, but it slammed shut immediately, his hand over my head. I spun, snarling, and met his gaze. “I’m warning you, Clint. Back the fuck off me. Now.”
“No.”
I raised my fists – a threat. “Clint.”
“No.”
“Don’t make me hurt you.”
“You can do what you want to me. I’m not letting you leave, Nat. I’m never letting you leave, okay? And this?” He raised the belt, and I recoiled reflexively, but he tossed it to the floor. “I would never. I-I couldn’t. It was a shitty, empty threat, directed only at Ashe. I appealed to anything I could to keep them here. It would break my heart to use that on them, but do you know what? If they’d said ‘whip me until I bleed and I’ll stay’, I’d have done it. Without hesitating. Because at least I’d know they’re safe.”
“And me?” I snapped, fury bubbling in my veins. “If I said to you, ‘let me whip you until you bleed, and I’ll stay’, that would be fine?” He winced infinitesimally, and I laughed bitterly. “That’s what-”
But he was already moving, stooping, picking up the belt and pushing it into my hands.
“Back or ass?”
“… Wh-”
“Which would you rather? You know what – I’ll give you the range.” He dropped his sweatpants without hesitation, and knelt, facing away from me, nervous sweat running down his back. “If this will keep you, I’ll do it, Little Spider. And I’ll do it with a goddamn smile. Every day of my life, if that’s what you need – because I’m not losing you again.”
“So take your shot, Nat.”
I picked it up and weighed the leather in my hand, looking at the pure, perfect skin of his back. Unblemished and unmarred.
You can’t do-
Quiet.
Nat, please, we-
“ENOUGH!” I shouted, and Clint trembled. The belt hit the floor beside him, and my lip curled. “Clint, I’m going. Don’t try and follow me.”
I jerked the door again, and again, it slammed shut, his hand over my head, sliding the top bolt silently. My jaw set as I turned, rolling my shoulders, meeting his eyes as he shook.
“I told you. Do what you want to me. I’m not letting you leave.”
“You know I could kick your ass, Barton.”
“I do.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
He smiled weakly, and I winced as his hand raised, but allowed him to cup my cheek gently. “Because I love you, Natasha Romanoff. All of the people that make you, you. And I can’t let you leave – not again. If I thought you were out there, happy and safe… It would kill me, but I’d let you go. But you’re not. You’re dying, Nat. It might take a while, but look at you. If I let you leave, I’m letting you kill yourself. And I refuse to do that, because I fucking love you.”
I pushed him away, snarling. “You know nothing about our life out there.”
He just came back, his hands grasping my wrists. “Do you? You left them, Nat! You fucking left, and Lia – poor, innocent, broken Lia – had to endure all of this. Have you seen your body? Because I have. I’ve seen the lashes on your ass, and the scars on your back, and the burns on your thighs, and the cuts and bruises everywhere. I’ve seen every single rib and bone in your spine. I watched her cry when I ran her a bath, because when was the last time anyone showed her any fucking kindness? I watched her refuse food, despite the fact that she probably hasn’t eaten in days, because she feels like she doesn’t deserve it. I watched the goddamn shame in her face when I helped her out of clothes soaked in piss and infection from all the men that took her body – your body – as their own.” He shook his head, trembling with anger as he released me. “Don’t tell me I know nothing. I wasn’t there, but I’ve read her story. You weren’t there. You know nothing.”
I reached up again, fingers shaking as they caught the bolt, but his foot stuck at the bottom of the door.
“Fuck you, Clint. If you keep me here, I will never love you again.”
He smiled weakly as I glared at him, shrugging. “I don’t care, Nat. I’ll always love you. And you’ll be safe. That’s all that matters.”
I snarled viciously as I threw myself at him, my shoulder meeting his chest, the air driven from his lungs with a huff as we hit the floor.
NAT!
STOP THIS!
LEAVE HIM ALONE!
My fist met his jaw with a crack, and he coughed as his head whipped to the side, splattering blood on the floor. Standing, my foot met his stomach, and I sniffed.
“Goodbye, Barton.”
When his hand found the door again, slamming it shut, I wasn’t surprised, but I was disappointed. I snapped my head back with a satisfying crunch, and felt him crumble, groaning in pain. When his hand found my ankle, I lashed out, wincing at the sound of his bone breaking under the blow.
“Stay down, Clint. You’re not going to win this.” He hissed as he stood, and I turned to face him again, shaking my head. “Please. I don’t want to do this.”
He spat blood on the floor, and grinned ghoulishly. “Accepting defeat, Romanoff?”
My hand found his throat, spinning us so his back hit the wall, gazing deep into his eyes as panic flickered. “Stop, Clint. This is your last warning. Or I will use that belt, and you won’t be getting back up until I’m long gone.”
He simply stared back, unphased. “Fine,” he croaked around my grip. “But if you do leave, I’ll find you. I’ll always find you, Nat.”
“Why?” I whispered, heart aching. “I fucking hate this, Clint. Please. Just let me go.”
“Why?” he countered. “Why would you choose that life? Do you hate what I’ve tried to build for you that much that you think that’s the next best option?”
I laughed bitterly, releasing his neck and stepping back. “Are you kidding? I’m choosing that life because I love you. Because I’m a fucking mess, Hawk, and you deserve far better than I can ever give you. Because-”
“That’s enough,” he snapped, moving forward. “It’s not just you that you’re insulting. It’s Lia, it’s Ashe, and it’s me. You think I don’t know every single goddamn thing about you? Every single thing you’ve done? Every awful thought, every irrational feeling? Every fucking cut you’ve laid into this body? Every meal you’ve missed?”
“You think I don’t know of every time a man has put his hands on you? Beaten you? Raped you?”
"And I fucking love you, Nat. Not in spite of these things – you’re not a goddamn prize at the fair with a missing eye. I love you because of all of those things. Every single experience in your life has brought you to be the person you are, and I love every fucking millimetre of you. I love your humour, your sharp tongue, your bravery, and your soul. I love you. And if I can’t have this perfect life with you, then I don’t want it, because it’s only perfect if you’re in it.”
“I want kids – you’re right. And I’d love for them to be ours. But do you know why? Because it’s damn sure not because of confidence in my own genetic potential, Nat. It’s because I want your kids. I loved the idea of being a father not in a broad and general sense; I loved the idea of being a father to your children. I fucking dreamt of tiny Nats running around and sitting on my shoulders, showing them the world. I lived for the idea of little heads of red curls. When I found out about what they did to you, I stopped talking about it not because I didn’t want to make you feel bad, or jealous, or anything like that. It’s because I thought the biggest reason I wanted to be a father couldn’t happen. It's because I was, irrationally but irrefutably, mourning the loss of the kids we could never have.”
“I don’t give a damn if our kids are mine, yours or the next-door neighbours’. But don’t try to tell me you’re doing this so I can have biological children. The only genetic link I give a single fuck about is that they’re yours. If I can’t have that, it’s fine. I mourned it a long time ago, and I coped. I gave up on that hope after trying, for years, to keep it alive. But don’t presume to know what I want, Natasha, because you don’t.”
I watched him silently, and I blinked.
“I’m scared,” I whispered, and he nodded.
“I know, Little Spider. You’re not the only one. But you are all I want in this world. So just… Stop running, okay? Stay here with me, and we can be scared together.”
My knees gave as I crumpled, but he caught me, hissing with pain at the pressure on his broken wrist.
It’s Not Enough to Know What the Future is. You Have to Know What it Means.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> The boys discuss their future.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 3492.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) mentions of SA and SH situations and trauma, mild relationship anxiety stuff, but it's mostly just fluff and smut, ngl.
𝐀/𝐍 -> A Companion Piece to Multitudes, exploring the relationship of Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. This chapter best corresponds to Multitudes Chapter Thirty- I recommend starting here if you're reading both <3. Masterlist can be found here!
Check it out below or on AO3 here! Dividers come from yours truly.
<- Previous Chapter (19/46)
Next Chapter (21/46) ->
“No.”
I groaned, fingers wrapping in my hair. “Fuck you, Tony! I have to be there. Please!”
“They’re already in the air, it’s too-”
“I can make magic portals with my goddamn fingers, don’t try and tell me it’s too late, I could have had us there by now!”
“Honey, just-” he caught my hands as they began to move, shaking his head. “Will you just stop and listen for a second? Please?” he pressed, eyes imploring as they met mine. “Look, if you let me explain and then you still want to go, I’ll let you, okay? Just listen to me.”
I growled, then nodded reluctantly, letting him guide me to the edge of the bed, his hands still tight around my wrists. “Speak. Quickly.”
He rolled his eyes, sighing. “They’re okay. They’re safe in hospital, and the team will be there in an hour or so.”
“An hour? Why the fuck didn’t you-”
“Because Steve asked me not to,” he interrupted softly. “He… They’re okay physically, but they’re not… It’s not good, honey. And the last time they saw you…”
I flinched with understanding, nodding once. “I see.”
“You’ve been struggling a lot, and they’ve been through some… Unimaginable things. It’s easier – for everyone – if you wait. I understand you want to see them; hell, I do too, and as far as they’re concerned I’m still the scumbag who…” he flinched, rolling his jaw. “Honestly? I’d let them beat the living daylights out of me right now, if I can just see that they’re okay. But that’s about what I want, and not what they need. Do you see what I’m saying?”
I nodded again, slowly and reluctantly. “… Fine.”
“We’ve been asked to look after the farm – and, I don’t know, I guess Clint got a dog? – while they’re gone, though. Depending on how they’re… I mean, they might be gone for a couple days, at least.”
“What- when did- do you know what? I’m not even asking anymore. Fine. I guess they’re going to rescue my friends, and we’re going to house-sit,” I muttered sullenly.
But I understood his point – of course I did. If they were feeling particularly vulnerable, my face was one of the last they needed to see, and Tony’s was likely significantly further down that list, and so I stood, sighing, but his fingers were still latched around me. “…Wanna let go, or…?”
“Of you? Never,” he breathed, standing to pull me against his chest. “I love you, baby boy. I’m not ever letting you go, do you hear me? Not for a goddamn second.”
I blinked in surprise as his arms wrapped tight around me, face buried in my throat, and stroked his hair gently. “Uh… I… O-Okay? I love you too, honeybee. What’s brought this on?”
He simply held me harder, pressing a soft kiss to my skin. “Clint almost lost them. And if anything happened to you, I…” Fear thrummed through my body, but he shook his head quickly. “If you were out there, hurting and afraid? I don’t think I’d be able to sleep until I had you back. I’d watch this planet wither and die until you were the only one standing, just to be sure I couldn’t miss you. I’m afraid of just… Committing genocide in your name, and doing it with a damn smile. Clint’s been subtle and assassin-like and I’m… I’m not like that. I’d eviscerate everyone and everything to find you. And that… That is why I’m never letting go of you.”
I blinked owlishly, drawing back to meet his gaze. “I, uh… that… Was way too violent to also be so sweet, and I’m confused, conflicted, but mostly, more than happy to never be let go of.”
He purred as his mouth found mine tenderly, a hand tangling in my hair. “How about we get out of here, baby boy? There’s a whole secluded farm out there waiting for- Oh, okay, you’re already doing it, huh?”
Fucking on a sofa was a new – and frankly incredible – experience.
Being stared at by a dog? Less so.
I whined, hiding my face in the cushions as he buried himself inside me with a loud, abdomen-tightening groan, revelling in the sounds spilling from him in our newly isolated environment. “Okay, I d-didn’t come on the s-sofa, please, Tony.”
He chuckled weakly as he pulled away from me, tongue caressing my thigh as his essence trailed down my leg, and I whimpered. “Did you just-”
“Yeah. Is that a problem?”
“I-I- holy- Please, please make me come.”
He snorted as he rolled me, fingertips brushing my length lightly. “What do you want, baby boy?”
I scowled, rutting gently. “There’s only really o-one option.”
Smirking, he nodded. “I know. I just like hearing you say it.”
I growled as my fingers tangled in his hair, aching and needy. “Fuck- suck my cock, Tony. I need you to take it, please. Suck my cock and make me come.”
He shivered with delight as he took me between his lips obligingly, and I groaned, thrusting roughly. “Fuck, that mouth, that goddamn tongue – you’re such a smartass, m-maybe I should sh-shut you up like this more often, huh?” Fingers tightening in my hips as he jerked me closer, he hummed his assent, the vibrations making my back arch. “Holy shit- fuck- just like that, honeybee, I-”
He drew back just long enough to meet my gaze, and smirked.
“Nobody to hear you scream out here, baby boy. You can make all the noise you want.”
I whimpered obligingly as he continued his eager ministrations – until he dragged a ragged, deafening groan from my throat with two fingers slipped quickly inside my leaking hole. “F- no fair- I- Fuck, yes, yes, please- please, baby- fuck, I-I’m- I’m gonna-” I bit my lip as I whined desperately, and he scowled, hesitating briefly to glare until I released my grip, head bobbing quickly and efficiently as his digits curled inside me. “I-I’m gonna come, T-Tony,” I panted, my own head falling back as I rutted desperately. “F-fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t-” His teeth skimmed my length lightly as he took me deeper, back arching as I cried out, my hands in his hair forcing him deeper when I found my release. “Tony! Fuck, fuck, just like that, take it, fuck- S-swallow it all, baby, such a f-fucking good boy, I-I…” I trailed off to whimper desperately, and by the time I’d finished twitching and he drew back with a grin, eyebrow raised, I was furiously crimson. “I… S-Sorry, I…”
He shushed me quickly, crawling up my chest to kiss me fiercely. “No. No words. Nothing. Shush. Never, ever, ever apologise for… That. Just… Holy fuck,” he muttered between bites at my lip and nails tightening against my neck. “Always more of that.”
I laughed weakly, shaking my head when his cheek found my chest. “I, uh… I guess I have more reservations than I thought… Y’know, normally. And now we’re here, and very alone. And… that was a… Thing… That... Happened…”
Nodding once, he sighed contentedly. “We live here now. Okay? Okay.” He puffed out a breath, glancing up at me. “… Fancy a walk? The dog is staring at me. It’s kind of a mood killer, so we’re going to have to wear him out before we move this to the bedroom. And we are definitely moving this to the bedroom,” he added, sighing contentedly.
Chuckling, I kissed his hair lightly. “Give me five minutes to regain feeling in my legs.”
Walking in the summer evening with his hand in mine, the happiest dog on the planet sprinting between us and barking at birds, was one of the most peaceful moments of my life, despite the anxiety churning in my stomach as I worried for Natasha.
Tony sighed softly, resting his temple against my shoulder as we strolled leisurely under the trees. “… Do you ever think about it?”
“Hm?” I prompted, glancing down to press a gentle kiss to his hair.
“About what?”
“Retirement.”
I drew back in surprise. “Do… Do you?”
He shrugged one shoulder slowly, gesturing at the beauty around us. “You don’t? You don’t want… This? The life outside of the war?”
Hesitating thoughtfully as I chewed my lip, I hummed. “Honestly? I’ve never really thought about it. I tend to focus on just one step at a time. It was my career, and then my hands, then magic, then the Sanctum, then… Well, I wish I could say it was the Avengers, but… You,” I noted, smiling softly. “And now, you know, Natasha.”
“But Natasha’s coming home,” he added quietly, and I nodded.
“I guess they are.”
“So? What the next step?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You know what? I don’t know. For once, I really don’t know. And that’s… That’s actually way less terrifying than it usually is, because no matter what it is, it’s a step I’ll be taking with you.”
He purred quietly, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “A good answer.”
Snorting, I nuzzled my cheek against my hair before stooping and tossing a stick down the trail for Arrow to chase, smirking as he hared after it. “And you? What does your future look like? Is retirement in the cards?”
He let out his own sound of soft contemplation, fingers winding with mine. “I… You know what? I think it could be. Not now – I want a few more years yet – but… I think I’d want something like… Well, like this,” he admitted, gazing around himself thoughtfully. “Something… Quiet. Peaceful. Somewhere I can just… Be away from it all, you know?”
I nodded softly, fighting every urge in my heart that screamed for me to ask. “You deserve that,” I offered gently, hand squeezing his tenderly. “I think you’re more than entitled to a bit of freedom from it already, let alone later.”
He simply hummed in agreement as I looked away, wincing minutely.
What do I do here? Am I supposed to ask?
What do I even say? ‘Hey, Tony, do I have a spot in this fantasy, or are you imagining a future without me’?
Is that how he imagines his future? Does he not see one with me? I mean, he says he does, but-
“You’re overthinking it, aren’t you?”
I glanced at him in surprise, and snorted. “How did you know?”
“You were, you know… Existing?” His arm wrapped gently around my waist, and I scowled playfully. “Let me guess… ‘What about me’?”
I flushed shamefully and went to pull forward, but his fingers laced in mine refused to let go, tugging me back against his chest. “You’re an idiot. A sweet idiot,” he amended, smirking, “but an idiot nonetheless.” My cheeks reddened further, and I blinked back embarrassed tears.
“Tony, don’t-”
“Stephen. Dear, beautiful, dumbass Stephen. Do you know why I didn’t mention you in this little dream of mine?” I shook my head sullenly before opening my mouth, intending to ask him to please, just stop teasing me, it’s not funny okay? I’m sorry for being such an idiot – but his hand covered my lips quickly. “No. Shush. You’re going to say something I won’t be able to keep a straight face to, and then you’ll look all sad, and I’ll feel bad. So just hush, and listen to me, okay? I didn’t mention you because it doesn’t matter. Stephen – whether I end up in a farmhouse or a penthouse, whether I stay an Avenger or quit tomorrow – hell, whether I find myself in Connecticut or Sri Lanka – it does not matter.”
“What, because you don’t want me either way?” I muttered around his palm, and he snorted, as predicted – and my face fell, as predicted.
“You see? Sad. And now I feel bad. But I laughed because it’s ridiculous, Stephen. It doesn’t matter because no matter where, or how, or when I end up, I’m going to be doing it with you, okay?” he pushed a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “I can ask questions about my future I never could before, and that’s because one thing is certain – you. The biggest, and most important, piece of any possible future I could have. You are my future, you big idiot, and any plans I hypothesise will include you by default, just like they’ll include me. You’re not an option, you’re a necessity, Stephen.”
I blinked tearfully, and he groaned. “I know I’m not good with words all the time, and I’m sorry, but my point is just-”
I kissed him desperately, fingers curling in his hair as I purred, pulling him closer. “You’re my future too, Tony. The only one I want,” I whispered softly when I drew back a hair’s breadth to offer him reassurance. His gaze flicked down to the dog panting by my side, and he smirked.
“He seems tired.”
“Yeah.”
“… Take me to bed.”
“You got it, honeybee.”
Tony laughed as I lifted him bridal-style over the threshold, shaking his head. “What next – are you going to follow in Clint’s footsteps, and ask me to marry you?”
I almost dropped him in surprise, and it was his turn to turn crimson.
“I… Uh…”
“I-I was… I mean, I…”
I hesitated in the lounge, gazing down at him wordlessly. “… I would, you know.”
I really, really would.
He blushed impossibly deeper, eyebrow raised. “You… Would?”
“Tony, are you kidding? You’re everything to me. Of course I would. I mean- if you, uh… If you wanted. But I wouldn’t- it’s not, like, a deal breaker, you know? You- I don’t-“
He snorted, shaking his head. “You’re floundering, baby boy.” I scowled, and he kissed my cheek gently. “I’ll… Bear that in mind,” he whispered vaguely, and I grinned, nuzzling into his hair.
“That’s such a non-response, but fine. I’ll respect your… Incredibly Tony process.”
“Just take me to bed already, you sap.”
I laughed quietly, lips brushing his temple, and nodded. “Fine, fine. I think…” I nudged a door open with my hip, and smirked. “Aha. Arrow, be good. We’ll be back… At some point.”
Dropping him on the bed, I growled as I fumbled with his belt, and he grinned as it snapped through the loops – then blinked in surprise as I slipped it over his hands, tugging them over his head. “… Oh.”
“Is this okay?” I murmured, securing it around one of the bars in the frame when he nodded desperately.
“Okay. It’s okay. It’s very, very, very oka-”
“Shh…” I breathed, nipping his jaw gently. “The only words I’d like to hear from you – unless I tell you otherwise - are ‘yes’, ‘please’, ‘more’… and maybe ‘Sir’,” I murmured, and he gulped audibly, shivering at the memory as I did.
“Y-yes, Sir,” he whispered, hips rolling slowly. “Please.”
I straddled his hips as I unbuttoned his shirt patiently, making him whimper desperately. “Easy, my good boy… I’ll see you right, don’t you worry. A little perseverance, you hear me? It’ll be worth your while if you can behave…” I leaned forward, tongue caressing his jaw slowly. “And you’ll be punished if you don’t,” I added softly, eliciting a quiet moan of delight.
“Yes, Sir,” he mewled, nodding eagerly. “Yes, yes, yes.”
I returned to his shirt, fingertips trailing the bare skin when it lay open at last, moving to tug his jeans eagerly from his legs as he twitched and wriggled.
“Please… Please,” he gasped, hands smoothing over the exposed flesh of his thighs, mapping ridges and canyons with my palms. “Please, Sir. Touch me.”
I arched an eyebrow, head cocked as I tutted, and he winced. “Roll.”
He obliged quickly, hips lifting without instruction, and I laughed quietly. “Would you look at that… So eager, aren’t you?” He nodded and whimpered, wriggling needily as I peppered light kisses across the base of his back. “I’m going to punish you, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re not going to say anything except ‘yes’, ‘please’, ‘more’, and ‘Sir’… And ‘thank you’,” I added softly, smirking, making him whine desperately.
“Yes, Sir. Please.”
I slid his boxers from his trembling thighs eagerly, purring at the sight before me. “… Can I… Can I taste you? You can say no,” I added quietly, thumb caressing his calf gently. “You don’t have to-”
“Please… Yes. Yes. Please.”
Gulping, I nodded, rocking up onto my knees and smoothing a hand over his exposed ass lightly before applying a sharp slap to either cheek in quick succession, making him mewl and writhe. “Easy, sweet boy. All done. One per word… Though we both know you love it.”
“Yessir. Yes, yes. Thank you.”
I groaned as his sighed gratitude made me twitch with need, leaning closer to trail my tongue over the heated skin. “Are you sure?” I whispered, and he nodded. “Give me a full answer please, sweetheart. Use your words for this.”
“I-I’ve been… Curious… For a while,” he admitted, rutting back desperately. “So please. For the love of God, please.”
My eyes flickered closed in delight, one hand wrapping around his hips to stroke him lightly, and I fought the urge to take him then and there as my tongue met him nervously and he groaned, pressing back against me. “S-sir, yes…”
Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck holy-
He whimpered and mewled, twitching desperately, and my free hand grasped his hips encouragingly as I hummed against him, probing and licking and holy shit I can’t believe this is happening-
“Please, please… More,” he panting, trembling beneath me, and I hummed eagerly, smirking as he gasped in pleasure before teasing my tongue inside his tight muscle. “Yessir, yessir, fuck – please, please, please,” he whimpered, thrusting desperately, his length twitching needily as I stroked him harder.
Is he-?
My internal question was answered as he climaxed without warning, pressing back against me with an eager yowl of pleasure, forcing me deeper inside him. “Fuck, yessir, yessir, please, please!” he cried frantically, fucking himself on my tongue as I simply hummed in surprise.
When he stopped rutting against me, I lapped greedily for a few more seconds before drawing away, biting roughly at the exposed cheek and making him whimper. “F… For the curse…” I murmured absently, resting my forehead briefly against the mark as I sighed. “Holy hell. That was… So… Hot.”
“Please…”
I raised an unseen eyebrow, head raising in shock. “You don’t want some time to… Recover?” I pressed softly, but he only whined, pressing back.
“Please, Sir.”
“Fuck- Sold. Sure. I’m- Yeah, I can do that,” I muttered, shedding my shirt desperately, his own still plastered sensually to his slick back as I stepped from my slacks and briefs without hesitation, fishing the bottle from his own discarded jeans.
His chest dropped lower as he whined, offering himself to me, and I blinked in pure delight. “A… Jesus, you’re… A fucking blessing, my good boy.” I gasped as my slick hand found myself – briefly, because there was already not a great deal left in my resolve, before teasing him lightly, making him shiver and jerk.
“Please, please, Sir… Pl-” he cut himself off with a desperate whine as I pushed inside him frantically, driving myself restlessly to the hilt with a groan.
“F-Fuck, baby, I hope you’re r-ready for it, because I’m not– that was just– you’re just-“ I trailed off with a wordless exclamation of pleasure as I fucked him eagerly, his legs giving way and sending him sprawling.
Nope can’t stop this is fine-
I sunk my teeth into his shoulder as I cried out, nails clawing desperately at his back as I emptied myself inside him, twitching and trembling.
He curled against my sweat-damp chest, shivering with pleasure, and I simply whined wordlessly, tipping his head to kiss him at last. He’d dodged my lips as I untied him, eyebrow arched, muttering something about mouthwash and toothpaste I was too exhausted to question.
“Good?” he prompted, still breathless, and I only nodded, vacant eyes locked on his face.
“…Hmn… Mnfn… Mn.”
He snorted, kissing my cheek lightly. “Okay, stud. It was… Very, very good for me, too,” he sighed, shifting closer.
“… Hot,” I muttered, and he nodded, inching away.
“Sorry, I-”
“No. You. Hot. So hot. So…” I dissolved into unintelligible noises once more as I pulled him back against my side, burying my face in his hair, and he laughed, then paused.
“I… Was it… Everything… Oka-”
“Sh,” I interrupted, a hand blearily smoothing across his face. “Amazing. Sh. Sh. Cuddle. Sleep. Then more. Always… Always more.”
So good. So tired. So… Goddamn perfect.
As I felt myself drifting quickly into a satisfied, dreamless sleep, his breath deepening beside me, cicadas chirping through the open window, I was struck by the profound and silent truth.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Tony's too sharp for this, and Clint emerges blinking into the light of day.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 2764
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) blood mentions, SH and wound references, brief discussion of addiction, self-blame, violence, mentions of prostitution/slavery, generally shitty ways of talking about women, relatively mild body gore.
𝐀/𝐍 -> A Companion Piece to Multitudes, exploring the relationship of Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. This chapter best corresponds to Multitudes Chapter Thirty- I recommend starting here if you're reading both <3. Masterlist can be found here!
Check it out below or on AO3 here! Dividers come from yours truly.
<- Previous Chapter (18/46)
Next Chapter (20/46) ->
As was revealed, the answer to all of the hypothetical questions I’d spun in my moments of uncertainty was a resounding ‘no’. It was a 'it'll feel better, but nothing will actually change'.
It was a 'maybe you should try again - maybe it will help next time'.
I woke cold and shaking, and alone.
Tony must have disabled the alert. That was lucky, I reflected distantly as I picked myself up with a wince, a slow trickle of blood snaking its way down my thigh at the motion. In my hatred and emotional delirium, I’d given little thought to the AI warning system, and was grateful – albeit concerned – for its cessation.
I think I understand why he uses the shower.
I curled my lip at the state of the floor, the scent of rust and bile permeating my senses sickeningly as I floundered, reluctant to leave for some more effective cleaning supplies – a conundrum that led to my knees finding the floor as I wiped frantically at the congealed mass with toilet roll.
Almost done. Almost done. Almost-
“Stephen? You in there, baby boy?”
Fuck.
“Uh- y-yeah. Just a sec. I… I’m going to jump in the shower. Could you do me a coffee?”
The shadow of his feet under the door hesitated briefly, and cleared his throat. “Uh… Yeah. Yeah, no problem. The usual?”
“Black.”
He let out a soft sound of surprise before humming affirmatively, and I resumed my frantic cleaning the second he walked away, merciful I’d never gotten around to removing the lock.
Being freshly showered introduced an entirely new problem – though the burn of unexpected pain when the water met my wounds was a surprisingly satisfying experience.
I have to leave this room. How do I leave this room?
My eyes lingered on the handle nervously before casting around once more, shrewd and thorough as I examined the previously blood-slick floor, nodding with satisfaction.
“Stephen, honey? Your coffee is going to go cold.”
Swallowing dryly, I cinched my towel tighter with a slight wince, exhaling sharply before letting myself out.
He was sat half dressed on the bed, sweatpants low on his hips, and I diverted my eyes politely as I approached – until his hand gripped my wrist when I went to pass by him. “What’s going on?”
“I… What? I’m just – I just need to get dressed, I-”
“Stephen Strange, the only time you’ve not looked at me with anything less than want, even before we were together, is when something is wrong. So… I’ll ask again; what’s going on, baby boy?” He pulled me closer, gaze boring into mine probingly, and I flinched, one eyebrow raising when he examined my exposed skin.
“T-Tony- what are you-”
“I’m worried, Stephen. Please. Maybe I’m paranoid, I just…” He sighed as his thumb caressed the inside of my wrist, gentle and loving, and he bit his lip. “I just worry. Humour me. Please.”
I stepped back and extended my arms theatrically, scowling softly. “See? Nothing to worry about. Can I get dressed now?”
He recoiled minutely at the venom in my throat, panic flaring when I jerked back as he reached for my towel. “… Stephen…”
“Leave it, Tony. Sometimes I’m just not up for it, okay? Sometimes I just want to put my clothes on, and do my job.”
“You know the more you avoid this, the more suspicious I’m going to be, right?” he snapped, standing, reaching for my arm as I stepped back again. “Please, Stephen. I… I’m going to do this, one way or another. Don’t make me make you, baby boy.” His eyes squeezed closed as his forehead met mine, and I whimpered, one hand clenching on his shoulder desperately.
“I… I’m sorry.”
His jaw clenched as a tremor of pain passed over his features, and he nodded once. “Hypocritical of me to judge you, right?”
I snorted tearily, scrubbing my palm over my face. “Maybe just a little, yeah.”
He sighed softly, fingers lacing in my own that clutched desperately at my towel. “I need to see, sweetheart.”
“I…”
“Stephen.
Jaw clenched, I cautiously let him undo my white-knuckled grip, and he emitted a quiet, broken sound as he dropped to his knees, trembling lips finding my abdomen. “No… No, no, no. Not you. Please, not you, too.” His fingertips hesitantly skirted the gouges at my sides, and he sobbed softly. “Fuck, I…”
“I’m sorry.”
We blinked at one another in surprise as we spoke in unison, and he shook his head, reaching to entwine his hand with mine. “You have nothing to be sorry for, sweet boy. This… I can understand this. Of anyone, I can understand this.”
“You don’t need this,” I murmured, free fingers finding his hair. “You- you’ve been doing so well-”
“So it makes it about time for me to look after you, right?” he interrupted steadily, his eyes on mine as he leant into my touch with a weak smile.
“What the hell are you sorry for?” I muttered, blinking back tears as he winced.
“This… I mean. Who gave you the idea that this could help? If anyone is responsible here, it isn’t you, baby boy. I-”
“No. No. No, Tony. You think I haven’t thought about it every damn day since Natasha? Wondered how something so… Violent, could possibly be helpful? How it must feel to be worth the pain? I’ve been seeing this for years, Tony. It… It wasn’t about you.” My gaze flickered despite myself, finding the screens I’d been staring at only several hours earlier, and he grimaced.
“You’re an idiot, Stephen. You… You didn’t need to see that. Not at all, but definitely not on your own,” he muttered, shaking his head as he stood to wrap his arms around me as my fingers grasped desperately at his back, my heartbreak pouring into his flesh as I sobbed. “You dumb, dumb boy… I’m so sorry you saw that.”
“I-I… It’s w-worse, somehow, isn’t it? It-it would be b-bad if any of them… But sh-she…”
He nodded softly against my hair. “You figured it out too, huh?”
“She cried, Tony. Sh-she cried… So much.”
“I know, baby boy. But it isn’t your fault.”
“I-I let them go,” I admitted softly, finally putting words to the guilt sat in my chest like a rock for the last four months. “I let them go, and now… It should be me. It should have been me.”
He jerked back to meet my eyes, shaking his head frantically. “No, Stephen. No. I understand why you feel guilty – hell, my name has been cleared, but I still fucking despise myself for what I’ve done to them. But it is not your fault, do you hear me? They… They may not have felt like they had a choice, but it was, at the end of the day, only their decision to leave, no matter how much it sucks. You did everything for them. This is not your fault, Stephen. It’s not your fault.”
My knees gave way as I wept, his arms around my waist catching me quickly as I crumpled, curling my shaking body against his chest with a soft sound of grief and lifting me easily. “It’s okay, baby boy. I’ve got you now. Everything is going to be okay.”
I’d lay in shame as he gently smoothed antibiotic ointment over my wounds, accepting my quiet, humiliated explanation as to why I’d rejected stitches, and my medical certainty that it was now too late, without complaint.
The entire time, he kept up his chant, soft and reassuring. It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault.
“I’m not doing it again,” I muttered, eyes closed in embarrassment, and he chuckled weakly.
“Yeah. I said that, too.”
“No,” I replied firmly, glancing at him with my jaw set. “It’s not because… It’s because I didn’t hate it. That’s why I can’t. I… I can see too easily how this… How it becomes an addiction. I can’t fall down that hole, Tony. I won’t. I refuse.”
“You… refuse?” He prompted, one eyebrow raised, and I nodded hard.
“I refuse.”
He snorted as he lay beside me, arm gingerly wrapping around my waist. “I think that’s the smartest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Doctor Strange.”
Tony banned me from going on missions as we moved forward, despite the relief I'd found in his reassurances, and even as my wounds healed slowly. I'd argued vehemently, but then he spoke to Steve – though considerately not revealing my injuries - and I was benched, permitted to leave only for distribution and collection.
Clint's updates were spasmodic as the seasons turned to the height of summer, but he felt like he was getting closer – he’d caught a man, at last, and I was tasked with escorting the two back to the compound, as well as making sure Clint didn’t kill him – at least, not before we could get any information out of him.
It was more of the same when I stepped through – but worse, somehow, now there were three girls huddled in the corner, wrapped only in threadbare blankets, eyes wide and concerned. Girls we could help, at last, but the sight of them made my heart bleed.
“It’s okay…” I soothed, kneeling before them with my hands extended innocently. “It’s okay. I’m a friend. We’re here to help.”
Clint translated quickly behind me, the Russian flowing easily, but the man he had his bow pointed at only laughed. “They will not speak. Not unless I let them,” he muttered, spitting blood on the floor with a glare, his English hesitant but sickeningly clear as he shared this minute, horrifying detail with us.
“You don’t talk to them,” Clint growled, inching closer. “You are alive for one reason, and if you can’t help us, I’ll kill you where you sit and leave your body for the dogs, do you understand me?”
I simply blinked in surprise, one eyebrow raised at the feral man before me, a far cry from the soft-hearted archer I’d known.
He was an assassin, if I recall. Though I never saw it in him before now.
His hand found the man’s collar, throwing him roughly through the portal ahead of him before glancing at the girls and murmuring gently. They nodded in unison, shuffling to their feet obediently, and I winced at the acrid scent of unwashed bodies and a lack of care.
This is how they were treated. This was what I put them-
No. No. It… It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault.
“We’ll… Bruce will help. Cap’s already on his way back; I offered to do this alone so you could get him, but…”
But he didn’t want you to do this by yourself, I reflected silently, only giving him a nod of understanding. “They’ll be okay, Barton.”
“Yeah. They will,” he muttered, pushing a hand through his hair as he stepped through, dragging the dazed and confused man to his feet as I gestured the women forward with a reassuring smile.
“Four weeks ago, you… Acquired this girl,” Clint spat, sliding a photo of Natasha on the table between us, wincing minutely at how expediency and language barriers forced him to refer to his collective. “Where is she?”
“Ah… Little Lia,” he crooned, grinning toothlessly, and I curled my fingers tightly in an effort to control my own temper as Clint blanched.
He didn’t know it’s… It’s been her, I realised in horror, recoiling infinitesimally. “W-well – whatever you call her, we need to find her.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “She was a good girl. Very obedient. But fouled. I put her in the dirt where she belonged.”
Clint stood slowly, his hand brushing the knife at his waist as he moved to stand behind the sentient detritus before me, and I met his gaze pointedly, fingers shifting infinitesimally in a silent warning, earning me a terse nod of understanding. He leant over, his voice soft as he growled. “You’re going to want to be more specific, because if she’s dead…”
He shook his head easily, shrugging. “Not when I saw her. She came whimpering about a doctor, so I put her on the street. Whores like her cheap and many. Why would I waste my time and money?”
Oh, you’re going to need to be far more afraid and courteous here, or even I won’t be able to stop him from tearing out your throat.
The archer’s eyes closed minutely, jaw tightening, and my heart went out for him. This is horrible enough, but if someone spoke about Tony like that… I don’t know how he’s still breathing.
“Okay. So… You put her on the street for being unwell. I’m just… I’m not going to address that particular, revolting behaviour right now. When was this?”
“I don’t know. Two, maybe three days ago. Morning. She has her duties first thing, but came to complain instead of just sitting on my-”
I winced as his head met the desk, nose shattering on impact, and Clint jerked him back by his hair to hiss in his ear. “I dare you to finish that sentence. I’ll cut out your fucking tongue.”
“Barton,” I chided softly, unenthusiastically.
They only said not to let him kill him, right? I know I should be against the violence, but it’s pretty hard to be right now.
His eyes widened minutely, then narrowed before he spat something in Russian, eliciting a cold laugh from the archer.
“No, we’re not the police. We’re far, far more dangerous, and way more powerful, and I am not above torturing you to get the information I need. So you’d do best to answer my questions, and be far more careful about how you speak about my fiancé,” he snarled warningly.
“I-I don’t know anything else!” the ‘owner’ countered, hands raising as best as his restraints allowed. “I put her out, and she left. Two days ago. There was an infection – she… Could no longer be of use to me. I-I’m sorry!” he whimpered, finally showing an appropriate level of terror. “I know nothing else! She walked away, but they usually don’t stay alone long. They’re either picked up, or… They are kept weak to stop them fighting. I don’t know where she went, I swear!”
Clint nodded tersely, rounding the table. “Hospitals. Any reports in a… What, maybe… A hundred miles?” he snapped at me, and I nodded quickly.
“She would not make it one hundred miles. She would not make it five, not in her condition,” he man countered softly, and I shot him a look, leaning across the metal as I shook with rage.
“You don’t know them,” I muttered, eyes narrowing. “They’re stronger than you will ever understand.”
“Your fiancé is dead, boy. Accept it. There are many more pets just like her in my city. Let me go, and I will find you one better! Prettier, more obedient!”
Clint paused, one hand on the door.
“… What did you say?” he asked softly, his voice steady.
“Oh, you poor, dumb fucker,” I snorted, shaking my head as I stepped back from the table.
“I- there are plenty of girls like her. Better ones! You do not need to waste your time looking for a dead girl.”
Well, you’re certainly not a smart man, are you?
Clint turned, steps slow as he approached the table, and I grimaced pre-emptively, the motion reinforced when the archer’s curled fist met his jaw once- twice- three times, the bone splitting and shifting with a resounding crack. By the time Barton released his collar, his mouth hung oddly, blood trailing from between his lips and more than one tooth on the floor as he whimpered pitifully.
The ex-assassin only leaned closer, smiling faintly. “Do you want to say that again?” He shook his head quickly, groaning in pain as his jaw shifted uselessly, and Clint snorted. “Didn’t think so. The only reason I’m not beating the holy hell out of you is because I have shit I need to do. Consider yourself lucky.”
He turned once more, and I hesitated briefly, glancing back. “What should I-”
“He’s Fury’s problem now. But if I ever find out he’s back on the streets and hurting more people like Natasha, I’ll kill him. That’s a promise.”
I nodded, stepping to follow him without looking back when the waste of oxygen in our wake garbled unintelligibly.
A small but significant part of me really hopes he chokes on his blood before Fury gets here.
Something sweet and silly and very indicative of the type of chaos one is likely to find with the Brotherhood...
Scott surveyed the ingredients lined up before him. He had the cake mix—two boxes of devil's food, as per Lance's request. And he had the frosting. It came with colored, fish-shaped sprinkles because Kitty insisted that baking should be "festive."
I can't even with this. Scott's so sweet but also does not suffer fools lightly; the clever dismissal of Pietro and his 'help' got me XD And I'm not at all surprised by Kitty's prank. Fortunately, frosting tastes the same in all colors...
@mutuallyprime bringing the laughs just as readily as they do everything else <3
Nothing is More Wretched Than the Mind of a Man Conscious of Guilt.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> The net can't tighten around a phantom, and Stephen's darkness grows.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 2315
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) SA and other torture mentions - heavily implied. Guilt. SH.
𝐀/𝐍 -> A Companion Piece to Multitudes, exploring the relationship of Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. This chapter best corresponds to Multitudes Chapter Thirty- I recommend starting here if you're reading both <3. Masterlist can be found here!
Check it out below or on AO3 here! Dividers come from yours truly.
<- Previous Chapter (17/46)
Next Chapter (19/46) ->
I was barely cognizant as Tony and I presented for breakfast, spent and exhausted, but even I was aware enough to shuffle away from his arm as we reached the glass doors.
“Uh... No. Try again, baby boy,” he laughed, his hand still extended. I blushed as I settled myself back against his side, burying my face in his shoulder.
“I’m dating Stephen,” he declared instantly as he escorted me into the room, and my face flamed against his shirt, but the pride and joy in his voice made my skin sing, and I purred happily.
“Looks like somebody is back in the land of the living. Are you two done sulking now?” Wanda snorted, and I glanced up to find her grinning fondly. “You know we’ve been trying to talk about this for the last two months, right? But you’ve both been... Well, I’d have got more conversation out of the damn toaster,” she finished, waving her toast pointedly.
“... We?” Tony prompted, and the congregated heroes nodded.
“You’re still trending on Twitter. And Instagram. And most news sites,” Bruce added, eyebrow raised. “You’ve spent most of every day on the Internet; how haven’t you noticed?”
“I had Friday blacklist results about it from those computers,” Tony countered, wincing. “Figured it was... Easier.”
“Wait – oh my god. You don’t know, do you?!” My eyes flicked back to Wanda, startled as she grinned, giggling. “Friday, could you bring up the display for us?”
The seldom-used holographic screen flickered to life in the centre of the table, and she hummed, swiping and tapping quickly. “Okay – here. The post you made after everything... Well, exploded,” she finished, wincing guiltily, and I nodded as I stepped closer curiously, unable to supress a fond smile at the sight of Tony’s head on my chest for all the world to see. “Adorable, by the way, and we’ve been assuming it was partly a protest piece to the initial... Backlash.”
Tony nodded, moving closer, despite the anxiety clenching his muscles. “Partly. Also, you know... Wanting to shown him off,” he added softly, fingers trembling infinitesimally as they met mine, and I offered him a weak grin.
“Well – you... You’ve kind of... Started something. Your tag - #IAmIronMan? It’s... I’ll just show you,” she fumbled, shaking her head as my body tightened nervously.
Until she spread the display.
Hundreds– thousands, upon thousands, of posts.
Selfies, poems, text – and every single one that my eyes found was a display of support.
‘@IAmIronMan you are a blessing to our community! We love you! #IAmIronMan.’
‘Can’t believe @ IAmIronMan is one of us! We’ve got you, brother. #IAmIronMan.’
‘Because of you, I came out to my family. I’m now dating my best friend, and I'm in love with her. Thank you, thank you, thank you. #IAmIronMan.’
‘Don’t let the haters get you down. We’re here for you! #IAmIronMan.’
‘Hey @ IAmIronMan, my boyfriend and I had our first date the same day! (I think mine’s cuter ;D) #IAmIronMan.’
‘Growing up trans, @ IAmIronMan was my hero. This regular dude whose entire superpower was his brain? Loved it. He made being a hero accessible to everyone (and, can’t lie, he’s why my name is now Anthony). But you’ve never been my hero more than you are today. I’m so proud of you. #IAmIronMan.’
I blinked back touched tears, but the man beside me didn’t bother, the rivulets flowing silently down his cheeks. “I... I had no idea. That night, I-I read some comments. Some were good, but... A lot weren’t.”
“Well, the tide has turned,” Wanda noted softly. “The hate is rare, and it’s being quickly – and, if I do say so myself, very effectively – dispatched by the community y’all have behind you. Honestly, I don’t think you’ve ever had such a good perception; people generally tend to think you’re a bit of a dick,” she added, deadpan, and I snorted, pressing my lips to his hair lovingly.
“My dick,” I purred, and rolled my eyed when he smirked. “You’re the worst, you know that?”
His arms found my neck, and he tugged me closer, kissing me tenderly. “Your worst,” he amended, eyes dancing happily. “I love you so much, Stephen.”
“We know. We heard... A lot,” Steve muttered, lip curling, and I stiffened as Wanda shot him a glare, Cap raising his hands innocently. “What? I’m not horrified because they’re gay – I’m horrified in exactly the same way I’m horrified by Clint and Natasha.”
I glanced around shamefully, jaw set. “I... I’ve kind of dropped the ball. Anyone have any idea where he is?”
“Budapest – that was the last we heard, at least,” Thor offered softly, wincing.
“And the last time we heard from him was...?”
“Six days ago. Don’t worry, though; Clint will be fine,” Wanda reassured me weakly.
Not if we don’t find them soon. Not if we don’t find them safe. He can't keep going like this.
I threw myself forcefully into my work after that, scouring the internet desperately, sending the team to far-flung areas of Eastern Europe. The net was tightening; it was just a painfully slow process. But from the conditions and stories we’d investigated, time was of the essence.
It took over a month for me to finally feel able to step back into the field. Tony was doing incredibly, and our relationship was flourishing, giving me the tentative hope that if anything did happen to me, he would be okay. Not good, but... Alive, at least.
And the first room I saw sent me reeling into the Viciebsk sunlight, gasping for breath as my stomach churned. “Honey, honey. It’s okay,” Tony breathed, metal hands finding my forearms supportively as I bent double, his face panel sliding back to meet my eyes tenderly. “They’re not here. It’s okay.”
“I-I’ve seen the recordings from the suits, but I...” I gulped back bile, shaking my head.
“Doesn’t do it justice. I know,” he murmured, nodding, and pressed his lips to my forehead gently. “I know.”
“They were here for weeks, Tony. And we lost them. Again. We were so close, and they slipped through. Again.”
I should have found them sooner. Moved faster. Just been better-
He frowned, tipping my jaw to meet his gaze. “Stop that.” I blinked in surprise, and he smiled weakly. “I can see you berating yourself, and I won’t have it. You’ve been working flat out. You know as well as I do that these people only share their files online after the fact. And every single one of our eyewitnesses has only come forward after they’re gone, because they don’t want to put themselves at risk. So no, baby boy. This is not your fault, do you hear me? You’re doing everything you can, and nobody could ask for better.”
I leant against him with a sigh, my hands clenching against the metal. “You’re hot,” I muttered, and he snorted softly.
“You’re an idiot.”
“You look good in red.”
“Down, boy. We have a job to do,” he murmured, kissing my cheek gently. “… But I’ll put it back on for you later.”
I purred weakly, nuzzling closer, and nodded. “We have a job to do.”
He laced his fingers with mine, and I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of wonder despite my building anxiety as his helmet closed once more, staring down at the crimson and gold laced with flesh. “… Iron Man is holding my hand.”
He scoffed through the metal, the sound distorted by tech, but no less smile-inducing. “Baby boy, Iron Man holds your hand every day.”
“I mean, yes, but…” I held up his grasp in mine pointedly, the lights of his eyes finding me. “Not like this.”
“… Is this… Okay?”
“What? Of course. Definitely. I…” I blushed, caressing the metal with my thumb lightly. “It’s okay.”
“… Well, I’ll be exploring that later…” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’ll be the death of me, sweetheart. Come on. We have things to do.”
I nodded slowly, reluctantly following him back into the ramshackle shack. “So… Anything useful?” I muttered, jaw clenched against the malodorous aroma threatening to drive my lunch from my stomach. A cross-hatch of light scanned the room as I squatted beside the mattress, lip curling at the bloodstained cuffs and significant stains to the worn fabric, reaching out a trembling finger to touch the rough metal.
Oh, Natasha…
“They… They were here,” Tony murmured, his wince audible. “As recently as twenty-four hours ago.”
I nodded softly, hand drawing away from the macabre instrument. “That makes sense. … How much blood?”
“I… I’m not-”
“Tony,” I murmured, turning my head to look at him softly. “I won’t watch the tapes, but I need to know. Please.”
He sighed, and I recoiled as the lines and patches projected across the room – mostly concentrated to the middle of the floor, but the splatters extending from each side of the mattress told a violent, gruesome story. “… Some. Not a lot. Not…”
“Not as bad as some of the others. I know.”
I would never watch the videos – I had Friday skim all new uploads and show me only their face so I could confirm identification. But I’d seen the suit footage when there’d been no effort made to cover their tracks, and I frequently wondered how anyone could survive the things they had.
Though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see their eyes become more and more hollow every time I gazed into the green depths, ever more dull and lifeless.
I’m going to find you, Natasha. I promise. I swear. I won’t let you down – not again.
… I wonder if it would get rid of this ache in my chest.
“It’s not just blood, you know,” Tony murmured, fingers curling into fists by his sides.
“Yeah. I know.”
“Did you-”
“No,” I replied, shaking my head quickly.
I’ve seen them bleed, and I have a pretty good idea what happens in these rooms. I can’t… I can’t see that, too.
“Okay. I’ll… I’ll light it up for the tape, though. Just… Come here, sweetheart. I won’t let you see, don’t worry.”
I got to my shaky legs and curled against his chest obligingly, his arms tight around me as he rotated stiffly.
I should be looking. I should. I deserve to know what they’ve been though.
He hesitated at the mattress at the corner, swallowing audibly, and I flinched closer.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.
I glanced down at his head on my chest, wincing. He’d been eerily quiet all evening, his eyes low and tortured, and I couldn’t help but worry about what he’d seen.
Even the glances of footage he’d watched through sheer determination to understand their suffering hadn’t kept him so… Broken.
He murmured in his fitful sleep, fingers tightening in my side until I winced.
… I have to. He shouldn’t be the only one. Especially considering he’s not the one who let them go.
I slipped gently from under his arm, watching briefly until he curled into himself with a soft, heartbreaking whimper.
I’m sorry, honeybee. I have to do this.
… I wonder if it would help me sleep. I never sleep anymore.
I crossed silently to his array of monitors, arms wrapped around my waist as the footage started to play.
The knowledge that we were laughing about his suit only moments before made me feel queasy as Friday’s autogenerated legend appeared alongside of the empty room a heartbeat before it lit up.
And light up it did.
The blood was only the tip of a truly heart-wrenching iceberg, red splatters I’d already seen before.
Next came the urine – once more, largely confined to the mattress and the middle of the room, though in opposing quantities.
The traces – or, for a better expression, multitudes - of semen had my breath stuttering in my chest- and I let out a hollow whimper as Friday's hyperintelligent analytics differentiated the unholy scene.
Unidentified Male #1.
Unidentified Male #2.
#3.
#4.
#5.
Five. Five different fucking men walked in to that room and abused them. And countless more before that.
And it’s my fault.
I did this. Just as surely as if I’d put my hands on them myself.
The image of Nat screaming as I checked their stitches flashed unbidden before my eyes, and I felt the pressure of Ashe’s foot on my throat vividly, the fury dark in their gaze.
And because of me, it’s all happening again.
I glanced reluctantly at the screen for a final time, and any resolve I had fled at the sight of the last analytic.
Tears.
Tears of pain - 12%.
Tears of emotion - 88%.
(Isn’t it bizarre how the composition is different?)
This... This was Lia. Only Lia would...
The realisation sent me hurtling into the bathroom as my stomach clenched, the meagre portion of my dinner finding the bowl before I sunk to my knees with a whimper.
“Not her. God, not her. She’s so fucking sweet. … Take me. Please. Just take me instead,” I breathed desperately, fingers trembling in my hair.
My hands didn’t shake as I pressed the scalpel with surgical precision into the space low on my hip where Tony wouldn’t see, covered and compressed under my waistband when the bleeding stopped.
Two on one side, and one, vicious and hated, in the other - one for each of them.
And a long, furious carve between the protruding bones – a line I’d made many times to bring life into this world, now used to punish myself for my own. Connecting the tips of the three, an undeniable link.
I woke with a grim determination, jaw setting as I gazed down at my sleeping my fiancé.
“I know what I want to do today.”
His brow furrowed as he squinted up at me, eyes half-closed against the sunrise. “Huh? What… What time is it?”
“Seven-thirty,” I replied dismissively, waving a hand. “It’s fine - sun’s up.”
His mouth worked wordlessly for a moment, then he snorted, dropping a heavy arm over his face with an audible thunk. “Why?”
“Because I know what I wanna do today,” I pressed insistently, tugging on his wrist. “Wakey-wakey, Yoshitsune.”
With a good-natured groan, he let me pull back the metal, shifting quickly to wrap the arm around my waist instead, scooping me against his chest. “Mm. Five more minutes…” he mumbled, half-rolling with me in his embrace, and I giggled, squirming in vain against his chest.
“Yoshi,” I whined insistently, nudging his jaw with my forehead as he smiled, feigning sleep. “You normally wake up at stupid o’clock, but now you decide you want a lie-in?”
He snored dramatically, and I snorted. “Yeah, like your snoring is actually that quiet!”
One eye cracked again, crinkled at the edge with amusement. “Go on, then, Swan. What is it you’d like to do today?”
“I want to go to the lake.”
Confusion clouded his features for a moment, eyebrows drawing together, before it cleared, only to be replaced with concern. “Lia…”
“I know,” I replied, one hand resting gently on his chest. “I know. I remember what happened last time. But I’ll be more careful. And before too long I’m gonna be too fat to do much of anything. Please, Silver?”
He watched me uncertainly for a few moments, indecision warring behind his gray gaze, until he nodded at last. “Fine. But we’re taking precautions,” he added quickly when I lit up. “And I’m staying right beside you, okay? Nothing super fancy - not at the minute.”
I nodded quickly, pressing my lips to his. “Of course! I’ll be really careful, I promise.”
He snorted, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Swan.”
He wasn’t kidding when he mentioned ‘precautions’.
Not only did he double - and triple - check both the route and the weather, he also printed out a map - and sealed it in a plastic wallet to protect it from the elements, just in case.
And if that wasn’t enough, he also sent Stephen the co-ordinates of the lake, with strict instructions to come and check on us if he didn’t hear from us in a few hours.
“You’re being dramatic,” I chided playfully, rolling my eyes.
“I’m being careful,” he corrected, zipping my coat up to my chin. “It’s my job.”
With a fond giggle, I stretched onto my toes to kiss his cheek. “It’ll be fine,” I assured him softly, and he squeezed my fingers gently.
“I’ve got you, Swan,” he agreed, resting his forehead briefly against mine.
The trek through the snow was quicker than I remembered, with Yoshi’s hand in mine and the sun shining.
“It’s a nice day,” I murmured, resting my head gently against his bicep as we walked. He hummed in agreement, and I glanced up at him. “… Are you okay?”
He exhaled once, worriedly, and pressed a gentle kiss to my head. “I just… Have concerns,” he murmured, holding me a little closer. “After last time… I thought I was going to lose you out here.”
I nodded once, squeezing his arm, smiling a little when it didn’t give at all. While he’d had a somewhat uneven reaction to his arms, I adored them. Nothing in the world made me feel safer.
“Last time, I was reckless.” He opened his mouth to interrupt, but I shook my head quickly. “No arguments - I was. I was enjoying myself too much to care that the snow was getting heavier. Because of that, I got hurt, and we lost our bearings. It was a simple mistake, but it was my mistake. And it was one I won’t repeat - not only for your sake, Yoshitsune, but for our child’s,” I add, my free hand trailing lightly over my bump. Unmistakable now, making every footfall just that little bit heavier. “I wouldn’t do anything to put our little one at risk. So I’ll skate carefully, with you right beside me, and if it starts coming down or heading towards dark - hell, even if I start getting a little chilly - we’ll head home straight away.”
I paused, looking up at him sincerely. “I’ll be careful, Yoshitsune. I promise,” I vowed quietly.
He studied my eyes for half a second, then smiled tenderly, leaning closer to brush his lips over my forehead. “I know,” he agreed.
We fell into step once more, and it was only a minute or so later that the lake came into view - vast and glittering like shattered diamond in the bright sunlight, frozen just as solid as last time.
“I’m checking the ice before you step foot on it,” he informed me sternly, and I giggled, saluting.
“You got it, Captain MacCennedi,” I purred, beaming when he shook his head, the motion fond and amused.
“You’ll be the death of me, Swan,” he chuckled, spreading the blanket he carried under his arm over a log so I could sit while I swapped over to my skates.
I tried not to look nervous as he stepped onto the edge of the ice, my fingers tightening around the laces.
When it didn’t as much as creak beneath his weight, he took a few steps further out, a drill in hand. I watched with something between fascination and arousal as he knelt, the drill bit passing with ease through the ice. He pulled it out and examined it for a moment, before moving several feet further out and repeating the motion
It was fascinating to watch as he worked his way across several spots before making his steady way back to me, surefooted in his heavy winter boots.
“All good,” he declared, shooting me a grin, his jaw twitching with embarrassment when he caught me staring. “… What?”
“You’re really hot,” I observed steadily, and he chuckled, offering me his hand.
“Come on, Swan. Let’s get you dancing.”
When my first step on the ice had me wobbling, I saw his eyes flare in alarm, fingers tightening on my elbow.
“Easy, sweet boy,” I murmured softly, shooting him a half-glance. “I’m okay. I just need a second - my centre of gravity isn’t quite where it once was.”
He glided beside me slowly as I established my balance, the unsteady shuffling easing out gradually. I was far less experienced than he was, and the aubergine in my abdomen didn’t help matters - but I had a life of dancing to fall back on, and I adapted swiftly.
When I tried to speed up, his hand slipped to my fingers instead, holding me tightly, and I glanced at him adoringly.
“You know I can’t actually move all too much with you hanging on to me, right?” I pointed out playfully.
His sigh was audible, but he slid his hand from mine reluctantly.
I could feel him only a few feet away as I sunk into that quiet place in my mind that was reserved only for things like this.
The calm, unhurried crossovers, one foot passing in front of the other in a sweeping arc around the edge of our makeshift rink. A few toe-loops, almost lazily.
And then the real fun began.
By the time I stopped, I was shaking with the effort - and alight with joy.
Yoshitsune had long stopped in the center, simply watching me quite literally skate circles around him. He might be faster and more powerful, but he had no interest in delicacy, except mine. Never one to pass up the opportunity to watch me dance - whether on ice or Marley - he had come to a halt, rotating in place as I flew around him.
And how I flew.
Everything in my mind - all my worries, all my fears… It all went quiet when I danced. Everything that scared and haunted me, all the things that whispered in the darkness, were all silent at last. Freedom became a living, breathing thing; for a few short moments of holy surrender, I was no longer bound by the pains I carried. I was starlight given shape, a tempest untamed and unbroken.
And when I stopped at last, eyes on his, panting and flushed, I knew he could see it, too.
He approached me slowly, his hands coming up to cup my face his thick gloves as he kissed me with all of the tenderness and reverence he could muster.
“You are… Limitless,” he whispered, kissing me again. “Transcendent. Incandescent. Resplendent. … My jarhead vocabulary is running short, but I hope you get the point.”
I giggled and nodded, tears pricking my eyes as I leaned up to kiss him again.
“Ready for home?” he asked softly, and I smiled as I nodded.
“Ready for home,” I agreed.
He glanced at the map repeatedly as we made our way back, despite never straying from the path he’d marked on it. And when the snow started to fall lightly, his arm wrapped around my waist to hold me closer, staving off the chill as sweat-damp skin made me shiver.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple.
“You’ve got me,” I agreed softly.
When the cabin door swung shut behind us ten uneventful minutes later, sealing out the cold with a sturdy whump, I sighed with the bone-deep contentment of having arrived somewhere that was unambiguously home.
Yoshitsune was already moving - his boots toed off by the door, coat hung to dry, stirring the fire back to life with the easy efficiency of someone who had done the same sequence of motions a thousand times before. I watched him from the doorway, still in my coat, still windswept, still with snowflakes studding my hair.
“You’re dripping on the floor,” he noted without turning, though I could hear the smile in his voice.
“I know,” I replied, but I didn’t move.
He glanced back at that, and my expression gave him pause, poker loose in his hand.
He looked at me the way he often did, the way that made my chest warm and aching; he looked at me like he still couldn’t believe I was real.
I crossed the room and tucked myself into his side without a word, coat and all, his arm wrapping around me instinctively as he set the poker aside, lips lowering to my hair.
“Good day?” he asked softly.
My mind turned over the ice under my blades - the silence in my mind - the way the world had gone simple and wide and free, just for a little while.
The way he had watched me as though I were something he was blessed to watch.
“Really good day,” I replied simply.
The fire cracked and spit as the logs caught, snow tapping lightly against the window. I pressed a kiss to the sharp curve of his jaw, and felt him grin, just a little.
It's promo time, so here! Have an angst/comfort fic about what it's like trying to do... Well, anything, with a disability.
When Clint gets the Invite to his sisters Wedding, there are a lot of things going through his mind. Not all of them are good.
As a disabled person, I cannot explain how much I empathised with this. It can be so hard to be excited, even about things that should just be a happy day, when you have to put so much thought into 'will the venue be accessible? Will there be issues with the travel? Will everything that is supposed to be there actually be there/be functional/only be available on request and there's nobody around to actually ask?'
It's draining, and Clint's worry captures this perfectly. It was so encouraging to see how Charles handled it, though. @42donotpanic does it again. <3
In Our Deepest Moments, We Say the Most Inadequate Things.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> The morning after.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 2934.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) injury mentions, relationship anxiety... .But mostly, it's just smut. Almost entirely smut.
𝐀/𝐍 -> A Companion Piece to Multitudes, exploring the relationship of Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. This chapter best corresponds to Multitudes Chapter Thirty- I recommend starting here if you're reading both <3. Masterlist can be found here! I'm aware that we're skimming some of the Nat details - but this project is, after all, largely about Stephen and Stark! ❤️
Check it out below or on AO3 here! Dividers come from yours truly.
<- Previous Chapter (16/46)
Next Chapter (18/46) ->
Waking up in his arms after yet another painful period apart was a blessing.
But rolling and catching sight of the rough lines of stitches on either side of his throat took my breath away for an entirely different reason, and I grimaced.
His eyes flickered open, catching my expression, and he snorted. “Is my breath so bad? I didn’t-”
“Tony?”
“Hm?”
“Can you… Can just shut up and fuck me? Please.”
He grinned, but it faded quickly as he winced. “Are… Are you sure you-”
“Yes. For the love of God, yes. It’s been… So long since I felt close to you. I need you to look me in the eye and make me feel like you want me,” I whispered, arms hesitating as they went to wrap around his throat, and he flinched.
“Sorry. For… Both things.”
My nails dragged lightly down his chest, sinking into the taut muscle lightly and making him groan. “I can just hold you somewhere else for now, honeybee. Don’t worry about it.”
He purred and rolled me, hands catching my wrists and pinning them by my head. “Or I can just make sure you can’t touch me anywhere…”
I hummed in pleasure as I rolled my hips against him, then shook my head lightly. “Not today. I’ve… It’s been so long since I touched you. Please.”
He released me immediately, and I skimmed my hands over his biceps with a purr, squeezing and scratching lightly, carefully avoiding the litany of wounds across his skin, and he flinched minutely. “Sorry.”
“Sh, honey. Please. It’s okay.”
He nodded as his lips found mine, his hand on my thigh pulling my leg around him. “I’m going to make you feel… So good.”
I whimpered, nodded desperately. “Please. Please, honey. Please.” His mouth shifted to my neck, nipping and licking and – my God I forgot how good this felt-
“Tony…”
“Tell me what you want, baby boy.”
“Hm- I-I… It’s been a while s-since you…” My eyes flicked down pointedly, and he smirked.
“Oh, is that right? You know, it’s been a while since you did that, too…” He leaned up to bite my lip softly, and I whimpered.
“I-I want to. Please. Please, Sir. Let me taste you.”
He swallowed dryly, meeting my gaze with a quirked eyebrow. “What happened to look me in the eyes?”
“Y-You can look me in the eyes while you swallow like that, if it makes you feel better.”
He exhaled heavily, pupils blowing wide with desire. “Damn… You got it. But I think I should go first. That way I can bend you over when I’m done with you.”
I gulped and nodded desperately, hips twitching. “Yes, Sir. Please. I-I want to taste you. Please…”
Not sure how I went from begging for my own pleasure to begging for his, but I’m fine with that.
He groaned and rolled off me, smirking as his hands found the back of his head. “Come on then, honeybee.”
I couldn’t shake the fact that everything felt slightly clunky and out of sync, but I nodded as I sprawled between his injured thighs.
The second his fingers found my hair, and my lips found his length, my anxiety receded somewhat, and I whined around him as his hips twitched, hissing. “Holy shit, baby boy. Fuck… I forgot how good that tongue feels. Hm.”
My thumbs rubbed his hipbones encouragingly as I bobbed, and he grunted softly, rutting against me needily. Drawing back infinitesimally, I sucked lightly at his tip, and he let out an indecipherable sound of joy, jerking me back closer. “No, no, go nowhere, fuck. Nice and deep, sweet boy. Take it all for me, yeah?”
I whimpered, teeth skimming over him as I obeyed, revelling in the feeling of his hands in my hair, tugging and pushing lightly as his hips jerked. “Fuck, you’re so good- you’re so perfect,” he groaned, pressing up until he skimmed the back of my throat. “God, just like that, baby boy. Just there- fuck.”
Holy shit, I’d forgotten how hot he is, I reflected, rutting lightly against the bed in my desperation, taking him deeper, my hands on his hips pulling him closer eagerly, and he chuckled breathlessly. “I forgot how needy you are, s-sweet boy… I love how much you fucking adore this c-cock…” He jerked his hips and groaned, nails catching against my scalp in his passion. “Fuck- I’m- fuck-”
He whimpered weakly as he buried himself inside me, back arching from the sheets, my name falling from his lips as he begged for mercy, hot and thick in my throat as I swallowed with a whine of pleasure.
When he stopped spasming – and I’d sucked him dry – I crawled up his body slowly, kissing him deeply and eliciting a nose-wrinkle that made me laugh. “It’s not that bad.”
“You aren’t,” he corrected, his palm finding my chest as he pushed me back lightly. I sighed at his mouth on my chest, nipping and trailing and licking, and I whined as he bit a bruise into my hipbone firmly.
“Jesus- e-easy, Tony,” I hissed, a soft sound of pleasure dragged from my still-tingling lips, and he laughed.
“Lubricant.”
I arched an eyebrow in surprise, but obliged quickly, his fingers trailing my length with a feather-light touch, and I whined. “That’s incredibly distracting.”
“Sorry, shall I… Stop?”
Handing him the bottle, I purred as his touch was replaced with his lips. “Please- Please don’t tease me, sweetheart. I-I need you. Please.”
He took me in his mouth quickly, and I stuttered out a groan, jerking up desperately. Holy fuck, just- Never stop, please-
I mewled, legs spreading when his finger pressed against me lightly, my body torn between up – because holy shit, that tongue, that mouth, those teeth – and down – fuck me, please fuck me, it’s been so long and I can feel every inch of my body-
He took me deeper in his mouth as he pressed deeper inside me, and I whimpered eagerly. “F-fuck, honeybee, just like that, please,” I panted, eliciting a soft growl and a shift in pace as he worked me.
“Oh f- just like that, just there, please,” I whimpered, eyes rolling as he found my sweet spot, and my fingers tangled in his hair, rutting desperately. “Please, please, I need you, I need this, please-”
He hummed encouragingly around me, his second digit joining the first as I writhed, one hand across my hips holding me still – or as still as he could, at least. “Please, I-I- I’m- Please-”
He met my eyes, beautiful mahogany watching me intensely, and I squealed humiliatingly as I spasmed beneath him, the intensity of his stare dragging me bodily into an abyss of pleasure as I found my release, the gentle, repetitive motion of his swallows and sucks dragging further embarrassing sounds from between my clenched teeth.
I had barely finished pulsating before my legs were around his waist, and he leant over me to kiss me passionately. “Hm... See? Sweet as cherry pie. Sweet as honey, for your honeybee.”
Whimpering, I nodded desperately, pushing down needily. “Please, honeybee. Please fuck me. It’s been so goddamn- fuck.”
My voice failed as he pushed inside me, stretching and groaning and holy shit was it always this good? How did we stop?
“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby boy,” he hissed as he sheathed himself slowly, and I nodded frantically, fingers curling, legs around his waist pulling him deeper as he leant back, purring. “I love seeing you take it, honey... Fuck, that’s so hot...”
I whimpered and wriggled closer, and he chuckled softly. “What’s up, sweetheart? You tell me what it is that you need, and I’ll make sure you’re satisfied.”
“I-I- fuck- just fuck me- hard- f-fast- I need you- need your cock- I-I need you to put me through this mattress,” I whined, squirming against him.
The effect was instant as I begged for him; his hands found my hips as he jerked me closer, his pace fast and punishing, and so goddamn perfectly angled holy shit how is he doing that how is it this good how am I so fucking hard already-
“Sorry, baby boy, b-but I don’t know how l-long I’ve got,” he grunted, fingers grasping at the thin skin over my hipbones as his nails dug into me desperately. “You’re so good and it's been so long...”
I whimpered and nodded, guiding one hand to my throbbing length eagerly. “Please- please, I-I want you to come in me- make me come for you- please, T-Tony- Please, Sir...”
He groaned breathlessly as he fucked me roughly, his fingers tight around my already leaking member. “Fuck, you’re so desperate, baby boy- is this what you want? You want me to stroke that pretty cock and make you come while I fill you up?” I nodded frantically, hips bucking as he fisted me, dragging soft whines from my lips against my will. “Come for me, sweetheart. Show me how much you want me.”
I whimpered and writhed, the muscles in my jaw screaming at the tension as he buried himself inside me, groaning as he reached his peak, and the feeling of him filling me had me biting down on the back of my forearm as I sobbed with pleasure, my own crescendo and twitches dragging him deeper with a whine of overstimulated joy.
I reluctantly released my latch on my skin when he pulled away, jerking with sensitivity. “Hmn- fuck. Jesus, baby boy. You really took it, huh?” His fingertips teased my stretched hole, still leaking, and I giggled quietly.
“Mmmhm,” I agreed sleepily, waving a hand toward him. “Hm. Need a shower. Carry me.”
He hesitated, and I winced guiltily, cracking an eyelid to find him glancing at his multitudes of stitches. “... I... Sorry,” I murmured, shame crawling through my body as I shifted upright with a subtle wince. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart, it was-... Stephen, c’mere a sec?”
I’d gotten halfway across the room before his voice drew me a halt, and I glanced back with a weak smile. “No, I know, it was... Just a mistake. I know it’s not the end of the world, don’t worry.”
He shook his head slowly, extending a hand to me. “It’s not about that, baby boy. Please?”
I obeyed slowly, head cocked with concern. “... Yeah?” I prompted, sliding my hand into his, and freezing when he turned my arm over.
“What happened here?” he murmured, fingertips skirting the lightly bleeding bite embedded into my skin, and I pulled away with a blush.
“I... Nothing. Don’t worry about it,” I muttered, shaking my head, but he simply grasped my wrist as he stood.
“No, baby boy. You can’t... Do something like this, and tell me not to worry about it. Not after everything. Please,” he breathed, touching his forehead to mine softly, and I closed my eyes in pain.
“I-I wanted to... To...”
“To be quiet,” he finished softly, and I parted my lids in surprise to find his own squeezed shut, and nodded weakly. “Yeah. I thought – feared – that may have been the case. Everything felt a little... Discordant, didn’t it?”
I nodded again, swallowing dryly. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know-”
He silenced me with a gentle kiss, hands finding my neck tenderly. “You have nothing to apologise for, sweet boy. It’s not your fault. We’ve just... Lost our step a little, that’s all. It’s not surprising things were a little… I mean, it was good – it was incredible – but something was just…”
“Something was missing?” I offered softly, and he nodded uncertainly, my lips skimming his. “I guess we’ll just have to… Keep trying.”
He raised an eyebrow, smirking, and kissed me harder, growling under his breath. “Mind if I join you in that shower?”
When he slid inside me, bent into the spray, I froze, muscles tensing, and he paused. “I-I… Is this… Should I stop?” he offered softly, and I bit my lip.
“This is…”
“I know. This is how it all went to shit.”
“Is this a good idea?” I whispered, and he hummed.
“I… I don’t know. Do I… Not?”
“I… Carry on. Please,” I breathed, pushing back lightly. “Please.”
We need to make this good again.
He swallowed audibly, shifting slowly, my legs trembling as I gasped. “Fuck.” The sparks burnt under my skin, back arching as I pressed against him, and he groaned, hands tightening on my hips.
“Jesus, baby boy….” he hissed, thrusting roughly. “Fuck, I-I… That’s…”
“So much better,” I whimpered, gasping softly as he jerked me closer.
“My sweet, tight boy-“ His fingers clawed along my back, and I clenched my teeth in pleasure until he pulled me back, one hand on my wrist to keep me steady as he rocked against me, while the other found my throat. “Don’t you dare. If you want to scream, you scream. You scream, and moan, and beg, and make all those other delicious sounds that make me want to fuck you for the rest of my life.”
I mewled lightly, and he purred in my ear. “Let me know how much you love it, baby boy. Let me know how good it feels to have me fucking that ass when it’s already leaking with my come…”
I whimpered again, soft and needy, as I pushed back against him, his hand finding my length making me shiver desperately. “I-I do… I love it. Please…”
He groaned quietly, driving himself eagerly inside me. “Fuck, you’re so good. I… Hm… I remember exactly what made you come so hard last time…” His tongue trailed my jaw, and I whined. “You’re my little fuck toy, aren’t you?”
Gasping, I nodded frantically, hips twitching needily. “Yes- yes, Sir.”
He tutted, pace slowing, and I whimpered. “We covered this, pet…”
“M-Master! Master, please, please… I’m sorry, please… I’ll be g-good, just- just fuck me, please,” I breathed, shifting needily on his length.
He hesitated only a heartbreak longer before thrusting roughly, my body jerking from the force, and I groaned weakly, fingers curling against the tile. “That’s it, my good boy – you make all the noise you want, you hear? I want to fucking world to know how goddamn amazing you feel…”
I whimpered again, quiet and restrained – until his free hand found my ass, hard and punishing, and I yelped around my gritted teeth. “Didn’t you hear me, slut? I know you love this cock inside you; I can feel you twitching around me like the whore you are… So let me hear you.” His hand left my skin again, and I whined in anticipation, but the blow never came. “… Is this-”
“Yes,” I whimpered, rutting back desperately. “Please. Take the ch-choice away. Make me loud. I-I need-”
The sting of his palm on my flesh had me groaning deafeningly, and rutting back with wanton abandon. His hand found my thigh, shifting to prop my foot on the edge of the tub and drive himself deeper, my noises undeniably exactly as loud as he wanted as I cried out. “F-Fuck yes, just like that, just- God damn, you’re so fucking hot, I-I’m so close,” he panted, his pace losing rhythm as he stroked me desperately, and I ground down frantically.
“Please- Please, I want- I need you- Fill me up, Master, please, please- m-make me scream for you,” I whimpered, hips jerking desperately, and he stuttered out a moan.
“Fuck, don’t you dare stop, come slut. I want every last bit of it stuffed inside you, do you hear me? Take it all... And then you can come.”
I nodded frantically as I rutted back, the memory blurring with reality, and he moaned loudly, forcing himself deeper as he found his release. My legs trembled as his thrusts failed to slow, jerking me closer to hiss in my ear.
“Scream for me.”
His hand stroked me deftly as he ploughed against my sweet spot, and my fingers grasped desperately, sinking into his forearms as I obliged, and he groaned in pleasure, driving harder inside me.
Fuckyespleasemorejustlikethat-
I panted as my knees gave way, dropping to an exhausted heap in the spray until he recovered enough to chuckle, helping me slowly back to my shaky legs and wrapping his forearm my waist. “I’ve got you, baby boy,” he purred, nose nudging mine fondly. “I’ve got you.”
The sound that escaped me was simply one of baffled, exhausted pleasure, and he snorted, his free hand guiding my arms one by one to his neck. I winced at the rows of stitches under my skin, opening my mouth to express my concern, but he interrupted my objections with a tender kiss. “It doesn’t hurt, honey. And I need my hands, so you need to have a way to stay upright.” I cocked my head curiously, then purred in surprise as his fingers slid into my hair.
“Oh… That’s nice,” I murmured gently, wincing at the pain in my throat, and he chuckled, pressing his lips to my neck gently.
“God, I love the sounds you make,” he breathed, tongue trailing the skin gently. “So, so much. It makes me… Ugh. Insatiable.” I purred happily, twitching my hips toward him, and he snorted. “I do still have a recovery period though, baby boy. We can’t all be as young and virile as you,” he murmured, and ducked down.
“Oh, okay, I’m f-fine with…”
He stood once more with his shampoo in his hand, one eyebrow raised, and I flushed deeply. “I… I mean, let’s at least get you clean first.”
