#morguna

Tony, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem?

Store Worker: *points to Peter and Morgan*

Store Worker: I believe they belong to you?

Peter and Morgan, simultaneously: We got lost

Time Travel Au - Prequel to Iron Savior

The recording of Tony’s voice stopped, and Pepper stared at her left hand, the engagement ring and the wedding band both glinting there.  She didn’t really notice or care when her vision blurred, letting the tears run down her cheeks.

FRIDAY’s voice was far more tender than an AI should be able to manage. “It’ll be alright, girl boss.  It’ll work.”

Pepper bit her lip hard, trying to stop shaking. “I’m so scared, FRIDAY.  Of both outcomes.”

Title:  You want a fight. I’ll bring a war Collaborator: Menatiera Card Number: 3109 Square Filled: Morgan Stark (adopted square) @tonystarkbingo Ship: none Rating: T Warnings: canon-typical violence Summary: A man approaches teenage Morgan Stark with a knife in hand. Poor man. A/N: Morgan’s fighting style is based on Systema ;)

Ficlet:

‘See, Dad, you’ll owe Uncle Bucky something when I get home,’ she thought as she faced off the man in front of her.

Morgan wasn’t afraid. There was no need to be. Her breaths came even and deep, down to her stomach and then let out, as all the teaching from Bucky and Natasha echoed in her head.

Breathing is life. As long as you breathe, you’re alive. Keep breathing, that’s all.

The man was bigger than her - way bigger - and had a knife at hand. Morgan mentally snorted. Not even a gun. Amateur.

She didn’t fix her gaze on the weapon, she let it roam over the man as a whole. She’ll get the knife, first thing. But she couldn’t forget about the man while doing so.

The man stepped closer and Morgan opened her arms, just a little bit, her posture relaxed and her stance loose.

Stability is a myth, Natasha had taught her, you’ll have to be fluid, always on the verge of movement, not rooted in one place. You’re balanced in inbalance, ready to correct yourself.

His dad had never wanted her to learn how to fight. It had been Morgan’s wish, and she was her father’s daughter: of course she went for it. She had prodded Aunt Nat and Uncle Bucky until they gave in and started to train her.

The corner of her lips tugged upwards as the man got into her personal space. Just like she had wanted to. He was stronger than her, so she needed him close to be effective. Close enough that she could plaster herself over him effortlessly - if it were a different man and a different situation.

When the knife moved forward to be pinned to her throat, she struck too - both hands flying to stabilize the man’s wrist as she stepped forward and twisted her hips, slipping past the knife point and pressing herself to the side of the blade. Then she turned again, just a bit, forcing the knife backwards and out of the man’s hand. It was just a blink of eye, really, and the weapon was in her hand already, blade snug against her forearm and her grip steady on the hilt. Her smile blossomed a bit more.

No matter the size, no matter the build, if a person with a knife faces an empty-handed opponent, there will be blood, Natasha had warned.

That’s why it was always the first step to either remove the knife from the fight or be the one who holds it. No matter the price of that action. It was better to be bleeding and alive than being dead.

Using her opponent’s surprise, she took another step forward, slipping under the raised hand of her attacker, barely flicking her wrist to leave a shallow cut as she moved behind the man and turned back to face him again. Swift as a hawk and sly as a fox, the saying echoed in her head again. She was quick, she knew that, and she was well-trained - two things that her attacker wasn’t. Brute force was on his side, but brute force had nothing against a girl who learned how to fight from two ex-Russian assassins.

Use what’s hard on you to hit what’s soft on them, Bucky had said, fist, knee, elbow, all game. Target their weak points: their neck, ankle, waist, shoulder. The human body might be an amazing construct, but it’s barely wired together at the joints. Hit where it hurts the worst. And you’ll win without breaking a sweat.

She grinned up, a good two heads smaller than the man, and weighing maybe third of him, and she smiled, confident, enjoying the rage on his face and the uncertainty in his eyes.

morgan stark: *exists*

Tony: Of course kiddo. Ocean sauce coming right-

Peter: *gasp* Mr. Stark did you just-

Today is my graduation day, and I don’t feel like crying before the ceremony