#Richcard AKA Richcrap

[marionluth]

Christmas Irondad Story ✨❤️ First chapter is up 😀

You can see the deets by clicking on the link, but we're talking re-write/re-imagining of my favotite cheesy Christmas movie: All I Want For Christmas (the 1991 one). You're in for 🙌dramedy🙌 all the angst and banter and humour and fluff. Biodad AU with all three Tony kids (Harley Morgan and Peter) scheming to get divorced Peps and Tones back together. Feels and laughs throughout the story.

Excerpt below 👇

“Dude, you’re going down. My guy’s about to throw the meanest punch,” Harley taunted.

"Yeah, yeah, just you wait," Peter muttered— thumb working overtime, trying to block Harley’s jabs and figure out how to do anything but get his virtual face smashed in.

Meanwhile, Morgan was sprawled on Peter's bed, lost in her own world, flipping through one of his X-Men comics. Even though she was a bit young for some of the heavy stuff in them, she always managed to look like she was reading with the same seriousness Peter did.

"Mo, you're gonna sprain your neck like that," Peter warned, glancing over his shoulder at her, noticing how she was twisting to read a page. He figured she’d gotten the X-Men bug from him after the whole superhero gig had started; though she was probably more into the sparkly stuff than the punches, she loved the comics, and Peter loved sharing them with her.

Morgan glanced up for a moment, but didn’t say anything— just flipped another page, her eyes drifting back to scan the panels.

"I can't wait to try this in the AR console Dad’s making us," Harley said. "Can’t wait to destroy you there, too."

"Since you can’t in real life," Peter shot back, grimacing as the KO flashed over his defeated player. His character had been knocked out cold, and it was honestly a little embarrassing.

Harley leaned back, all smug confidence. "Let’s not forget I could easily take you before you spidered-up."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, you know what they say, terror. Karma is a..." He caught himself mid-sentence and glanced quickly at Morgan.

"The B word," Morgan said, her tone bored as she continued flipping through her comic— not even looking up. "You can say it, I won’t repeat it in front of Mom."

Peter smiled, shaking his head. "I know, Mo. And even if you did, we’d blame..."

"Harley," Morgan finished, her voice matching Peter’s in perfect sync.

Peter and Morgan burst into laughter, while Harley shot them both a half-hearted glare, fighting a smile. "Assholes," he muttered.

“You decided what you’ll ask from Santa, Mo?” Peter asked, his eyes glued to the screen as the next round started up.

"Yeah," Morgan answered right away, her head bobbing. Peter could see her brown locks bouncing with the movement from the corner of his eye. "I’ve known for months now," she added.

Peter glanced at her, intrigued. “Let’s hear it then. What will it be this year? Dog? Cat? Bunny?”

Harley leaned forward, eyes bulging as he got way too into the game. His tongue stuck out slightly in concentration, but his attention was now half on Morgan, curious to hear what her request was. "Come on, Mo. Hit us with it. What animal is it gonna be this year?"

Peter shook his head with a quiet chuckle, though it sounded hollow to his own ears. “The pony would like some company,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, the memory hitting him hard.

He could still picture it perfectly— Morgan, all wide-eyed and hopping up and down with excitement. The pony, its big brown eyes blinking in confusion, munching on the tree’s low-hanging branches with a bow tied around its neck. It had been absurd. Over the top. Completely out of place for a New York penthouse. The poor thing had never stood a chance in that apartment. They’d had to send it to the lake house with Mr. Larry, the caretaker, who would look after it. Morgan only got to ride it whenever they visited that place, which had been less and less often since the divorce.

He remembered how everything had seemed normal that Christmas, at least for Morgan. Their parents had pretended like nothing was wrong, even though Peter and Harley had known better. They could see the cracks forming, feel the tension— but their parents had tried to act like everything was fine. Like, Ross Geller fine.

Morgan had gotten her pony, and a few days after New Year's, their parents had sat them down and announced the divorce. It was the cruelest kind of irony. No present— not even Miss Buttercup— could have softened that blow. Peter swallowed, the weight of the memory pressing down harder now.

“I don’t want a pet,” Morgan said seriously, her voice soft. “I have something bigger to ask this Christmas.”

Harley, mid-game, froze. The controller dropped from his hands, his gaze snapping to her with exaggerated interest. “Are we talking real estate? Or a yacht, maybe? ‘Cause it did cross my mind, too—”

“I’ll ask for Mom and Dad to come back together again,” Morgan interrupted him, her voice steady, like she was announcing something simple.

The words hit Peter like a cold wave, and the room seemed to freeze. The game, the noise, everything around him was now muffled. Harley’s eyebrows shot up as Peter exchanged a glance with him, but neither of them knew how to respond.

“Mo…” Peter started, but Morgan didn’t look away from him. She just sat up, determination etched on her face. Her gaze was so intense— so serious— that it made Peter’s throat tighten.

“It’s all I want,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “All I want for Christmas is us. I want us to be a family again.” The words hung in the air and Peter swallowed hard.

“Morgan, you can’t ask Santa stuff like that,” Harley said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Why? You said he’d never get me a pony, too, but he did.” Morgan's eyes were wide, her little chin set in that way she did when she was trying to convince them of something.

Harley groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Because he’s a jolly dude with a beard and a sleigh drawn by magical reindeers, not a marriage counselor! Santa can’t interfere with people’s relationships and lives. It’s one thing to bring presents, and another to try and fix... people.” He hesitated, unsure how to explain something so complicated to a seven-year-old.

Peter watched his little sister’s face fall, before her expression hardened again.

“No,” Morgan deadpanned. “Santa is magic and he can do anything. And I know he’ll understand how important it is to bring Daddy back home to us. We have to be a family again.”

“M, we’re still a family, even if Mom and Dad aren’t together,” Harley said softly, his usual smirk gone, replaced by a tone laden with quiet sincerity— one that Peter had only ever heard him use with Morgan.

“I know,” Morgan replied, but her voice wavered just a little. “But we’re not all together. We see Dad less now, and Richcrap is always around. I want things back how they were.” Her voice dropped. “And that’s what I’m asking Santa, no matter what you two say. You can ask for your silly games. I’ll save our family, you’ll see.”

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, aggravated voices floated up the stairs. Harley and Morgan couldn’t make out the words, but Peter’s enhanced hearing instantly picked up the harsh tone of his parents arguing. The biting words, the sharp jabs thrown between them— his father’s voice rising in frustration, his mother’s voice clipped and cold.

Peter's stomach dropped.

"Dad’s here," he announced, with a forced smile.