#morgan hope stark

[serenastark-official]

💠⚙️A Heartfelt Appreciation Post for Pepper Potts and the Entire Stark Crew ⚙️💠

I’ve been sitting here, thinking about how to put into words just how much one person in my life means to me. And honestly, there are no words that could truly capture it. But I’ll try, because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this woman, it’s that I should always try to express gratitude, even when words fail me. So buckle up, it’s quite lengthy.

This post is for Pepper Potts, the backbone of the Stark family, the woman who’s been holding us all together in a way that nobody else could. It’s hard to find the words to express just how much she means to me, to all of us, but I’m going to try.

You’re probably like, “Serena, we get it, you love your mom.” But seriously, I can’t even put into words how much I appreciate this woman. She’s not just my mom—she’s the glue that holds everything in this crazy family together.

Let’s start with Pepper Potts, the woman who’s somehow made it all work. She’s been my rock, the one who’s kept me grounded, kept Tony in line (which is a job in itself), and managed to love all of us despite the absolute circus that is the Stark family. She’s graceful, strong, and somehow always has the right words at the right time. It’s like she’s got a superpower of her own, even if it’s not as flashy as the suits. She’s our superpower.

I think the best way to describe it is that Pepper is the person who makes us better. She’s the one who taught me that being strong doesn’t mean you have to do it all yourself. She showed me that strength comes from knowing when to rely on the people around you, and more importantly, when to let yourself be vulnerable. She gave me the courage to face my demons and made me feel like I wasn’t alone—even when things seemed impossible.

It’s not just about the big things, either. Yes, she’s the reason Tony’s even able to function like a half-decent human being (and believe me, that’s a feat in itself), but it’s the little things, the quiet moments, that really get me. The way she handles my dad’s chaotic genius, keeps Morgan’s world domination plans in check, and even makes sure that Emma and Cameron know they can always turn to her. 

And let’s not forget: she keeps up with my nonsense too. The mess that is Serena Stark's life, including the endless stream of random experiments, awkward family dinners, and “hey, can I borrow the jet?” moments. Pepper doesn’t just handle it, she thrives in it. She's the only one who can step in and get Tony to actually focus for more than five minutes. Seriously, how does she do it? It’s like she’s a sorceress of organizational magic—no one else can keep track of all my dad's tech, my endless banter, and somehow still make time for world domination schemes (Morgan, I'm looking at you).

Pepper, I know I’ve given you my fair share of headaches, and I’ve definitely been the chaotic Stark more times than I can count. But through all of it, you’ve been there. Even when I pushed your buttons (and trust me, I pushed a lot of them), you never gave up on me. You never once made me feel like I wasn’t worth the fight. You just loved me. Always. And you showed me what love really is—unconditional, messy, and always ready to pick up the pieces when things break.

Pepper is the reason why:

The house doesn’t look like a tech junkyard (even though Tony would love to turn it into one).

She knows where every single important thing is, even when we forget.

She's always there when we need her, no matter how big (or ridiculous) the problem is.

She keeps us from blowing things up literally and figuratively. I see you, mom—balancing us out like a boss.

I mean, I’ve seen Tony do some insane things, but let’s not forget who’s been the rock behind the chaos all these years. She juggles Stark Industries, keeping Tony’s brilliance from turning into another disaster, and somehow, always has time for me—and trust me, that’s no small feat. She’s the kind of woman who can walk into a room and instantly turn the madness into something manageable with just a look. And she’s done it all while being the most caring, selfless, and genuinely amazing person I know.

She’s the one who’s been there for me, even when I was being… well, a Stark. Through every tantrum, every impulsive decision (we all know I have a few), and every embarrassing mistake I’ve made, she’s always been my safe place. She’s the person I go to when I need advice, when I need comfort, when I need someone to tell me it’s okay to be a mess sometimes. And let's be real—I'm often a mess. Hey, that’s a Stark trait!

Tony Stark, my dad. Yeah, you knew he was coming in here somewhere. We’ve had our disagreements, and sure, he’s complicated (to say the least), but I get it now. I get why he does the things he does, why he makes the decisions he makes, and, honestly, I can’t help but admire him for it. He’s made his mistakes, but he’s tried to be a better person. And that’s something I’ve learned from him.

I know, I know, we’ve got our ups and downs (more downs than I’d care to admit), but at the end of the day, I know he’s trying. Sometimes. And let’s be real, without Pepper there to keep him in line, I’m not sure where any of us would be. She’s the one who actually keeps him grounded. Without her, he’d be off somewhere making another suit of armor or, worse, blowing up the house trying to cook pasta.

I’ve spent a lot of time being frustrated with him, but deep down, I know he’s doing his best. He loves us in his own way, even if he doesn’t always know how to show it. I get it now. I really do. He might be impulsive and sometimes a little... too much, but without him, I wouldn’t be who I am. And I’ve learned from him, too, in my own way—how to fight for what you believe in, how to never give up, and how to laugh even when things are falling apart.

But the truth is, Pepper is the one who keeps him human when he forgets how to be. She’s the balance, the one who reminds him what really matters. It’s not about the tech or the suits; it’s about the people you love, the family you’ve built. And that’s something Tony learned from her, even if he doesn’t always admit it.

Morgan – Our little world-dominating genius. You may be small, but girl, you’ve got a heart that’s bigger than this whole universe. I’ve watched you grow up, and honestly, I’m proud to be your sister. You’ve got that fire in you, that same drive that runs through the Stark blood, and I know you’re going to make a difference in the world. Just remember: don’t blow anything up without asking—you’ve got that from Dad.

Emma – The calm, collected one. You’ve got this quiet strength that is honestly incredible. You keep us all grounded when we get too caught up in the whirlwind of Stark madness, and I appreciate that more than you know.

Cameron – You're the one with that spark, the wild one who adds the fun and chaos. Life would be way too predictable without you, and I wouldn't have it any other way. You keep us all on our toes, and honestly, it’s what makes family dinners so interesting (even when you’re hiding under the table with Morgan planning something very interesting)

Peter Parker – Parker… you are a literal ray of sunshine. I honestly don’t know how you put up with my teasing, but you always rise to the occasion. You’ve been like a little brother to me, and watching you grow into the hero I know you are has been one of the greatest gifts. Keep being that amazing, awkward, brilliant, and way-too-nice-to-be-real kid. And when you beat me at anything again, I swear I’m going to cry… but not in front of you.

Harley Keener – My partner-in-crime, Gadget Boi. I have never met anyone who can – things like you do, the potato gun for instance. I honestly can’t wait to see where your talent takes you. You’ve been a part of this family in every way that counts, and I’m proud to have you by my side. Let’s just agree that you’ll never outshine my genius, though, okay?

Willow – You’ve been such a light in my life, more than I can put into words. Whether we’re creating things together or just sharing quiet moments, I can’t thank you enough for being there for me. You’ve been a part of this family in the most genuine, beautiful way, and I feel lucky to have you by my side.

And through all of this, Pepper—you’ve been the heart of it all. You’ve shaped us, loved us, and made us better people. You’re the one who’s made sure that, even when things fall apart, we all know how to pick ourselves back up. You’ve taught me that being a leader doesn’t mean doing it all on your own—it means knowing how to lean on the people you love and trust.

You’ve raised me in ways I never fully understood until I was older. You showed me what it means to be strong—not the kind of strong that comes from power or status, but the kind of strength that comes from kindness, patience, and love. You showed me that being a leader doesn’t mean you have to be perfect. It means you keep going, even when everything around you is crumbling. And you taught me that you can be soft and strong at the same time. That you can hold the world in your hands and still find the space to love fiercely and without hesitation.

I know I don’t say it enough, but thank you. Thank you for being the heart of this family, for showing us what it means to love unconditionally, and for always being there for each and every one of us. Without you, we’d all be lost. She’s the reason Tony can actually keep his life together (and trust me, he tries).

So, to Morgan, Emma, Cameron, Peter, Harley, Willow and of course Pepper, thank you for being my family. Thank you for the laughter, the tears, the chaos, and the love. I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.

To Pepper—you are the unsung superhero in all of this, the reason our family functions at all. I love you more than words could ever express.

And to Tony—thank you for being the kind of dad who may not always get it right, but tries. I may not show it all the time, but I’m proud to be your daughter. 🥂

P.S. I might still steal some of your shoes when I visit. I mean, I have to, right? Fashion legacy and all.

[serena-does-moodboards]

She's my sister, she needs me.

[serenastark-edits]

Mockingbird

@the-ironman @officialironman @under0-0s @serenastark-official @emma-hope-stark-official @random-hufflepuff-marvel-girl @thebestmerc-1 @goddess-of-birds @thescarleteevee @the1-and-only-peggycarter @story-from-hr

[crimsonwolf715]

Remeeting Bucky Barnes

(Part 3 of MCU Spiderman Stories)

Peter wakes up to the sound of small feet running. He sits up as he hears footsteps on the stairs. Morgan runs over to him and he smiles weakly at her. 

“Do you still feel bad?” Morgan asks. 

Peter shrugs. “A little, but I’ll be alright.” 

“Mama said it’s time for breakfast.” 

Peter gets up and follows Morgan up to the first floor. Pepper’s looking in the fridge. 

“We’re here,” Morgan says. 

Pepper turns. 

“Oh my gosh, did she wake you up?” Pepper asks. “I said we’re picking what’s for breakfast, not that it’s time to eat it.” 

O-O “Oh,” Morgan says. “Sorry, Peter.” 

“It’s okay,” Peter replies. “I’ll just sit here and wait.” 

He sits down at the table and he grabs one of the napkins. He starts carefully folding it. Peter can feel Pepper’s intense gaze on him and he wants to say something, but decides against it. 

“What’s your favorite food?” Pepper asks. 

Peter keeps folding the napkin he’s holding, then realizes Morgan didn’t answer. He looks up. 

“You mean me?” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Like for breakfast?” Peter asks after glancing at the clock. 

“I meant in general, but you can answer that too,” Pepper answers. 

“I don’t really know,” Peter answers. “But I like pancakes.” 

Pepper nods, then turns to the pantry. Peter gets up and leaves the napkin crane on the table. 

“Peter, come play with me!” Morgan shouts from outside. 

Peter walks outside and the sun feels far too bright. He shades his eyes with a hand, then looks in the yard for Morgan. She’s playing with her jump rope. 

“I don’t think I can play that with you,” Peter says. 

“No, we should play tag,” Morgan says. 

Peter shrugs. “Okay, that works for me.” 

They run around playing tag until Peter runs out of breath. He starts coughing and it takes a minute for him to catch his breath. 

“Take it easy, Peter,” Happy says. 

Peter forces a smile. “I’m fine.” 

Peter looks around and realizes that Morgan isn’t there anymore. Morgan comes out with a fake medical bag. She walks over and motions for Peter to sit down. He sits down and she starts giving him a checkup. He smiles as she seems frustrated that she can’t find out what’s wrong. 

“It’s probably just allergies,” Peter offers. 

She raises an eyebrow and he bites his lip so he doesn’t laugh. 

That excuse never seems to fly with the Starks. 

Peter sighs and lays his back against the ground. 

“Don’t do that, you’ll get dirt in your hair,” Morgan says. “Mama doesn’t like when we drag dirt in.” 

“I’ll make sure to clean up properly before breakfast.” 

“Breakfast!” Pepper shouts from inside the house. 

“Guess I gotta get up,” Peter says. 

“I can help,” Morgan offers. 

“Nah, I’m good. You should see if your mom needs anything though.” 

Morgan runs inside and Peter sighs again. Happy walks over and offers him a hand. Peter takes it and Happy helps him up. 

“You sure you’re feeling alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m gonna eat and then head back downstairs though.”

“Okay.” 

The two of them walk inside and everyone settles down for breakfast. Pepper questions Peter most of breakfast and he answers them to the best of his ability, considering some of them he’d never even thought of before. Peter helps with dishes after breakfast and once he’s done with that, he gets a shower and heads back down to the workshop. 

Bucky gets out of the car and is met by Morgan. She hugs him and he pats her head. Happy and Pepper are outside talking. She runs over to them, then Happy walks over as Bucky grabs his bags. 

“You just visiting for the day?” Happy asks. 

“That’s the plan, why?” Bucky answers. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something, but I don’t wanna mess with your time with Morgan.” 

“What is it?” Bucky walks into the house and Happy follows him. 

“There’s a kid, his name is Peter Parker. You knew him before recently.” 

“I don’t know anyone by the name Peter Parker.” 

“Yeah, I know. It’s complicated.” 

Bucky throws his bags on the ground and sits down. Happy sits down too. 

“So we knew the kid?” Bucky asks. 

Happy nods. “Yeah, you didn’t know him that well, but you did know him.” 

“So why don’t I know him anymore?” 

“Doctor Strange did some kind of spell that made everyone forget him. He’s Spiderman.” 

“Well I’ve seen Spiderman. Not recently, but I know I remember seeing him.” 

“We remember Spiderman, it’s just Peter Parker that we’ve forgotten.” 

Bucky nods. “Okay, I don’t really get it but there are plenty of things I don’t get. Why are you mentioning this?” 

“I’m hoping maybe you could help. You know how to deal with this better than I do.” 

“I feel like Sam’s put a little too much faith in me. You want me to talk to him?” 

“You can if you want to. He’s down in the basement.” 

“Why?” 

Happy takes a breath, then sighs. “He likes it better down there. That’s where Tony’s workshop is.” 

“Ah, okay. Since he was Tony’s kid, that makes sense. I’ll go talk to him, get a feel for what I’ll be dealing with.” 

“Okay, let me know how it goes.” 

Bucky heads downstairs and sees a kid that looks so small in one of Tony’s old t-shirts. He’s working on something at the worktable, listening to quiet rock music. 

“Hey, kid,” Bucky says. 

Peter looks up and when he sees Bucky, he waves a little before looking back down. 

“I know we’re supposed to know each other, but do you want to do a little reintroduction?” 

“We can if you want to, Mr. Barnes.” 

“Please, call me Bucky. Mr. Barnes is so formal.” 

“Okay, Bucky.” 

“What are some things that you like to do?” Bucky asks. 

“Umm… I swear I know what I like to do, but this headache is making it hard to remember,” Peter answers. “I like science.” 

He holds up whatever sticky-looking thing he’s working on. 

Bucky nods. “I was always interested, but never actually did anything science based. I did get to watch Howard do his first test run of the flying car. He did say in the near future, and there’s still no flying cars.” 

Peter laughs sadly. “I remember Mr. Stark talking about that one time.” 

Bucky sighs. “Sam tells me that when we miss people, every memory with them seems sad.” 

Peter looks up and goes to say something, then points at Bucky’s arm. “You’re bleeding, Bucky.” 

Bucky looks at his arm and the bandage is going from white to red. “Oh, well that’s not good.” 

Peter ducks under the worktable and comes back with a first aid kit. 

“Well, you’re prepared,” Bucky says. 

Peter hands the first aid kit to Bucky and he takes it. “I would offer to help, but I’m on the end of a bad illness. I don’t want to risk giving you something.” 

Bucky starts unwrapping his arm. “You’re good. I’ve been taking care of my own injuries for a while now.” 

“Me too.” 

Bucky sighs as he rewraps the injury. 

“How’d you get it?” Peter asks. 

“Working with someone to stop some drug traffickers,” Bucky answers. “I used to never get injured and when I did, Steve was always there to help.” 

Peter looks sad, but doesn’t say anything. 

“You want someone to talk to?” Bucky asks. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I know that it can be really hard to be alone. I went through it after Steve saved me from Hydra. I’m just offering that if you need someone to talk to about the darker and harder things that your folks upstairs would certainly react to colorfully, I’m here. I’m sticking around for a while, so I’ll be here.” 

Peter nods, though he looks hesitant. 

“You also don’t have to. Talk whenever you’re ready to.” 

Peter nods again. “Thanks, Bucky.” 

“You’re welcome, kid. Wanna explain what you’re working on to me?” 

Peter starts explaining his web shooters and how he’s working to make them better. After a while of that, Peter ends up getting too sleepy to keep going and heads to take a nap. Bucky heads back upstairs to find Pepper and Happy quietly talking about Peter. 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Pepper says. “He’s so much like Tony that it doesn’t surprise me that they knew each other, but at the same time, he’s clearly got a lot of issues. Is it safe to subject Morgan to that in case something happens?” 

“I don’t know what all he’s dealing with, but we can’t take him away from a safe place,” Happy says. 

“He’ll be alright,” Bucky says as he walks over. 

“How do you know?” Happy asks. 

“He’s clearly not completely lost in the grief he’s experiencing, which means that while it might take a while, there’s little chance that he won’t recover. And I plan on sticking around. Maybe not living here, but I’ll stay close by.” 

“You can stay here as long as you want, James,” Pepper says. “And if you’re both sure about Peter, then I have no problem with him staying. You have to understand my concern. Morgan’s young and she’s already lost her dad.” 

“We get it,” Happy assures her. “Morgan’s your top priority, as she should be.” 

Morgan comes running in. “Where’s Peter?” 

“Sleeping,” Bucky answers. “He wore himself out discussing his costume.” 

Morgan looks a little confused, but shrugs it off. “I guess I’ll go play by myself.” 

Once she runs off, Bucky turns towards Pepper and Happy. 

“She doesn’t know,” Pepper says. 

Bucky sighs. “I don’t know whether to say that you guys are dumbasses or that you think she’s not intelligent. He’s working on that suit downstairs when she has open access. He’s not exactly the type to cosplay, but I’m gonna go put my stuff up in the guest room since I’m sticking around.” 

“Thanks for sticking around,” Happy says. 

“Yeah, well it’s not because you asked me to, so no need to thank me.” 

Bucky grabs his bags from the living room and heads upstairs.

[sergeantrosabellaswan]

War Orphan, PROLOGUE, KING STEVE & DEAF THEIF LITTLE SISTER OFC

SUMMARY: King Steven of Brooklyn discovers a secret that his gruff father kept from the world. Now with the older king long dead, Steve wants to introduce Johanna Swan to the royal court. What happens when spies, poison and secrets meets them at every turn?

CHAPTER WARNING: mention of death (nothing graphic) mentions of infidelity (nothing graphic) mentions of a child born out of wedlock

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORESS:

Hey there everyone! This is yet another little writing project that I had abandoned in the past. It is heavily inspired by Pseudo Princess, a MCU royalty AU as brilliantly imagined and written by @shreddedparchment. So please do give them some love!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1082

LINE BREAKS BY @firefly-graphics

Steven Grant Rogers, the newly minted king of Brooklyn, only felt rage- pure, unbridled, raw rage as he stared down at the small chest that he had found while in his late father’s study. It had been hidden underneath a floorboard, and the curious young man could not help himself and opened it, revealing letters, a rendering of a young girl, withered flowers and a feather from some unknown bird.

The dread and anger only grew more pronounced as he read though each letter- professing a certain never ending love to the stoic ruler, talking about secret meetings, thanks for gifts in the form of a small house, goats and books…

And the king’s illegitimate daughter, a fiery tempered girl with her father’s brilliant red curls and freckles and her mother’s petite build and sense of wild adventure.

Johanna.

She is so beautiful, read one such letter to the king. She thanks you for the new set of quills, ink pot and bottle of ink that you sent her for her birthday last month. I swear, her fingers are now permanently stained with ink, and she is set on writing a book and publishing it when she is of an older age.

Steve gritted his teeth, anger painfully clenching at his heart.

“How could you do this to mom?” he muttered angrily. “I thought you loved her- why would you do this to her?”

He collapsed into the grand throne like chair that stood neck to his father’s desk, overwhelmed at the other side to the king that he had grown up calling father. He rifled through the letters, unsure of what he was looking for. He plucked a random envelope and opened it to find shaky penmanship.

Johanna has been asking questions about you- about her father… what should I tell her? That her father is of noble blood, a member of the royal family, the ruler of this kingdom… read one of the letters that had been addressed to the late king.

And just like that, the letters ended.

The letters ended three years ago, right around the time of the Great Grass Sickness, and Steve knew without a doubt that his father’s springtime fling had died during the plague.

“Johanna…” murmured Steve, closing his eyes and taking a deep shuddering breath of air, trying to calm his temper as he did the math in his head a few times, realizing that Johanna would be around eighteen years of age now, not even ten years younger than he was.

A slip of parchment, folded into quarters, fell out of the bundle, Steve managing to intercept it before it could land. He opened it and smiled at the sketching of a child- Johanna, as he took the main focus of the rendering to be.

He squinted, bringing the sketching up closer so that he could peer at the careful charcoal markings. She looked to be around ten or eleven years old, with long curls that caped out behind her as she stood in a field of flowers with a brisk wind whistling through her loose curls and making her kirtle flutter around her ankles. She wore a straw hat to protect her face and the back of her neck from the cheerful sun, and was holding onto her headwear with a single hand while laugher danced across her face. Her other hand clutched at a gathering of bright blooms and her feet were bare of shoes or stockings. The careful charcoal markings showcased perfectly deep dimples imprinted in her chubby cheeks. But what really caught his attention, was a purple and red stain that covered the left side of her face. He recognized it almost immediately- it was a birthmark that popped up every few generations in the royal lineage. Steve had the same marking, only it spanned the entirety of his left shoulder.

Something was stirring inside of Steve’s chest- an unfamiliar feeling that he couldn’t quite put a name to.

I have a little sister, he realized, a small smile growing on his face. I have a little sister.

A little sister.

“Steve?”    

He looked up from the letters to see his wife, Duchess Margaret Carter, with one hand cupping her swollen stomach. She smiled softly at him as she waddled her way across to him. He reached out blindly, clasping one of her hands in his as she ran her fingers through his blond locks.

“What is troubling you?” she murmured softly, coming to stand in between his legs, one hand on his shoulder for balance.

“Dad had an affair,” he blurted out. “And I have a sister- well, a half-sister.”

“Oh, Stevie,” she sighed, hugging his head close to her chest.

“I don’t wanna be like him,” he mumbled from in between her bosom, pulp with motherly milk. “I’m not gonna raise taxes, or imprison innocent civilians. None of that. He was my father, but he wasn’t the father I strive to be one day. And in order to achieve that, some things need to change- starting with Johanna.”

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[rightsforharleykeener]

ANYTHING WITH HARLEY BEING A BIG BROTHER TO MORGAN OR ABBIE

HEADCANONS FICS IDEAS LITERALLY ANYTHING

OKAY SO I HAVE A REALLY BIG HEADCANON FOR THIS

so harley has always felt like he was never really a Big Brother to abbie because since their dad left, he's had to step into this parental role. like, he can't be an Older Brother to her because she needs this fatherly figure in her life to make up for the one she's lost, and obviously macy isn't around as much as she wants to be because she has to work. no one asked harley to do that, he just does it - so he's always been more of a father figure than a brother figure.

harley made meals for them, tidied the house, as well has having to get his school work done. on top of that, he always worked odd jobs that needed doing around rose hill because he knew they needed the extra cash, even when macy told him that she didn't need his help with money, and that she appreciated everything he did.

he didn't mind doing it at the time, it was normal to him - he didn't have time for a lot of friends because he was doing so much, so he didn't Quite compute that not everyone was doing the same as him. he knew he was doing More, but not as much as he actually was.

macy always cared for the both of them when she didn't have a shift. she was a good mother really, but she just needed to work to afford the house and food.

they moved to new york when tony found out about their living situation and how badly they were doing financially. he'd found out because harley was talking to tony about everything he was doing to keep the family afloat. tony decided to get them an apartment in the city, which was all paid for - macy didn't like it at first but she knew that it was best for her kids. tony agreed to let her pay the bills, but if they got too high then she had to tell him and he'd make up the difference she couldn't afford.

macy ended up getting a job at a restaurant - like she had in rose hill, so it was familiar, but the pay was so much better. harley started at midtown, because tony's intern goes there and it's a good school apparently. abbie isn't quite old enough to go to midtown yet, but she gets into middle school on a full-ride scholarship. harley's really proud of her, because he used to help abbie with all her school work and it's paid off.

harley has time for friends now, and that's when he realises that he was moe of a father figure to abbie, and not a brother figure. he learns this through seeing the way the people at midtown argue playfully over silly things with their siblings in the corridors.

harley never got that with abbie. he'd tell her off if she drew on the walls, or refused to do her homework, or forgot her manners when they were at their grandparents' house.

he was never a brother, harley was almost a father. from 6 years old.

when harley turned 16, tony and pepper had morgan. harley and peter would be asked to babysit morgan from time to time. harley would always say yes, even if peter didn't. it was like a second chance.

he'd take morgan to the park, like he did with abbie, but instead of being worried about her every move, he would mess around with her, and push her down the slide, and encourage her to do the monkey bars, even when she was terrified she'd fall off. harley would hold her up until she got the hang of it.

he'd take morgan to get ice cream or cake, depending on the weather. sometimes, they'd go into a small lab that tony had made for morgan (child friendly, don't worry) and they'd make new and improved nerf guns. they'd run around the house and shoot tony (sound familiar?).

sometimes, harley and morgan would argue about how something worked, how it could be improved, or how they could prank tony.

they were siblings.

yes, he felt responsibility, he had to look after her. but harley felt like a brother.

no, of course harley never forgot about abbie. he continued to look after her, and he'd spend as much time as he could with her everyday. but abbie was growing up, and harley would never get to do those cliche sibling activities with her.

abby had a large group of friends now. harley would drive them to wherever they wanted to go that day. harley would watch a movie with abbie whenever they had time. but their dynamic still didn't feel like a brother-sister relationship.

with morgan, it did.

harley felt guilty about it sometimes, but he begins to realise that, actually, the situations were entirely different.

he was a father when he needed to be and a brother when he needed to be for abbie.

but he will always be a brother to morgan - even if it isn't biological. he doesn't need to be a father for her, but he did need to be for abbie. and he thinks that's okay.

[th78]

Why do i do this to myself?

Im bawling my eyes out, i just finshed my rewatch of EndGame

[mr-tony-stark]

// closed starter for @siberianwarriors

Tony had felt lost ever since waking up from his coma. The last eight years had worn him down, and he felt like a raw nerve. First there had been the break up with Pepper. Then there had been the whole Accords and Avengers break up. Then there had been the snap. Then Natasha and then the fight against Thanos where he'd snapped his fingers and turned it all back.

He thought he'd died in that moment. Part of him had wanted to. He was tired and sick of losing everyone. Only he'd woken up a few weeks later, his right arm amputated and burns up his right side. He thought he might be relieved? It was hard when there so much pain to feel real relief. Mostly he was just exhausted.

He'd designed himself a new arm using his nanotech, and he'd moved back to the Avengers Tower. The only problem was the person who he had blamed for so much of what had gone wrong, the person who had killed his parents, who he had seen choke the life out of his mother with his bare hands, was living there too.

Tony had been avoiding him. Partially because he was a little worried about what he'd do if he actually saw Barnes now. But partially because he knew that the super-soldier unlikely wanted to see him as well.

You see, the worst part of all of this - the absolute fucking cherry on this shit sundae, was that Tony knew it wasn't Bucky's fault. Tony knew that Bucky had just been a pawn in some fucked up universal game of chess. He knew that his reaction during the fight in Siberia where he'd just wanted to hurt Bucky and Steve as much as he was hurting, was an overreaction. He knew that Bucky was probably blaming himself. But that didn't change the fact that seeing him didn't hurt. And it didn't change the fact that Tony needed someone to blame and Bucky was the easy choice.

Tony had been self-medicating a lot since he'd got home. He'd been drinking more than he had back before becoming Iron Man in the first place. When he'd emptied his bar upstairs he went down to the common floor to see what was stashed down here. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only person to have the idea. When he stepped into the room, Bucky was already there.

Tony froze and clenched his new metal fingers against his side. "Didn't know you'd be here," he said.

[tmamcufnafandutareonmymind]

Ok but why he lowkey look like tony stark

my design for young peepaw!

check me out on insta @lucigooseart and tiktok @lucigoose_art !

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : MEET THE FAMILY : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Stark!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men & MCU

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: After your dad, Tony Stark, finds out you’re dating Logan, he insists the whole Avengers team meet him. Nervous but with Logan by your side, you head to the compound, with Wade tagging along. The Avengers are curious and a little skeptical, especially Tony, but Logan holds his own during dinner. He impresses the team with his confidence and clear care for you, even earning Tony’s reluctant approval by the end of the night. Despite the initial tension, Logan becomes a part of your chaotic family, and everyone accepts him.

Part 2

THE COMPOUND WAS QUIET. Too quiet. You'd been on edge ever since Happy had called you that morning, voice full of that awkward yet endearing nervousness he always got when delivering bad—or rather, inconvenient—news.

“Your dad knows.”

Three words that had set your entire day into a downward spiral of anxiety. Of course, Tony would find out. He had eyes and ears everywhere, despite you trying to keep things on the down low. And now, he had apparently told everyone.

Your boyfriend, Logan, sat beside you on the drive to the Avengers compound, eyes fixed on the road, completely unfazed. He was never one to be easily rattled. He hadn’t even batted an eye when you mentioned the entire Avengers team was going to be waiting to meet him. If anything, he just lit a cigar and shrugged, saying, "Not the first time I've been sized up by a bunch of superheroes."

Logan was like that. Unbothered. Calm in the face of impending chaos.

Unlike you.

You let out a deep sigh, clutching the steering wheel a bit tighter. "You know, we could just make a U-turn right now," you muttered, hoping, praying he’d take you up on the offer.

Logan chuckled, the low rumble soothing and maddening all at once. "Nah, darlin'. We’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen?"

"Logan, it's my dad. My dad, who, mind you, is Tony Stark. Genius. Billionaire. Overprotective father extraordinaire. I love him, but he’s going to grill you."

He smirked, one of those self-assured, slightly cocky looks that made your heart skip. "I’ve been through worse, trust me."

You were about to respond when a voice suddenly piped up from the backseat, startling you both.

“Hey, so what’s for dinner? I hope it’s not shawarma. I had that yesterday, and let me tell you, intestinal distress doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“Wade?!”

The red-suited mercenary, Wade Wilson—aka Deadpool—grinned as he popped his head between the seats. "Who else? You thought I’d miss a chance to meet the Avengers again? Besides, I’ve got a bet with myself to see which of them cracks first. My money’s on Banner. Big guy’s got a short fuse."

You groaned. “Wade, you weren’t even invited.”

"Yeah, but you love me," Wade said with a wink. "Plus, I’m the one who introduced you two lovebirds, so technically, I’m responsible for all of this.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was a glint of amusement there. He had a weird, chaotic friendship with Wade that baffled you at times. Still, Wade had been the one to introduce you to Logan in the first place. After one of those typical Wade escapades where you'd found yourself smack dab in the middle of a multiverse-saving mission, Logan had swooped in, gruff and full of snark, but undeniably magnetic. You'd been hooked ever since.

"Alright, just... please don't say anything weird when we get there. This is already going to be awkward enough as it is."

Wade gave you a salute. "Scout's honor, kiddo."

~

When you arrived at the compound, Logan strode beside you, a protective yet calm presence. Wade, naturally, flanked the other side, completely unfazed by the prospect of facing a room full of Earth's mightiest heroes.

As you entered the living area, the first to greet you was not your father, but Morgan Stark, Tony’s precocious little daughter, who ran up to you with a big grin on her face.

"Hey, Morgs," you greeted, bending down to hug her.

Her eyes immediately shifted to Logan, who watched the interaction with a faint smile. "Is this him?" she asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.

You nodded, a little nervous. "Yup. Morgan, this is Logan."

Morgan looked up at him with wide eyes, studying him. Logan crouched down to her level, his usually gruff demeanor softening just a bit. “You must be Morgan. Your sister talks about you all the time."

Morgan beamed. "You’re tall."

Logan chuckled. “And you’re smart.”

Morgan grinned and then, in typical kid fashion, dashed off, satisfied with her judgment. "I like him!" she called out as she disappeared into the kitchen.

One down.

Then the rest of the team filtered in—Tony, Pepper, Steve, Nat, Clint, Bruce, Thor, and even Rhodey. They all sized Logan up in their own way.

Tony, of course, was the first to speak.

"So," he said, voice casual but his eyes sharp, "this is the guy?"

Logan straightened up, meeting Tony's gaze with that signature, unflinching confidence. "Yup."

Tony took a moment, probably running a full background check in his mind before nodding. “Alright. Dinner’s almost ready, but first, I think the team’s got some questions.”

Steve, ever the diplomat, stepped forward with a polite smile. “Logan, right? How’d you two meet?”

Before you could respond, Wade butted in.

“Oh, it’s a great story!” he exclaimed, gesturing dramatically. “So, picture this—alternate dimensions, worlds colliding, typical Tuesday stuff. I’m getting my ass handed to me by some bad guys—”

“I don’t remember it that way,” you interjected.

“Shh, let me have this moment. Anyway, I call in Logan here for backup, because duh, claws and healing factor, and then boom, sparks fly between these two.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as her eyes flicked between you and Logan. "Sparks?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but Wade was too quick. "Like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Or maybe that was an explosion—I can't remember."

Logan sighed, clearly used to Wade's antics by now. “We met on a mission. Wade was being a pain in the ass, as usual. Your girl here held her own, and I liked that."

Your face heated up at Logan’s praise. You noticed Natasha and Steve exchanging a look. Clint leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, lips quirking up slightly as if he was already sizing Logan up.

“Multiverse missions, huh?" Clint finally said. "That must’ve been fun.”

Logan smirked, locking eyes with Clint, both men now in some sort of unspoken stare-off. “Fun's one way to put it.”

Clint didn’t break eye contact but gave a slow, approving nod. “So you’re used to the crazy life. Good.”

Thor, ever the enthusiastic one, stepped forward next, looking Logan up and down. "Ah, a fellow warrior, no doubt!" He clapped a hand on Logan's shoulder, earning a slight grunt from him. “Tell me, Logan, have you faced a frost giant before? Or perhaps a horde of dark elves?”

Logan gave a half-shrug, completely unfazed by Thor’s boisterous personality. “Haven’t seen those specifically, but I’ve fought my fair share of things with claws, teeth, and bad attitudes.”

Thor laughed heartily, clearly impressed. "Then we shall have many stories to exchange!"

Bruce, who had been hanging back, finally spoke up. "So, uh... any anger management issues we should be aware of?" He asked it cautiously, but you could see the hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Wade snorted. "Banner, you're one to talk."

Logan just grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Let’s just say I know how to handle myself.”

Natasha’s gaze sharpened. "I’ve heard about you. Wolverine, right? Healing factor, claws, indestructible skeleton."

Logan nodded once. "That’s me."

She studied him for a moment longer, then gave a small, approving nod. “Impressive.”

Tony, though silent for most of the interaction, was still sizing Logan up. You could feel the weight of your dad’s expectations hanging over the room. He wasn’t one to just roll over and let things be.

“So, Logan,” Tony said, leaning back with a scrutinizing look. “You’ve been around a long time. Done a lot, I assume. How exactly do you plan on handling my daughter?”

Logan didn’t flinch under Tony’s gaze. Instead, he gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “She can handle herself just fine, Stark. But if you're asking if I’ve got her back? Always.”

The room went quiet for a beat. Even Wade had paused from whatever chaotic inner monologue he had going. The weight of Logan’s words, his seriousness, seemed to sink into everyone.

Tony’s eyes flicked to yours, and for the first time that night, his expression softened. A flicker of something—acceptance, maybe—passed across his face.

“Well,” Tony said, standing up and smoothing his shirt. “In that case, I suppose we should eat.”

As everyone began to move toward the dining room, you felt Logan’s hand slide into yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You looked up at him, relieved to see a small smile playing on his lips.

“They like you,” you whispered.

Logan shrugged, but there was a warmth in his eyes. “More importantly, they love you.”

You leaned into him slightly as you both followed the rest of the Avengers. And as for Logan? He had passed the test.

~

As the group settled into the dining room, the mood shifted slightly—less tense, more familial. The Avengers took their seats around the long table, conversations gradually picking up, but you couldn’t shake the subtle glances they kept throwing Logan’s way. It was clear they were still sizing him up in their own way.

Logan, for his part, remained calm. He was good at reading a room, better at letting things roll off his back. You’d noticed that about him early on—he had this way of commanding a space just by being in it, without the need for flashy words or grand gestures. Even so, you could tell by the way his hand remained close to yours that he was paying attention to every little detail. Watching, listening, judging.

Morgan was seated next to Tony, happily talking to Pepper about something she’d done at school that week, her occasional glance toward Logan full of childlike curiosity and approval. To her, Logan wasn’t an intimidating figure. He was your boyfriend—nothing more, nothing less. The simplicity of it warmed your heart.

Dinner was served, and Wade, who had somehow managed to squeeze in between Natasha and Clint, immediately started in on a loud, entirely unprompted story about a mission in Madripoor that no one really asked for.

“So there I was, pinned down by a mob of highly trained ninja assassins—yes, they exist, Steve—and I’m about to go down for the count when Logan here comes in with the whole snikt, snikt thing,” Wade mimed Logan’s claws extending with dramatic flair, “and saves my beautiful behind from a fate worse than death: losing my taco night.”

Steve sighed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Right, because that’s clearly the priority in a life-or-death situation.”

“Exactly!” Wade pointed enthusiastically, as if Steve had just made his point for him. “This guy gets it.”

Natasha leaned back, smirking as she cut into her food. “So, Logan saved your life, and that’s how the two of you met?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Not exactly. Logan and I didn’t really meet officially until a little later. Wade just… happened to be there. Per usual.”

“Per usual, my dear?” Wade gasped dramatically. “You wound me. You wouldn’t have even met this tall drink of Canadian water if it weren’t for me!”

Logan gave a quiet grunt of amusement, though he didn’t say anything. Instead, he caught your eye, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as Wade continued his rambling story.

Thor, who had been listening intently to Wade’s increasingly exaggerated tale, turned to Logan, looking genuinely intrigued. “So, Wolverine, your claws—are they forged of enchanted metal, much like Mjölnir?”

Logan paused, mid-chew, and raised an eyebrow at the Asgardian. “Not exactly. Adamantium. Strongest metal on Earth. Had it grafted to my skeleton a long time ago.”

Thor nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Ah, I see! A most noble addition. I myself am well-acquainted with weaponry of such caliber. Though I must admit,” he leaned in slightly, “I would be most curious to see them in action.”

Logan gave a low chuckle. “Maybe after dessert.”

As the conversation drifted on, Logan slowly began to settle in. Steve asked him a few more questions about his past—carefully avoiding anything too personal or traumatic—and Clint, always the quiet observer, seemed to be assessing Logan from across the table, eyes sharp but not unkind.

Tony, meanwhile, hadn’t said much since dinner started. He watched everything, listened to everyone, but remained quiet, only offering the occasional comment or quip. You knew him well enough to recognize that he was still processing. As much as Tony trusted your judgment, the whole “overprotective dad” thing didn’t exactly disappear overnight.

“So,” Tony finally spoke up, setting his fork down as the rest of the table quieted. “You’ve been through a lot. War, battles, more than most people could handle in one lifetime. And yet, here you are.”

Logan glanced at him, not quite sure where this was going, but he nodded. “Yeah. Seen more than my share.”

Tony leaned forward, elbows on the table, and his gaze sharpened, narrowing slightly as if he was putting Logan through one last test. “My daughter’s important to me— really important. You say you’ve got her back, and I respect that. But if you’re sticking around… you’re gonna need to know one thing.”

The room stilled. Even Wade had gone quiet, which was a rare feat. Logan met Tony’s stare head-on, not a trace of intimidation or hesitation in his gaze.

“What’s that?” Logan asked evenly.

Tony exhaled, his expression softening—just a fraction. “This family? We’ve been through hell. Lost people we cared about. We’ve had our world flipped upside down more times than I can count. And the thing is… when you’re in, you’re in. No half-measures. No walking away when things get tough. You stick it out. You fight for the people who matter.”

Logan didn’t blink. His gaze shifted briefly to you, then back to Tony. “That’s how I’ve always lived.”

Tony nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly. There was a weight to that moment, a silent understanding passing between them. Whatever final test Tony had in mind, it seemed Logan had passed.

Pepper, sensing the shift, smiled softly and placed a hand on Tony’s arm, quietly grounding him. “Dinner was wonderful,” she said warmly, breaking the tension. “I think we’ve had enough grilling for one night.”

Natasha smirked, raising an eyebrow at Logan. “You’ve survived the inquisition. Impressive.”

Logan shrugged. “Didn’t seem all that bad.”

Rhodey laughed. “You’re lucky. The last guy that showed up to date one of Stark’s kids? He didn’t make it past the appetizers.”

Tony snorted, shooting Rhodey a playful glare. “That’s because that guy showed up in a muscle car blaring AC/DC and quoting Shakespeare.”

“I thought you liked AC/DC?” you teased.

“I do. Not when it’s a first impression.”

Morgan, who had been quietly observing the back-and-forth, suddenly piped up. “Are you staying here tonight?” she asked innocently, looking up at Logan.

Logan blinked, clearly not expecting the question. “Uh…”

“Morgan,” Pepper began, her tone gentle but with that motherly undertone of “not now.”

“What? If he’s dating my sister, maybe he should stay!”

Wade, sensing an opportunity to cause more chaos, grinned beneath his mask. “Oh, I second that motion, mini-Stark! Logan here can bunk with me. I’ll show him my extensive collection of ‘80s action movies. It’ll be like a slumber party, only with more explosions.”

Clint nearly spit out his drink, trying to stifle his laughter, and even Natasha cracked a rare smile.

Logan, who had been stoic and composed throughout the entire evening, just shook his head. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

You burst out laughing, and as you glanced around the table, you saw that, little by little, Logan was beginning to fit in with the Avengers’ chaotic dynamic. Sure, there were still guarded looks and unspoken tests, but your family—both blood and found—was starting to accept him in their own way.

As dessert was served and the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you felt Logan’s hand rest on your knee under the table, a small, reassuring touch that grounded you. You leaned into him slightly, smiling to yourself. Maybe this whole thing hadn’t been as bad as you’d feared.

By the time the evening began winding down, Logan was in the middle of an animated conversation with Thor about battle strategies, Wade was loudly recounting yet another exaggerated mission story to anyone who’d listen, and Morgan had fallen asleep in Pepper’s arms.

Tony, now more relaxed, leaned over to you as the others chatted around the table. “So… Logan,” he said quietly.

You glanced at him, unsure of what was coming next. “Yeah?”

Tony gave a small, reluctant smile. “I still think you could’ve given me a heads-up earlier, but… he’s alright. I guess.”

You grinned, bumping your shoulder against his. “Told you so.”

Tony chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Don’t get used to it.”

As the night wrapped up and the team slowly began to disperse, you and Logan lingered by the door. Tony walked up to Logan, offering his hand.

“Take care of her,” Tony said, his tone steady but genuine.

Logan gripped Tony’s hand firmly, meeting his gaze once more. “Always.”

With that final exchange, you left the compound with Logan by your side, Wade tagging along (of course). And as you drove away, your hand resting in Logan’s, you felt a sense of peace settle over you.

Your family had met him. He’d met them. And while it hadn’t been perfect, it was the first step in blending the two worlds you cared so deeply about. In the end, Logan wasn’t just a part of your life anymore.

He was a part of theirs.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes

If you want to be added to the Logan tag list, let me know!

[cag3dsong]

                              " WATCH OUT! " the scream leaves her mouth before she can stop it. She's not quite for the hang of this flying malarky yet. Her dad had made it looks easy but here she was hovering in mid-air one second and crashing to the ground in a heap in another. Morgan cringes, opening the front of the helmet to allow the girl she's almost crashed into to see her face.

                " Sorry 'bout that, test flight, still working out the kinks. " she smiles sheepishly, standing and dusting the dirt off the suit before finally taking a proper look at the other. There's a long pause, trying to figure out why she looks so familiar. " Hey, do I know you? "

@waspinqs liked for a starter.

[reiding-writing]

in my head cold!reader fs has her silly moments because she’s a funny gal!!! she just hides it 😞 i also would love to see them all go ice skating because they tease her about being an ice princess all the time

SLIP ‘N SLIDE — SPENCER REID!

for someone often likened to all things icy, you don’t deal with actual ice all that well.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 1.3k | fluff | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — not quite ice skating, more like ice walking, but close enough i hope 😭

Snow blankets the ground in an unbroken sheet of white, thick and heavy, muffling the world. The air is sharp enough to slice through layers of clothing, and each breath curls into a ghostly mist before vanishing. It's the kind of cold that settles in your bones, the kind that reminds you of all the reasons you despise winter.

The wind cuts like a blade against your cheek, biting through the layers of your FBI-issued winter coat. You bury your chin deeper into the fleece-lined collar, eyes narrowed against the sharp glare of the mid-morning sun reflecting off the ice.

“The crime scene is on the other side,” Hotch announces, his breath fogging in the air.

“Great,” you mutter. “Just great.”

A frozen lake. Of course.

You glance at the ice stretching out before you, the crime scene a stark, crimson-streaked contrast against the pristine white of the snow on the far side. The local authorities determined it would take too long to go around, and in these temperatures, time is everything. The killer's trail is fresh, the evidence vulnerable to the elements.

So, naturally, your team has decided to cross the ice.

“Let's move carefully,” Hotch warns. “We don't know how thick it is.”

“Well, this is gonna be fun,” Morgan says, shifting his weight as he surveys the slick surface between you and the body. “Guess we’re getting our morning cardio in,”

Beside him, Spencer adjusts his scarf, his breath puffing in front of him like smoke. “Technically, the increased difficulty of walking across an unstable, frictionless surface means our energy expenditure will be higher than normal. It’s not exactly—”

“Kid,” Morgan cuts in, shaking his head, “it was a joke,”

Spencer closes his mouth, but the corners twitch like he’s fighting the urge to clarify further.

You sigh, already feeling the first inklings of a headache forming. The case has been dragging on for days now—cold, bleak, and utterly relentless, much like the weather. The victim count is rising, and the unsub’s patterns are erratic, making it harder to form a cohesive profile.

Everything about this case feels unsteady, and now, looking at the vast stretch of ice before you, that instability has become a literal obstacle.

The team step onto the ice in what’s almost a single-file line, following the careful steps of the local detective guiding them safely across the lake.

You, however, stay firmly planted at the edge.

“You coming, Ice Queen?” Morgan calls over his shoulder, smirking.

The nickname grates, but you don’t react. You never do. You've heard it all before—it’s nothing new.

But today, for once, the title feels ironic. Because as much as you might be an ‘Ice Queen,’ you are not in your element.

The moment you step onto the ice, you know you're doomed.

Your boot slides, and suddenly, gravity isn't your friend. Your arms pinwheel as you scramble for balance, heart lurching into your throat.

Morgan barks out a laugh. “Damn, Princess. You sure you’re not playing it up for effect?”

You shoot him a glare. “Bite me, Morgan.”

He just chuckles, clearly amused by your suffering.

JJ glances back with a smothered smile, and Emily—traitor that she is—grins outright. “Need a hand?” she offers, but there's amusement in her voice, and you refuse to give her the satisfaction.

“No.” you say stiffly, planting your feet more firmly.

Except the ice has other plans.

Your boot skids again, and for a split second, you think you might recover—until you don’t. Your feet fly out from under you, and you hit the ice with a spectacular lack of grace.

The impact rattles through your bones, and for a moment, you just lie there, staring up at the grey sky, wondering if it’s too late to quit your job and move somewhere warm.

You hear Morgan’s laughter first—loud and unfiltered. Then Emily’s, followed by JJ’s soft giggle. Even Rossi looks vaguely amused.

And Spencer.

When you turn your head, you find him standing nearby, eyes wide, lips twitching like he's trying not to laugh but failing miserably.

Your dignity is in shambles.

“Glad I could entertain you,” you mutter, pushing yourself up onto your elbows.

Morgan wipes at his eyes, still chuckling. “I gotta be honest, I expected better from you. All that ice in your veins, and you can't even stand up on it?”

You level him with a look that could freeze hell itself. “Say that again, Morgan. I dare you.”

That just makes him laugh harder.

You try to rise—carefully, deliberately—but the moment you shift your weight, your foot betrays you again, sending you skidding forward. You barely catch yourself on your hands before your knees slam into the ice.

This is actual hell.

You hear a quiet shuffling, and then Spencer is crouching beside you. “Here,” he says, offering his hand. “Let me help you,”

You stare at it, then at him. “I can do it myself.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he says patiently, “but statistically speaking, the longer you struggle, the higher the likelihood of you falling again,”

You narrow your eyes. “Did you just calculate my probability of embarrassment?”

“Technically, it’s your probability of losing your balance,” he corrects. “But if you’d prefer, I could just—“

“Fine,” you snap, before he can retract his offer.

You grab his hand, and he pulls you up with surprising steadiness. His grip is warm, fingers wrapping securely around yours. He doesn’t let go immediately, waiting until you find your footing.

“Okay?” he asks.

You nod, exhaling sharply. “Yeah. Thanks.”

His lips quirk in the smallest smile. “Anytime,”

Behind you, Morgan lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Man, that was cute,”

“I hope you drown.”

You manage to stay upright as you start moving again, though it's a battle with every step. Spencer stays close, occasionally offering a hand when you falter. You try not to let it bother you—try not to acknowledge the warmth lingering on your skin where his fingers brushed against yours.

Eventually, you reach the other side of the lake, and you’ve never been more grateful to feel solid ground beneath your feet.

Morgan claps a hand on your shoulder as he passes. “Nice work, Permafrost. That was real impressive,”

You resist the urge to trip him.

“Go die.”

“You wound me,” He presses a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. “And here I was, thinking we had a special bond,”

“If by ‘special bond’ you mean I tolerate your existence, then sure.”

Spencer snorts beside you, and for a brief moment, you almost smile.

Almost.

But then the cold seeps back in, and the reality of the case presses down on you once more. The victim is just ahead, her body pale and still against the snow.

Your amusement fades.

There’s still work to be done.

“You really don’t like the ice, huh?” Spencer asks after a moment.

You sigh, brushing the remnants of frost from your jeans. “No. I really don’t.”

“Noted,” he says, tucking his hands into his coat pockets.

[jellyfishsthings]

Hold Your Breath My Darling

WARNINGS: angst, like super angst, lovesick and whipped Spencer, earlier seasons Spencer, Hotch trained reader, Ex spy, fem reader, dying (or coming close to it), panic attacks, HOTCHNISS IS A THING bcuz i said so, typical criminal minds violence... there will be a part two soon, please let my know if I am missing anything else

requests are open

The ending was based on this fic by @nereidprinc3ss

part 1

It had been one month since the Incident—a term that spoke volumes without revealing too much. The Incident was the moment everything changed, the day the world they've fought to protect threatened to swallow them whole. One harrowing act of violence had almost stolen her from the living, leaving scars deeper than flesh, echoing through the halls of the BAU and private lives of those who cared.

For Aaron Hotchner, the air was thick with the weight of his own guilt. He wandered through days shrouded in shadows, each movement a reminder of his instinct to protect, to lead, to ensure the safety of his team. And how had he failed? He coped with drowning himself in whiskey after a long day's work—a futile attempt to numb the regret clawing at his insides. In the back of his mind, the echoes of her screams lingered. They came back to him every time he closed his eyes.

His office was dimly lit, the curtains drawn tight against the afternoon sun. He stared at a framed picture of the team at some holiday gathering, her flashing one of her radiant smiles, arms flung around Morgan and Reid. It should have been the happiest memory, but now it felt like a ghost lurking in the corner, reminding him of what could have been lost forever. Where there should have been laughter, the room was filled with an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the sound of ice rattling in his glass.

Then there was Emily, who wore her pain like a second skin. Each night, she gave in to silent tears that left her breathless. Hotch held her, wrapped her in his arms, wanting to lend strength but unsure of how to piece together the fragments of their shattering experience. It was during these quiet moments, swaddled in darkness, that they both recognized the fragility of their connection. What they had once built was now tempered by guilt and fear—fear of losing a woman, a kid practically, they had helped qrow and turn into the amazingAgent she was.

Meanwhile, in a sterile white room, Spencer Reid kept vigil at her bedside. He had transformed into a specter of the man he had always been. Days blended into nights, and he often felt unmoored. The memory of her laughter used to be a melody he longed to hear; now it haunted him. In the clinical light of the hospital room, he counted the rhythmic beeping of the machines, which stood stark contrast to the chaos within him. Every time he heard her heart, steady and strong, he found a flicker of hope. But hope was an elusive thing, dampened by the anxiety that had seeped into his bones.

Reid often found himself lost in thought, reflecting on the moments that brought them all together, the little things that made them a unit—a family of sorts. He remembered their case that had turned deadly, the precision of her instincts leading them into a dangerous trap. But he also remembered the resolve in her eyes as they fought, a fierce determination that now seemed barely a whisper in the sanctuary of her hospital room.

For a while, recovery felt like an unattainable vision—like a mirage shimmering just beyond their reach. It was a miracle she was still alive even in a sedated state. When she was admitted in the hospital the doctors wore horrified looks as they finally located her file, asking for goverment permission to unseal it and rightfully so. When Spencer himself read it he felt nauseous to his core and ready to lose his hold on reality.

Bones broken more than one time.

Broken back that function only with a chip insisted in the spine.

Various signs of abuse, which could be traced back to her childhood at eight years old.

Signs of sexual assault and rape to a terrifying degree.

She was covered in old scars.

Yet he knew that the worst damage must live inside her head. What a scary life she had lived. And she was only a few months younger than him. The memories that must haunt her ... he only felt sick at the thought, he could imagine how it would be like to live with them.

Still it made sense. How good she was at fighting, that she was an excellent shot, how quickly she adapted into this new lifestyle. He was filled with questions, how, why, are you well, I still love you you do not have to hide I promise. But he didn't have a choice and so he waited for what seemed an eternity.

Days passed, and with them came the wait. But her eyes still remained closed, and so did the door to their shared perception of certainty. A week turned into a month, and the seasons shifted outside like a clock wound down to a dim hum.

Then, one evening, under the flickering fluorescent lights of the hospital, a breakthrough came. Her eyelids fluttered, her breathing quickened, and suddenly—her eyes opened, revealing the storm brewing inside them. Spencer was at her side, gripping her hand gently, his heart hammering in his chest. Ready to fall down on his knees and thank every diety for bringing her back.

“Snoopy?,” he breathed out, the air catching in his throat. Using after what seemed the longest time the nickname he had for her, the one he only used because he was the only one who knew her crazy obsession with the cartoon.

Her gaze was unfocused at first, wandering into the corners of the room as if piecing together where she was. But recognition slowly dawned on her, and the corners of her lips managed a faint curve.

“Reid?” she croaked, her voice raspy yet threaded with life.

Spencer felt a swell of emotions. Relief surged through him, casting away the shadows that had clung tightly for weeks. “You’re back. You’re really back.”

She blinked, and as realization dawned fully, the weight of her condition pressed down on her. “What happened?”

The moment reverberated with unspoken understanding; the memories were shrouded yet defined by the pain they collectively held. But what mattered now was her presence, the warmth of her being returning to where it belonged.

Yet nothing would ever be the same again.

Her transition to get back to work was tedious and long, but she faced with extreme determination and stubbornness. But one bright Monday morning at the Behavioral Analysis Unit (BAU), and the scent of hope lingered in the air like freshly brewed coffee. The team was abuzz with excitement—she was finally back after her traumatic injury. The office was a cacophony of cheers, “Welcome back!” and “It’s about time!” amid the clatter of keyboards and the rustle of paperwork.

She smiled brightly, radiating enthusiasm as she exchanged warm hugs and playful jabs. Despite feeling a little stiff, she was ready to jump back into the chaos that was the BAU. Her final physical test had gone splendidly, and she had passed with flying colors, much to the delight of her colleagues.

“Just don't overdo it, shortcake,” Derek Morgan chuckled, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You wouldn’t want to break a sweat before lunch.”

“I think my stitches would disagree with you,” she replied, tossing her hair back and puffing out her chest, “but who needs stitches when you have determination?”

She winked, but even she could feel the tight twinge near her abdomen as she waved dismissively.

A few hours later, as the excitement faded into the hum of agents at work, she started to feel a slight tugging pain. Her physical test had been strenuous, and perhaps she had overexerted herself a tad too much. Dismissing it as minor, she continued her duties until, unceremoniously, during a particularly animated discussion with Spencer Reid, she felt something give way. Looking down in horror, she saw her bandage had opened—one stitch had given it all up.

“Oh, come on,” she muttered under her breath. “Not now.”

The bathroom was not far, but the urgency and pain propelled her into a sprint that was definitely not recommended for someone still healing. She burst through the bathroom door, clutching her midriff, and locked the door behind her.

Meanwhile, after Snoopy had vanished for a suspiciously long time, Spencer felt a tickle of worry. She had burst into action rather enthusiastically, but it had turned into hours of radio silence. Ever the nerdy detective, his mind began churning. What if she had passed out? What if the bathroom monster had gotten her?

Spencer stood up, adjusted his glasses, and awkwardly edged toward the restrooms, bursting into the first one. Empty. Next, he slammed the door of the supply closet, scanned the room, found it empty, and moved on. He was a bull in a china shop—he knocked on a few more doors before finally giving in and charging towards the ladies’ restroom.

“Snoopy?” he called out hesitantly. “Are you in here? Did you win a new Olympic event—like bathroom hiding?”

Inside, she was struggling for a fresh bandage, maneuvering between the threading of her clothes, still trying to maintain a semblance of dignity despite her predicament. “I’m fine!” she half-shouted. “Just dealing with some wardrobe malfunctions. You know how it is!”

“Are you sure? You sound a little… flustered.” Spencer pushed through the door—pride was overrated, and so was personal space when it came to friends in need.

There she stood, half-naked, staring wide-eyed at Spencer. She was trying to maneuver a roll of bandages across her back, struggling with the awkward angles as she attempted to wrap around her injuries. The moment was a whirlwind of awkwardness and genuine surprise that left Spencer rooted to the floor.

“Oh, uh…!” Spencer stammered, his eyes widening. “I—Sorry! I didn’t mean to—!”

She blushed, realizing the comedic irony of a boy who often got caught in his brain's overdrive now turning into a flustered mess. “Spencer, a little warning next time? I’m just trying to change my bandages!”

“Oh! Right! Of course! Bandages!” He shuffled awkwardly, racking his brain for something—anything—that resembled confidence. “Do you need help?”

“Help?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow. “With what? Watching me struggle or ensuring a full-fledged theatrical performance?”

Reid swallowed hard and stepped forward, grabbing the roll of bandages. “I have a PhD in cognitive neuroscience, but bandaging wounds shouldn't be too complicated, right?”

She laughed, a melodic sound that diffused the tension as he gingerly held the fabric ready to assist her. “You say that, but let’s just put your academic prowess to the test.”

As he meticulously began to wrap her wounds, their banter threw open a door to easy flirting. “You know, if you hadn’t decided to writhe around like a fish out of water, I wouldn’t have had to barge in here like a raging bull,” he teased, focusing on the bandages but stealing glances at her.

She snorted softly. “And if you hadn’t decided to play the role of ‘Spencer the Bull’ and barged in like that, I might have had a more dignified experience here.”

“Next time, I’ll knock,” he agreed. “But first, if I let you get hurt again, I’ll have to rat you out to HR.”

She feigned shock. “Spencer Reid! How could you? Aren’t we a team?”

He didn’t dare reply immediately, wrapping the bandages with precision while his own cheeks flushed. “They also say you can’t handle a little risk in the name of love—because that’s totally what HR deals with.”

She grinned. “Oh please, they’d love the gossip. ‘Reid and Snoopy engage in dangerous bandaging maneuvers!’”

“Right?” He chuckled. “They’d probably get the wrong idea, and we’d spend our afternoons dodging accusations.”

“Accusations? Of what? Excessive flirting under the guise of medical assistance?”

Their eyes met, and the emphasis was palpable—a line they’d somehow danced across during the cheerful mockery. As the gentle laughter enveloped them, both realizing they had easily slipped into a territory where playful banter morphed into flirty undertones, Spencer’s heart thumped against his chest as he finished the bandage and fought the impulse to lean in a little closer.

“So,” she started, cutting through the air of comfort, “do we have a pact then? No more HR rumbles if you keep barging in on me uninvited?”

“I think that sounds reasonable,” Spencer replied, a charming smile emerging on his lips.

As they shared another laugh, an understanding settled between them—one wrapped in bandages, hints of crushes, and adventure, leaving behind awkwardness and opening the door to a world wrapped in flirtation and camaraderie, all set against the delightful backdrop of the BAU.

Tags: @sturnioloenthousiast

[kiwriteswords]

All is Bright

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: apologies to those who have requested things before this! I am working on a few others, but I had to get this one out today! Hope everyone enjoyed their Thanksgiving if they celebrate it! I also would be happy to take holiday requests that are non-christmas!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Grumpy!Female Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Tags/Warnings: Christmas, Alcohol TW, Grumpy!Reader, Hotch with the Praising, Suggestive Flirting,

Sypnosis: When the BAU gathers for Rossi’s annual Christmas party, you’re determined to survive the night with your grumpy demeanor firmly intact. Holiday cheer isn’t your thing, but Aaron Hotchner—your stoic, endlessly patient boyfriend—has a way of melting your resolve.

Rossi’s estate was decked out in its holiday best. Twinkling lights illuminated every corner, and the smell of pine, cinnamon, and whatever culinary masterpiece Rossi had whipped up filled the air. The BAU team, scattered across the sprawling mansion, was in various stages of celebrating—laughter and clinking glasses echoing in the space. You, however, sat on the edge of a couch in the living room, a scowl lightly gracing your face as you sipped your drink.

“Didn’t realize Scrooge made the guest list,” Morgan teased, plopping down beside you. He had a full glass himself, but it was in stark contrast to what you were drinking. The spiked eggnog he had was far too sweet for your liking. You kept it simple and…you with the gin on the rocks.

“Ha, ha,” you deadpanned, taking another sip, waving him off, “I’m just here for the food. Don’t get used to this festive spirit.”

“Festive spirit? That’s a stretch,” Emily chimed in from across the room,  “Come on, admit it—you’re having fun.”

You rolled your eyes. Sure, the party wasn’t awful, but your natural state of grumpiness was a hard shell to crack. And yet, it seemed like everyone was on a mission tonight to tease you out of it.

Well, almost everyone.

You glanced across the room, and there he was—Aaron Hotchner, in all his stoic, composed glory. He was in conversation with Rossi, holding a glass of something that wasn’t eggnog (because, of course, he also wasn’t an eggnog guy). His suit jacket was off, tie loosened just slightly, and the sight of him caused the smallest crack in your armor.

Hotch glanced in your direction as if sensing your gaze. His lips quirked into a small, knowing smile before he excused himself and made his way toward you. Your heart betrayed you with a flutter, but you shoved the feeling down, keeping your scowl firmly in place.

“Hey, sunshine,” he greeted softly, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough to tease you.

“Funny,” you replied. “Everyone’s a comedian tonight.”

“Hmm.” He perched on the armrest of the couch beside you, close enough for his presence to feel grounding but not overwhelming. “Morgan giving you a hard time?”

“When isn’t he?” you muttered, glancing at the man in question, who was now laughing with Garcia by the fireplace.

Hotch chuckled lightly. “It’s only because he cares.”

“I think he just likes to mess with me.”

“That too.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping just for you. “You know, you could try smiling. It’s Christmas.”

“Why should I? There’s a whole house full of people here doing it for me.”

Hotch’s laugh was quiet but genuine, the kind of sound you swore could melt even your grumpiest moods. You felt his hand brush lightly against yours, where it rested on your knee, a simple, grounding touch.

“I like your grumpiness,” he said, surprising you. “But I like it even more when I can make it go away.”

Before you could respond, you heard Emily call out from somewhere behind you. “Hotch, do something about her face before it ruins the photos.”

You turned to glare at her, but Hotch chuckled again. “Let’s give them what they want, then.”

He stood, placing his drink on a coaster and offering you his hand. You raised a brow. “What are you up to, Aaron?”

“Trust me,” he said, his tone gentle but playful.

With a sigh, you placed your hand in his and let him pull you up. He guided you toward the doorway leading into the dining room, where a sprig of mistletoe hung, subtle but unmistakable.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, realizing his plan. “Mistletoe? Really?” You knew you sounded like a defiant child, but really? 

“You don’t like traditions?” His voice was smooth, his expression amused but patient as ever. Why did he have to give you that look? 

“It’s cheesy.”

“Maybe. But I think we owe Rossi for hosting this party.” He stepped closer, his brown eyes warm, his smile soft. “What do you say?”

Before you could roll your eyes again, the team noticed. Garcia was the first to squeal. “Oh my gosh, yes! Kiss her, Hotch!” 

“Might as well get it over with!” Morgan called out, grinning ear to ear. 

“Stop making it a thing,” you muttered, cheeks heating as you shot daggers at your friends. You could have sworn you heard Rossi whistle.

But then Hotch gently tilted your chin up, bringing your focus back to him. His expression was calm, steady, the kind of look that always reminded you why you fell for him in the first place. The soft brush of his thumb against your chin was electric enough to refocus your brain. 

“It doesn’t have to be a thing,” he said quietly, just for you. So nonchalant, like you weren’t the center of attention. “Just us.” 

You couldn’t argue with that. With a resigned sigh, you leaned up, and he met you halfway, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was soft and unhurried. The world around you seemed to fade for a moment, your grumpiness melting away like snow under the warmth of the sun.

When you pulled back, the room erupted in applause and cheers, which immediately brought your scowl back.

“Great. Now it’s a spectacle.”

Hotch chuckled, his hand sliding down to rest on the small of your back. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Better.”

The team’s laughter and cheers didn’t let up, and you glared at them over your shoulder. “Don’t you all have something better to do than act like high schoolers?”

“Not when this is more entertaining than TV,” Morgan quipped, raising his glass.

“You’re all insufferable,” you grumbled, though the faintest twitch of a smile betrayed your faux annoyance.

Hotch leaned in closer, his hand steady on your back. “Do you want to stay here and endure this, or should we disappear for a while?”

Your brow quirked. “Disappear? That’s not very supervisory of you.”

“Supervisory me is off duty,” he replied, his lips just barely brushing your ear. “And I have more interesting priorities tonight.”

The flush creeping up your neck betrayed the calm facade you tried to maintain. “Fine. Let’s get out of here before they start taking bets.” 

You were hoping he meant to leave. Adios. Irish goodbye. But his plans were more of an intermission of sorts. 

The two of you slipped away toward one of the quieter sitting rooms, though not without a few knowing smirks from the team. Rossi’s mansion, as sprawling as it was, offered plenty of places to hide away from the chaos. You found yourselves in a cozy, dimly lit room with a roaring fireplace, the sound of the party fading into the background.

“This better not be where you try to sell me on more Christmas traditions,” you teased, crossing your arms as you turned to face him. Somehow, even this unused room, in Rossi’s mansion, abode for one, was even decked out for the holiday. 

Hotch stepped closer, his gaze soft but focused entirely on you. “No traditions this time. Just us.”

You softened at that, the tension you always carried in your shoulders easing a little. “You’re dangerously close to getting me in the holiday spirit.”

“Is that so?” he said, the faintest hint of amusement playing at his lips. “Should I be worried?”

“Maybe.” You stepped closer, resting your hands on his chest. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently along your skin. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

The kiss that followed was deeper this time, more intent behind it, yet still carrying that steady warmth you always found in him. You lost yourself in the feel of him, the stress and grumpiness of the day melting away completely.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, and you let out a soft sigh. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Am I?” His tone was amused, but his gaze was steady, his hand lingering at your waist.

“Yeah. I can’t even stay mad around you.”

“That’s the goal.” He kissed your forehead, his voice low and affectionate. “I like seeing you happy. Even if it takes a little extra effort.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the sound of someone clearing their throat made you both turn. Standing in the doorway, Rossi grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, though his tone suggested he was enjoying this far too much. “I just came to see where my guests of honor disappeared to.”

You sighed, giving Hotch a knowing look. “I told you they wouldn’t let us escape.”

Hotch chuckled softly, his hand still at your back. “It was worth a try.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Rossi said with a wave of his hand. “But you might want to come back before Garcia starts circulating conspiracy theories.”

Rossi left with a wink, and you groaned, burying your face in Hotch’s chest. “I swear, next year, we’re skipping this.”

He held you close, caressing your back with reassurance, his voice warm with laughter. “Not a chance. But I told you,  I’ll make it up to you afterward.”

You looked up at him, arching a brow. “You’d better.”

Hotch’s hand lingered at the small of your back as the two of you stepped back into the glow of Rossi’s holiday party. The laughter and music were a sharp contrast to the quiet moment you’d just shared, but his steady presence grounded you as always.

Morgan was the first to spot you, a wide grin splitting his face. “There they are! And here I thought you two were off plotting something.”

“Only my escape,” you replied dryly, earning a chorus of laughs from the group.

“Oh, come on, we know you secretly love it here,” Garcia said, her sparkling outfit matching the mischievous glint in her eyes. “Especially when you’ve got him by your side.”

Hotch’s hand tightened slightly at your back, his calm demeanor unshaken by the team’s teasing. “Someone has to keep her from bolting.”

“Someone,” you muttered under your breath, shooting him a side-eye glance. His lips quirked in amusement, his brown eyes soft as they met yours.

The teasing continued as Rossi brought out a tray of desserts, insisting everyone try his homemade tiramisu. As the team gathered around the kitchen island, you felt yourself relax into the chaos, the warmth of their camaraderie chipping away at your usual reluctance.

“You know,” JJ said, nudging your arm with a grin, “you’re almost smiling. Is Hotch rubbing off on you?”

“Absolutely not,” you deadpanned, earning another round of laughter.

Hotch leaned in close, his voice just for you. “Is it so bad to admit you’re enjoying yourself?”

You shot him a playful glare but couldn’t quite fight the small smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe. But if you tell them that, I’ll deny it.”

He chuckled softly, brushing his hand along your arm. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

As the night wore on, the team drifted into various activities—some chatting near the fireplace, others engaged in a spirited game of charades. You found yourself by the Christmas tree, admiring the lights despite yourself. Hotch joined you quietly, his presence as calming as ever.

“You’re staring,” you said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. You tried to focus back on the various shiny bulbs hanging from each branch but couldn’t help but look back toward him.

“Just admiring the view,” he replied without missing a beat, his gaze fixed on you.

Your cheeks warmed, and you looked away, grumbling, “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” he said, the faintest smirk on his lips.

You rolled your eyes but leaned into him slightly, letting the quiet moment settle around you. For all the teasing, the chaos, and your initial reluctance, you couldn’t deny that being here—with him—made it all worthwhile.

The soft glow of the Christmas tree lights reflected in Hotch’s warm brown eyes as you both stood there, taking in the quiet moment. The sounds of the team’s laughter echoed in the background, distant enough to feel like you were in your own little world.

“You know,” he started, his voice low and thoughtful, “I never thought I’d be doing this again.”

“Doing what?” you asked, glancing up at him. You could feel the shift in his energy. It was something, especially with him, you could pick up on before words even left his mouth. Your usual demeanor softened, recognizing this.

He gestured subtly toward the tree, the party, the warmth of the night. “Celebrating. Finding this... peace. With someone I care about.”

The sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten. Hotch wasn’t one to overshare or wear his emotions openly, so moments like these carried weight. You hesitated, unsure how to respond, the vulnerability in his words catching you off guard.

“Maybe I didn’t mind it as much as I let on,” you admitted quietly, your voice softer than usual, almost reluctant. The confession hung in the air for a beat before you quickly added, “But don’t get too sentimental on me. I have a reputation to uphold.”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, his gaze flicking toward you briefly before returning to the road. “Of course. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’ve gone soft.”

As the evening wound down, the energy in Rossi’s mansion began to settle. The team had dispersed into smaller groups—Emily and Garcia were deep in a heated debate over whether "Die Hard" was a Christmas movie, with JJ chiming in occasionally, Morgan was helping Rossi clean up, and Reid had somehow been roped into organizing the board games Rossi insisted on showcasing earlier. You stood near the door, watching it all unfold with a mix of amusement and relief. The night had been more tolerable than expected, but you were ready to call it.

Hotch appeared at your side, his coat draped over his arm. “Ready to head out?”

You sighed, giving the room one last glance. The goodbyes had just about done you in. You tried to hide a comment about likely being called into seeing all of these people before the next few days were over but held back. 

“More than ready. Let’s go before Rossi tries to guilt me into taking leftovers.”

Hotch’s lips curved into the faintest smile, and he helped you into your coat, his hands lingering just a second longer than necessary. 

Once outside, the crisp winter air hit your face, a refreshing contrast to the cozy warmth of Rossi’s house. The driveway was lined with cars, their frosted windshields glittering under the soft glow of the outdoor lights. Hotch walked you to his car, opening the passenger door for you as always.

The drive back to your shared apartment was quiet, the sound of Christmas music on the radio filling the silence. You stared out the window at the snow-dusted streets, watching as the lights from decorated houses passed by in a blur.

The soft hum of the car and the muted glow of passing streetlights filled the comfortable silence between you. Hotch glanced your way again, a flicker of amusement in his gaze as his fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel.

“You were good tonight,” he said again, his voice carrying a warm, teasing edge that made you glance at him with narrowed eyes.

“Good?” you repeated, raising a brow. “Are you about to give me a gold star?”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t break. “If I thought it’d keep you in line, I’d consider it. But we both know you respond to other things.”

Your cheeks burned at the weight of his words, the way his tone wrapped around you. Your stomach flipped at the way his voice dipped just enough to send a pleasant shiver down your spine. You masked it with a roll of your eyes, your tone teasing as you replied, “You’re impossible.” 

“And you love it,” he countered smoothly, his eyes flicking toward you again, steady and unshakable.

Your mouth twitched into a small, reluctant smile as you turned back to the window. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not exactly lining up for the Most Festive award anytime soon.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” he said, his voice softer now. “But you showed up, you played nice, and you made it through without biting anyone’s head off. Maybe even a smile or two. That’s progress.”

You scoffed lightly, though his words sent a subtle warmth through your chest. “If you think that’s progress, your standards are lower than I thought.”

His smirk deepened, and he let the silence stretch for a moment before he replied, “I think you know my standards are anything but low. Especially when it comes to you.”

Your cheeks warmed at the weight of his words, but you kept your tone light. “You’re lucky I even went. I could’ve stayed home.”

“You could have,” he agreed easily, his voice steady. “But you didn’t. And I’m glad you didn’t.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard for a moment, and you glanced at him, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the passing streetlights. His presence was so steady, so calm, it made your usual defenses falter. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

He gave a small nod, keeping his eyes on the road. “I do. You didn’t have to go, but you did. For me.” The corner of his mouth tugged upward again, but this time, his gaze stayed on the road. “You know, for someone who’s so resistant to the holidays, you play along pretty well when you want to.”

You raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said, glancing at you now with that steady, unreadable expression, “that I see right through you.”

Your stomach flipped at the way his voice dropped, warm and firm. “Oh, do you now?”

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation, his tone laced with challenge. “And for the record, you did better than good tonight. You were perfect.”

The car pulled into the driveway of your shared apartment, and the engine’s hum faded as he shut it off. You turned to face him, your heart beating just a little faster under his gaze. “Perfect, huh? That’s a bold claim.”

“It is,” he said, his hand resting lightly on the gearshift as he leaned just slightly toward you. “But I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

You stared at him for a moment, caught between wanting to roll your eyes and wanting to melt under the intensity of his gaze. “Fine. But if you’re so impressed with me, you’d better make it worth my while.”

His lips curved into that rare, private smile he reserved just for you. “Oh, I plan to.”

The warmth in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you huffed, reaching for the door handle to hide your reaction. “You’d better, Hotchner.”

He chuckled softly, stepping out of the car and rounding to your side to open your door—always the gentleman, no matter how much it flustered you. As you stepped out, his hand found its way to the small of your back, guiding you toward the door with that quiet, steady presence that always left you feeling just a little off balance.

By the time you reached your apartment, you were practically buzzing with anticipation—not just for whatever promises lay unspoken between you, but for the way he always seemed to know how to unravel your defenses with nothing more than a look and a touch.

And tonight, you were more than ready to let him.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[sergeantrosabellaswan]

Am I a Monster? Disney Frozen & MCU crossover, CHAPTER FOUR

Am I a Monster? Disney Frozen & MCU crossover, CHAPTER FIVE

Summary:

Elsa and Anna Arendelle. Sisters first, best friends forever. Even with Elsa being the one with cryokinesis- the enhanced abilities to control snow, ice and the cold. Struggling to make ends meet with Elsa attending college and Anna finishing up her senior year of high school, they accidently attract the attention of both SHIELD and HYDRA.

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOTRDSS:

Chapter five! Man oh man, I sure do hope that you all are enjoying what I’m writing so far!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1081

���Well, this is home sweet home,” Steve announced to the two sisters as he drove up to Avenger Tower, pausing as he waited for the gate to the underground parking lot to open. “FRIDAY will give you the grand tour once you’re finished getting situated in your apartments.”

Elsa only nodded stiffly, Anna have fallen asleep on her older sister’s shoulder during the car ride. Bucky rode in the passenger seat and Natasha was in the seat next to Anna.

“Tony was forced to leave for a family emergency in Nevada late last night,” Natasha told Elsa before undoing her seat belt and getting out, passing by Steve. “So you won’t meet him until he gets back sometime next week.”

“Do you want me to carry her up?” Steve asked Elsa, reaching into the car for Anna and hoisting her tiny, sick laden frame into his arms. “FRIDAY, lead the way to the Arendell sister’s apartment.”

“Certainly Captain Rogers,” chirped a robotic voice before the floorboards began to light up, signaling the way.

“FRIDAY is Tony’s virtual AI,” he explained, slowing down to allow Elsa to keep up with his long strides. “So handy- she can play songs from my childhood, understands me when I use popular slang from the 40’s, and can recommend books and TV shows that I would like. Again, the future is so handy.”

“Ah,” Elsa hummed, freezing as a tall, well built blond man wearing exotic armor and a fluttering red cape came out of a hallway, saw them and nodded respectfully before going off on his way once more.

“Was that Thor?” Elsa meeped in amazement.

“That was Thor,” Steve confirmed, going up to an elevator, which opened right up for the three of them. “He comes and goes as he pleases though.”

“Wow…” Elsa followed him onto the elevator, FRIDAY sending the three of them up to the sixth floor. “Doesn’t he spend much of his time on Asgard?”

“He bounces back and forth.” Steve came to stop right outside a door, which opened to reveal the sisters’ new home. “Welcome home.”

The front door opened into a TV den that had a comfy looking couch with a glass coffee table in front and a massive bookcase that took over an entire wall. To the left was a kitchen and dining room, all open floor concept. The appliances were new and shiny, the counter tidy and uncluttered, the hardwood floors dust free and clean. The dining room had a small table with a chair on either sides on with a dark blue rug underneath. Windows let in the sunlight and the floor length curtains were a light green and blue checked. To the right of the living room were two bedrooms- both with full sized beds, large sized closets and desks.

“This is wonderful!” Elsa gasped, utterly giddy as Steve gently settled Anna down into her bed before removing her shoes for her. She went back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, already making a list as to what groceries she would need to buy.

“You can input the groceries that you need onto the keypad on the outer right side of the refrigerator and someone will go out, purchase what you need and then drop it off.”

Elsa jumped at the feminine robotic voice that sounded out. She closed the doors and sure enough, on the right side was a screen, blipping as it scrolled through random food- boxes of pasta, apples, milk…

“Does the AI system go through the tower?” Elsa wondered as Steve came into the kitchen, his hands jammed into his pockets.

“Yeah pretty much,” he answered her. “Hey listen- I promised Buck that I would be his sparring buddy, so I’ll have to leave you both now, okay?”

“Okay,” Elsa smiled as she walked him out. “I have a chemistry pop quiz that my professor had been hinting at that I want to cram for.”

Steve grinned as he left the apartment, letting the door snap shut behind him. with him gone, Elsa opened the door and poked her head out, seeing two men with dollies packed with the boxes of things from their old apartment.

“Hihi!” Elsa greeted them, letting them in. “Be quiet- my little sister is asleep!”

The men were quiet as they bought in the neatly labeled boxes, stacking them in the TV den in front of the TV, leaving and returning two more times before leaving the young woman to

A soft knock on the half opened door turned out to be a pretty redhead with a long, slender silhouette.

“Hello, Elsa?” she asked in a kind tone of voice before entering. “My name is Pepper Poots, and I’m one of the CEOs of Stark Industries.”

“Hi, how are you?” Elsa shook her offered hand.

“I came with information and paperwork on getting you and you sister onto the team’s medical insurance, is now a good time?” she asked, hugging a clipboard to her chest.

“Uh, sure.” Elsa turned to open a random box. “Is it alright with you if I multitask? I’ve never been good at doing just one singular thing.”

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