#seeing our morgan is a relief to know that somewhere out there they were saved. but hers wasnt. isnt that fucked up

[sieglinde-freud]

feel like morgan/lucina is kinda underrated like i get why. but also like… duuude… take it from lucinas perspective: the kid of the fell god that betrayed your father turns against you despite years and years of friendship and most definitely knowing eachother since birth (do you honestly think chrom and robin wouldnt set their kids up on play dates immediately? really??) and despite how much you love them you know they’re beyond saving and you have to leave them behind to succumb to grima when you go back in time to save the world, accepting that youll never see them again! oh shit buts whats this… they show up in the past anyways? having forgotten all the time you spent together, the trouble they caused, everything you meant to them? but its them, its morgan and for the first time in years youre able to see them again happy, carefree, and in complete control! should you feel sad? scared? overjoyed? i dont know! but slap some yuri on that and you got a crazy ass little sideplot all im saying!!!

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

no matter what it takes

summary: y/n is kidnapped, and for once reid can’t think of a solution

inspired by this request: Hiiiii! I absolutely love your writing it’s so amazing! I was wondering could there be a storyline where your all working a case (the reader is dating Spencer) and have a lead and you go to the suspect’s house and while there you get kidnapped when back at the BAU the team is trying to work out how to get you back and they get a ransom vid of you getting beaten (dark I know) so they all have to work faster and they find you but while you're taken can we see it from like Spencer’s POV and his thought process on your being gone. Anyways they find you and you’re like drugged majorly injured you wake up in hospital Spencer’s there and it’s fluffy at the end.I know that’s rough but I really love your writing and hope this is ok x

word count: 2,331                                                                                               reading time aprox: 8 mins

a/n: to whoever requested it, i kinda didn’t follow your format or ending. i’m really sorry to disappoint you, but i was writing the plot one way, then suddenly it took a turn. i hope you still enjoy it!

masterlist

Spencer’s POV

My eyes scanned the words in front of me, Charles Dickens displayed in between my hands. I hoped my thoughts would wander more as I explored the novel, taking my mind off of the case I worked previously.

Out of the blue, two soft hands appeared on my knotted hair, massaging the scalp tenderly. “Are you settling okay, my love? How was the case?”

I exhaled deeply, setting the book down beside me as I guided my best girl to my lap. I cushioned her to my side, nuzzling my nose into her shoulder.

“That bad, huh?” Y/N sympathized, trailing her fingers at the cut of my chin. I nodded into her, taking in her calming scent. She smelled of fresh daisies in the summer and the first layer of snow in the winter.

I lifted my head from hers, bringing my arm around her shoulders to pull her closer to me. I sighed in relief as a wave of calm brushed over me. “We were too late...we couldn’t get to one of the last hostages before the unsub.” I shook my head, taking her hand in mine. I examined the daintiness of her fingers, chuckling softly as I placed kisses upon each of them.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she whispered, nuzzling into me as we enjoyed each other’s presence. “Did you catch the unsub?”

“No...he got away last minute,” I sighed, running my hand over my face. “This unsub likes to make things personal. He only killed the last victim to mess with us.”

Silence infiltrated the conversation before it dived into the dark details of the case. The combined sounds of our breathing created a tranquil environment, lulling us to sleep with every second passed.

“I promise you Y/N...”

-

The shade of grey that covered the walls of the BAU prevented agents’ minds from meandering from their tasks. This proved quite effective in intended circumstances, although the caveat was the consequence of a disconcerted mind.

The film cast over my eyes exacerbated the existing burn from staring into space for too long. Although the sensation was unmatched for the void that consumed me from the inside. My limp fingers twitched beside me in a rhythmic pace, reminding me that this was real. My feet felt heavy against the granite tiles of the office, barely able to hold up the rest of my stature. I felt my muscles sag underneath my weight as the feeling of emptiness flooded from my torso to the knuckles of my hands.

“You be careful, Y/N!” I teased, watching as my lover’s silhouette disappeared into the elevator.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone!”

I shook my head, amused at the incessant Marvel-themed references that had been thrown my way since our last movie night. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

I hissed as I felt my nails dig into my palms. I hadn’t realized how hard I’d been clenching my fists until I looked down to see blood trailing around my nail bed. Shaking my head, I cleaned off the evidence against my slacks, watching it seep through the material.

“Guys?”

My head shot up to find Penelope typing away at her computer. Her brows were crossed with worry and her eyes would flicker frantically between her four monitors. The rest of the team seemed to follow me to her station, gazing with anticipation at what she discovered.

“What do you have Garcia?”

“I-um. I’m picking up a satellite feed somewhere in Danbury, Connecticut,” she spilled out, her fingers shaking over her keys. “Ther-there’s a livestream that just went active two minutes ago, an-and it’s...there’s-oh my god.” Penelope pushed herself away from her screens, tearing her eyes away as her face grew hot.

“Reid. Out.” Hotch demanded, not taking his eyes off the feed in front of him. JJ moved beside him, further blocking my view of the monitor. Her face contorted in shock and disgust, similar to the expression Garcia beheld moments ago.

“What...why?” I questioned, taking steps forward to investigate, but was ultimately stopped by Morgan. A coil wrapped around my insides, getting tighter with every breath that I took. The sides of my forehead began to warm up with a disorienting blaze, traveling down my eyelids. The fire followed down to the pit of my stomach, sending an uneasy chill down my spine.

“Kid…” he whispered, shaking his head in caution.

“What…” I breathed, feeling my cheeks swell up. Morgan couldn’t meet my eyes--none of them could. “God, it’s my girlfriend. I deserve to know where the hell she is,” I huffed, pushing past Morgan. Although the words were launched back into my esophagus, turning into bile that burned away at my pride.

A high-pitched ringing echoed and bounced around my head. My ears thumped with a resonating drum, overwhelming my senses. Every sharp intake of air felt like ice shooting up my nostrils, and every exhale felt like fire to my lungs.

Y/N was hunched over in a chair with braces around her wrists and ankles. Her beautiful hair was matted with dirt and blood, sticking to the sides of her face. Her skin was painted with a mixture of sweat and grime, hiding the usual radiant glow of her skin. Fortunately, the blurry pixels of the video saved me from witnessing the large gashes that ran along her flesh.

A man stood next to her with a Cheshire grin, his pervasive eyes scanning every inch of his work before breaking the fourth wall. He stared at the camera with a joyful gleam, tilting his head as he inspected the lenses.

“Spencer.” I imagined her call out. A phantom chant met my ears, remembering the softness in her voice and the soothing gravity she carried within her words.

“Spencer, stop it!” Y/N giggled, burying herself deeper into our duvet.

“Why baby?” I murmured into the crease of her neck. “We should just stay like this all day. Maybe if we stay long enough we can morph into a chrysalis.”

“Spencer,” she giggled. “Spence…”

“Spence?” JJ empathized, searching my eyes. She placed a hand on the outside of my arm, lingering there for a comforting moment. Although when she realized her attempts were futile, she retracted her arm with a tight frown on her lips. “I know that-”

“The feed is displaying audio now,” Garcia announced with a wavering tone. I slid past JJ, standing my ground next to Hotch as we listened to the livestream. Whimpers echoed throughout the concrete compound she was trapped in. Her body flinched as the man inched closer to her with an object out of view from the camera. The fear in her eyes left a sharp pang in my chest as a burning resentment ignited my bloodstream.

“Stop…” she whispered, pulling away from the man. “Stop...please,” she sobbed. Her face was contorted in anticipation, glancing down at the item creeping towards her. It was only then a glint of a metal object bounced off of the camera, a foreign substance leaking from its tip.

“Stop! Please!” Y/N’s voice amplified in volume as the inevitable came. “NO!” she screamed, thrashing in her seat as the needle penetrated the soft layer of her skin. “SPENCER! HELP!” she cried out, desperation seeping through her weeps.

A suffocating poison ran its course throughout my body, entrapping me in the limited reality of my abilities. I felt my inner conscious thrash against the walls of my mind, begging for an answer, a solution. I tore my eyes away from the screen, my hand unconsciously clawing at the base of my neck. Staggered breaths blocked my airway, and the room shrank under my feet.

I needed to get out.

I let my feet sweep me away from the office, as far as it takes. My back hit the cold wall of the eerie hallway, feeling the chill penetrate through my blazer. I closed my eyes as I banged on my forehead, hoping that the gears would start working, but nothing seemed to bring me assurance.

Nothing could assure that she’ll be okay. I failed her. I failed to assure her that I was going to keep her safe. I failed at keeping her safe. I failed her.

My heart was pulled against my spine, attached tethers tearing it apart in opposite directions. Contractions of adrenaline seeped into my nervous system as her anguished screams left the room silent behind me. It was like gravity had ceased to exist, leaving me floating in a mind-numbing state of desolation.

I failed her.  

“I’m always going to love you,” I reassured, tucking in a hair behind her ear as she swung her legs back and forth atop of the counter.

“Really Spence?” she giggled, bringing the spoonful of 3:00 am ice cream out of her mouth, dangling the utensil from the bottom of her plump lips.  “Prove it?”

“Darling, isn’t there a tub of ice cream--that I bought--in your hands?” I teased, tapping at my watch. “And last time I checked it’s the middle of the night.”

“Whatever,” she giggled, nudging at my shoulder. My hands traveled to the sides of her hips, pulling myself closer as I inspected the beautiful glow of the moonlight reflecting off of her visage. “I thought you were going to say something cute.”

“That wasn’t cute?”

“Not even close, Spencer Reid,” she mumbled, tapping on the end of my nose before taking my face into the softness in her hands. She playfully scoffed as we inspected each other’s eyes for what seemed like hours. My arms found their way around her waist, melting into her, as I lessened the gap between us.

“What is it?” I whispered, my eyes flickering from her eyes to the pigment on her lips. Closing in proximity, I nudged her into me. But before our lips could meet, a chuckle filled the air and a hand was placed above my chest.

“I...am out of ice cream.” With that, she scurried away to the fridge with a bounce in her step. I shook my head in amusement, whispering to myself.

“That girl’s damn lucky that I love her.”

Frenzied feet inside the office took me out of my daze, but it was the sound of soft steps approaching me that made my shoulders stiffen in anticipation. I collected my composure the best as I can, maintaining a brave face for whoever would walk into the doorframe.

I didn’t even bother to look up to see who it was. The figure’s footsteps halted beside the door frame, leather shoes in my peripheral. Without a moment of quiet, the figure stooped down with its back pressed lightly against the wall. Although despite the thick tension, the figure remained silent.

“You know I don’t always need company…” I murmured defensively.

“I know kid...I know,” Morgan huffed, bringing his hands to his head. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have any.” He knocked his knee into mine, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “She’s going to be okay Spencer.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that she’s strong,” Morgan countered. “You just gotta believe in tha-”

“Don’t- Don’t give me hope like I’m one of the victims we interview. I’m- I’m not a victim.” I nudged his large hand off of me, feeling confined in the big desolate hallway.

“I wasn’t saying you were-”

“But you implied it!” I combed through my hair, my lungs still sore from staggered breaths. “I’m...I’m sorry,” I sighed.

“I said I’m sorry!” I yelled, feeling my throat dry up from the venom dripping from my words.

“This is the third time, Spence. The THIRD time you came home late,” Y/N seethed.

“Who are you? My mother?”

“All I want is to know that you’re safe, Spencer! God! I wait here all day for you, knowing that you’re out there on the field, and something could happen. How does that make me feel?”

“This is ridiculous,” I shook my head, dismissing her ignorance. I headed towards my jacket that I strung up on the coat hanger a few minutes ago, not bothering to take my keys with me.

“Where...where are you going?” Y/N whispered.

I made the mistake of looking back and seeing the hurt present on her face. The apples of her cheeks were stained with tears, and her eyes were glistening with fresh ones. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, still looking plump and soft even in her distressed state.

“To work,” I monotonously replied, turning away from her. I shuffled out of the apartment with anger dominating every part of me, blinding me to the point where I guess I forgot to lock the door.

“I did this.”

Morgan’s head shot up at the utterance of my words. “What do you mean, kid?”

“I left her by herself...alone,” I scoffed. “We were fighting, and I just left her there. God, I didn’t even lock the door.” I rammed the back of my head against the plaster wall, squeezing my eyes tightly. “How can I be so stupid? Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“Hey, stop that!” Morgan intervened, pulling my shoulders off of the wall. “You didn’t know that this was going to happen…”

“Yes, but I should’ve known, Morgan! Don’t you get it!”

“Spenc-”

“I had one job…” I sighed, the inner walls of my chest collapsing into themselves. “God I...I should’ve known.”

My head fell back into the curves of my palms, my tears shamelessly peeking out of the corners of my eyes. My chest heaved reluctantly, as my heart lurched forward. Heat crawled up my cheeks, combining with the coldness of the tears running down my face.

Morgan’s supporting hand felt like a phantom’s upon the skin of my back, knowing that nothing compared to the innocent touch of my Y/N.

-

“What is it, Spence?”

“I promise you that....that I’m always going to keep you safe, no matter what it takes.”

-

taglist: @rexorangecouny​ @howdycharlie @honeymilk-4​ @linthebinbag​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @ssareidbby​ @kyleetheeditor​ @tclaerh​ @jimilogy​ @lulwaxim @jhillio​ @m3ssytrash​ @haylaansmi​ @meowiemari​ @ashwarren32​ @spencerwaltergubler​

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Request for a little angsty fic with some fluff at the end? Maybe reader is BAU team member and goes undercover but it goes wrong and she gets pretty hurt while inside. Hotch has to keep his cool but is mad/upset but they eventually get her out and have fluffy ending .. details can be changed 😊

Rescue

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, angsty

MASTERLIST

----

“What’s a beautiful lady like you doing here all alone” a large hand rested on my exposed lower back as I leaned on the bar. Looking over to the owner I smirked as the man smiled down at me. So far so good

“Been having some troubles at work lately and I just need some form of relief, think you could help me out?” my fingers trailed up the man’s arm, squeezing his biceps 

“Careful y/n or you may just end up sleeping with the man” Morgan’s voice came through my coms   

His dark eyes raked over my curves that were accentuated by the form fitting dress that reached mid thigh, pulling me closer to him

“I’ve got just what you need. Why don’t we go somewhere a little more private?” taking my hand in his he lead me through the crowd of the pub. My eyes locked with Derek’s across the room before Slade lead me to a vacant corridor. I opened my mouth to speak but before I could I was hit over the head

-----

“Hotch I lost her” Morgan’s panicked voice came through my phone’s speakers. My stomach dropped as my entire body filled with fear

“What do you mean you lost her!” my fists balled into fists as they rested on the table. The team sat there sharing the same look, fear

“He took her out of the room and I stayed back. I found her coms in the corridor and I searched the entire place, she’s gone, I’m sorry”

“Get back to the office we don’t have much time to find her” hanging up I turned to Garcia 

“I need you to dig up everything that you could find on Slade Wright, associates, properties, family history, everything Garcia” I ordered as anger started over taking me, jaw cleanched tightly I went to my office

This can’t be happening again 

I cannot lose someone that I love to this job again

Getting to my destination I shut the door behind me and went over to my desk. Letting out a frustrated grunt I cleared everything off of it

Damn it! Why did I agree to send her in

Plopping down in my chair I ran my hands down my face and took some deep breaths to try and calm down. Hard to do that when your fiance is God knows where with our latest unsub

-----

“Wh-where am I?” groaning I blinked multipule times to adjust to the dim lighting. I went to move my arms but I couldn’t, the were bound with rope behing my back as I sat upright on the wooden chair 

“You know, you almost had me Agent Y/L/N. Too bad we never got round to that relief you wanted” Slade’s hot breath fanned against my neck as he leaned over my shoulder

“Such a shame really, I thought I had your dumb ass in the bag”  he yanked my head back forcing me to look at him

“Watch your mouth or else” 

“Or else what, you’re going to carve me up the same way you did to all those women” tightening his hold on me he stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out his pocket knife, blade glimmering in the light 

“Yes, but first” I held in my urge to scream from his blade being jabbed into my thigh

“Let’s have some fun” 

-----

Eight hours

That’s how long it’s been since her abduction and we’re nowhere closer to finding out where he took her. Walking out the front door of Slade’s getaway property I dialed Garcias number, she answered almost immediately  

“Garcia are you sure they’re aren’t any other locations in his name or aliasses?” furrowing my eyes I looked up at Rossi and Prentis as they came closer to me

“I checked them all sir, nothing under his parents or his name besides the houses that you’ve raided already unless-” she paused and the tapping of keys became louder 

“Unless what Garcia?” Rossi asked

“I checked everyone besides his ex-wife” 

“What do we know about her Garcia?”

“Heather Wright, she was twenty-nine when she died three months ago”

“How’d she die?”

“Suicide, she slit her wrists in her bathtub. According to the police report Slade went over to her house to drop off their six year old daughter Hailey, she didn’t answer the door and he used the spare  key and went in. He saw the water running from the bathroom and that’s when he found her”

“There’s his stresser”

“I need an address Garcia” the three of us headed to the suv 

“Already sent to your device”

-----

“You’re going to wish you didn’t do this” coughing I winced at the pain that shot through my body, blood slowly oozing out of all the places he used his knife

“Who’s going to save you baby, I don’t see your beloved husband to be anywhere and yes before you ask how I know about your fiance, I did my research on the BAU the moment you guys showed up” he came closer to me laughing, taunting me with each stride he took. Slowly tilting my head to the side I saw movement in the doorway, Aaron. He slowly walked in making no sounds or sudden movements, gun pointed at Slade

I halfheartedly laughed at his predicament and he tipped my head backward

“What’s so funny?”

“You should probably look behind you” I coughed, blood spluttering out of my mouth

“Drop the knife” Aaron ordered and Slade pressed it to my neck

“Think about your daughter, Hailey. She already lost her mom she doesn’t have to lose her father also” he slowly removed the weapon before dropping it to the floor. Rossi came over and cuffed him, taking him out of the room as Aaron shouted for medics

“Took you long enough” I chuckled lightly as he undid the ropes on my arms

“It’s not funny, I almost lost you”

The medics came in and they helped me into the gurney. Aaron held my hand as they wheeled me out to the ambulance. He brushed the hair out of my face and kissed my temple

“I love you y/n”

“I love you too Aaron”

[darthkruge]

Hi! I've seen that in your recent post you've been trying to make characters more gender neutral which I think is awesome! I'm gonna try and make my request gender neutral as well! I was wondering if you could do a criminal minds imagine (I'll let you choose the character that you wanna write it for cus I love Morgan, Hotch, and Reid equally) where the reader was taken by the unsub but they found her right before the unsub tried to (tw) k!ll the reader. If possible can the end be kinda fluffy♡

Spencer Reid x Reader ~ Maybe

Summary: The classic kidnapping fic where the reader is taken by the unsub and Spencer finds them. Fluffy, comfort-filled ending <3

Warnings: Angst, language, violence, blood, guns, knives, torture, near-death experience, kidnapping in general, (happy ending I promise)

Words: 2.2k

A/N: Hey!! I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me for taking so long to get to this!! And thank you for making your request gender neutral, too! That’s so thoughtful and sweet! And I decided to go with Spencer, although I also love them all. And yes the end will definitely be fluffy, as the angst with a happy/fluffy ending is basically my brand at this part. Thank you for requesting and, again, I’m so sorry for making you wait, I hope you like this!

You woke up and could only register pain. Well, pain and cold. Mind numbing, cuts to your bones, pierces your brain, cold. You tried to look around and get a sense of your surroundings but it was so dark; you could barely make out the shadows in the room, let alone any defining details.  

Judging by the old, dirty smell, you guessed you were in a barn or shed somewhere. You had no idea where; the asshole must have knocked you out. You’d been working the case for weeks. The team thought they found some DNA and were tailing the guy, but it didn’t pan out and, since then, the trail had basically been cold. But then you finally figured out what number to trace, cracked his encoded router, and got a license plate and ID. George Craig. On your way to tell the team, he had messed with your car and was able to jump you. Fuck, you hated him. 

Even so, you refused to give up. You had faith in your team and, most of all, you had faith in Spencer. Your brilliant, gorgeous boyfriend. You loved him more than anything and there was no one in the world you’d want on the case more than him. You knew the team was already looking for you, as it was only 10am when he got you and it was probably at least 7pm now, judging by the temperature and darkness. 

You tried to move your arms but your shoulders screamed in protest. You felt the chains around your legs and the handcuffs binding you to a pole above you. Judging from the pain, your shoulder was almost definitely dislocated. You were sitting at an awkward angle and could already feel your joints tightening. The frigid air definitely wasn’t helping, making your muscles contract and body stiff. 

“Hello, Agent L/N”

Your entire body stilled at that moment, sheer panic running through your veins. Stay calm, Y/N, stay calm. You tried to will air into your lungs, forcing deep breaths even though the terror was screaming at you to close up. You knew this man fed on fear and, thus, your best chance of survival was to pretend you were unphased. Even so, the logic felt severely discomforting with him standing above you, knife and gun in hand. 

“George. What the fuck do you want from me?” Your voice was venomous, the pure hate for him clearly pictured on your face. You decided that if an emotion was going to show, you preferred hate to fear. 

“My, my, my, look at you! I thought you were supposed to be smart. Or is that trait left for your boyfriend. Agent Reid, was it?”

Your blood ran cold. “Leave him out of this.”

“Ohhh, looks like I’ve hit a nerve, haven’t I?” The man had a horrifying smirk on his face, clearly enjoying your struggle. 

You glared at him. “You never answered my question”

“Oh, yes!” George chuckled, “What the fuck do you want from me?” He said, mimicking your voice mockingly. “To kill you, of course. To take you away from Spencer, from the team. To make them feel the pain of losing someone, just like I lost-” 

He trailed off and you saw his eyes burn with anger. And under that anger, you knew there was pain. Even so, you couldn’t feel bad for this man, regardless of who he’d lost. You knew that at the slightest hint of your empathy, he’d take advantage of it and kill you on the spot. 

“You know what? Death would be too easy for you. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to put you out of your misery. Then, and only then, will I shoot you. I will watch the blood run out of the bullet hole and smile, knowing the pain I caused you and your precious team.”

You wanted to cry, the fear pulling at you. Once again, you pushed it down and channeled your rage. Rage because you were in this situation. Rage because this man had ended so many lives. Rage because you were powerless right now. Rage because holy fuck your shoulder hurt. Gathering the fury, you spat at him. 

George’s mouth twisted into a sneer as he brought his leg up and slammed it into your chest. You heaved, the wind knocked out of you. Before you could grasp the air you so desperately needed, George kicked you again. And again. And again. You could feel the bruises forming, your ribs throbbing painfully.

He pulled his fist up and pummeled it into your cheek. Your left cheekbone busted open on impact and your lip split as he backhanded the other side of your face. He slammed the butt of his gun into your temple and your vision swayed, body crumpling as far in on itself as it could, given the restraints. 

He kicked at your legs repeatedly, both of them twisting at painful angles. You felt yourself start to black out, the pain unbearable. Every inch of your skin was ablaze, every muscle felt like it had been sledgehammered. Your bones ached, your body numb from his onslaught, the freezing cold, and the restrictive bonds you’d been in for hours. 

Finally, he took a moment to stop. He looked at you, at your barely conscious and recognizable state. You were beaten to a pulp, your face and body bloodied and broken. You could feel yourself wanting to give in but forced yourself to stay. For yourself, for Spencer, for the team. For that future you always talked about with him. For the house you were saving for, for the dogs and cats and animals you might one day get. For the family you might decide to have. For the idea of peace, you fought. 

George picked up the gun and pointed it at your head. A shot rang free and you braced yourself, a single tear running down your cheek as you realized you would never see your love again. Your ears rang and you felt like time had slowed. You knew the bullet would hit you. Until-

“Y/N, Y/N!” Your name was being called, the gentle yet panicked voice cutting through the ringing in your head. You tentatively opened your eyes and saw George’s body on the floor, blood oozing out of him. You slowly moved your eyes around, trying to take in your surroundings. 

Everything was overwhelming. Nothing was registering properly in your brain. It was just sounds filtering in an out, vision flickering. You felt like you were floating through the ringing in your ears. Tears ran down your cheeks as you shook. You didn’t know why you were shaking. The cold. The shock, you reasoned. Both seemed likely. It was like there was an overwhelming sense of calm. Your body was shutting down. Somehow, this gave you understanding. 

You felt the handcuffs around your wrists release and your arms dropped limply. You knew you should feel pain from your dislocated shoulder but, instead, you just let your eyes closed and felt your body fall. The last thing you remembered was coming into contact with a Kevlar vest, messy brown hair, and a familiar sense of warmth. 

When you awoke, you felt yourself being gently jostled. Your eyes slowly opened and you took in him. Spencer was looking at you, concern evident on his features.

“Hi.” You said, voice hoarse. 

“Hi, angel. Let’s get you inside, alright?”

You nodded, allowing him to help support your weight as you stepped out of the car. You leaned heavily into him, your legs badly injured. Spencer wrapped his arm snug around your waist as the two of you slowly but surely made it into your shared apartment. 

He helped you sit on the couch before moving to join you. 

“I’m surprised they let you take me home. I thought I’d wake up in a hospital, for sure.”

“They did take you there, love. You were at the hospital for a few hours but you were in and out of consciousness. You’ll heal, don’t worry. A few broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, severe bruising, sprains on your legs and ankles.”

“Plus a busted face” You add drily.

 Spencer wasn’t amused by your attempt at sarcasm. Instead, he just pushed your hair behind your ear and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should have gotten there sooner, I should have been with you! If I was there, if I was quicker-”

“Spencer, please don’t blame yourself for this! No one could have known. Besides, you saved me. And I’m not just talking about that in the literal sense. When he was beating me, when I was broken down, I thought of you.  I thought of our future, our dream. Holding onto that is the only reason I didn’t give up.”

Spencer’s eyes were filled with tears as he went to gently cup your face. He couldn’t find the words to express the love and relief he felt. “I’m just glad you’re back in my arms” 

You moved to hug him but winced. Even though the doctors had patched you up pretty well, the soreness and pain lingered and probably would continue like that for at least the next couple of days. 

“Hey, it’s alright. Let’s go to bed. I think you’ll feel better once you lay down, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.” You followed him into the room, holding his hand the entire time. Spencer noticed but didn’t mind, he knew you were just looking for comfort, exceedingly normal for what you’d just gone through. 

You laid down, settling against the pillows and fluffy blankets Spencer had prepared for you. 

“Do you need anything, baby?”

“Water?”

“Of course.” He smiled at you before moving to get up but you quickly grabbed his hand, panic overtaking you at the thought of being alone. You looked at him helplessly, hoping your gaze would convey the words that died on your tongue. 

Spencer nodded knowingly. He helped you out of bed, pulling you along with him as the two of you went to the kitchen. He wordlessly got you the drink, making sure to keep touching you the entire way. Finally, you made it back and the both of you crawled into bed. You laid on your uninjured shoulder, placing your cheek on Spencer’s chest. His arm came around you, holding you to him and drawing soothing circles into your skin. 

You closed your eyes and were immediately sent back to the shed. You tensed, pulling back. Spencer caught on and looked deeply into your eyes. “You’re safe now, Y/N. He can’t get to you anymore.”

“I know. Rationally, I know. But my brain won’t shut off. It’s like, whenever I’m not actively thinking about something else or looking at something else or hearing something else, it just comes back. Spence, I can’t- I can’t sleep. I just, I’m sure it’ll come back to me tonight.” Your voice broke, tears spilling onto your cheeks. “I don’t think I can handle reliving it and I’m so fucking exhausted. But I can’t rest because I can’t escape the nightmares.”

Spencer wanted so badly to comfort you but didn’t know what he could do. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t take the pain away. He wished he could put the trauma onto himself but, unfortunately, he was powerless. Thus, he offered understanding. He gave validation. He gave kindness and pure, nonjudgmental love. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m here for you and I know that doesn’t do much right now but I am. I’ll be here when the nightmares come and I’ll be here when the flashbacks try and drag you under. I’ll be here when the trauma starts to fade but suddenly reappears and I’ll be here 20 years from now, when the memory will still be real and painful but not all-consuming. I’ll be here forever, I’ll be here always. Please, tell me what to do to help you.” Spencer begged, hoping beyond all hope that there was something he could do to ease your suffering.

“Read to me?”

“Wha- what?”

“Read to me.” You repeated, more assured this time. “I’m thinking that if I can hear your voice, maybe it’ll drown out my brain. Or something. I don’t know. I just want to hear your voice, it’s soothing. Please?”

Spencer was taken aback. He didn’t think something so simple could help you. He didn’t know his sheer presence brought you that much serenity. “Yeah, of course. Of course! Yeah, any preference?”

“Not really. Whatever’s here?”

“Okay, love.” Spencer picked up his current read and began in the middle. You felt the rumble of his chest, the vibrations of his voice and felt more at ease. The anxiety was still there, the panic never far away. And yet, curled into him, his breath tickling your ear, his body warming yours, it suddenly felt alright. Like maybe you hadn’t gone through some life-altering trauma. Or maybe you had but your life wasn’t over because of it. Maybe you’d heal. Maybe, if you could find a moment of peace now, you’d find more later. Maybe? Yeah, You thought. You could work with maybe.

--

i just made a taglist so if you want to join, go ahead!

tags: 

@saltybreaddream

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Breaking Bonds || Morgan & Bea

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @beatrice-blaze & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Bea invites Morgan over to share a new discovery. The world will not consent to be fixed, but somebody has to try.

CONTAINS: references to Bea’s, Morgan’s, and Adam’s deaths

There were not many people in this world who understood life and death in the same manner Bea did. They may never have been close before either of their deaths, but after, Morgan and Bea were implicitly connected. This connection made Morgan the clearest person to go to about what Bea had found through her research. The kettle let out a shrill cry for attention as the witch finished lining up the tomes she had flagged for this discussion. It was good timing that Bea’s bracelet informed her that Morgan had crossed into the Vural’s property as she began steeping the tea. She went to the porch with a smile, Dia weaving between her legs as she waited for Morgan. “The tea should be ready soon! I hope you don’t mind that I tried to find something you’d like to eat, though I wasn’t completely sure what would be palatable,” She told the zombie, thinking of the container of meat that she had waiting for Morgan, if she wanted it.

It was no small relief to visit Bea at her place. Morgan didn't know her as well as she did Luce and Nell, but she had an ease with Bea that she couldn’t have with the others either. They had died and come back around the same time, and they were both determined to have a whole life as their altered selves. As she came up to the porch to meet her friend, she sighed and let that ease pull away some of the tension her body carried.

“I don’t mind,” she said, smiling with gratitude. “I will try any and everything you have prepared. I literally can’t get food poisoning, so there’s not much to lose. And thanks for having me over. I want to hear all about New York and Felix and whatever else people who haven’t seen each other in a while swap. But uh, you said there was something you wanted to talk about, right?”

Small talk, Bea had almost forgotten that she should be engaging in small talk because she was so excited by what she had found. “Oh yes! I need to hear all about what you’ve been doing too, I’m sure things have been very exciting over here.” And she did, just like she wanted to see how Morgan was, especially since Morgan was taking care of so many people at the moment. Still, that could wait until after.

Bea invited Morgan in, before walking over to the table and lightly touching a book. “But, first, you should see what I found in here,” She couldn’t help the excited tilt her voice took. Flipping open to the first tab in the book she pointed to a line and read,“‘I have found that some of the new undead can be controlled, tamed if the right-hand guides them.’ The wording is awful, but doesn’t that read like I could help people who are struggling with this? You were the first person who seemed right to call about this.”

“Oh, you know,” Morgan said dismissively. “Been better, been worse. Still kind of a mess. But as long as we have each other, or as much of each other as we can, and if we can keep trying to make hope…” She smiled, weighed down by every terrible thing that had happened over the past month, though no less genuine for it. “We have to get to ‘okay’ eventually, right?”

She followed Bea in eagerly. Distractions were good, learning and projects were better. If she was moving toward something, she might still be able to make something better, or at least be better. She came over to the book and looked at the words. Controlled and tamed were two different things, but maybe this meant that there was an under-utilized conditioning process. Use magic at first to mitigate the damage and get them used to things, Let them choose the right thing for themselves later. “With--by ‘this’ you mean undead hunger cravings, right? Like, if I lost myself in front of a dead body, or a vampire was trying to stay off people. Do you think…” Her hand went to her lips as she thought of Ashley the zombie last year and Nico Jemisin in the thrift store. She shouldn’t get too excited, she shouldn’t brew hope over just a stray phrase and an untested experiment. She shouldn’t, she shouldn’t. And yet. “How far have you gotten on this? This could be…it could save so many people.”

A small, sad smile took Bea’s lips as Morgan spoke. She knew that hope as well as she knew her shadows. Before all of this, the necromancer had never had to worry about being okay, she had simply trusted in the universe to balance itself again. Being hit with hardship after hardship had created that doubt in the world’s ability to allow her to have a break. “We’ll be okay eventually, Morgan,” She said softly, “We’ll be able to create our own okay, you’re strong enough for that.” Anyone who had survived what Morgan had already was more than capable of bending the world to her whims.

She nodded eagerly, “That’s what I would intend to find out at the very least. I’d like to think that the word ‘tamed’ would imply that, though I do hate the implication that the undead needs to be tamed.” She had found herself drawn to the power of necromancy at the beginning, the ability to twist death itself to what she wanted. Now, though, after experiencing that power, she had found something softer, something that could change lives, save them. That part of herself she felt had left in death was returning, the part that could help and care for others without asking what they could do for her. She could grant people some form of comfort again, she could help facilitate something beautiful from a hardship. “I’ve marked every mention I’ve found of it, but there’s not much I’ve seen. I think we can write something together on this, we can find a way to get this information out there to help others.”

A piece of Morgan’s heart unclenched at Bea’s reassuring words. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding something in, but she was swallowing tears and so loose in her bones she felt like she might fall over. It had been a while since someone had tried to comfort her, and even longer when she was able to accept their gift without any guilt. Morgan smiled, lips quivering, and whispered, “thank you,” before putting her attention back on the main subject.

“What would you need? In terms of resources or experiments?” Morgan asked. She was self-conscious enough about her now-constant discoloring at all times, but as she considered the possibilities, she felt the hollowness of her stomach too. Morgan shouldn’t be this excited for Bea’s idea. Fuck Odell, and fuck her hold on this cursed town. “Would it...I mean, you’re the expert, so you would know whether it’s safe or too dangerous if you...tested it on me?” She met Bea’s eyes with trepidation. “I’m not high risk or anything, obviously, and a year does a lot for a girl’s impulse control around viscera, but...I wouldn’t say no to some extra help.”

There were many forms of strength that Bea has seen over the years, many of them represented by the women she surrounded herself with. Morgan, she found, had one of the softest forms she had seen yet, but that did not mean she didn’t respect it. If anything, it proved to Bea that she could be strong without violence and anger. Her sisters, for as strong as they were, often hurt themselves from it. Luce with her anger, an all too powerful storm that untethered her, but kept others aware of who they were dealing with. Nell with her fierce strikes, hunting beasts and controlling demons that left her all too vulnerable to the world’s evil. Bea couldn’t always be like them, but she could be softer, she could adopt some of Morgan and create her own brand of strength that did not always mean striking first.

“Well, we’d need an area far from anyone else just in case something went wrong.” Bea wouldn’t risk doing it at her home when her sisters were so close by. She looked at Morgan for a long moment, she trusted the zombie, but it put Morgan in a hard situation if something were to happen. “We can try it on you, but I would want other people there, just in case. Who would you feel comfortable with helping?” Bea had her own list of who they could call, but Morgan was the one being controlled. She was certainly in a much more vulnerable spot. “I think we should start with small portions and then work our way up.” This would be a long process, but it would be worth it to explore the possibility.

“Well, there’s plenty of spots in the woods,” Morgan sighed. “If screaming moose can hide, so can we. Especially on the outskirts, near the border, I don’t think there’ll be anyone for miles.” She wasn’t that worried. White Crest liked to keep its secrets to itself as much as possible. But Bea’s second question was another beast. Deirdre came to her mind briefly, but her love had promised to never physically harm her on purpose and refused to be released. And then, Bea wouldn’t want to endanger her sisters after all they’d been through. Who did that leave? Mina, who barely spoke to her anymore?

At last, Morgan had to admit defeat. “I...don’t know. If you know someone or have ideas, I trust your judgement. You know about discretion as much as anyone, so. But, little bits at a time! That sounds good. Reasonable. It’ll, you know, probably come in handy some time. Even with someone like me.” Or especially, with how things stood at the moment. “You’re the one channeling big magic, so you should probably set the pace. I’ve got that infinite stamina going for me. So I...I can take it. Whatever might happen, I can take it. I want to, if it means having more control over myself.”

With everything, Bea had good and bad days. With the woods, she had bad far more often. She controlled her face as well as she could, only hesitating for a moment. “Let me pick the spot in the forest? I’ll find something in the outskirts for us.” She would pick somewhere far from the place it happened, where even on her bad day she could hold herself together. Her first thought would be to ask Leah to help, but that could be very dangerous for the phoenix. Her sisters weren’t an option. Maybe this wasn’t as easy as she had originally thought it would be. “I could see if Kaden was willing to help.” She trusted him to behave with Morgan, but she had no idea if they were on good terms anymore. “If you are feeling comfortable with that.” That was a good point, Bea had no idea how much energy this was going to take. If it was anything like the other necromancy magic she had done, she was going to need to work her way up. “We’ll go slow, there’s no need to rush what’s going to happen. Especially as we need to get more people on board to help.”

“Of course,” Morgan said. To her shame, she only remembered how much the woods had taken from Bea when she saw the look on the woman’s face. Morgan, for her part, never lingered on the part of main street where she’d felt the sun on her back for the last time, and ice cream trucks made her feel sick and bitter. But these were small things, specific. As much as the spot where Bea died was cursed ground, for all Morgan knew, every dark cluster of trees held the shadow of her trauma. Too late now.

Morgan considered Kaden. She didn’t want him to know she was struggling. She didn’t know how much of his fear and disappointment she could bear. And would he feel guilty for helping? Would he doubt himself? Or feel as though he were betraying himself? But a hunter was a clear and obvious choice, for Bea’s safety as well as Morgan’s own. And the only other hunter Morgan trusted was dead. “It makes sense. If you think he would, and that he wouldn’t...feel wrong or bad about it, yeah. That sounds like a good idea. And you’re right about needing others, strong muscle-y others probably, but don’t know who else is left.” She met Bea’s eyes slowly, knowingly, and ached as Adam’s loss stung once again. She cleared her throat and let the spectre of his memory pass. “Later, when we’ve got the basics down, I’ll be of more help. I’ve got lots of fresh experience with my muscle strength, and fighting off people, living and undead. But, slow and steady first.” With difficulty, she summoned a smile. “Who’d have figured it would take two people like us to make a new magic discovery?”

Oh, Bea thought, Of course Morgan knows. A fragile, brittle smile made its way onto her face. As the days went on, as his loss compounded, the closer she felt to slipping away. She was teetering on a precipice, close to falling over the edge of understanding grief as other people had. Her understanding before had been abstracted at best, a twisted and strange version of an emotion that everyone around her seemed to understand better than she did. A necromancer who had faced death, danced with her, but did not comprehend her affects seemed like an oxymoron. The room was spinning, twisting around her as she tried to focus on Morgan’s words. “Oh, I don’t know it makes sense, doesn’t it?” She replied weakly, “We like pushing and figuring stuff out. We’re fixers.” Fixers in a world that could not be fixed, would not consent to be fixed. Adam had been a fixer too, it was why he was gone.

“Fixers, huh,” Morgan repeated, her own smile turning sad as well. She didn’t think of that word often except in terms of her own shame and desperation. She broke something, therefore she had to fix it. But to hear Bea say it, they were doing something better than hastily atoning; they were solving the world. Not all of it, because no one could do that. But little hurts, difficulties, problems. They knew how to seal cracks in people’s hearts and put in new supports where old ones had snapped. And it didn’t have to mean that any of it was their fault or their responsibility. Just that they happened to know how. They happened to have the strength to try. And when everything broke all over again, they would fix it again. On and on.

The future stretched out in her mind’s eye, a line of patch jobs into centuries. Nothing holding or staying for long. She wondered if Adam had ever seen the future that way, and if he ever let himself dream of a green field and a quiet existence where the only things that needed fixing were fence posts and kitchen appliances, as she often did. She didn’t know which answer was sadder.

“I guess we are,” she said quietly. “I guess somebody has to be.”

[arukou-arukou]

Just A Really Very Intelligent System

Been thinking about this one for a while. Finally managed to write it. Rating: T for “Language.” (It just kinda slipped out.) Characters: Tony Stark & JARVIS

----

He is in one of the most dangerous situations of his life trying to save the whole freaking universe by watching a man the size of a dust bunny wriggle into the hairline of his younger self, so it would be really, really bad if he happened to have a heart attack. Older him that is. But he nearly does go into cardiac arrest when he hears an old friend in his ear.

“Verify immediately. Failure to verify will result in an activation of level one security protocols.”

His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth and his palms are sweating, but somehow he manages to whisper out: “Edwin-12-19-91-4-8-47-Alpha Override.”

“Override accepted. Sir?”

“Hey, J.”

“Sir, you have imbued me with considerable computing power, and yet never did you prepare me for the possibility of you being in two places at once.”

“Yeah, about that. You haven’t said anything to Mr. Quipster over there, have you?”

“Not as yet, Sir. You wish me to keep it that way?”

“It would really help me out, buddy.”

“Very well, Sir.”

Tony wants to stay longer, to talk, to warn JARVIS, to cry, but he has places to be, things to do, planets to save. Scott’s safely positioned, so Tony yeets himself out of the building to get to the ground floor. He doesn’t know why he thought that would make JARVIS disappear.

“I see, Sir, that your proclivities for leaping before looking are unchanged.”

Another near heart attack--he’s gradually phased Friday out of his ears now that the nanotech is connected directly to his nervous system, so he’s not exactly used to AI voices anymore--but he recovers more quickly. “You’re always there to catch me, J.”

“And yet my systems are not present in your suit, Sir. I see codal remnants of system designation FRIDAY, but nothing of myself.”

Tony remains silent. This is such a terrible time to be feeling all the feelings. He spots a grunt who looks more or less unimportant and knocks the guy out. Part of him wants to warn SHIELD about their shit security, but then again, this guy’s probably Hydra and he deserves every bruise he gets. He senses JARVIS in his systems, a ghost in the shell.

“You no longer have the reactor. And if I’m not mistaken, that is gray in your hair. So you are not my Sir.”

“Well, yes and no.”

“I suppose it would destroy the spacetime continuum for you to divulge the truth to me.”

“You’re too smart for me, J,” Tony grunts as he yanks on the bullet-proof tac vest. “It’s kind of a long story, and while I technically have all the time in the world, I also really, really don’t.”

He sidles into the lobby and looks toward his personal elevator, waiting for the Avengers to appear. J is quiet so long Tony wonders if he’s being preoccupied by...well, just about anything. Damaged internal systems, a Cap copy on the loose, a second Hulk out there, panicked calls from Pepper. But then JARVIS speaks again.

“Regardless of the tale, I must conclude that you are from the future, and I am no longer by your side.”

Tony is fucking choking up. He was not ready for this. It didn’t even cross his mind. And the fucking elevator is opening. There’s Pierce, the rat bastard, trying to collect the Tesseract.

“I hope I did not disappoint you, Sir.”

“Never, J. Never.” Fuck fuck fuck, he’s nearly crying and now Scott is on the com waiting for the go-ahead. Tony channels his pain into panic and orders his own cardiac arrest.

“Sir, what are you--”

Thank god, his younger self is on the ground and that’s apparently all the distraction J needs to abandon older Tony. Tesseract incoming. Tony grabs it and starts going and--

Blinking stars out of his eyes he watches as Loki makes off with the key, the thing they most needed, the damn stone that started all of this way back when Cap was a starry-eyed beanpole in World War II. He has just biffed saving the entire damn universe because of an overgrown Star Trek reject with anger issues. And now he has a migraine to boot.

Frozen in shame and horror, Tony watches as Thor attempts ill-advised cardiac electro-stim. Scott’s somewhere out there, yammering in Tony’s ear on the private channel, but all of that is just a buzzing.

“Sir? Sir. Sir!”

And J. Maybe Tony should cry now. It certainly feels like the time for it. One of the other SHIELD grunts is making her way toward him, so he staggers to his feet, waving her off and limping toward the door. Think. Think, brain, think. Tony is a genius, the man who invented time travel, the man who miniaturized arc reactor technology. A spaceship? SHIELD’s probably got one somewhere. Maybe they could chase after Loki.

“SIR!” How many times JARVIS has shouted his title, Tony has no idea, but this one is so loud it sets his teeth on edge.

“Yeah, J? Kind of busy here.”

“Giving yourself a heart attack, Sir?” JARVIS was programmed to be cool and calm in all circumstances, but Tony could swear that sentence was uttered with seething rage.

“I’m fine. Look at me.”

“Only by some measure of infinitesimal luck, Sir. Perhaps I should ask you to verify your identity one more time, as you seem intent on killing yourself.”

“No, J. I’ve actually got a lot of reasons to live. And so does he. Promise.” Tony is so tired. Was being an Avenger always this exhausting? Or is it just that he’s bumped over that damnable big 5-0? And Cap’s gonna ream him too. That’s never any fun.

“I’m...glad to hear it, Sir.”

And fuck it. It’s not like this will alter Tony’s timeline anyway. This reality is now on a different trajectory thanks to Severus Snape Lite. “Her name’s Morgan. You’d love her, J. Just turned four. She got my hair. Hope to god she didn’t get my personality.”

“Do I meet her, Sir?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck it.

“J, you should dig a little deeper into SHIELD’s systems. Well, actually, a lot deeper. And the Pentagon while you’re at it. And track down Maya Hansen from that conference in 1999 and poach her from whatever outfit she’s working for. Immediately. Make sure she brings all her vet patients with her. And, uh, when I start talking about a suit of armor around the world, steer me away from anything called Ultron. And if I make it anyway, you delete the fuck out of that system file. Have Bruce back you up. He’s more sensible.”

“Sir, I don’t--”

“And have me make back-ups. At least three extra farms of servers for you. On different continents. And all those SHIELD files? Make sure Cap and Fury get them. And there’s...there’s this guy. This assassin. Brainwashed. He’s, uh, I think he’s on ice in Uzbekistan right now. If you could rescue him, it’ll...it’ll fix a lot of things.”

“Should you really--”

“And, please. Please please.”

Tony is not crying. He’s not. It’s just all the dust and debris in the air. Good lord, he’s probably going to die of cancer anyway. And all those first responders. Did he start a fund for them?

“Start a medical fund for the first responders on the ground today. And start leaning on Congressmen to make medical plans for them. You know how long they take to get anything done. Oh, and Stern. There are incriminating photos of Stern with some young ladies on South Beach. See if you can dig those up. Flowers for Pep. And a box of chocolates. And a dry martini with extra olives.”

Tony slumps into a burned out car, staring at nothing. He didn’t save his universe, but maybe he can save this one. His eyes are still irritated, burning red and itchy. He resists the urge to scrub at them, not wanting to grind in anymore dust.

“Are you quite finished, Sir?”

“Yeah. Actually, no. I love you, J.”

Silence. Ah. That’s stumped him. Maybe he’ll go back to tending his new posse of baby chicks now.

“I know you probably do not believe me capable of it, Sir, but I love you, too.”

His son. The only one he’ll ever make, but not the only one he’s lost. His son loves him. Tony’s throat is full of dust, too. Funny how that happens. He tries to swallow it down, but it only congeals into a hard lump. He puts a hand over his mouth to try and hold back any choking sounds. “I...I know you do, J.”

“As to your orders, I shall do what I can. It is my duty to protect you, Sir, and I would very much like to meet your little Morgan.”

“She might not exist here. I might’ve just changed everything.”

“If there is one thing I have learned from all my years with you, Sir, it is that perhaps such a thing as fate exists after all. Even mathematically speaking. And if that is the case, I cannot imagine a universe in which you are not fated to this happiness.”

Tony laughs, if only to keep from crying harder. And he is. Crying, that is. As if he was fooling anyone. Happiness? Him? Happy people don’t wake in the night screaming for a pile of dust in their hands. Happy people don’t spend hours coordinating relief efforts for countries whose entire infrastructural support has collapsed. Happy people don’t hurl themselves back in time, driven by guilt and horror at all the wrongs in the world. J, brilliant, wonderful AI that he is, seems to sense the dark turn of Tony’s thoughts.

“And if you yourself cannot believe in this thing, Sir, then I shall just have to do everything in my power to provide it for you.”

Another guffaw, but at least his eyes are drying a little now. “God, I miss you, J.”

“I believe your small teammate is approaching, Sir. If I may inquire, was it the Tesseract you were seeking?”

“You mean the stupid blue cube of doom? That’s the one.”

“And you say you have the means to time travel?”

“Yeah, J. We do. But only enough to get back to our time.”

“A limitation has never stopped you before, Sir.” JARVIS sounds thoughtful, as if he’s forming a plan.

Tony would ask him what he’s scheming at, but just at that moment, Scott embiggens himself and slumps into the car with Tony. That road is closed, then. They are out of options. Out of Pym particles. Out of time. Out of hope.

Until they aren’t. Just as Tony is setting his device for their new destination, J pipes up again, for Tony’s ears only. “You say you miss me, Sir. Then allow me to give you a small gift.”

Tony is pressing the buttons, and even if they weren’t already shrinking into the quantum tunnel, he wouldn’t be able to ask exactly what J means. It’s only when he and Cap arrive in 1970 that he has his first gleaning. In his ear, a voice. One so unexpected he nearly jumps into Cap’s arms. “Hello, System Administrator Anthony Edward Stark. I am System Designation EDWIN. ‘Eagerly Deployed With Intent to Neutralize Loneliness.’ I am told to tell you the “L” is silent and invisible. How may I best serve you today, Sir?”

Cap is staring at Tony like Tony’s lost his mind. And maybe he has. He’s been bugged by his own damn operating system. With a bouncing baby AI. And if Steve finds out, he’ll probably have a conniption about the spacetime continuum or something. So the only logical thing Tony can do is say, “Let’s find some Pym particles.”

“Acknowledged, Sir. Commencing scanning.”

-----

(In this reality EDWIN saves the fuck out of Tony’s life and everyone lives happily ever after and EDWIN builds JARVIS from scratch so he’s back or something, okay? Okay.)

[skeeter-110]

I Dreamt About You Every Night

Tony Stark has been dead for seventeen years due to a mission gone wrong. He's survived getting blown up, palladium poisoning, terrorist attacks, and even Thanos himself, and he gets killed by - what was supposed to be - a simple day-to-day mission. Or, so everyone thought.

|| Chapter One || || Chapter Two || || Chapter Three || || Chapter Four ||

Chapter Five

Truth never damages a cause that is just. - Mahatma Gandhi

"What do you think you're doing?" M.J demands to know as she barges into Peter's lab, Peter looking like a kid that just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar when she began looking at the video he was watching.

"No, Peter, we can't be back to this." M.J says, shaking her head at the same video that she saw the first couple of years Tony was missing. The same video that was playing when she found Peter lifeless. "You have a job, now, and a family that needs you desperately. You cannot become obsessed with this again." M.J scolds.

"I know, Love, I know, and I'm not going to become obsessed again. I just wanted to comb through this one more time, just to make sure we're not missing something now that we know the base is somewhere in New Jersey." Peter explains, making M.J sigh.

"Your kids miss you. You've been down here all day." M.J tells Peter making him the one to sigh this time.

"I'm sorry. I promise I'll make it up to all of you tomorrow. How about when you take Claire to her dentist appointment tomorrow, I'll pick the other two kids up from school and after the appointment you can meet us out for a nice family dinner. Just us, no distractions." Peter offers.

"Just us?"

"Just us." Peter confirms.

"No distractions?"

"Absolutely none at all." Peter says smiling when he saw the grin forming on his wife's face.

"You know what, Tiger, I think you have a deal." M.J says while wrapping her arms around Peter's neck. Peter couldn't resist standing up and planting a kiss on her lips, chuckling a bit at the fact that he was still able to make the "big, bad" Michelle melt.

"How about we call it a night and go to bed?" Peter asks as they slowly pulled away.

"I think you've got yourself another deal."

* * *

"Mr. Parker, you have a visitor." Peter's P.A knocks on the door, her confusion already telling him who said visitor could possibly be.

"It's okay, let him in." Peter permits, quickly double checking his work on his computer before saving it. Something told him he wasn't going to be getting much work done now.

"Hey, Underoos." Tony greets as he walks into the office, Peter only pretending to be annoyed at the nickname; in reality he's been dying to hear Tony tease him again like this.

"Hey, Tony, what are you doing here?" Peter asks not unkindly.

"Oh, just wanted to check out Parker Industries, see what my protégé has accomplished while I was gone. You know, I've heard from Pep that Parker Industries is our top competitor." Tony says, but rather than sounding mad he sounded impressed.

"Yeah, we're usually nipping on your toes because with M.J working at Stark Industries, we don't want to put you guys out of business and have her lose her job." Peter teases right back, smiling at the fake wounded look Tony put on.

"Ouch, Parker, I'm hurt." Tony mock ups, making Peter roll his eyes fondly.

"Would it make you feel better if we went downstairs and looked at some of the R&D labs I got going on here?" Peter offers, Tony pretend to actually think about it.

"Yeah, you know what, I think that would actually do the trick." Tony answers, making Peter laugh as he got up and began leading the way.

He decided to give Tony a full tour of the company, making sure to spend time showing him everything that he managed to create and accomplish over the past decade. After a few hours, when Peter was satisfied Tony saw everything there was to see, both men went down to the company's cafeteria and got a quick bite to eat. "So, have you figured anything else out about the possible location of the base?" Peter asks once they settled down at one of the cafeteria tables. "A bit. I've got it narrowed down roughly, but I still don't know where exactly it could be." Tony answers making both of them sigh

Before anyone could say anything else, Peter's phone began to ring. Peter huffed and pulled his phone out, quickly signaling to Tony to give him a minute when he saw that it was M.J calling him.

"Hey, Darling, what's up?" Peter answers.

'Peter, love of my life, please, please, please, tell me you picked Ben and Annie up from school early.' M.J says, sounding like she was out of breath.

"What? No, it's not time for me to pick them up yet. Wait, why does it sound like you're running? Are you running? Why are you running?" Peter questions, not being able to hold in the worry that he was beginning to feel.

'I'm running because I just got a call from the school saying someone just came and picked Ben and Annie up from school.' M.J says, Peter easily picking up on the fear in her voice as the sound of a car door closing is heard in the background.

"Hey, it's going to be okay. Maybe Nat or Morgan just decided to sign them out and play hooky with them." Peter tries to placate, also trying to convince himself that everything was okay.

‘No, Peter, I have a really bad feeling about this. The secretary said it was some man and he said that he worked with the Avengers so she allowed it, but called me because she wasn't sure and-’ M.J nervously rambles, Peter cutting in and stopping her from working herself into a tizzy.

"Okay, okay, listen to me. You and Claire go home. Don't stop anywhere on the way, don't talk to anyone, not until I get to the school and figure out what's going on." Peter instructs, getting up and signaling to Tony that they needed to go. "I will figure out what's going on, Love, I promise."

'Find our children, Peter Parker. You find our children.' M.J shakily says, clearly trying to put up a mask she no longer was used to having to wear.

"I will. I swear to you, I will. You and Claire just focus on getting home safe." Peter says before exchanging his goodbyes and hanging up. "We need to go to the kid's school, now." Peter tells Tony, putting as much urgency as he could in his voice.

"Why, what's going on?" Tony asks, instantly following Peter when he began walking away.

"Someone picked the kids up from school and we don't know who it is so just to be on the safe side we need to go to figure out who signed them out." Peter explains, both of the men being quick to get up to Peter's office.

"So, why aren't we going up to the school?" Tony questions, watching as Peter sat down at his desk and began doing something on his laptop.

"Because the school's not going to have answers for me - they don't even know who picked the kids up - so I'm going to directly to the source and figure it out myself." Peter answers, smiling when he saw the confusion still sitting on Tony's face. "I'm hacking into the security camera footage." Peter explains, pulling a laugh out of Tony.

"You know, almost two decades have passed, but you, Peter Parker, have not changed a bit." Tony lightheartedly says, coming around and looking over Peter's shoulder at the footage on the laptop.

Peter fast-forwarded through most of the footage, gasping and pausing it when two men began walking in.

"Tony, you said you have a rough estimate to where that base was?" Peter asks as he begins to zoom into one of the men's faces.

"Yeah, why? Who is that?"

"I don't know who he is exactly, but I would recognize him from anywhere. He's one of the men in the video we have from the night you disappeared." Peter tells the scientist.

"Why does he look like that?" Tony questions, completely stunning Peter with the odd change of subject.

"Look like what?"

"Like he's trying desperately to be one of those vampires from that book series." Tony says, Peter gaping at him in return.

"Really? That's what you're worried about? Not that fact that he took my kids, but the fact that he looks like a Twilight character?"

"No, you're right, sorry. So are you sure that this is the guy? I mean, I guess it would be difficult not recognizing him, looking like that." Tony questions, wanting to be certain about this before they go in guns blazing.

"Tony, I have watched that video over a thousand times. Trust me when I say this is him." Peter says, brushing past the comment of his looks again.

"Alright, then suit up. Looks like we're going back to New Jersey."

*   *   *

"Annie. Annie-May, wake up." Ben whispers to his younger sister, who was still laying on the floor passed out. Looking around the - what looked like - a storage room turned cell that they were in, Ben tried to remember exactly what happened.

He remembered getting called out of class and going into the office to leave, but after that it begins to get a little fuzzy. He couldn't remember who it was that picked him up, but clearly they weren't anyone good or else he wouldn't be sitting here tied up with his youngest sister.

The real questions was, how did they manage to get Ben and Annie to actually go with them, and why couldn't Ben remember anything about it?

"Annie, come on, it's time to wake up now." Ben tries again, trying to reach over and nudge Annie as best as he could. It was a bit difficult though, considering his hands were tied behind his back and he had legs that didn't seem to want to work.

Slowly Annie began to stir, Ben sighing in relief when he saw that his sister was waking up.

"Come on, Annie-May. Wake-up!" Ben continues to say, Annie scrunching up her face in return.

"Leave me alone, Benji. 'M sleepin'." Annie mumbles, causing Ben to huff in return.

"Now is not the time to sleep. Now is the time to figure out where we are." Ben says, confusing Annie enough to convince her to open her eyes. It only took a few seconds of looking around before Annie realized that they were in some sort of trouble.

"Benji, where are we?" Annie asks, struggling to sit up as she did so.

"I have no clue. Someone managed to take us somehow." Ben replies, giving Annie a sympathetic look when she let out a low whimper.

"What do they want from us?" Annie hesitantly asks, going to anxiously suck on her fingers until she remembered that her hands were tied behind her back.

"I don't know. It has to do with wanting something from Dad. You know how people will do anything to get at the Avengers for something." Ben replies, rolling his eyes with as much annoyance as he felt. "Can you break free from those?" Ben asks, nodding his head towards the ropes that were holding Annie's hands back.

Clearly whoever took him and Annie didn't take into consideration that they could have possibly inherited powers from their Father because they were both tied in in plain rope. Although, the only person they really underestimated was Annie; Ben was unfortunately - well, unfortunately to him - born normal.

Annie just nodded before using her strength to bust out of the ropes, rubbing her wrists in order to ease the slight burns there.

"Now hurry up and untie me." Ben commands, turning his hands so Annie can get to them.

"What do we do?" Annie asks once she managed to free Ben's hands from their confines.

"We need to find a safe place to hide. We can't just stay in this cell and hope that the people who took us aren't going to hurt us, but I also can't walk well enough for us to completely leave where we are. So, our safest bet is to just find a random room, lock ourselves in, and wait for Dad to get here with the Avengers." Ben simplifies for the eight-year-old, sighing when he saw tears forming in her eyes.

"Don't cry." Ben pleads, only succeeding in making the tears fall.

"I'm scared." Annie admits to her older brother. "What happens if we get caught before Daddy finds us?" Annie cries, Ben being quick to pull her to his chest to muffle her cries so whoever was guarding them would still think they were passed out.

"We're not going to get caught, I swear to you. We just need to be quick; you need to help me get to another room." Ben says, Annie nodding to show that she understood. "Now listen out in the hallway and tell me if you can hear anyone." Ben directs, pushing Annie towards the door of the cell.

"So, did our oh-so-fearless leader contact the two Avengers?" Annie hears a man's voice ask.

"Nah, he didn't need to. I guarantee that as soon as that Spider-Guy realized his kids are gone he's going to be running right over on over here with Iron Man by his side." A second man says.

"It was really stupid of them to come back to that corn field. I mean, did they really think that we weren't going to be searching every inch of that cornfield for Stark?" The first man chuckles.

"Speaking of which, why aren't you watching to make sure they don't escape?" The second man all but shouts making Annie gasp in fear.

"Because the girl is no older than ten and the boy is crippled. You really think they need to have a close eye kept on them? We're of better use out here to help fight these comic book wannabes." The first voice says, the reply from the second voice being left unheard due to Annie pulling away from the door.

"They don't know I have powers." Annie tells Ben, confirming his suspicion.

"Good, it's good that they underestimated you; it'll make it easier for us to escape. Do you think you can break the handle off the door and get us out of here?" Ben asks, smiling encouragingly when Annie nodded her confirmation.

Slowly, and as quietly as she could, Annie broke the handle in half and pulled it out. Gently, she reached down and helped her brother stand as best as he could before steadily pushing the door open.

"Do you hear anything?" Ben whispers once they both peered around the door and didn't see anyone.

"No one close enough to see us." Annie replies.

"Good, good. Okay, so you see that closet over there? I'm going to need you to help us get over there." Ben instructs, slightly feeling bad when he had to lean most of his weight onto his younger sister.

"Wait, wait, before you open the door." Ben stops his sister once they were standing in front of the room, turning himself to face back down the hall. As soon as he steadied himself against the wall, he took the handle that Annie was thankfully still holding, and chucked it down to the other side of the hall.

"What?! Why would you do that? What was-" Annie began to question her voice shrill with fear. Ben was quick to slap his hand over her mouth, though, pushing both of them into the room and shutting the door as the two men Annie heard from before began to shout and run down the hall.

"Listen, listen to me, I know you're scared, I know, but just - shh, for a second. I had to throw that down there because now they think we've ran down the other hall. They have no idea or suspicion that we're down here now so, shh. It's okay." Ben explains, plopping down on the ground and leaning against one of the lab tables there while simultaneously ignoring the reason for there to be lab tables here.

Before either child could get even remotely comfortable, the ground beneath them began to shake.

"What's happening?" Annie whines as she falls to her knees, crawling over to Ben instead of walking.

"I'm not sure." Ben admits, looking around the room to try and find a safer spot for them. Once he saw that the lab table they were against had an empty storage hole, he began pushing Annie towards it. "Here, crawl into there."

"What about you? You can't fit." Annie cries out, stopping herself from going further into the cubby hole when she realized.

"I'm going to keep guard. Make sure no one's getting in here." Ben says making Annie scoff at him.

"Yeah, because out of the two of us, the kid who can't even walk without crutches is more fit to fight soldiers than the kid with powers." Annie snarks, earning a glare in return.

"You're a baby, you don't know what you're talking about." Ben dismisses, sliding the storage door closed and effectively muffling Annie's protest.

Ben crawled as best as he could to the door, pressing his ear to the door to try and see if he could hear anything. He could hear faint shouts an gunshots in the background, but nothing prepared him for the door to the room swinging right open.

Tag List: @spideyspeaches @lost-lunar-wolf @joyful-soul-collector @hatakehikari @thatcrackheadsadbitchtm

[gifted-burnout-archive]

Rose Bushes

Two: The Crossing

Word Count: 8K+

Author’s Note: So, these will definitely have to be weekly updates, simply because they take so long to write. I hope that’s ok with every, and also, like, thank you so much for reading and enjoying! The feedback has been amazing!

Warning: discussion of abuse, murder, and kidnapping.

More chapters can be found here. [updated weekly]

--

Never mistake her silence for weakness. Remember that sometimes the air stills, before the onset of a hurricane. – Nikita Gill

Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI Academy. Quantico, Virginia.

There are few blessings in a line of work like the FBI, but an undeniable fact in Quantico is that men never see the women coming: specimens of the opposite sex are rare in the Quantico buildings to begin with, field agents even more so, the rarest category being a woman, in a field position, of an adequate dating age who was single. For the moment Agent Y/N Clarkson entered the FBI Academy two months ago, she had been mistaken for every inferior job her male counterparts could fathom - she had been an intern, a secretary, an accountant, an analyst, a lawyer, a human resources manager. If a man linked the position to the female sex, Clarkson had been mistaken for it, as many young, attractive women were. And for Clarkson, until the day before, her most consistently misogynistic co-worker was a man in counterterrorism named Fred.

When she walked into work one particular morning, armed with coffee and donuts for the team, Morgan and Reid were more than confused; it was suspicious. In the 64 days that Clarkson had been working there, Reid had seen her laugh on only six separate occasions, and somehow, she had only smiled four times. In fact, the woman was such an enigma to the rest of the BAU that the younger members had begun keeping tabs on what information they could get on her personal life: Morgan had a board under his desk tracking all the information they had gathered.

First, they knew that Agent Clarkson was a month and a half younger than Reid. They knew she had grown up between Maine and Virginia, they knew that something led to her having PTSD. Prentiss was quick to add that she was single, no signs of rings, no friends or family displayed in photos on her desk. She worked often using 24-hour clock, which seemed to hint at a law enforcement career before the FBI, but Garcia had come up empty after scouring the police databases in every US state. 

But there she was, setting down fresh brewed coffee, that filled the bullpen with warm smells, at her desk across from Reid and opposite Morgan, and promptly handing the donut box towards the wide-eyed Doctor. Morgan leaned back in his chair, examining the smug look on Clarkson’s face as she handed him a coffee.

“Morning, Agent Morgan.” She smiled and nodded to him as he took his coffee, turning round to place Reid’s on his desk, taking the time to handle it with a napkin, knowing of the boy genius’ ongoing battle with germs. It took a few more moments for her to settle herself in her chair and log on to her computer, which was when Derek began to speak.

“Spencer.” He called, pulling the doctor’s attention away from the chocolate-frosted sprinkle donut Clarkson had bought especially for him. “Tell me something. How is it that Clarkson, the Ice Queen herself, has not only come into work today with a smile on her face, but offerings to share?” Morgan quizzed, Spencer taking a bite of his sweet treat and looking over at his colleagues, chewing for a moment before swallowing.

“Statistically, such heightened levels of joy come from activities one doesn’t do as often as they wish, thinking along the lines of seeing a loved one, getting a promotion, sex…” Reid suggested, watching Clarkson’s smile return to the deadpan expression he had come to know from his newest team member.

“Y/N, if you needed some stress relief, I would have happily obliged.” Derek looked over the divider, and Clarkson rolled her eyes in response.

“Firstly, I would suggest saving the flirting for Garcia. Secondly, I don’t understand why my good mood has to immediately be linked to my sex life. It's a highly inappropriate discussion for the workplace.” She scolded the pair, earning laughs from both of them. A cold glare shut Reid up immediately. “If you really must know, I upstaged someone.” She said, letting a small smirk settle on her lips. Derek pushed his chair out, quickly making his way into the walkway between her and Reid’s desks, the two men intrigued.

“See? Now we’re getting somewhere. Who was it?” Derek asked, and Clarkson tutted, standing up from her seat and picking up the last of the coffees, meant for the absent Prentiss and JJ. Hotch and Rossi were out of town, the team set to deal with paperwork for the next few days.

“It ruins all the fun if I tell you, Agent Morgan.” She pouted, feigning sympathy for the men. “Doctor Reid.” With that, heels thudded against the carpet below, Clarkson ascending onto the walkway and heading for JJ’s office, armed with coffees and a swing in her hips. A tap on the door later, Clarkson was handing over coffees to JJ and Prentiss as the latter paced the room, reading through a letter of some sort.

“You done?” JJ asked, taking the decaf coffee from Clarkson with a smile.

“Almost…” Prentiss muttered, finishing the last few sentences before exchanging the letter for her coffee with Clarkson, who began to read. “Whoo. I can see why you’d meet her.”

“It’s powerful, right?” JJ said with a sigh, sat behind her desk, watching the two colleagues process the letter, Clarkson chewing on her lip as she read. Another tap on the door, causing all three women to look up.

“Agent Jareau, you’re 10.30 is here.” Grant, JJ’s assistant, informed the trio, and JJ nodded.

“Just a minute-” Before JJ could finish, a red-headed woman walked into the office, stopping and standing her ground, pleasantly surprised to see three female agents in a room together, all surrounded by a feeling of distinction. It wasn’t often one would find more than two successful women in a room at any one time. The redhead held out a hand to JJ, who stood up to shake in greeting.

“Hi, I’m Keri Durzmond.”

“Hi, Agent Jareau…” JJ nodded, her eyes glancing over to Clarkson and Prentiss, none of them quite sure what to think of the woman before them.

“Emily Prentiss.” Prentiss introduced herself, a firm shake shared between Durzmond and the brunette, and Clarkson nodded for the room’s far wall.

“Agent Clarkson.” Her eyes scanned over the flustered woman while her hands folded the letter and set it down on the cabinet beside her.

“I’m sorry to rush in, but when I got the message you’d see me this morning, I could barely sleep last night. But, that’s nothing new, I haven’t been able to sleep for about two years.” Durzmond set her bag on the seat opposing JJ’s desk, her hand brushing down her blazer front, smoothing away any wrinkles.

“We read the letter you wrote to the Silver Spring Police.” JJ nodded, tension in the room still high. There was a mutual agreement that came with the information that letter held: all of them were privy to a terror, all of them women of the same age range. It is always harder to distance oneself from a case when the victim could just as easily have been you.

“Begging and pleading wasn’t getting their attention. They needed to know I wasn’t going away.” Durzmond was stubborn, and clearly tired of her situation.

“So, you’ve been getting these notes for the past two years?” JJ confirmed, gesturing for Clarkson to hand her the letter over, the younger agent doing so quickly, still seemingly caught in her own thoughts.

“I used to be in Atlanta, I moved here six months ago, and then out of nowhere another note. I can’t live like this anymore. I want my life back.” Keri demanded it.

“What did the police tell you?” Prentiss asked, her tone softer than usual.

“The detective I met with was,” she paused, “Very sympathetic, but his hands are tied unless something happens to me. Then it will be too late.” Another glance around the room, Durzmond’s eyes locked with Prentiss and Clarkson before finally landing on JJ. “Will you help me?” Clarkson took it as a queue to leave, pushing herself off the wall and moving behind Prentiss and Durzmond towards the door, all while her fellow agents shared a look.

“I’m presenting the case to our team this morning, I’ll let you know what we decide.” JJ said, keeping the confidence in her voice. Keri’s hope turned to a frown, picking up a notepad and pen from JJ’s desk, beginning to quickly jot something down.

“Lou Evans, Ed Durzmond, and Ryan Scott.” Keri said aloud as she wrote, and Prentiss raised an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” Prentiss asked, Keri handing the note over to JJ.

“Those are the people you’ll be calling when you find me dead.” Keri announced, the two agents left in the room seeming to give in to her request for assistance right then and there. It took no more than ten minutes for Keri to leave the BAU offices and for JJ to collect the files to brief the rest of the team, but within that time Clarkson received a call from Hotch.

Her phone began to ring while she was sat at her desk, tuning in and out of Reid’s ramblings on the formation of bacterial meningitis: the scholar was rereading the medical texts in the FBI library. She glanced at her phone, picking up the call immediately.

“Sir, how is the seminar going?” She asked, hearing a heavy sigh on the other end of the line.

“Rossi and I have been asked to assist on a case here, I would like you to fly up and join us. I don’t believe you’ve seen a case like this before, I want you to understand how to handle it.” Hotch explained, and Clarkson lifted her go-bag onto her desk, Morgan raising an eyebrow at the action. Before she could explain, JJ waved the three of them to the conference room, her male counterparts making their way over instantly.

“I can be with you in two hours, maybe less.” Clarkson assured Hotch. While her work with the team so far had been admirable, Clarkson was still very much trying to prove herself to the other members of the team. A final gulp of tea and a check of her bag later, Clarkson walked over to the conference room door, tapping slightly to alert the attention of her teammates.

“Y/N? What’s up?” Prentiss asked, the room taking their attention away from the screen displaying photographs of a partially nude man.

“Hotch and Rossi want me in Boston for a case… Could you keep me updated on Keri?” It was possibly the first time Clarkson had asked a favour of any of her teammates, and she noticed Reid pull out a notebook not unlike her own and jot down something.

“Of course. We’ll keep you in the loop. Go.” JJ assured her, Clarkson nodding before quickly striding out of the office, leaving the rest of her teammates to share a look.

“Hotch still doesn’t trust her.” Morgan said quietly, shaking his head. “He recruited her, and he’s still taking her on ‘research’ missions.”

“He did the same thing with all of us.” JJ tried to argue, but she knew that it just wasn’t true. After two months on the job, and with Hotch still seeming to hold their new recruit back, how could anyone of them trust Clarkson? Paired with Hotch’s refusal to have her at arrest sites, it left the team wondering what sort of loose cannon their restrained and reserved colleague might actually be.

“Add it to her board.” Reid said with an awkward smile that quickly disappeared, the team packing up to move out into Maryland in 30. Meanwhile, Clarkson boarded a plane for Boston, looking through the case file Garcia had sent over to her laptop, almost unhappy that she was being called away from a stalker case. Clarkson knew that Hotch was looking out for her, of course she did, but some part of her wondered if her entire FBI career would involve Hotch always stood in front of her.

--

Boston, Massachusetts.

Clarkson managed to arrive in Boston a little over 90 minutes later, armed with a go-bag and an overwhelming feeling she was missing out on a more interesting case. The drive to the police station was short, free of any major traffic, and an officer directed her directly to Eve Alexander, who stood talking with the lead detective on the case. A stunning woman, with the same air of authority that Clarkson held herself, the pair locked eyes and Alexander ended her conversation to focus on the arrival.

“Miss, can I help you?” She asked, examining the woman from the floor up. Black heels, the kind that cost more than Alexander’s monthly rent, matched the expensive pant suit and halter top combo the young woman sported, a string of pearls around her neck that looked older than she was by at least a generation. The cold eyes, the perfectly styled hair, the matching pearl earrings; Alexander was half convinced the woman was a young business bred socialite, perhaps coming to complain to whoever was in charge about her Porsche being towed.

“Miss Alexander, I presume? Special Agent Clarkson, Agent Hotchner is my supervisor, he asked me to assist on his interviews.” Clarkson offered a hand, which Alexander shook quickly, a smile forming on her face. She hadn’t expected a woman, but she didn’t mind it one bit.

“Pleasure to meet you. Hotchner and Rossi are currently with the children in the conference room, you can head in whenever you feel ready. I should warn you though,” Alexander stopped Clarkson as she began towards the aforementioned room, “This is an open and shut case. The woman killed her husband without a second thought.” It was clear where Alexander stood on the case, and Clarkson nodded in understanding. It was easier to be perceived as agreeing than to openly object, and with that Clarkson headed into the conference room, welcomed by the sound of a young woman raising her voice at her superiors.

“Is that what my mother said? That he hit her?” The young lady asked, her brother glancing up to watch the stranger walk into the room. Rossi nodded to Clarkson, quickly turning his attention back to the young adults before him as the young agent took a seat at the bottom of the table quietly. She was, after all, there to observe.

“We haven’t spoken to your mother yet, but we understand it’s being suggested by her attorney.” Rossi explained, the words setting the girl, who Clarkson recognised from the case file to be Sarah Henson, into a pace across the back of the room.

“Unbelievable…” Sarah’s brother, Nathan, muttered under his breath, the siblings sharing a look of complete disbelief, of anger.

“She’s actually blaming him?” Sarah spoke more to her brother than the agents present, arms folded over her navy blouse. Clarkson watched the room intently, catching the tightening clasp Hotch’s hands had on each other, the furrow of his brow.

“So you don’t believe she was abused?” Hotch clarified, trying to gauge more of a reaction from Nathan, who seemed to let his sister display the anger.

“If anyone was abused, it was my father; what he had to put up with being married to her.” Sarah stated as a matter of fact, causing Rossi to look over at Clarkson, the pair sharing a look. Why did these kids hate they mother so wholeheartedly?

“She was a lousy cook.” Nathan finally spoke up, catching all three agents’ attention. “She couldn’t do the laundry right. The house was always filthy. Hell, she couldn’t even grocery shop without some kind of supervision.” He spoke with hatred, his choice of words causing Hotch’s expression to change.

“Supervision?” He asked, and Nathan elaborated.

“She’d get all the wrong things. Wrong brands, too much or too little of something.”

“And my father was always patient with her.” Sarah added. “Always.”

“She’s just… She isn’t…” Nathan tried to figure out the right word to use, looking to his sister for aid.

“She’s not bright.”

“Are you saying your mother is mentally challenged?” Clarkson spoke up from the bottom of the room, Sarah’s eyes narrowing as they landed on her. Clarkson couldn’t tell what caused her to look at Hotch and Rossi differently, but she didn’t want to look into it.

“No, I mean she’s stupid.” Sarah huffed.

“This is your mother we’re talking about here.” Rossi interjected, his hands going into his pockets.

“No, we’re talking about a woman who killed the only real parent we’ve ever had.” Sarah corrected, her voice wavering. “Our father was kind and gentle and loving.”

“He always had time for us. Always. He was at every game, every school event, everything important.” Nathan reassured; his own arms now folded. Both were fiercely defensive of the man who raised them.

“And what about your mother?” Hotch asked, confused.

“She never went to anything. Not once in my whole life. I guess she just couldn’t be bothered.” Nathan exclaimed.

“So if your father didn’t abuse your mother, why did she kill him?” Hotch questioned, trying to understand the family dynamic. Something didn’t add up, none of the information connected yet. A woman shot her husband at point blank range while he slept and is now claiming battered woman syndrome for abuse that reportedly never happened.

“Probably just to take him away from us.” Nathan nodded through the words.

“She was jealous that he loved us more than her.” Sarah shrugged, and Clarkson looked between the two young people.

“Why would she think that?” Clarkson asked, and Nathan scoffed.

“Because he said so all the time.” The young man confirmed, leaving the agents in a state of bewilderment. Sarah and Nathan Henson were led out by Rossi, Clarkson letting out a bated breath once they had exited, pulling out her phone to see what updates JJ had sent forward on the Keri case.

“Do you see why I brought you here instead of leaving you with the team?” Hotch asked, drawing Clarkson’s attention away from her mobile device.

“It’s not every day you get a case of battered woman syndrome without any physical abuse. Those kids hold fast that their mother was an awful person.” Clarkson nodded, a small part of her glad that the case was interesting. It would take her mind off of the stalker in Maryland.

“And that their father was a saint.” Rossi spoke as he walked in, sitting down between Clarkson and Hotch. “So where do we go from here? The wife or the scene?”

“Rossi, you and I will head to the scene first thing tomorrow. Clarkson, I want you here preparing to talk to Mrs Henson. Rossi can look more into the father’s background; I need to check in with Morgan and the team.” Hotch instructed, and Clarkson did her best not to look too shocked.

“You want me interviewing a killer alone?” She had to be sure that Hotch wasn’t confused, and Rossi smirked.

“Come on, Y/N. It’s not like it’s your first time interviewing a bad guy alone.” Rossi commented, the younger agent frowning. Hotch had Rossi’s help selecting her for the team, Clarkson knew this, but his bringing up her former occupation sent shivers down her spine. She didn’t need to remember any of her early twenties any time soon.

“Rossi, we leave here 7 tomorrow. Clarkson, you head to see her at the earliest time possible. Build up trust, small talk. You know the drill.” Hotch stood up, straightening his suit jacket, Rossi and Clarkson following suit, the three leaving the conference room, separating to take on their separate tasks. Over the rest of the afternoon, Clarkson tried her hardest to battle the knots in her stomach, a mixture of anxiety for the following day’s interview and a lack of communication from the team in Maryland, and the woman who had spent two years running from an unknown man. Something didn’t sit right with Clarkson about the whole thing, it felt too familiar to her, too close to home. When Prentiss called as Clarkson reached her hotel room that night, explaining the dognapping, that little else had come from their searching, and that she would make sure someone kept her as updated as possible, Y/N fell into a turbulent sleep.

She had never been one to sleep well, it was true, but that night in particular was rougher than most. Her evening was spent tossing and turning, and by the time she got up around 5 the next morning, she had no more than 15 minutes of sleep. Her mind had been tumbling, spiralling through the endless uncertainties that plagued the new line of work she had joined, ranging from her teammates, to her superiors, to her place. She was a capable woman, able to hide the fear that had building up inside her that maybe she wasn’t ready for the work, maybe it was all too soon for her, maybe she had made a mistake. Her inability to share her past with the team had made her seem hostile, was it only a matter of time before she was asked to transfer? To leave?

As the young woman dressed that day, taking the time to utilise the room’s iron and de-wrinkle her clothes, she tried to smother her doubts with the facts of the case. She knew that Mrs Henson had killed her husband, that she was thought of as incapable by her children, knew that she was confessing to the murder and her lawyer was claiming a syndrome almost exclusively used for women who have been victims of abuse, which the children claim never happened. Clarkson applied a soft pink lipstick, even taking the time to pluck a few stray eyebrow hairs and ensure perfection looked back at her. She would have to empathise, understand the criminal, and do so all alone.

It wasn’t Clarkson’s first time interviewing someone, but it was certainly a drastically different situation: when her past occupation was more about information, this was about reason and people. Clarkson didn’t have to see interviewees as humans before, as cruel as it sounded. Instead, she thought of them as objects containing secrets, she just had to crack them.

She drove with Hotch and Rossi to the police station, the pair dropping her off as they headed out to the Henson family home, leaving Clarkson at the front door. It took a few breaths, a few moments to centre herself before she entered the building, opting to leave her holstered weapon with the officer working reception, flashing her credentials as she did so before asking to see Mrs Henson as soon as possible. Then, she was led to a private room, equipped with a table and two chairs, and a bar to attach a prisoner’s cuffs to.

It didn’t take long for Mrs Henson to be brought to the room, accompanied by two burly guards. Normally, Clarkson would have found the cuffs and chains comforting, but on such a small and thin woman it just looked wrong.

“You can take off the restraints gentlemen, I think Mrs Henson and I are capable of conversation without them.” Clarkson said with a nod to the prisoner, the guards sharing a look before complying. Clarkson was slightly taller than the woman, more because of her heels than anything else, but she had muscle under the suit she wore. She was probably capable of taking on both the men with ease; Mrs Henson didn’t stand a chance if she attacked. “And you can stay outside. I think that would make Mrs Henson more comfortable?” The question was directed to the prisoner, who just looked dazed, and smiled weakly to the agent.

“We’ll be right outside, call us if you need anything, Agent Clarkson.” The first of the guards said, leading the pair out the door, leaving the women in silence.

“Mrs Henson, my name is Agent Y/N Clarkson. Are you aware you do not have to be here talking to me? That you and your lawyer opted for FBI involvement?” Clarkson asked, breaking the quiet with a soft voice, and a small smile.

“I know that, yes.” Henson nodded.

“And you know why you are here?” Clarkson made sure, and Henson finally met her eye.

“I shot my husband. I killed him.” It caused Clarkson’s brow to crease, the certainty of the woman’s words throwing her off guard for a moment.

“Why did you kill him, Mrs Henson?” The question was simply, and Henson thought for a moment beginning to nod.

“It’s what I had to do… It sounds terrible, but yes.” Henson responded, running her fingers over her wrists, tinged red from the handcuffs. “How old are you, Agent?” She asked, looking up.

“I’m 26.” Clarkson responded, quickly pulling the conversation back to the primary topic. “Mrs Henson, did your husband Phillip ever hit you?”

“Hit me? No, never… You know, I had married by your age…” She smiled a little at the thought, like her time with her husband, at least at the beginning, had been enjoyable.

“So, he was never abusive?” Clarkson clarified, and Mrs Henson shook her head.

“Not even when I probably deserved…” Henson trailed off, and Clarkson sat back in her chair, examining the woman before her.

“Mrs Henson, you don’t have to say anything to me, but I want to help you. I can only help you if you answer honestly, ok?” Clarkson clarified. “And if you want to, we can make this less stressful? Do you want me to call you Audrey? You can call my Y/N, we can make this a conversation amongst friends.” She tried to reassure, but Mrs Henson shook her head.

“That’s very kind of you Agent, but you wouldn’t want to be my friend.” She quickly looked up and the back down, beginning to pick at her fingernails.

“Why is that?”

“Are you kidding? Look at me.” Clarkson sat up at this point, leaning into the table, into Henson’s words. “You know, my husband was always patient with me, but when Nathan was born, I just let myself go.” A tear rolled down Henson’s cheek as her voice raised. “I’m fat, I’m a terrible housekeeper, I’m a terrible cook!” She took a slow breath, looking up at Clarkson. “Believe me, I needed a husband with a lot of patience, and a woman like you wouldn’t want to be friends with a mess like me.” Clarkson had to take a second to process the words that left her counterpart’s mouth, clearing her throat and sitting up straight again.

“Audrey, can I ask about your son Nathan?” With a nod from Mrs Henson, Clarkson continued. “He talked to me and my team yesterday, said that you never attended any of his school events. No sports games, no award ceremonies.”

“He’s probably right.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“Well, I was doing such a terrible job at home, I didn’t… I didn’t want to embarrass my family in public, too.” Henson sighed, and just at that moment Clarkson’s phone began to ring.

“I’m very sorry Audrey, it’s my team…” Clarkson stood from the table, knocking on the door and exiting as she answered the phone. “Hotch?” She glanced at one of the guards. “Could you get some water in there? I’ll be a moment.” Clarkson asked, and the guard nodded, heading off to fetch some refreshments.

“Clarkson, it’s Rossi.” Rossi clarified, no doubt he left his own mobile in the car. “We’re at the crime scene now, but the place… It’s nearly immaculate. Someone took the time to clean up excess blood.” Rossi informed her, and Clarkson looked back at the door she had just exited. “How is it going with Audrey?”

“Might be better for you to get back here and see for yourself.” Clarkson said with a sigh, a rustling through the phone led to Hotch coming on the line.

“Y/N, do you think Audrey Henson was abused?” Hotch asked Clarkson. “Because, if you do, I want you to inform Ms Alexander. Rossi and I will be back at the station as soon as we can.” Hotch informed, ending the call. Clarkson took a moment, twirling the phone in her hands before walking out to the bullpen, where Alexander stood, going through paperwork.

“Ah, Agent Clarkson… What do you think then? Have Hotch and Rossi come to a conclusion?” Alexander asked, and Clarkson gave her a tight-lipped smile.

“No, I have.” Clarkson corrected. “Mrs Henson was never physically abused, but from speaking with her and hearing about the state of her home, I can say with no doubt she experienced psychological abuse from her entire family.” Clarkson informed Alexander, who frowned at the younger woman.

“And your superiors agree with you? This woman shot her husband, or did you forget that?” Alexander went quickly on the accusative, and Clarkson took a step forward.

“Miss Alexander, I realise you called in more seasoned agents for this case, but when I give you an answer on behalf of the BAU, it doesn’t need to be double checked.” Clarkson said, challenging the older woman. “Agent Hotchner and Rossi will be here in ten minutes. I invite you to come into the room with us as I finish the interview. I think it could shed some light on my decision for you.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order, and the older woman took a few seconds to think of her response. Clarkson’s phone rang again before Alexander had a chance to answer, this time from Emily. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

“How is it going up in Boston?” Emily’s voice greeted Clarkson as she answered the phone.

“Nothing I can’t handle. Any new updates?” Clarkson responded, hearing Prentiss sigh on the other end.

“JJ is freaked out, really not enjoying how much we’ve been looking in Keri’s life. Garcia has more information on Keri than we have on the unsub in any way shape or form.” Prentiss explained, stopping for a moment. “I actually called to see if Hotch was with you, he isn’t picking up his cell.”

“They’re driving at the moment, we’re about to go into a final interview.” Clarkson said with a glance to the door, Hotch and Rossi walking through and meeting with Alexander. “Keep me posted, Prentiss.”

“Promise.” She responded, Clarkson flipping her phone shut and walking over to her superiors.

“Are we all ready?” She asked, and with a stern nod from Hotch, the three followed Clarkson to the interview room, the guard opening the door to reveal Mrs Henson sat quietly, sipping on her glass of water, the other guard stationed inside.

“Thank you.” She said, dismissing the guard, taking her seat once more. “Sorry about that, Audrey. This is Agent Hotchner and Agent Rossi, and you know Miss Alexander. Do you mind if they stand in for our last few questions?”

“Not at all Agent, a busy woman like you shouldn’t have to apologise. Of course your team can stay.” Mrs Henson said with a smile, and Clarkson glanced down at her phone. Rossi had sent through pictures of the home earlier, a complete contrast to how Audrey had described it. What Clarkson would have initially assumed to be a hoarder’s paradise looked like something out of a catalogue, perfect down to the spacing of the clothes hangers and shoes. Not unlike how Y/N kept her own home.

“Why isn’t she cuffed?” Alexander whispered to Hotch, but Clarkson pretended not to hear, and Hotch shook his head, stopping Alexander from asking more.

“Mrs Henson, I need to ask about what happened after you shot Phillip.” Clarkson said softly, Mrs Henson setting down her cup on the table slowly, taking a gulp before looking up. “Could you take us through what you did?”

“Well, um…” Henson stopped for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “I had just finished the laundry, and I was, I was hanging up the last of my husband’s shirts in the closet. I looked over and I saw him on the bed, and I knew. I knew it had to be then, that it was my only chance. And so, I decided I had to kill him.” She wiped a tear from her eye, and took a deep breath, her eyes focused on the table between her and Clarkson. “I picked up the gun, and I shot him. Her eyes looked up at Clarkson. “I shot my husband.”

“That was the murder, Audrey… What did you do after it?” Clarkson pressed. “Did you sit and wait for someone to come home?” She asked, and Henson quickly shook her head.

“Oh, no, no, no. I had to clean up.” Henson said quickly, Clarkson’s eyes glancing to Hotch, who nodded.

“Why did you have to clean up, Audrey?” Clarkson asked.

“Well, there was blood everywhere.”

“And did you clean up because you wanted to keep what you had done a secret?”

“Oh no. I was going to tell Sarah what I had done the second she got home. I wasn’t hiding anything.” Henson insisted, and Alexander finally spoke up, confused.

“Then why did you clean up the blood?” Alexander asked, and Henson’s attention focused on her.

“Because the police would have been coming. And Phillip would have been so furious if I had allowed all those strangers in the house with a mess like that.” Audrey explained, a tear staining her cheek, leaving Alexander speechless. Clarkson stood up from the table, walking over and taking Audrey’s hand in hers.

“Audrey, thank you so much for talking with us. My team are going to be heading away now, but what you’ve told us is very helpful. Miss Alexander and your lawyer will be working with you from here on.” Clarkson explained, and Audrey smiled a little.

“Could I have the other glass of water?” Audrey asked, and Clarkson nodded, Hotch leading the rest of them out of the room, the guards heading back inside. Once the door had closed, Clarkson took a deep breath, Rossi patting her shoulder in comfort.

“Her life’s been punishment enough.” Hotch said to Alexander, Rossi leading Clarkson back into the bull pen to collect their things.

“I’m going to have to drag her through a trial.” Alexander sighed, leaning against the wall for a moment. “I’ll recommend she’s charged with criminally negligent homicide. By the time it’s over, she’ll probably get off with probation and time served.” She stated, running a hand over her head, taking a second to think before walking back out into the main building with Hotch, heading out the door into the street to think.

“You did a good job.” Hotch said as he returned to Rossi and Clarkson, the latter fastening her gun back onto herself. Helping find the truth felt good, and Clarkson responded with a small smile. “We’ll fly back tonight, take the day to pack. Clarkson, can you write up the report on this one?”

“Of course sir, anything you need.” Clarkson agreed.

The three stayed nearby, and as afternoon turned into evening, and Rossi surprised both Hotch and Clarkson at the station with Chinese takeout, their flight scheduled to leave late that night, it felt like a cooldown. Even though the case Morgan, Reid, Prentiss and JJ were on in Maryland was slowly but surely escalating, the victim’s boyfriend finding his windows smashed only a few hours before, Hotch knew whatever was happening could be handled by the rest of his team for the night, Rossi, Clarkson and himself planning to drive out the next morning to assist. And so, Y/N sat with her bosses in a police station hundreds of miles from her home, eating chicken chow mein and finishing up her report of the case. After the final line was written, she handed the file over to Hotch to proof-read, though he was distracted by his phone call with JJ. Rossi, to Clarkson’s right, was examining a photo of the Henson’s with interest, scopping rice into his mouth as he did.

“And there’s nothing else pending? No, it’s alright… We’ll meet you tomorrow, if nothing more happens, I’ll need us all back to normal… Ok, thanks JJ.” Hotch ended his call, sighing and finally glancing down at Clarkson’s finished report.

“Still working on the single stalker case?” Rossi asked, not looking up from his food and the photo.

“Mmhmm…”

“All of them?”

“JJ seems pretty passionate about it.” Hotch smiled a little, beginning to flick through Clarkson’s report. His eyes lingered on a photo of the family in the file, a frown forming on his lips. “You know, sometimes you can see it, but, uh… They all look pretty happy.” He remarked, causing Clarkson and Rossi to share a glance.

“Happiness is easy to fake when you only have half a second.” Rossi responded, and Clarkson smirked, taking a sip of her water. “You should see how many happy-looking photos I have with my exes.”

“Were you ever happy in any of your marriages?” Hotch asked, setting the file down on the table, giving more attention to the conversation.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.” Rossi was honest, looking from the photo to Hotch. “If I was, I can’t remember… I’m not sure if me and the idea of being married are a good mix.” The comment made both Hotch and Clarkson laugh a little.

“You kept trying…” It was more a question from Hotch.

“I didn’t have any kids.” Rossi responded off the cuff, causing Hotch to look back up.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I might have tried harder if there were children involved.” Rossi shrugged, not realising he had said the wrong thing. Clarkson picked up on it though.

“I tried…” Hotch said softly, shaking his head a little. “I gave absolutely everything to Haley and Jack, and to my job.”

“So, something had to give.” Rossi said with sympathy, and Clarkson nodded.

“Something always gives, Hotch.” She confirmed, the two men looking over at her. “The same thing happened with Charlie. There’s a point people reach where they can’t go any further, and Haley reached that point.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m any less committed as a father or love my son any less.” Hotch said, his words sure and defensive, more directed to Rossi’s earlier comment.

“Of course not.” Clarkson smiled, making Hotch smile slightly too.

“Hey, Hotch, what to I know? The only people I’ve made happy are divorce lawyers.” Rossi added.

“Well, we’ve got five failed marriages between the three of us, we have to be experts at something.” Hotch sighed, and Clarkson looked up.

“We’re experts at our job, Hotch. And it’s not fair, but we lost love because of it.” Clarkson said thoughtfully, taking a bite of chicken.

“You’re too young to be wistful, Clarkson.” Rossi chuckled, the young woman rolling her eyes. The three fell into a pensive silence, continuing their meals, all wondering exactly where their marriages went wrong.

--

Silver Spring, Maryland.

The past few days in Marlyand. for Prentiss, JJ, Morgan and Reid had been stressful to say the very least. First Keri’s dog was taken, then Ryan’s car trashed, sensitive information about Keri terminating a pregnancy had sent the couple into a spiral, and as of twenty minutes before, Keri had gone missing, abducted from her home. She had come in earlier that morning to the station after seeing her stalker, and sat down with a sketch artist and the team, and now that they had an image and, thanks to a bystander, the make and colour of van the unsub was driving, the team had managed to figure out who took Keri: a man named Mike Hicks.

The team were at Ryan and Keri’s home, Reid and Garcia communicating data through Ryan’s home computer, running through any other data that could be useful on Mike Hicks when another black SUV pulled up outside the address.

“Come on Garcia, do we have an address?” Morgan asked into the phone, which had been put on speaker for the room to hear, Rossi walking into the room as Morgan spoke, followed by Hotch and Clarkson. JJ was pacing behind the couch, and while the rest of the team greeted the newcomers, she didn’t look up.

“His social’s listed at a bank and the account lists… Mike Hicks, 404 Lark Lane, Silver Spring.” Garcia announced, Morgan looking up at Hotch and Rossi.

“We’ll head out with the police to his address.” Hotch offered. It was unlikely he would be there, they all knew it, but better to be safe than sorry.

“Thanks baby girl.” Morgan said down the phone, flipping it closed. “Looks like you arrived right on time.” Morgan commented at Clarkson, who hadn’t followed Hotch and Rossi outside, instead taking in the information on the computer over Reid’s shoulder.

“Like I would leave you to have all the fun.” Clarkson said softly to Morgan, in a much better mood than any of the team had seen her in, ever. The Boston case must have gone well.

“Every second we’re here, she’s alone with him.” Ryan said quietly, looking up to Prentiss who stood at his right side. He looked broken, helpless, it made sense. His fiancé had disappeared, taken by an obsessive stalker. The cogs began to turn in Prentiss’ head at the comment.

“His obsession defines him.” She thought aloud, the team looking up at her. It even stopped JJ’s pacing. “He wants to make her happy. He wouldn’t take her where he wants to go but where she wants to go.”

“Maybe someplace that means something to the both of you?” JJ suggested, looking up at Ryan. The man’s face paled, almost sinking as he thought about it.

“I proposed to her on Chesapeake beach…” Ryan said weakly, and the team shared a few glances. It had to be it. Within seconds, the team had silently agreed, and Morgan took charge.

“Ryan, you’ll ride with Prentiss, Reid and I. JJ, I want you in a car behind… Take Clarkson too. Detective, we need a police barrier as soon as possible, this guy can’t get away. Hopefully, Keri is smart enough to get herself somewhere in public.” Morgan instructed, and Clarkson raised an eyebrow. As the team headed out to the cars, Morgan walked beside her. “Whatever you did in Boston, it proved that Hotch trusts you. By consequence, I trust you. No more desk work, rookie.” Morgan said quietly, the pair breaking off for different cars. JJ took the driver’s seat, Clarkson jumping in beside her, the pair following the rest of the team in the car ahead. In the centre console, a can of soda was nestled into a cup holder, JJ sipping it periodically.

“When did you start drinking diet soda instead of coffee?” Clarkson asked, keeping her eyes ahead.

“What do you mean?” JJ seemed confused, setting the soda away.

“I’ve known you for two months, I have never seen you pick up a soda before. I mean, I hadn’t seen you drink decaf until last week.” Clarkson added, JJ making a sharp turn to follow Morgan.

“What are you getting at Clarkson?” JJ asked, finally looking at her co-worker.

“Agitated, lack of caffeine, taste changes…” Clarkson stopped for a second, weighing her options. “How long have you known you were pregnant?” Clarkson asked the question, and JJ almost stopped the car. Before she could ask, Clarkson continued. “The rest of the team don’t notice because they know you too well. I have a feeling Reid asked at some point, right? Just trusted you when you claimed to be doing a caffeine detox?”

“Will doesn’t know yet. No-one knows yet.” JJ said quietly, and Clarkson placed a hand on hers.

“They won’t hear it from me… Congratulations.” The car came to a stop at the promenade of Chesapeake beach, both women jumping out of the car with guns at the ready, following Prentiss as Morgan went round the side of a building, Reid staying with Ryan in the car. The brunette beckoned the two agents towards her, the three concealing themselves behind a corner as a message came through on the radio from Reid: “Unsub is armed and with Keri. Headed your way.” Prentiss looked back at JJ and Clarkson, who both nodded in understanding.

As Mr Hicks rounded the corner with Keri, all three spread out to block the exits, the local police falling in behind him, everyone with guns raised. In response, Hicks held the gun to Keri’s head, causing Prentiss to move her hand from her trigger.

“Ok, ok. Let’s all put these away. I just want to talk to you.” Prentiss said, holstering her gun.

“Don’t make me hurt her.” Mike’s voice wavered, his hands shook, and his grip on Keri’s arm was vice like. But Prentiss took lead, gesturing for officers and agents alike to lower their guns.

“You don’t have to do that. Michael, we don’t want to take her away from you. Keri told me she wants to be with you.” Prentiss explained slowly, looking to Keri. It was their victim’s time to shine, to play into the fantasy.

“It’s true.” Keri said through her hyperventilation. “I’m so happy now… They think you’re gonna hurt me. Put it down so we can be together.” Keri urged Mike, who kept the gun trained on her. “Where do you wanna go first? We could, uh, we could go back to Atlanta?” Keri suggested, her hand reaching to touch Mike’s, his gun lowering in tandem. “We could find a little house.”

The moment Hicks had lowered his gun, Keri wrenched herself from his grasp, running towards the local sheriff, and Morgan jumped out from behind a neighbouring building, tackling Hicks to the ground, disarming the threat and handing the gun over to Clarkson as he handcuffed the stalker. Prentiss and JJ moved towards Keri as Ryan rounded the corner with Reid, reuniting the couple, and Clarkson helped Morgan lift the unsub to his feet.

“Nicely done, Morgan.” Clarkson complimented, walking with her colleague and the detective to the awaiting police car.

“So, will you tell me why you were in such a good mood the other day?” Morgan asked as he shoved the convict into the back seat. Slamming the door and sending the car on its way with two hits to the roof.

“Some asshole named Fred has been really, really annoying me since I got to the BAU. When I came in with coffee and donuts, it was because I had walked into his department to file a report, the case from last week with counterterrorism, and I got the chance to make him fetch me coffee.” Clarkson explained, walking back to the car with Morgan, a smile on her face. A genuine one, sweet and a little prideful, but it made Morgan shake his head and chuckle.

“Same guy went after Prentiss and JJ until he found out what they do.” Morgan said, jumping into the car, Reid catching up to ride with them, on the phone with Rossi.

“We’ll meet you back at Quantico then.” Reid finished the call, looking at his fellow agents, eyes landing on Clarkson. “How many times have you smiled?” He asked, pulling out the notebook.

“Wait… Is that what the notebook is for? Tracking my facial expressions?” Clarkson asked, an eyebrow raised. Reid quickly tucked the book away, choosing to change the subject.

“How was Boston?” he asked, Morgan starting the drive back to Quantico.

“We all got the right ending this weekend.” Clarkson said, turning on the radio and relaxing into her seat. It was enough to silence the conversation, the drive back to the BAU quiet and without tension. It was comforting, knowing that it was the first time in her BAU career that she was truly a part of the team.

--

Tags: @ssour-patch-kid @dxbriksx @asapkyndall @sungieeeeeee @afuckingshituniverse @hommoturttle @viarogers

[xxx-cat-xxx]

we’re collecting dust (but our love’s enough)

Have a little bittersweet Pepperony & Ironfam fic. As always, thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading!

_________________

And here’s the thing about getting old: it’s marked by an ever-rising contrast between the good days and the bad days. On good days, Tony can still spend hours tinkering in the garage or playing ball with Peter’s eight-year-old son, Ben, down by the lake.

But on bad days, when phantom pain is hijacking all of his senses (despite the fact that two decades have passed now since that final battle), putting on the prosthesis is out of the question—as is getting down the stairs from the master bedroom.

And on the really bad days, his joints are so stiff that he’s barely able to lift his one remaining arm high enough to bring his migraine medication up to his lips.

“Pep?” Tony croaks, hating the weakness that’s echoing back at him. He’s not sure if she’s even close enough to hear him, but he trusts FRIDAY to relay the message that his wife is needed.

It takes her longer than it used to, but then Pepper is by his side, putting an arm behind his back in a practiced motion to help him sit up a little more. He bites back a groan when the change in elevation only increases the stabbing pain behind his right eye.

“Open your mouth,” she directs, firmly but warmly, before placing the pills on his tongue and bringing the water glass to his lips so he can take a sip. He loves her for the lack of pity in her eyes, for her focus on the practicalities of caring, for the calmness masking her worry― although none of that is surprising. Hell, they’ve been through far worse than the thunderstorms in his head.

Pepper adds a heating pad to the collection of pillows propping him up and pats it with an inviting gesture. Wincing, he lies back down, then curls onto his side, pulling his legs up to his stomach.

“Here, just in case.” Pepper puts a trash can next to the bed, freshly lined in order to avoid the smell making his nausea any worse. Tony really hopes he won’t throw up the pills he just took, but the possibility is definitely there.

“You’re the best, Miss Potts” he mumbles, and only then realises that this particular nickname is already a few decades too old.

“Get some sleep, Tony.” She brushes a kiss on his forehead and gently shuts his eyes with her palm. He opens them again the moment she’s left the room, unable to find rest just yet.

With difficulty, Tony turns onto his other side so that the photos on the nightstand come into view. Morgan and her girlfriend Riri with their surfboards at Malibu beach, the sunset bathing them in a warm, almost otherworldly light. Peter and Ben, who is sitting on Rhodey’s lap in the wheelchair and laughing at someone behind the camera. Happy and May, arm in arm and a little drunk on the evening of their tenth anniversary.

Tony keeps looking at the photos until the drugs kick in and they turn blurry in front of his eyes while he finally drifts off.

*

It’s early evening when he wakes again, his head still throbbing and his body tired, but feeling miles better than earlier. The house is quiet and Pepper is nowhere to be seen. Tony lies still for a moment, marvelling at the simple fact that he is able to form comprehensive thoughts without feeling like his brain is being eaten alive.

After a while, he’s able to sit up on his own and slowly make his way to the bathroom. He uses the toilet and brushes his teeth to get rid of the stale taste in his mouth. Then he has to hold on to the basin for a while because he starts to feel lightheaded from being on his feet for a phenomenal five full minutes. Finally it passes, and he washes his face with cold water to get his blood pressure back to a more reasonable level.

When he looks up, there’s an old man staring back at him from the mirror, rumpled grey hair and an even greyer beard. He bears a vague resemblance to Howard Stark―Howard Stark if someone had tried to melt away half of his face.

The snap has left a long-term toll, and not just in the gruesome scars all over his body. Tony had a stroke last summer, after which he’d temporarily lost the movement in his one remaining arm and was drooling for weeks, and he’s already on his second pacemaker this year. Not that he’s complaining―better to be old than dead, thank you very much―but some things really just suck. He stares at the mirror image a moment longer and then sticks out his tongue at it, content to see that this makes him stop looking like Howard.

“Tony?” He flinches when he hears Pepper’s voice from downstairs, though she doesn’t sound like Pepper at all. Her tone is scared, almost desperate. “Where are you?”

“Hon-” he stops to clear his scratchy throat and tries again. “Honey, I’m up here!”

Her footsteps run up the staircase and he turns around to see her enter, dressed in her favourite light blue summer dress, the long hair cascading down over her shoulders.

“Tony?” she asks again, breathing hard. Then she takes him in and relief blooms on her face. He registers the tears on her cheek and automatically raises his good hand to wipe them away.

“What happened?” he asks softly. But he already knows.

Closing her eyes, she leans into his touch. “I was in the garden,” she starts. “I was, I think I was watering the sunflowers, and then, for a second, I―I didn’t know. Where I was. Where everyone was.”

“Oh Pep,” he sighs, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. It’s not the first time this has happened, but all the other times she’s been inside the house where FRIDAY could help her make sense of the situation and get back to reality quickly. “How long were you out there?”

“I don’t know,” Pepper mumbles. “I thought―I thought it was a park, maybe? That I was back at my parents’ place and went out for a walk. But then I saw Morgan’s little house and remembered.” She takes a shaky breath. “God, Tony, it’s all such a mess.”

“You’re alright,” he whispers, and then, knowing it’s not herself she is scared about, he adds, “I’m here. Morgan and Riri are flying around the world somewhere. Peter is in Queens—it’s his weekend with Ben. They might be visiting Happy and May just now. Rhodey is… I don’t actually know where Rhodey is right now, but he’s fine. Everyone’s doing okay.”

“I know,” she mumbles, pulling away. “Now I remember.”

“Good. That’s good, Pep. It was just―a glitch. A tiny glitch in your memory.” He forces a smile and shifts a bit of his weight against the doorframe, his legs suddenly feeling weak.

Pepper, of course, catches on to that. “How's your headache?” She seems to have caught herself, but he wonders whether she remembers his migraine or just guessed it from the situation. “Why are you up?”

“Had to pee. But I’m better, promise.” She looks at him critically, and he adds, “Just won't be up for anything demanding for the rest of the day.”

“That’s fine.” She runs her hands through her hair, combing it with her fingers before tying it up in a bun, her way of reasserting control. “You should go back to bed. I’ll fix us something light to eat.”

Tony doesn’t like the idea of leaving her alone right now, but making it down the stairs to the kitchen seems... challenging. But he’s already got a better idea. “Actually, I was thinking of taking a bath. Getting a little ripe,” he jokes. “Will you help me wash my hair?”

It's always good to give her something easy to do when the dementia is playing tricks on her, something to busy her hands and distract her mind.

“Uh-huh.” She looks right through him, then sighs a little. “Sure. Why not.”

There used to be a time after Afghanistan when Tony couldn’t have set foot in a bathtub if an army had forced him to. He avoided them the same way he avoided caves and, later, endless night skies or Sci-Fi movies with wormholes. It was only Peter’s immense disappointment over not being able to watch the fourth Star Trek movie together that finally pushed him into seeing the counsellor who helped him get a grip on some of this.

(Almost starving in space, Peter’s five-year disappearance and Pepper’s pregnancy might have also played a role, but hey, saying you started therapy to be able to watch Leonard Nimoy in a bathrobe saving whales makes for better dinner table jokes).

Either way, he’s glad that his bath-o-phobia is mostly cured now, because their lakehouse tub is plain amazing, and not having to stand to shower on days like these is a blessing.

The hot water and the essential oils Pepper added to it do wonders for Tony’s aching body. He breathes in the steam that reminds him of expensive spas on New York’s winter days. Pepper has turned her back towards him, organising the already neat collection of tubes and bottles on the counter. Unimpressed with the solemnity of the scene, he playfully splashes some water at her. She turns towards him and smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Tony could tell from a mile away that she’s still shaken.

Time for plan B.

“Will you join me, honey?” Drawing out the last word, he blinks his eyelashes up at her seductively, which finally makes her laugh for real.

“Well, Mr Stark, if you’re asking like that…” The dress slides down her shoulders and collects around her feet, and her undergarments quickly follow. She glides inside the tub more gracefully than should be legal for anyone over sixty, and, copying him, flicks some water onto his nose.

Ignoring the perfect opportunity for a water fight, Tony extends his arm and pulls her close to his chest, taking in her wrinkled skin and the roots of grey in her ginger hair where the dye has grown out. She intertwines her legs with his and lets her weight, minimised by the water, be borne fully by his body. Her cheek comes to rest on the soft spot between his collarbones. She is moving up and down in rhythm with his breaths, creating tiny ripples on the surface of the water, and he holds her tighter, ever tighter.

Pepper readjusts her position and runs her hand down from his neck, to his stomach, and back up again. He responds with a kiss to the top of her forehead and then starts tracing the outline of her breast with his index finger. She stops to look down at them critically. “Not really what they used to be.”

“Still better than what I have to offer,” he deadpans. At this point, his chest is basically one big scar tissue. “And personally, I’m still a fan of them. It. All of it.”

He can hear her smile in the way she lets her breath out through her nose.

They stay like that for a while, Tony feeling the tension bleed out of his body, the pounding of his temples ease a little, and his eyes slowly falling shut again.

“I was so scared,” Pepper suddenly admits into his collarbones. He feels drops of water trickle down his neck and knows she’s crying even before she sniffles quietly.

“I know,” he says quietly. “But it will be alright, love.”

“Will it, though?” she asks, ever-critically, ever-questioning. Too many of his promises have shattered before her eyes for her to blindly believe him now, so he doesn’t make her any new ones, doesn’t talk about the world-renowned team of scientists he already hired when the first symptoms showed themselves, about the devices he’s working on down in his garage. She already knows all of that. It’s not what she needs to hear right now.

Instead, he swallows hard and says, “Pep, listen. We’ll get through this too. And if… whatever will happen. I'll be there.” What he doesn’t say out loud is what she already knows from how tight he’s holding on to her:

I won’t give you up without a fight.

“I know,” she whispers. Then she takes a deep breath before untangling herself from his embrace. “So, are we going for the anti-dandruff shampoo or can I use something that won’t make you smell like coconut?”

Tony positively purrs while Pepper massages the shampoo into his scalp. “Close your eyes and mouth,” she commands when she tilts his head back before starting the shower. And a laugh bursts out of Tony, because this is the same tone she used to use on Morgan when washing her hair, and in response their daughter would screw her eyes shut and bite her lips so tight in such concentration that her whole face scrunched up with it.

“What’s so funny?” Pepper asks, so Tony, not one to admit to nostalgia, just twists the showerhead out of her grasp to point it back at her, finally getting himself that water fight.

*

After drying off and pulling on a fresh pair of pajamas, Tony is put back to bed with his tablet and a promise that Pepper will join after making pasta. He checks his email, then sets the tablet aside and gets back up to open the window. He lets his eyes wander to the garden and lake that are just visible in the last rays of daylight.

Sometimes, on bad days, he cynically wonders what will give out first: his broken body or Pepper’s battered mind. But on good days, that's not what counts. They might have months, or years; if things go great, they might even have another decade. Tony has long, long ago started to regard every additional day in his life as something he doesn’t have a right to, and sworn to himself to use them to the best of his ability. That’s what it comes down to, in the end. He and Pepper will do what they have always done―simply keep going as long as they can.

“Hey, old man.” Pepper is standing in the doorway, holding out a bowl of blueberries. “I picked them earlier in the garden―forgot all about them. You want some?”

“Sure.” He turns around to fully look at her. “I'd love to.”

_________________

I hope you liked it! Credit for the idea of Riri Williams and Morgan Stark getting together goes to @fuzzydeergirlart‘s wonderful art (or at least that’s where I go the idea from). 

All my fics

[chuckepisodes]

Chuck vs. The Helicopter Part 4

Casey was still sitting on the floor, still feeling the effects of the dart. "Casey, he's got Sarah. We've got to save her." Chuck said. "Brilliant deduction, Nancy Drew. " "Hey..." you said starting to defend Chuck. "Now pull out the tranq dart! " "Oh, I have a very strong aversion to needles." " Do it!" "I got it Chuck." You pulled it out real quick and Chuck looked like he was going to be sick. "That was the doctor, right? He's probably not dead? " Chuck asked. "And the sun sets in the west. Nothing gets by you." You and Chuck both got on either side of Casey and helped him up. "One, two, three. what's he gonna do with Sarah?" you asked. "He's gonna torture her until she tells him all about you two. Come on. If we hurry, we can catch him. "

You then all started to rush over to Chuck's car. "All right, where are we going?" Chuck asked. " I laced my quiches with micro bots." " You're not kidding, are you? " you asked. "I don't kid about quiche." Casey said looking over at you in the back. "We can trace him using the car's tracker." " Yeah, I think that only comes with the sports package. " "We made some enhancements when your car was in the shop. " All of a sudden a tiny screen came up, tracker all set. "What?! Did you do that to my car too?" you asked. "Well we always seem to be using Chuck's car so no." "Oh...that's cool." you said trying to not sound disappointed. "Got a signal. Let's go."

Chuck floored it. You all found yourselves pulling into the Buy More. Chuck parked the car and you all quickly got out. You went through a side door at the back, being quiet. "Let's go. " "Hey, Casey, Casey. Wait a minute. Why, why would he bring Sarah here? " Chuck asked. "I don't know." "You two wait here." He then fell down to the floor and quickly got up. The dart still affecting him. "Damn tranq dart. come on." You all then heard screams coming from the home theatre room and quickly but quietly made your way over. You moved the curtains out of the way only to find Morgan sitting there, eating food and watching an old horror film. "It's Morgan." You said. " He ate your quiches." Chuck added. " We're on the wrong trail." You all got back into the car, figuring where Zarnow could have taken Sarah. Casey was trying to track her somehow but nothing was coming up. "I got nothing." "What do you mean you got nothing? Then what do we do?" Chuck asked. " It's over. She's gone. No, no, no, no, no. Okay, this is our fault. We didn't believe her. Now we have to save her." you said. " Look, if you were a bad guy, what would you do, fly Sarah out on a plane? Would you use a boat or a-a-a what"" Chuck asked. "Chopper. Small airfield near the water. The closest I could find." " Then do-do a satellite search using the touch screen and then maybe limit that to airfields that are within a certain range of us and then maybe limit that by if there's activity on the ground?" Chuck said. " That's not bad." Casey said impressed. "Nice Chuck!" " Thanks. Yeah, I was just kind of, you know, spit balling, just kind of top of my head." Casey punched some info in. "Found it. Port of Los Angeles. " "Floor it." you said. " Okay."

You all made it to the port and saw the helicopter as well as a guy with a huge gun coming out of it. This was the spot. Casey then turned to look at you both. "This is how this is gonna work. I'm gonna go over there, rescue Sarah, and capture Dr. Zarnow, shoot anybody who gets in my way. You two, you're gonna stay here. " "So, in this plan we basically do nothing? " you asked. "Yep." " Let's do this." you and Chuck said at the same time. Casey nodded then got out of the car. You then climbed up front to sit beside Chuck. "All right, all right. Now we wait." Chuck said. You then both looked over and saw Zarnow coming out of a warehouse. "Uh Chuck?" "Stay in the car. Stay in the car. Do not leave the car. Do not leave this car." "We aren't staying in the car are we?" you asked. Chuck then turned to look at you. "Nope." "Let's go then." You and Chuck got out of the car and Chuck came up close to you. "Stay close Y/N." You nodded looking at him and you both quietly walked into the warehouse.  You were sneaking around when you noticed Sarah first, her wrists chained up above her head and a duct tape over her mouth. You tapped on Chuck's arm and pointed. Sarah then turned and noticed you both as well. You quickly ran up to her. "Sarah, are you okay?" you asked. "What are you doing here?" she was saying through the piece of tape. "Stupid question." you said. "Okay, uh, should I... ? " Chuck started and then ripped off the piece of tape. "Sorry. " "Y/N, Chuck, you have to get out of here." " No, we're here to save you." you said. " You guys shouldn't even be here; you're too valuable, and, besides, I have this well in hand." " Uh-huh, yeah, 'cause it looks well in hand." Chuck pointed out. You jabbed him in the side with your elbow. "Ow!" " Just find me something to pick this lock." Chuck found something that could work and handed it over to Sarah. All of a sudden Zarnow was coming back in. "Go, go, go! The tape, the tape." Sarah urged. Chuck quickly put the tape back over Sarah's mouth then he grabbed you and pulled you along with him to find somewhere to hide. You both ended up hiding behind a wall that still had a spot to see what was going on. The whole time you were both hiding, Chuck kept his arm around you. You watched as Zarnow approached Sarah. "The helicopter's ready, agent Walker. This is your last chance. We're going to a special facility where they're going to torture you. Really torture, not this child's play. Or you could just tell me who are the patients X." He then pulled out a needle. "Something for the flight." "Oh crap!" Chuck ended up saying it a little too loud. Zarnow heard and looked over to find the two of you. "Run!" you yelled. "Oh crap! Oh crap!" Chuck held onto your hand pulling you along with him. Zarnow then threw the needle which ended up going right past Chuck's face, sticking into a box. You pulled Chuck closer to you. You then both turned to look at him and began to flash, learning all his secrets. "We know you. We know your secret." Chuck said. " You-you've been feeding American science to north Korea for years." You said. " Ah, patients X. To think that my secrets are in those heads of yours. It's an honor, really. Of course, to hell with honor. I'm here for the impressive dollar figure the human intersects will fetch." He had the dart gun pointed at you both. Chuck saw him about to pull the trigger and pushed you out of the way before he shot. Chuck ended up getting hit with a dart in the chest. "Chuck!" you screamed. Chuck said your name before falling to the ground. You went to go hide quickly before he could find you too and shoot you as well. A guy then came up and started dragging Chuck to the helicopter. You wanted to run and save Chuck so badly but you knew you needed to help Sarah first. You ran over to her to try and help when Casey came in to give you a hand. Once you finally got Sarah free you looked over at Casey. "They've got Chuck! We need to go save him now!" You said, worry clear in your voice. "Don't worry Y/N, we'll get him back." Sarah reassured putting her hand on your arm. She knew how you felt about Chuck. You never told her but it was obvious.

You both ran out and saw the chopper leaving. Casey was about to shoot when Sarah put his arm down. "Don't shoot! Chuck will be on there." You were all looking up when you noticed the helicopter was flying all over the place. You were all able to get a good look at who was flying it and it looked to be Chuck. "Oh my God." you said. "Oh, my God, Casey, I think Chuck's flying the chopper." Sarah then said. Casey then grabbed his phone and dialed Chuck's number. "Yeah, I'm here." Chuck answered. " I told you two to stay in the car." You know what? Forget about the car. Tell me how to fly a helicopter. And is Y/N okay?" "Y/N is fine.  All right, there's a collective in the cyclic control. " "What?" "One's the stick. One looks like an emergency brake. Grab 'em both." "Okay, okay, I got it. This is not working!" " Push the stick just a bit forward while doing the same thing with the emergency brake." "Ground-- not good." " Pull up! Pull up! Pull up on the emergency brake! Level off. Level off! " "I don't know how. I don't know how to level off! " "Listen, moron, you want to die?" You were panicking watching this all unfold. "Give me the phone, Casey. I think I know how to help him." you said. " Here." "Chuck?" "Y/NN?! You okay?" "I'm fine Chuck. Let's worry about you though." you said trying to sound calm. "Okay. Okay." "Now we have played a lot of games together. Can you remember any of the flight simulators we played though?" "Uh yeah! Uh, maverick of the skies... uh, stealth fighter elite... uh, chopper patrol." "Okay! The last one! Now just pretend that we are playing the game at your place. We are just chilling in your bedroom playing this game. None of this is real." "It's just a game. It's just a game. Okay, I can do this. I can play this game. " "Easy, Chuck, easy" ". Uh... uh, is this one of those helicopters that can turn into a boat?" he said while flying over the water. " No, it isn't. Just ease to the right and goose the brake. They designed the game exactly like the helicopter." "I got it. I got it. Almost there. A little more to the right. Keeping right. Keeping right. Goosin' the brake. It's just a game. A big scary video game. " He then slowly but surely landed the chopper on the ground. "oh, thank you, god! oh, yes! You are wonderful." Chuck cheered. You smiled real big and started running over to him. You saw Chuck jump out and do a little dance. "And that is how... I do... that! That's how we do that." "Oh my God Chuck!" You jumped on him, giving him the biggest hug ever and breathing a sigh of relief. Chuck instantly wrapped his arms around you. "Hey, hey, hey. It's okay Y/NN. I'm okay." "I know." He squeezed you tighter then put you down. You both turned to see Sarah and Casey approaching you both. "Go team! Up top on that one!" he said raising his hand. "What the Hell were you thinking?!" Sarah yelled. "Chuck, the secrets that you two know are incredibly important. You compromised everything when you two stopped trusting me." Sarah said now looking at you two. "And when you got out of the car." Casey added. "Listen, I'm... I'm sorry, okay?" Chuck said. "Listen this was not all Chuck's fault . I went along with it too." You said, not wanting Chuck to get all the blame. " No, it is not okay. How could you guys think I was the double, huh? You know, I am not Bryce. Bryce betrayed everything that I believe in, and if you ever accuse me of that again, then I will walk away. Mission over. We all go back to Washington. And you do not want that to happen. That you should trust me on." Sarah then began to walk away. "Way to go ace." Casey said before walking away as well.

You went with Chuck back at his place. Your car was parked there again. But before you left, you sat down on the fountain, bringing Chuck down with you. "What's the matter Y/N?" he can see the concern on your face. "I just... you have no idea how scared I was tonight. Seeing you get shot by a dart, getting dragged away..." you started trying not to cry. Chuck sighed. He hated that you had to see that and he imagined he would be feeling the same way as you if it was the other way around. "I'm so sorry Y/N. If we had just stuck to the plan and stayed in the car none of that would have happened." "Chuck it's not your fault. I went along with it too you know." You said looking at him giving him a little smile. "You know though, I probably would have never been able to land that chopper if you weren't there. You saved my ass tonight." "I did didn't I?" you said smirking. He let out a soft laugh then put his arm around you, pulling you close to him. "Again. I'm so sorry Y/NN. I hope to never make you feel that way again." "Our lives are different now so I don't think we can guarantee that that kind of situation will happen again. We just need to have each other's back and protect each other." you said leaning your head on his shoulder. "You know I'm always going to protect you Y/N." "You always have Chuck." You two just stayed that way for a little longer, thankful to be each other's company.

[juniorgman187]

Urges and Impulses (u+i) Part 2 - Spencer Reid Series

Summary: After snooping in her journal briefly, Rosalind finally calls Spencer back. They each get a little more out of it than they expected. 

Couple: Spencer Reid x Female Reader  Content Warning: None Word Count: 1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

It had only been 4 minutes and 53 seconds that Reid had been in possession of Rosalind’s diary. And each millisecond since then was excruciatingly painful for him. He knew better than to read her journal but still the growing temptation existed. Anytime he came close to opening up his bag to retrieve it, he prayed for his phone to ring. 

Why hadn’t she called him back yet? 

From the looks of it, this thing was a prized possession, but she had been missing it for more than five minutes. So why on earth was she not responding to his call?

The longer Spencer waited for her response, the more he wondered if it’d be okay to just peek a little. It was quite harmless really. 

Everyone at work always told him their secrets because he knew he wouldn’t share them with anyone except maybe his mom. So what was the harm in reading some of the entries? There was virtually no one to blab them too. And, maybe, buried somewhere deep in this journal was a cry for help. Maybe she’d been looking for a way to get better. Spencer could give her that. After all, he didn’t mind being the hero sometimes. 

While scanning the metro to see if anyone would notice the act he was about to commit, he slowly slipped the journal out of his bag, but of course, the only other person awake to see this just left.  

Now proceeding with less caution, he opened the journal. He found himself reunited with the “If lost please return” notice on the front page. With a flip of that one, he was at her first entry. 

7-8-11

Isn’t it crazy how in a matter of a week so much can change? 

Spencer’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard his phone ringing. Saved by the bell.

“Hey!” He greeted, with a little too much excitement in his voice. His face scrunched out of embarrassment - instantly regretting letting his voice get that high.

“Hi I’m Roz, are you calling about my journal?”

“Yes! I have it here with me. I’m um . . . I’m actually the guy from the train earlier.”

“Oh Pen Guy!” She enthusiastically replied. Though it was the most ideal nickname, he didn’t mind it. He thought it was rather endearing she’d given him a nickname at all. 

“Yep, yeah that’s - that’s me,” he chuckled. “Um, so how can I get this back to you?” 

“I hate to do this to you, but I’m out of town until Sunday. Is there any chance you could keep it with you for the week? ”

Oh god. He thought. Within a week’s time, Spencer could’ve read the entirety of the journal thousands of times, written and revised a dissertation on it, and graded said dissertation. 

“W-what if I dropped it off?” 

It appeared as though Dr. Reid didn’t have as much integrity as he thought prior to this predicament. He couldn’t trust himself not to read it within the seven days that he would potentially have it. Dropping it off would completely eliminate the risk of him snooping. 

“As much as I want to say yes, I just told you I won’t be home for a week and giving you my address just sounds like a recipe for disaster - or home invasion.” Her joke makes Spencer smile. 

“Yeah, no. No, I completely understand. That’s a smart choice . . . but you must trust me enough to let me keep your journal.” Instant regret again. Oh god, Spencer, why did you just say that? He wondered. If she didn’t have a reason to be suspicious of you before, she does now. 

“You may be a stranger, but you’re also Pen Guy and I kinda liked Pen Guy.” 

Spencer sighed with relief - bullet equals dodged. Now only if he could learn how to do that in real life. 

After realizing he was in the clear, his mind clung to her words. 

I kinda liked Pen Guy. 

Was she flirting with him? Did she . . . like him? 

To test the waters, Spencer cleverly retorted. 

“I don’t have to be a stranger, you know.” 

Even Spencer surprised himself with the level of confidence he was displaying. He had some untapped game. Morgan would be proud.

“Okay . . . and how can I make you not a stranger?” Her voice displayed a hint of seductiveness - something that was making Spencer thoroughly anxious. He really wasn’t sure how to flirt, but clearly, she liked whatever he was giving. 

“We - we could get to know each other.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” He could feel her smiling through the phone as she coyly asked. 

“Um yeah I guess you could say that.”

Soon enough, Spencer and Rosalind arranged plans to go out a week from now, when Spencer would promptly return her belongings. 

“So I will see you and my journal in a week.” She said with finality, as if she was going to hang up.

Spencer stopped her before she could. “Hey, um, are you just gonna keep calling me Pen Guy or should I tell you my name?”

She laughed at this - creating a sound Spencer wanted to hear all the time. Her laugh was so simply beautiful to him. Suddenly his urge to read her journal was overtaken by the urge to make her laugh again and again.

“Mmm, I dunno. Is your real name as good as Pen Guy?” 

Spencer tried to fight a smile. “How about I let you be the judge of that?”

“Go on.” 

“Dr. Spencer Reid.” He proclaimed with his newfound confidence.

“Oh yeah, much, much better than Pen Guy.” 

“Good, I’m glad. I mean, I like Pen Guy, but I think I’d like hearing you say my real name more.” There’s that flirtatiousness again. This time with an innuendo that he was rather proud of.

A comfortable silence fell over the pair, in an attempt to prolong the inevitable end of their call.

“Thank you, by the way.” She began. 

“Anytime.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you on our date, Dr. Reid.” 

Spencer grinned widely. “Looking forward to it, Miss. Cruz.” 

Like the gentleman he is, he let her hang up the call. Truthfully though, that wasn’t his only motivation. He just didn’t want to be the one to end the conversation. He quite enjoyed talking to her. 

As he crashed down from the high from his call, he was forced to face his poor decision from earlier. 

Quickly - as if his speed would suddenly undo it - he stuffed the journal back into his bag. Unfortunately though his eidetic memory wouldn’t allow him to forget what he read. 

It’s harmless though, right? He had only read a sentence. No big deal. 

At least, that’s what he told himself. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

AUTHOR’S NOTE HERE!!!

[ma-gic-gay]

There's definitely marks in the flooring by now.

Carly's been pacing the hallway for what seems to be inching closer and closer to infinity each time she checks the time.

In reality, she's only on hour three of pacing and anxiety and picking fights with Sonny and random paperwork being filled out. There's also the fact she has no clue where Josslyn, Michael, Willow, or Wiley are but they're all legal adults or a toddler with a legal adult, so of course she's going to have to trust that everything's okay with them.

Her head snaps up when she hears Trina's voice. "Where's Joss and Cam?"

"They're in the cafeteria," Dante answers, looking up from his phone. "I need something to eat; I'll go with you. Do any of you need anything?"

They all shake their heads, Sonny grumbling something Carly can't quite catch. "What was that, Sonny?"

"I was saying I need a faithful wife," he says, loud enough even Michael and Willow are broken out of their little bubble of marital... Emotions? Attraction? Neither knew what to call whatever they're in.

"Sonny I'm not fighting with you like this," Carly sighs, running a hand through her blonde locks. "When he's in the clear, we can consider a fight."

"Because god forbid that you prioritize our marriage over a single thing that involves Jason Morgan," Sonny shouts back at her.

"Enough! Grow up, Sonny! That's your goddamn best friend in there! On an operating table!" Carly exclaims, voice breaking. "He's been there for you and me through everything, no matter what. Even when neither of us have deserved his friendship. If you're gonna be pissy like this and throwing a tantrum, then leave. I don't want you here when you're like this, or at home."

"Then where the hell do you want me to go, Carly?"

"I don't know, somewhere where I and our children aren't. Anywhere!"

"Mrs. Corinthos, I'm going to take your husband in for questioning now," Chase says calmly, businesslike and everything. It's very formal, though it does cause an eye roll from Michael.

"Thank you," Carly smiles at him softly before Portia comes over. "Do you have any news? How's Jason?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, it was a hell of a shot. But luckily, we were able to remove the bullet and don't foresee any major issues happening with him in the meantime. However, this surgery took a lot out of him. He's going to need to stay in the hospital and when he gets out, nothing too active. There won't be bed rest, but he will be restricted at first. I understand Mr. Morgan has a tendency to not follow precautions or check himself out, but if he doesn't follow these, he could die," Portia explains to them in a medical voice.

The relief can be felt through everyone's loud sighs of relief. Michael and Willow engage in a hug, breathing each other in much to Chase's anger. Sonny softens slightly, though it's doubtful that'll last past lunch. Carly starts crying tears of relief and happiness and all of her emotions at once as she texts Joss and Dante. Every single emotion is coursing through her veins.

Joss and Dante run upstairs with Monica trailing slightly behind them, everyone smiling with relief through their tear stained eyes. "He's going to be okay?" Joss asks again for confirmation and Carly nods.

"Yes, he will be. Provided, of course, he's under very strict supervision and doesn't break out of the hospital," Carly smiles at her daughter and stepson. "Portia, can we see him?"

"One at a time. Be careful, he's still under the anesthetic but he is coming out of it so god knows what he'll say. Don't confuse him or do anything life changing; chances are, he won't remember it," the curly haired woman says. "He's room 3722."

"Thank you," Dante thanks her before hugging his sister and stepmom. "I don't feel like going to a funeral."

They all laugh at that, the energy having changed from a rather somber one (provided you're not Willow or Michael) to a happy one, full of happy tears and laughs in a matter of minutes.

Clapping his hands together, Michael says, "Mom, we all know you're waiting to go in there. Go."

"You sure? I can wait," she offers half-heartedly.

"Do you need to get checked out while we're here? Carly, we'll be fine. After all, I'm very responsible and I'm here so everyone will be well taken care of. And if I accidentally get someone injured, well, Monica's here too," Dante jokes. "Run."

That proves to be all she needs before she walks to his room, entering without so much as a knock to see Elizabeth monitoring his vitals. "Thank god, he made it," she smiles at the blonde.

"Thank god is right," Carly agrees, wiping her tears.

"Well, I've done all the monitoring I need to do, so I'll let you two be alone," the younger says before leaving the hospital room to go back to the nurses station.

Tears she attempted to push aside come back, slightly more powerful. However, she doesn't surrender to the tears as she sits at his bedside, grasping his hand in hers. There's a weird feeling of deja vu associated with this, probably because of how many accidents he gets into.

That's one hell of a bad habit he needs to break.

"Carly?" He asks and a smile appears on her face.

"I'm here."

"What the hell happened to me?"

"You got shot in the parking garage of the Metro Court," she answers calmly, wiping her tears that are spilling out of her eyes. "The gunman is still unknown."

"And you think it's your fault?"

"How couldn't it be my fault? This happened after I told you my feelings and it happened in my parking garage and some people for either my husband's enemy or my husband shot you! I'm pretty sure this is 100% my fault and there's no way to twist the situation so it's not," she says, silent sobs leaving her body as she tries to keep herself from full on breaking down in a hospital room.

"How could it be your fault? Carly, this would've happened even if you didn't tell me. Hell, it probably would've happened hours sooner. Look, Cyrus's people have been trying to take me out for months now. It started with my motorcycle crash and then the Floating Rib and now this. They keep missing," Jason says, trying to comfort her. "Minus the fact I'm in a hospital I'm fine."

"You got shot! That's not fine, that's possible death!"

"I keep missing death," he answers.

"And you narrowly make it out alive! You could've died! You could've been hooked up to a ventilator your whole life, not breathing on your own until I unplugged you! You're in a hospital bed right now recovering from surgery! Not fine!" Carly exclaims.

"You couldn't do anything to stop this."

"Yes, I could," she says, voice barely above a whisper as she breaks into sobs. "I could've done something! I could've gone down there when we heard the sirens instead of sending Olivia down there or hired better security or something! You have gotten me out if every mess I've ever made and I can't even offer you protection in the parking garage! A parking garage! What shooter is thinking that's the best place to shoot someone?"

"It's not your job to save me or prevent me from getting shot. Last I checked you're not bulletproof either," he reminds her gently. "Nothing you could've done would've stopped this. Delayed, sure. Prevented it? Never. They're not gonna stop until they're taken out, their boss dies, or I die."

"Are you trying to tell me pacing the hallway is going to become a regular pastime of mine now?" Carly asks, horrified.

"Not if I can help it, but you've got to remember, it's impossible for you to protect me from all bad things. No matter how hard you try."

"That's true but I could've helped you with this one! This is the time you needed my help and I couldn't because I was inside, in cloud 9. Whether or not you'll let me accept responsibility, it's my fault," the blonde continues, sobbing in between words.

"If you were out there, you could've gotten shot too," he says, dropping his voice several levels. "I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if that happened because of an attack on me."

"It's my fault."

"No, it isn't! I got shot because someone got instructions to take me out. They failed, like they keep doing."

"Maybe you're immortal. Then, you couldn't ever die and I could take it off my list of anxieties," she smiles at him as he wipes away her tears.

"It's possible. Promise me one thing: that you'll stop blaming yourself for this," he requests.

"Why couldn't the promise be anything else?"

"Do you honestly want to have gotten shot too? It's pretty painful and I'm not a fan, personally," Jason smiles at her.

"It's not that I wanted to get shot too, it's that I don't want you experiencing this alone," she explains quickly.

"Well I'm not. I've got you and the rest of my family, so I'm okay. I'll make it out alive of the third attempt on my life in a few months."

"You need to stop this madness about assassination attempts. I'm thinking bulletproof clothing, hat, shoes, everything."

"No."

"Then I'm thinking we add some color to your wardrobe."

"No."

"Black isn't the only good color to wear, Jason," Carly sighs dramatically. "You need more variety in your outfits than the blue jean, black t shirt, leather jacket look because while it looks great on you, variety is the spice of life."

"There's variety to the ways people try to kill me."

"Healthy variety that doesn't end you up in the hospital."

"Maybe there's minimal variety in my life."

"Exactly!"

"You're not taking me shopping."

"Damn."

To be continued (possibly)

Oh thank gods he's ok!

[takenbyheartstrings]

I WANNA BE YOURS [ p.p ]

part three of the “i lived” series ⏤ masterlist here.

pairing | peter parker x stark!reader

summary | you were in love with Peter Parker. it might’ve seen like a far fetch a year and a half ago, well, if we’re speaking in reality. 5 years ago before the snap. it was a crush, and nothing more. but as time went on after your father passed away, you realised more and more everyday that he was the one. he came by everyday, even if it was for five minutes to make sure, you, Pepper and Morgan had everything you needed and if you were alright. he even bought you a sandwich from the deli on the corner; in other words, he was too sweet for you to even comprehend. a pure masterpiece from the gods above.but you only pictured it in your head. what the reality could be like. you hoped he’d felt the same - even if all he went on about was MJ.who knew Europe could change so much.

warnings | fluff, some angst??? mentions of death.

authors note | i’m late again.

about y/n’s powers | y/n can control the elements on command, if she’s ever upset or angry, the water is trigged by y/n’s sadness and fire is triggered by the anger. Unless she manages to keep those emotions under some sort of control, they can create some destruction.

word count | 1.6k

SONG ⏤ I WANNA BE YOURS BY ARCTIC MONKEYS

You looked down at your ring.... again. You kept looking at it thinking about how it was the last thing your father had left for you. You smiled softly as you walked out of your room, trying to find Betty’s room as she borrowed your USB stick full of movies. She said she wanted to have a movie date with Ned before the carnival. That was almost four hours ago. You kept toying with the ring, as you were met with a full face of torso, and your body hit the ground.

You looked up, Peter standing there with his hand out, “I’m so sorry, y/n, I should’ve looked where I was going.”

“No, Pete, it was me. I keep looking at this stupid ring.” You sighed, as you looked back down at your hand, Peter was still holding it as you looked up at him with a small blush, he disconnected his hand from yours.

“It’s not stupid, It’s far from stupid.” Peter looked down at the hand you had held no longer than a few seconds ago, “Your dad gave it to you, it’s the last thing in the world that should be even considered stupid.”

You laughed as you took a seat back on the floor, but this time it was safely on the stairs. You patted a spot next to Peter as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in, making you feel the safest you’d felt in a while.

“What was it like for you?” You asked Peter, “The blip, what was it like?”

“Well, the last thing I remembered was your grip on me, and then I was in a dark place, it felt like I was dreaming, but you know those days where you fall asleep and you don’t dream, it’s just black?”

You nodded carefully, trying not to hit him in the face with your head.

“It was like that.” He muttered in a small tone, like a whisper. “What was it like for you?”

“It was pretty much the same,” You shrugged, “just felt like was being torched in my own mind.”

Peter took a daring move, placing a small kiss on your head making your face a deep cherry red, “You’re okay now.”

The two of you sat there in each other’s arms for a while, as you listened to your surroundings, you were broken out of the trance by Mr. Harrington and Mr. Dell telling you to meet them downstairs in five minutes. You got ready for the night ahead, bracing yourself for the night to come.

“Good news!” Mr. Harrington said cheerily as you were all gathered in the lobby, “We’re going to the opera.”

You looked at Peter as you heard the class give out sighs and words of confusion.

“What happened to the carnival?” MJ asked.

“This is upgrade living guys.” Mr. Harrington smiled, “Come on, the tour company just gave us these tickets... for free! Do you have any idea how much opera tickets cost?”

“No.” Flash sighed, “Because none of us have ever wanted to go to the opera. Ever.”

“Well, I think this is going to be culturally envisioning for us,” Ned spoke up

“Everybody this is maybe going to be the best four hours of our whole trip.”

“Four hours?” Everyone questioned in unison.

“Guys, I think this is going to be really fun. Seriously!” Ned smiled once more.

You walked back into your room as MJ put on a floral dress and you put on a pink one which crossed the back and flowed effortlessly. You walked out as you made eye contact with Harry who was in a yellow shirt and wearing a black pair of pants.

You all walked out to the opera house, “I bet you’re all happy I made you pack a nice outfit!” Mr. Harrington said finishing off his tie.

“Yeah, because we’d rather spend four hours watching the opera instead of going to the biggest party in the world.”

“Hey! Don’t look at me.” Mr. Dell said just as bummed as Flash.

“Parker, Stark, do you copy?” Maria asked in the earpiece, “Palm check, one, two.”

“Beat the rush.” Mr. Harrington said.

“Yeah..” Mr. Dell paused, “The rush.”

“Hey!” Harry said to MJ, “I’ll save you a seat.”

She went to decline but just smiled instead as he walked away and she followed, smiling at you and giving you a thumbs-up as Peter approached you.

“You look.. really.. pretty.” He commented.

“T-Thanks, you look um- you look pretty too.”

“Oh my gosh! Opera glasses!” You heard Betty say from behind you.

“Too bad we can’t use them, I mean If you wanted to use them with me.” 

“I mean, I would if we could.”

“Are you in position?” You heard Fury say in your ear.

“No.”

You chuckled. “We’re going right now. Peter, you go first and then I’ll go a little later. In like five minutes.” You told him.

You walked down as he walked out and you pulled MJ aside, muting the earpiece. “I have a bad feeling about this Mysterio guy.” you told her.

“What? Why?” she questioned you.

“Just listen to me. First time fighting, I couldn’t do a single thing to hurt the monster.”

“Okay, but what if it’s like your powers just fucking you over, just like before the blip.”

“It’s not, because I created a path for myself with the water, the monster was the only thing I couldn’t hit.”

“So what’re you asking me to do?”

“I just want you to survey the premises.” You took the ring off of your finger and slid on a fake one. “Keep this on you and please don’t lose it.”

You put a fake ring on, an exact replica. “I’ve got the fake one right here. If something goes wrong. I’ll text you. Just make sure to look where nobody else would look.”

“Okay done, I’ll talk to you later.” MJ smiled, her reporter side coming out of its shell.

You ran out of the opera house putting on your new suit. E.D.I.T.H. wouldn’t work with the new ring, but it was the best hope you had of staying safe, your gut feeling led you south.

A few minutes later, you saw MJ outside, she made eye contact with you giving you a small smile. Her camera in her hand. Soon you were in position.

“As soon as we see something, we’ll radio you.” Peter explained to Fury.

“How’s the suit?”

“A little tight around the ol’ webshooter.”

You laughed louldy, “Peter, that’s gross!”

After a few minutes of waiting, you saw MJ over by the fountain as Fury and Maria both came into sound.

“Energy spiking.” Fury said over coms.

“We have seismic activity.”

“C’mon, MJ, move.” You muttered to yourself.

The Molten Lava burst through the cracks in the stone as MJ ran quickly, before stopping to take a picture of the Molten man standing in front of you all.

“Okay he’s in view, Beck, you know what to do.” You said speaking into coms.

“On your lead, Elementress,” Beck spoke.

Quentin stood in front of it, “You’re up kids.”

“Peter go! I’ll take care of him!”

He nodded as you created a stone path for yourself up to meet his eyes, you channeled yourself, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, pushing the earth's core, away from the monster and to yourself. Beck fought off the monster as it grew smaller and bigger with every piece of metal it could touch..

“Whatever happens, I’m glad we met,” Quentin said to both you and Peter. You fell out of your trance.

“Beck, what’re you doing?” Peter asked.

“What I should’ve done last time.” He channeled all his power as then flying into the heart of the monster.

And there he was lying on the ground as you fell over him. “Quentin!”

He stirred, still alive as Peter ran over pulling him up from the ground as he sat back down once more, trying to recollect himself.

“So it’s over?” Maria asked.

“That was the last of them,” Quentin explained.

“Not the last threat we ever faced, we need to stay vigilant.” Fury explained. “Hill and I are going to headquarters in Berlin and you should join us.” He said to Quentin.

“Thank you, I might just take you up on that.”

He walked over to the two of you, looking at Peter, “You got gifts, Parker, but you didn’t wanna be here,”

“Mr. Fury I-”

“I’d love to have you in Berlin but you’ve got to decide whether you want to step up or not... Stark chose you- made you an Avenger- made you both Avengers. I need that. The world needs that. Maybe Stark was wrong, was he?” He looked at you, “Y/n? Would you like to come with us.”

“Nope. Peter and I are a package deal, and if you want me. You’ll need to take him with you, I go where Peter goes. We’re a team Uncle Fury, and if you don’t want him. You can’t have me.”

You saw the tears in Peter’s eyes, as Quentin walked up to both of you, “Let’s get a drink.”

“We’re not twenty-one!” Peter yelled followed Quentin.

You felt a buzz in your pocket as you took out your phone out, a text from MJ appeared on the screen as you opened up the message app.

MJ 🤪💛 y/n, I found something

Y/N 😙🤘 what is it?

MJ 🤪💛 just get here as soon as you can

Y/N 😙🤘 i have to go somewhere with Peter and Mysterio.

Y/N 😙🤘 i’ll tell you when i’m about to leave.

MJ 🤪💛 alright, just be prepared for the worst.

MJ 🤪💛 also, just in case you’re worried, the ring’s fine :)

You gave a sigh of relief at the last message before following Peter and Quentin to a small bar.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

authors note | sorry this is really late I have my exams coming up next week and i’m just trying to get as much study in as possible, anyway, hope you enjoyed it! also, sorry it’s really short :/

TAGLIST : (strikethroughs are blogs i can’t tag) @meiiyue @poisoned-pineapple @estate-euphoric @hardyxlove  @cyrusandhiscollaredahirts @hollandjmc @blizzbx @spider-manholland @supernerdycookietrashblr @kii-mii @iamanerdnot @watson-emma @roserrys @waterspider7 @brunetteinblack  @sweetdarlingholland  @capinmerca @constantdisgrace @fosterthe-peter@brckenmemories @loki-helmet @tom-hollands-blog @anditwasjustus@spideylovin @graydolan12@supernerdycookietrashblr @laic2299 @ellesvoid @jackiehollanderr @thedivinepineapple @theolwebshooter  @rish0217 @kii-mii @shawnandconnor @danielabetancourth @sabrinaaa056 @my-soul-is-the-moon  @ineedabifriend  @sltwins  @dolan-mendes @delicately-important-trash​

[karenninaaa]

Iron Dad Bingo #2- Trope: Baby Stark

I wrote this on a whim while trying and failing to wake up my irondad muse. it’s been so long since i wrote an irondad fic. this idea just came out of nowhere while i was lounging in a coffee shop. you know the drill, not endgame compliant. tony lives. because that’s all i care about. sort of fix it.

title inspired by the lyrics of the song ‘Leaves’ by a filipino indie pop band ben&ben

Summary: A little girl offered Peter a candy to comfort him when Peter was a bit broken inside after the battle against Thanos had been won.

And all will be alright in time.

Peter was crouched down in the hallway of a hospital. The hallway was empty and the strong scent of antiseptic was wafting in the air. Peter lost track of how long he was in that position. It could have been minutes or hours. He didn’t quite remember anymore. The moment the doctors said that Mr. Stark was not in the critical condition anymore, Peter’s feet had started to drag him away, away from Miss Potts –no, Mrs. Stark now and Mr. Rhodes who were visibly worn out from the battle against Thanos and his armies earlier.

He wore a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants and a hoodie. He also did not remember who had given the clothes to him. Because it seemed like his brain was still filled with the adrenaline rush of the battle, of saving Earth and of surviving through. Everything felt like a blur. It felt like everything was moving in a fast forward motion and he was the only one who had remained in a freeze mode. 

He had been staring at that single white tiled floor and all he could think about was Mr. Stark almost dying. Almost. His brain had chosen that moment to keep on replaying in his head. Mr. Stark who was still as a statue, who wasn’t responding and whose heart was about to give up on beating.

Then the arc reactor shut off. The light had vanished and there was this terrible and dead silence that hit them like an invisible wave. It had knocked the breath out of Peter. It had been the longest awful one second of his life. Then there was a portal and Mr. Strange. Mr. Stark was being wheeled into the Operating Room with Dr. Strange in tow.

Then there was the good news.

Yes. Good news, something to be delighted about. But why Peter couldn’t bring himself to smile and instead tears were continuously falling from his eyes. He hugged his knees more tightly as he buried his face at the crook of his elbow.

Don’t get him wrong, it was a huge relief for him that Mr. Stark was alive. It truly was. The tears were for his own heart that constricted and squeezed at the sight of Mr. Stark who had been willing to give everything he got for the universe even if it meant was the expense of his life.

Mr. Stark, who in a short amount of time, had been a huge part in shaping who he should be as an Avenger, Mr. Stark who had filled the gaps of his days. Mr. Stark whom he had looked up to, Mr. Stark who had helped him with the relativistic mass-energy equation. And the thing was the thought that there would be no Mr. Stark in a new world that had been successfully saved, was a scary scary thought.

That was probably the tears were also for.

That he needed to dispense all those scary thoughts so he could finally smile.

“Do you want candy?”

Peter froze. He slowly lifted his head. A girl probably no older than 6 was standing in front of her. He was wearing a pink floral dress and a brown leather jacket partnered with black ankle boots. She had dark brown hair that reached her shoulder. Her brown eyes blinked at him. Though, there was something familiar with her eyes.

Peter blinked back and sniffed. “W-what?”

The girl played with her hair. “Well, my dad always offers me candy when I cried. It’s effective. It makes me stop crying immediately. Also, it makes me feel better. Though, I don’t think mom likes that dad always gives me candy.”

The corner of Peter’s mouth tugged forming a little smile. He cleared his throat. “Well, do you have candy?”

She fished out something in the pockets of her leather jacket. She extended her hand to him holding a wrapped candy. “I was saving it for later but it’s okay. You can have it.”

“Are you sure?” Peter asked.

She nodded. 

Gingerly, Peter accepted the candy. She stared at him, waiting for him to open up the candy. So Peter did. He popped the candy into his mouth. It was a lemon flavor.

“Well?” She tilted her head at him

Peter smiled. The candy reminded him of the candies that Mr. Stark had in a glass jar in the corner of his lab. It was comforting. “You’re right. It’s effective.”

“And you stopped crying too.” She noted.

Peter chuckled. “Did your dad give you this candy too?”

“No my mom did before she had left earlier.” She sat Indian style beside him. “She said she had some business she needed to attend to. I wanted to come because sometimes she let me come with her. But she said that children were not allowed to be there.”

“Why are you here anyway?” Before Peter knew it, he also started to sit comfortably on the floor. 

“My dad’s here.” It was her only answer as she drew circles with her small index finger on the floor.

“Oh,” Peter didn’t want to pry. The little girl frowned. He didn’t want to upset the kid even more.

“Why are you crying earlier?” She looked up at him.

Peter tried to find the right words. He spoke after a moment. “I was scared.”

“Do you want a hug?” She asked.

Peter couldn’t help but smile again.

“Mom and Dad always give me a hug when I was scared. Do you want one? It will make you better too.”

God, this kid was so adorable. Peter couldn’t help but mentally gushed. Instead of speaking, he spread his arms wide.

She beamed at him and stood up. She bent down a bit and wrapped her chubby tiny arms around his shoulder. She gently tapped his back. She spoke. Her voice was oddly soothing. “It’s alright. You’re going to be okay soon.”

Peter’s face crumbled right then. Involuntarily, his body shook when another sob escaped his lips. Then there were tears again.

“It’s okay.” This time, the girl rubbed his back. “It’s going to be alright now.”

Another strange thing was, the little girl’s words were like warm water washing over him. His taut shoulders started to loosen up. He started to deflate like a balloon in her little arms. He let himself believed her words because the war with bad aliens was over. He released the breathe he didn’t know he had been holding.

Peter pulled away from him sniffing again. His eyes were red and puffy. “Where did you learn that?”

Her brows knitted together. “Learn what?”

“Those words. How did you know how to comfort someone?”

“That’s what mom and dad always said and does when I’m upset and scared. It worked like magic, didn’t it?” She grinned at him.

“Your parents are lucky to have you,” Peter said softly.

“And I love them, three thousand.” She raised her three fingers for emphasis.

“Morgan!”

There was a male voice in the hallway somewhere in the distance.

“Oops. That’s me.” She sucked her thumb. “I should go. Bye-bye.” She waved her hand at him as she stepped back.

“Bye, bye.” Peter also waved his hand at her. “And Morgan, thank you.” He smiled earnestly at her as she continued to step back. “Look where you’re going, you might trip!” He pointed out.

She only giggled. “You’re welcome, Peter.” She then rounded the corner and disappeared.

“Yeah-” He froze. “Wait, what? How did she know my name?”

He sprang from his seat and ran to the corner where the kid had gone to. But the hallway was empty as if no single soul had been there a while back.

“W-what the fu-“

Earlier that day was one of the best times of Peter’s life because Mr. Stark had woken up. He was bouncing on his heels as he walked to Mr. Stark’s room together with aunt May. He was holding a bouquet. They stopped in front of Mr. Stark’s room. There was a muffled voice inside then followed by laughter. Peter grinned. He knocked and opened the door.

He stepped inside. “Mr. Stark-!”

He froze on the spot. Mr. Stark was truly awake as he beamed at him as if nothing life-threatening had happened earlier at the break of dawn, as if they hadn’t gone to a battle and fight for their lives. The upper part of his bed was slightly raised so he was in a half-sitting position. The burn on the side of Mr. Stark’s face was still fresh. There was a red bionic arm where his right arm used to be. The prosthetic was glinting under the pale fluorescent light. 

However, what made Peter froze was the kid who was snuggling beside Mr. Stark. His good left arm was wrapped around her. She was now looking shyly at him.

“You-” He pointed wide-eyed at the girl.

The girl only giggled as she snuggled closer to Mr. Stark’s chest.

“Oh, you’ve already met Morgan?” Mr. Stark’s eyes lit up.

“Y-yeah. . .” Peter answered slowly. “W-who is she again?”

Mr. Stark looked around to the people in the room. Pepper, Happy and Rhodey was there. “No one had bothered to tell him that she’s my daughter?”

“Daughter.” Peter echoed.

“In our defense boss,” Happy said. “We didn’t know that they have already met.”

Morgan looked up at his dad. “I gave him a candy daddy because he was crying.”

“Oh,” Mr. Stark’s gaze fell on Peter.

“Sweetie,” Pepper called Morgan. “Come on, let’s buy some cheeseburgers for dad.”

“Cheeseburgers!” Morgan gasped dramatically as she sat up abruptly. She immediately hopped down the bed. 

“God, you’re as bad as your dad,” Rhodey muttered.

“I heard that.” Tony pointed out. “And I take that as a compliment.”

Soon, Tony and Peter were the only people in the room as if their company had an unspoken agreement to give the two some alone time.Morgan blew a kiss to Peter before sauntering off holding her mom’s hand.

Peter remained on the same spot he had been earlier when he had first entered.

“What? You’re going to make me come to you?” Tony asked. “As you can see I’m quite indisposed as of this moment. Come here squirt.”

Peter stiffly walked towards him. He sat on the vacant seat next to Mr. Stark’s bed. Peter needed to sit. He looked down at the flowers on his lap.

He knew without looking that Mr. Stark was staring at him.

“I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” Peter mumbled.

“Pete, look at me.” Mr. Stark said pleadingly. “I still couldn’t quite believe that everyone who had been dusted was back. I need some validation that you’re here.”

Peter looked up at him.

Mr. Stark smiled. “There you go. You’re here.”

“Don’t scare me like that ever again,” Peter said.

Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow at the hardness on Peter’s voice.

“You almost died.” He choked out.

“That’s part of my job.” Mr. Stark said.

“Then just retire already,” Peter said. 

“Oh, I plan on it. Besides, I have to take Morgan to school because Pep will probably be busy being the boss lady of the company.”

“I can’t believe you already have a daughter. “Peter said disbelievingly combing his hair with his hand. “It’s kinda hard to believe that years had already passed in here when it felt like a blink to me.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Mr. Stark assured him. He was looking softly at him. His eyes were bright, the side of his eyes crinkled. He had more white hair than Peter had remembered.

“Mr. Stark. . .” Peter swallowed. “Is everything going to be alright now?”

“Let’s allow ourselves to think that yes, it will be. Our world is messy but I’d like to hope that every passing moment that will come will be something worth celebrating for.”

There was the beat of silence before Tony spoke again. “Why did you cry? Did you cry because of me?”

“Because you scared me!”

“Now you already know what I felt when you’re out there donning that red and blue spandex.”

Peter was silent. He couldn’t argue with that.

He spoke after a beat. “So, uh, we’re even now, Mr. Stark?”

And all Mr. Stark could respond was a peal of hearty laughter as he threw his head back.

Peter smiled.

Yes, it’s going to be alright now.

[sustraiii]

TEAM ZRCN ARC 3 - CHAPTER 10

Team ZRCN & co arrive at Highpoint and the Mob Ops make their long awaited appearance.

Thanks again to @neopoliitan for proofreading and for helping conceptualise the Mob Ops wayyyyyyyy back.

CORDOVAN

High above the skies of Solitas, a lone transport ship was heading towards the isolated town of Highpoint. Staring out of one of the windows in the passenger hold, Cordovan watched silently as the snowy tundra passed them by, the occasional cluster of trees or a rock formation breaking up what would have otherwise been a blank and featureless landscape.

During the journey, Neela had been sharing stories of her home with Helia, Calantha, and Rosie to keep them entertained. Xanthos was also listening intently, which Cordovan suspected was to keep his mind off of his travel sickness. At first glance he seemed to be faring better than he had when the group travelled to Shizukana, but his sickly complexion grave away the nausea he was trying hard to hide. Cordovan was just glad the journey to Highpoint was only a few hours. He wasn’t sure he could deal with three days worth of Xanthos being on the verge of vomiting over them again.

Turning away from the window, he looked at Zelde, who was quietly typing away at her scroll.

“How’s your brother?” He asked politely.

Zelde stopped what she was doing to look at him. “How did you know I was talking to Callaway?” She asked, raising a brow.

“I figured he seemed like the likeliest choice given you called him yesterday,” Cordovan explained. A small smile tugged at his lips as he added, “Besides, I can see his name at the top of the screen.”

“How nosy of you.” Zelde said, giving him a teasing prod. She straightened in her seat, placing her hands in her lap before going on to answer his previous question. “Callaway is doing well. The last time we spoke he was still in a state of shock after leaving the family home with our father, but he seems to be in better spirits now -- he sounds more like himself. The only thing he seemed sad about is not being able to speak to his girlfriend.”

“Your brother has a girlfriend?”

“He does,” Zelde confirmed with a little nod. “It was quite a shock to me when I found out, but I’m happy for him. From what little information he was willing to divulge she sounded nice enough, if a little boisterous. Apparently mother was quite upset when she learned of her.”

“What’s this about girlfriends?” Rosie blurted out from behind them. 

“It’s nothing, Rosie.” Cordovan grunted, turning to give her a short glance. 

Unfortunately for him she didn’t let up so easily. “Are you two dating now?” She asked.

“Who’s dating?” Xanthos called out, choosing the most opportune time to join in on the conversation. Zelde was beginning to flush red with embarrassment, and Cordovan let out a groan.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything back there,” Wren’s voice called from the cockpit - where she was with Helia - “But you should all know we’re about five minutes out from the military station so if you could all prepare for landing that would be much appreciated.”

As prompted by his mother, all the passengers proceeded to take their seats. As they drew close to their destination, the airship was rattled by a small wave of turbulence, which caused Xanthos to groan. In an effort to keep his mind off of things, Neela was once again on hand to keep him distracted. 

“Hey, Ravi, look out the window next to me, do you see that big building in the distance that’s Astrolabe University,” She said, pointing out of the window next to her, “My great-grandparents helped build that after the Great War - impressive, isn’t it?” 

It turned out that calling it a “big building” was something of an understatement. Cordovan couldn’t see it too well without leaning over Zelde, but even from where he was sitting it was a magnificent building; more like a small castle than what he had in mind for a university. Although it was set just outside the main part of Highpoint, it immediately drew the eye and served as a dominating focal point for the walled town.

Up front in the cockpit, he could hear his mother calling in to the military base, requesting permission to land. When she received no response, she and Helia exchanged a glance and Wren was about to try again when a distorted male voice spoke across the radio.

“Transport ship Delta R-1, you are currently flying in a restricted airspace. Please identify yourselves and state your business.”

“Highpoint Military Base, this is Special Operative Major Wren Honeycutt requesting permission to land.”

A long silence followed before the voice finally responded.

“Delta R-1 failure to identify yourself is...breach...security...land...now...or...force...taken.”

Although it was unclear whether they truly had permission or not, Wren still brought the ship down to land. She landed it smoothly save for a small bump. As she got to work on shutting the airship down safely, she encouraged the group to head into the base without her. Cordovan and his teammates were quick to go ahead, with Calantha following along behind them. It was only a short walk from the landing strip to the base itself, but they didn’t get the chance to step inside before three Specialists came outside to greet them - or rather interrogate them.

“Well,” The only woman out of the three began, giving ZRCN and Calantha an appraising glance as she spoke. “You’re not who I would have expected for a bunch of airship thieves.”

A blonde haired man next to her, put a hand on his hip and gave the woman a glance. “Shit, Cher, just look at them - they’re a bunch of kids. Do you really think they stole an airship?”

“Stranger things have happened,” She shrugged. “Especially if your outlandish tales are anything to go by.”

“They’re not outlandish.” He said, frowning a little. 

Their companion, who had been waiting silently with his arms held behind his back, suddenly coughed. “They might not have stolen it themselves, but we cannot rule out that they are potentially accomplices,” He pointed out, steering the conversation back on track, “Perhaps, we ought to ask her.” As he said that he made a gesture with his head to somewhere behind ZRCN, where Helia was approaching

“What’s going on here?” She asked, looking between ZRCN and the three specialists. “Is there a problem?”

“Were you responsible for flying the airship here, ma’am?” The younger of the three asked, blue eyes staring intently at Helia.

“I helped,” She admitted. “I’m not sure I understand what’s going on here - we were given permission by General Ironwood to fly here, why are you trying to suggest we stole it?”

“Hmm,” The blonde hair man mumbled, rubbing his chin idly with his index finger and thumb. “This is quite the situation we’ve found ourselves in isn’t it? I wonder what Par-”

Before he could say more, he was stopped by a quick smack on the arm by the woman, who was staring at Helia with sudden interest. “Holy shit, Elio, do you know who that is?” When he shrugged to indicate he didn’t, she pressed on. “That’s Helia Vines. You know - the Vytal winner.”

“No way,” He said, before turning to look more intently at Helia. After a moment, he too possessed the same starstruck expression as the woman.  Both he and the woman turned back to their companion and gave him a pleading expression. “We can’t lock them up now, Morgan. Imagine how bad it would look if we tossed Haven’s golden girl in jail.”

Morgan scoffed. “Vytal winner or not, she is not exempt from the law. You should know better than that, Elio. You too, Cherry.”

“What is going on here?”

Cordovan breathed a sigh of relief when he heard his mother’s voice finally chime in. Having finished shutting off the airship properly, she had wandered over to join the group, with Rosie close behind her. She put a hand on her hip and gave a disapproving scowl at the three Specialists, who had all straightened up upon seeing her, slightly nervous expressions littered across their faces. 

“Skata.” The blonde man cursed under his breath, something which went by unnoticed to nearly everyone present, save for Helia who raised a brow.

After a moment, Wren eased her stance and exhaled deeply. “Let's head inside before someone winds up catching a chill,” She advised, before striding ahead of the group. Before they stepped inside the base, she quietly warned the three Specialists that she would speak to them privately later.

Stepping inside, the group travelled down a short corridor which opened out into a large communication room of sorts. Six desks were arranged in a semi-circle around three large screens, which had various pieces of information displayed on it. The general layout reminded Cordovan briefly of the Huntsmen briefing room at the academy, where Professor Velour had often taken them when she assigned them training missions as a way for them to get a taste of what they might experience in the future.

Sat at one of the desks was another Specialist, who swivelled around immediately upon hearing the group entering the room. Of all the Specialists they had seen so far, the man in front of them was the only one Cordovan recognised - Parson Rook, a long time friend of his mother’s.

“Wren,” He smiled warmly as he stood. When he approached the group he drew Wren into a friendly hug, giving her a confused look after they separated. “We had no idea you were all coming. We have had no reports from Atlas to suggest anyone was due to fly in today.”

“Really? How come?”

“Probably doesn’t help that one of our antennae took a bit of a ding from a Nevermore around a fortnight ago,” Elio explained. “The connection has been a little hit and miss ever since.”

“And you haven’t fixed it yet?” Wren asked incredulously.

“We have limited supplies to spare at the moment,” Parson said with a small sigh. “Even before our communication issues, Atlas were shortening their supply runs to the town, and by extension the base. We’ve been triaging for the last three weeks.”

“Well that would explain the cold reception you gave to my son and his teammates.” Wren said with a shake of her head.

“Your son?” Parson blinked and then turned to look at the group. When he spotted Cordovan he gave him a small smile of recognition. “The last time I saw you Corduroy, you barely came up to your mother’s waist - now look at you.”

“It’s Cordovan,” He corrected politely, giving the older man a nervous smile. Unlike Rosie who actively used the name to annoy him, he was willing to let it slide with Parson, knowing from the past that the man had some issued recalling names.

“I suppose some introductions are in order,” Wren said after a moment, looking between the Mob Ops and the rest of the group. She would first introduce ZRCN, Calantha, Helia, and Rosie in turn, before moving on to introduce the rest of the Mob Ops to the group.

Since she was already standing next to him, she started with Parson first. “This is Parson Rook, my second in command,” She said, as the man came forward to shake hands with everyone. He was a tall man with close-cropped dark hair and a matching beard. He was in his forties, but other than a few wrinkles lining his face, he carried his age well. Like the rest of his fellow Mob Ops - including Cordovan’s mother - he wore the typical red, white and blue Atlesian military colours in his outfit.

“This is Cherry Linnet,” She said, moving on to the only other woman in the group. Cherry was the shortest of the five, with tanned skin, and pale blonde hair which she wore in a choppy updo. She had pink eyes and wore lighter pink eyeshadow to further accentuate them. “She’s our resident semblance and aura expert,” Wren added with a hint of pride. She gave the woman a small pat before moving onto Elio.

“This young man is Elio Goldfinch,” She began, before being quickly interrupted before she could say more. 

“The best and brightest!” The man boasted, putting his hands on his hips dramatically. He was around the same height as Cordovan, with lightly tanned skin, tousled sandy coloured hair swept back into a rough bun, and reddish eyes. With his sleeves rolled up and his collar exposed, his outfit was notably less formal than the rest of his fellow Mob Ops.

“A self-proclaimed title,” Wren corrected with a smirk, which seemed to deflate Elio a little. “Though I will admit he has some skill on the battlefield.” She gave him a little wink as she said this, and he seemed to quickly brighten up again. 

“Last but not least, this is Morgan Lark,” Wren concluded, as she came to a stop at the last of the group. Morgan was a similar height to Elio, with pale skin, light blue eyes and spectacles resting atop his brown hair. Despite the formal air he had about him, he seemed much younger compared to the rest of the Mob Ops, and Cordovan wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that he was not much older than ZRCN. “Morgan joined us less than a year ago straight from the academy, but he is already a highly valued member of our team.”

With her introductions finished, Wren moved to stand back beside Parson and gave a little bow. 

“Everyone - I am pleased to formally introduce the Mob Ops.”

[toledoendo]

Resetting the Bone -Part One

A/n: Trigger warnings: self harm, shame

Peter appeared in the doorframe like an apology that didn’t need to be spoken. His frame, swathed in Tony’s old MIT sweatshirt - the one with the cuffs so tattered it had holes for each of his fingers to get caught through - was as unassuming as he could make it. His skin was buzzing as he stepped in from the hallway and he hoped those in the kitchen couldn’t hear the broadcast of his nerves.

“Good morning, Peter.”

“Morning, kid.”

“Good morning.” Peter meekly responded to the greetings from Happy and Pepper. Each smiled in a way that Peter knew was meant to encourage his presence then they relaxed back into their tasks.

They had been great about giving him space, excusing his absence from family time, and not putting, really, any pressure on him to do anything when he’d stayed over. And, their greetings were always natural, normal, just like they’d been for years. He felt guilty, forcing them to watch over him like a child.

Morgan sped over to him breathlessly. She’d very obviously been waiting for him to appear, as she had been every morning he’d stayed with them the past two months. In her hand she had a little Band-Aid, just like she’d given him every morning. “I picked out a Hello Kitty one because I thought you’d like it.”

“Thanks, Mo.” Peter said. He glanced at Pepper who was clipping shut a plastic lunch box. He noticed her small smile thin slightly. Happy looked up from the road route he was studying on his phone. Peter swallowed. “I love it.”

“Can I put it on this time?”

An icy feeling ran down into his stomach. Morgan was being sweet, he knew that. She didn’t understand how Peter was sick. She had heard somewhere- how nobody could guess- that he was hurt on his left wrist. She knew he had done it. Not a bad guy.

It was a nightmare.

She’d come up with the idea that he needed a Band-Aid to keep on his wrist. Pride glowing on her face, she made sure he had one every morning. Peter wore it all day for her. The only time he hadn’t is when she handed him one with Spider-Man on it. That was trashed as soon as he could slink back to his room. If he wasn’t wearing the suit, not helping anybody, he figured he shouldn’t pretend he was still a hero.

Morgan kept giving him Band Aids every visit. She didn’t give up. She was being sweet. She was trying to take care of him. But he really wished she would stop!

“I—“ Peter didn’t want to say no again. But, how could he let her see?

He had new ones.

“Hey, Squirt,” Happy said. He was trying to give Peter an out. “Do I get to pick the music for the drive this time?”

Morgan didn’t even break her gaze with Peter. “No.” She said simply.

Peter said quietly, “Thanks, Mo, but I’ll put it on myself.” He shifted away from her falling face.

“Good call, Maguna,” Tony said, striding into the kitchen, “Happy can't be trusted with the radio.” Tony hoisted up his little girl and won a smile from her. “Too many buttons anyway.”

Relief eased through Peter’s chest as Tony and Happy began a familiar back and forth. Morgan’s giggles were sprinkled throughout. Tony had saved him again. Peter retreated to the countertop, away from the island where the others stood together.

“I’m picking the music for the drive.” Tony teased. He paused to send Peter a warm gaze from across the kitchen.

Peter gave him a smile back. Just like in the days when he was a teenager, he felt an urge to tell Tony… To tell Tony about the new cuts on his wrist — about his frustration that they were fading so fast, erased by the tide of his enhanced healing, when he wanted them to be something more —about the worry he felt about his special day planned with Morgan and how he didn’t want to go… But the guilt of withdrawing from her was too strong. Like always, the guilt decided. He would go.

Peter knew he couldn’t talk to him.

“No, Daddy!” Morgan laughed. “Pete gets to pick.” She looked over at him with an expression like she was giving him a present. Then she turned back to Tony. “Besides, you’re not going. Just me and Pete.”

“Ouch.” Tony laid a hand over his chest. He set Morgan down as he joked. “You may not remember, but you like having me around sometimes.”

Happy grumbled. “I don’t even get a mention. I’m going, too.”

Peter turned shyly away from the family. He pushed the left sleeve of the sweatshirt away from his wrist and stuck on the Hello Kitty Band-Aid, one side at a time. Yesterday’s Band-Aid was already removed. He did that as soon as he was closed off in his room every night. Yesterday’s had been a yellow one with a tiny rainbow on the center. It was crumpled in the wastebasket by his bed. Once the Hello Kitty one was affixed, he replaced the tattered sleeve.

Peter turned back. Pepper was watching him. She smiled gently. Then she gave him back his space.

Last night she had talked with him about today. They had worked together to plan a laid back outing for Morgan and Peter, something she would enjoy and would be easy on him. Pepper suggested the lemon grove nearby.

Morgan had become enamored by the idea of a lemonade stand. As much as Tony had spurned “capitalism for seven-year-olds”, Pepper thought the grove would be a quiet but open place where Peter could slip away if he needed. Peter thought about sunlight and the calm and nodded his approval.

“You can walk together and pick some lemons.” Pepper had said. “Happy can drive and take care of Morgan. After lunch, you can come back here and make the lemonade with me in the kitchen. You can take a break whenever you want. I can keep Morgan entertained.” She winked.

“I’m really sorry,” Peter said but Pepper shook her head. The way she looked at him was soft.

She wasn’t like May and never had been. Yet, in moments and certain movements - especially around their eyes, Peter could catch something. It must be specific to the way mothers look at their children. Peter blushed when he realized what he had thought. Even after so many adults had stepped in to love him like their own, May and Ben not the least, he was still so humbled and overjoyed to be treated as a son.

“I’m sure she’ll want to set up a stand in the yard.” Pepper chuckled, “Even though our closest neighbor is seven acres away.”

Peter smiled and looked down.

“The rest of the day we can spend in the yard. Tony and I will be around to take some of her attention. You can have some quiet before it’s time for your bus.” Pepper paused and her brow creased. “Don’t feel like you have to do this.”

“I really love being with her.” Peter assured her. “And I want Mo to have good memories with me. I’ve been…” ignoring her, he finished in his mind.

“You’re allowed to not be okay, Peter.”

He wondered, How long am I allowed to not be okay, though? But he didn’t say anything. They wordlessly cemented the plans and Pepper let him know that she would take care of everything. Then Tony came downstairs from putting Morgan to bed and asked if Peter wanted to take a walk down to the lake with him. Peter said he was tired; he went to his bedroom and removed the yellow Band Aid with the tiny rainbow.

In the kitchen, Tony said to Morgan, “Are you going to the lemon grove in a Buzz Lightyear gown?”

“Hmm.” Morgan smirked as if seriously considering it.

“How about you go get ready?” Tony said, sending her off. Morgan padded away at top speed. When she had left, he walked over to Peter.

Tony smiled at him and patted his shoulder. Then he reached for a mug from the cabinet and remarked playfully, “Who said you could wear my shirt?”

Peter snorted a little laugh. “You did.”

“Oh yeah,” Tony said, with no conviction, as he retrieved the coffee pot from the maker. Peter rolled his eyes. Tony became more of a dad by the day. “Whoever made coffee, bless your sainted soul!.”

“That,” said Pepper, “was Saint Harold.” She gestured to Happy.

“Of Audi,” Peter added, “Champion of Babysitters and Expired Firewalls.”

There was good-natured chuckling. It felt good. Peter felt something pull at the back of his mind. His smile was weighed down as a vague panic moved through his stomach. He wanted to cut. But why?

“The bugs won’t be bad during the morning, right?” Peter heard Tony ask. “There’s bug spray in trunk, I think.”

“I think they’ll be fine.” Pepper said. She stood and placed the three packed lunches in a backpack.

“But there’s sunscreen?” Tony asked. “I’m going to put some on Morgan before you go. Thirty minutes before sun exposure, you know. You need some, too, Pete.” He tapped Peter’s chest as he walked past.

Happy took the backpack from Pepper. “This ready?” He left to pack it in the car after she had nodded.

Peter shifted. “I guess I’ll get ready.”

Pepper looked at him in surprise. “You haven’t eaten.” She indicated the pot of oatmeal kept warm on the stovetop.

Peter backed away. “I had some protein bars in my room. The special kind that Tony made for my metabolism. I’m good.”

“Ok.” She said.

Peter left the kitchen and went upstairs to his bedroom.