#also rare friday forehead footage

[clueless1995]

captain sleepyhead reporting for bedtime 🫡

[yourmcu]

Emotional Support Mode

Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary:

in which the reader is the loner, antisocial daughter of Tony Stark and the other Avengers including her father never acknowledge her presence (they thought some sort of interaction made you uncomfortable) so she becomes friends with Friday instead - Tony probs finds out and it’s gonna be all cute n fluffie once he realizes -

Word count: 2,243

a/n: hi just wanted to write fluffy tony :)) also I used they/them for friday’s pronouns

Warnings: angst n fluff, friday’s a bit more advanced (not like they aren’t already but) bc they could almost act like a literal human here.

read it on ao3!

You arrive back at the Avengers facility, shoulders slumped and just tired in general since you have a lot of homework and projects to do from school, most of them due by the end of the week. You also have exams later in the week.

“Hey, Fri,” you huff as you make your way to the elevator.

“Welcome home, Y/N. Where do you want to go?”

Yes, you're very close with the A.I that they started calling you by your first name. “To my room - and uh, will you remind me to read two chapters in my history book after I’m done with all my homework? I also have this project, I just need some measurements later, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thank you.”

It’s going to be a long night, you sigh heavily just thinking about it. Now you’re probably wondering, ‘you live with the Avengers! Why don’t you ask Tony and Bruce for help? Maybe Steve and Bucky for your History test?’

Yeah, well... you barely talk to any real person you live with. Maybe it’s you, you always thought you're making the team uncomfortable. You don’t even talk to your own father often which is kind of depressing on your part.

You love them, they’re like your extended family, but it just isn’t working out. Maybe they just don’t like you. Up to this day you still wonder why Tony took you in when you were just a baby (you were a mistake from one of his one night stands) - he had the choice not to.

“I’m assuming you zoned out again. You have arrived to your room five minutes ago.” Friday announces.

“Y-yeah sorry,” you shuffle out of the elevator and swiftly head to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“I also asked if I should inform Mr. Stark that you have arrived home.”

“No, no thanks. He’s busy and... probably wouldn’t care anyway,” You mutter the last part as you pile the books you need on your desk. “Can you put my study playlist on, please?”

----

“What time is it, Friday?”

“7PM. I was about to remind you to take a break.”

You get up from your chair and stretch, halfway through the last of your homework which is a two page essay. “You’re too kind, thanks pal,” when you walk out your room to head to the kitchen and grab a snack, the lounge is empty, kitchen empty,

“The team’s on a mission? I thought they had the whole week off,” you say before gulping down a water bottle.

“I checked the security footage: they left about an hour ago. Captain Rogers was talking about getting dinner.”

You put the bottle down. “Oh,” you try to mask your disappointment. This isn’t your first time being alone, they always left you here when they had a mission of course but... well, it’s not like they want you around them. “I’ll - I’ll just make myself something later, then. Not a big deal. I have to study anyway.”

Another hour later, the Avengers are back. They're all conversing happily as they pile in the lounge. Peter's rambling about upgrades for the Spiderman suit while Tony's typing away in his phone, nodding at everything he says. Everyone else is arguing about the TV channels and talking about the new restaurant they ate at.

Rhodey shifts, looking around. “Why do I feel like we forgot something?”

Natasha looks at him, waiting for him to go on.

“I assure you, I brought Mjolnir with me this time.” Thor butts in.

“No not that, what time does Y/N get home from school?” No one answers. It’s not like any of them know. It's natural that Rhodey would be worried about his goddaughter (even if they rarely talk). He turns his head to his best friend who’s now walking away with Peter, an arm around his shoulder. “Tony, where’s Y/N?”

He doesn’t hear since he has his full attention on his protégé.

“I’ll start making this tomorrow, I guess. I still have to buy materials.” You mumble to yourself, but you hope Friday's listening to everything you say just to make you feel less lonely. You swipe the hologram of the blueprint away and place the thick books in front of you.

“I would like to recommend a suitable study plan.” they state.

You rub your eyes, sighing, “I’m already halfway, I would’ve considered it earlier though.”

“This is only a recommendation, feel free to ignore it.”

You push yourself away from the desk and mutter a “go on,”, fiddling with your pen.

“Asking Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes would give you more details for your History examination, since the pair were originally from that time period. The same goes for Mr. Banner for your Science examination, I believe he has seven Ph.D’s, you may also approach Vision for the same topic. Mr. Stark has all the necessary materials for your project in his lab. Would you like me to-”

If only it were that easy. It should be easy, the thought alone makes you really nervous. “No, I - I appreciate the recommendation, Friday, but - I think I can do this on my own.”

“But you’re tired and it is almost midnight. I would help you myself but you specifically told me not to.”

They’re not wrong. Your eyes are starting to droop and you barely understand anything you're reading. You're also fighting back tears - why is talking to your family so hard?

“I can sense sadness. Would you like me to activate emotional support mode?”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds great right about now.”

----

“Crap. Guess we lost track of time again, kid,” Tony wipes his hands with a rag while he looks at the time on his computer. “You better get home. I’ll send May a text for keeping you this late.”

“Okay, thank you Mr. Stark. I’m just gonna use my suit-”

“No. Happy will drive you.”

Peter knew better than to argue and insist so he just nods and smiles sheepishly. A minute later Happy came ‘round to take him home.

Tony turns back around. “Friday, make a new project for me please, I’m adding minor upgrades to the Spiderman suit.”

“Not now, boss.”

Oh. He did not expect that. “Excuse me?”

“Y/N is currently opening up. I would like to give her my full, undivided attention. Please come back after fifteen minutes or so.”

Tony doesn’t exactly know how to feel about that. He never sees her outside her room anymore that he kinda forgot she existed tonight - oh fuck, they didn’t bring her to dinner with them.

“Well,” he exhales. “What is she saying?”

“That would be an invasion of privacy.”

“I’m her father-”

“Are you, sir?” Friday’s clever remark makes him stop abruptly.

It’s pretty clear that he’s been a shit father. Not only does he ignore you all the time but he treats Peter way better than his own flesh and blood. The Avengers on the other hand, they were nice people, but just didn’t understand so they try their best to get out of your way.

You were afraid of rejection, afraid to interact, because you had no idea what everyone thought of you. Did they like you? Did you make them uncomfortable? Did they want you around? What about Tony, did he really want a daughter in his life? Because you noticed he’d be better off with a son, yeah, like Peter goddamn Parker.

Tony sighs, walking out of his lab and heads to the mini bar to grab a drink. He needs to think: there's absolutely nothing wrong about you, he just didn’t do his job right, you thought he didn’t care, you thought nobody did. Even Friday is turning against him, doing a better job of comforting and being there for you.

“God, I’m such an asshole,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead. He drinks his last shot and heads to the kitchen. “She still awake?” He calls out.

“She is.” Friday has a bitter tone.

He's hesitant to ask again, feeling really bad for not knowing this simple question - “what’s her favorite beverage?”

----

“How do you feel?”

You sniffle. “Well y’know, better than before. I should probably go to sleep. Thanks, Fri.”

“You’re welcome. Also, Mr. Stark is outside your door.”

“W-what?” You put away your books and straighten up, rubbing your damp eyes. “You’re serious? Okay, uh, let him in?” It's more of a question.

“Alright.”

You turn to face your desk as Tony enters the room, holding two steaming mugs. He sits at the end of your bed, just right next to the chair you're sitting on. “Hi,” he gives you a small smile and hands you a mug.

What’s the occasion?

“What’s this?” You ask quietly before taking the mug from his hands. Tony's being gentle and soft, it's odd but you’re not complaining.

“Green tea with honey. I... I thought I saw you make that stuff once.” He says, not mentioning the fact that Friday told him that.

“Oh, well, yeah,” you take a small sip. He added a bit too much honey but other than that it was good. “I thought you preferred coffee, though,”

Tony shrugs, his eyes glistening when he looks at you. “Wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

“Did - did you want something, Dad?” You always found yourself awkward, couldn’t even make conversation with someone for long, always wanted to get straight to the point so it could be over with.

He looks like he wants to say something but he just averts his gaze to you, his hands, the floor, then suddenly he leans in and hugs you. Your feel your heart swell and body warm up, it’s a new sensation for you after all, you rarely get hugs from people. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For everything. I’m such a bad dad, I don’t deserve you. I even forgot you when we went out to dinner.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything. I had loads of stuff to do earlier anyway, so, but yeah I was just - I just overreact, I’m sensitive. I don’t blame you and the others for not liking me, I know there’s nothing like-able about me, I’m not like Peter-” You ramble, tears now leaving your eyes again.

“Sweetheart, don’t say that,” Tony says as he pulls you closer to him, head resting against his chest while he rubs your back comfortably. “Y/N Stark, you are smart, brilliant - I was just an ass for not acknowledging that.”

“I know you’re just saying that to-”

“Oh, but I’m not,” he now places his hands on your shoulders, getting you to look at him. “Tell me who built their first engine when they were eight?”

You blush, “Dad-”

“No, come on, I wanna hear it.”

“I did.”

“Yes you did. And who made a completely functioning robot at their middle school science fair that blew all the teacher’s minds?”

You’re trying to hide a smile, recalling the memory,  “I did.”

“And who,” Tony gets up and walks to the bulky looking thing that you covered with a sheet, pulling it off, “is currently building a computer from scratch?”

“Dad! That’s still a work in progress,” he messily places the sheet back and chuckles.

“My point is, you’re a clever and talented girl, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down. And you don’t have to be shy around your family, those idiots have been dying to get to know you but since you don’t talk much... they don’t want to force it. We love you,” he says. “I hope you forgive me ‘cause I really wanna make it up to you. I’m not calling Peter in for a few weeks.” Tony sits down beside you again.

You couldn’t believe he’d do that for you. “You don’t have to, if you need him for something then-”

“-then you could help me instead, if you’re up for it.”

“I’m really sorry for being such a lonely freak,” you yawn, getting back into Tony’s open arms. “I love you.”

Tony tucks you in and lies down beside you, “I love you tons, kiddo.”

You snuggle into his chest, feeling his steady breathing while he rests his chin above your head.

----

It's morning. The Avengers are gathered at your open bedroom door.

“Are you getting all of this, Friday?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Steve turn that shuttering sound down!” Natasha hisses at the super soldier who's doing his task, taking pictures.

Steve almost drops the phone and has Bruce fix the volume for him.

They’re all watching you and Tony cuddle together, still fast asleep.

“Do we have to stay here until they wake up?”

“Unless you have a great way of waking them up, yes. Now shut up.”

“If you think about it we definitely look creepy right now.” Sam comments.

“It’s their fault for having the door wide open all night!” Clint says.

Tony's actually awake the whole time, listening to them bickering. “You have three seconds to get the hell out of here before I make all of you polish my suits.” With that, the team races down the hall, pushing each other to get away first like literal children.

[themuseic]

Only Fools (Chapter 8)

(Art Credit: @clumsycopy)

Fic Summary: Sent to Boone County, West Virginia on an assignment, you find yourself engulfed your work. How could you possibly find time for anything else? Even if “anything else” includes the tall, kind, and handsome bartender from down the road?

Word Count: 2.8k

Read Chapter 7 here.

Read here on AO3.

Warnings: Fluff, obscene amounts of fluff. Alcohol mention, but no explicit consumption. 

Author’s Note: Okay, I really do think I’m back now. If that isn’t the case, apologies in advance. If it is the case, hi! I’m excited to catch up on things! Also, this chapter has references to a song that was also used by @aloneandsleepless��� in her one-shot Elvis. If you haven’t read that yet, PLEASE do. It’s so beautifully written and well worth the read. As always, thank you for reading, love you all. 

It had been the talk of the town all week. All month really. 

You knew that towns had traditions, and you had just brushed it off as such. But when you brought up the winter festival to Clyde, the sheer excitement on his face let you know that the celebration at the diner was far from just an ordinary Saturday night on the town. It was the spirit of the holidays in Boone County, the hotly anticipated to-do. “People come from all over,” Clyde explained in between mouthfuls of burnt bacon, from where he sat across from you at the trailer table. “Even come down from Charlotte, if you can believe that.”

You whistled. “Sounds like quite the party. And it’s this week?”

“Yup, on Friday,” Clyde nodded. “I’m gonna be closing the bar that night to go. I don’t think I’d get too many customers that night anyway.” He shuffled his feet along the linoleum floor. “Actually darlin’, I’ve been meaning to ask you…” Suddenly, Clyde clammed up, almost afraid to get his next words out.

“Yes, Clyde? You know you can ask me anything.” His hesitation almost made you nervous. Though he tended to be a quieter soul, rarely did words fail him when the two of you were alone. He exhaled and steeled himself for his query. “Well, I was wonderin’ if you’d like to be my date.” You stopped. You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that blanketed the trailer. Realization of what he had asked hit you all at once, and you broke into hearty guffaws. A smile so big it nearly hurt you plastered itself across your face. At that reaction, Clyde visibly relaxed, a smile dancing at the corners of his lips. 

“Clyde, we have quite literally been sleeping together for two months now.” He blushed a deep red and his lower lip pushed forward into the smallest pout. “Well, I didn’t want to assume, and I know we’re sleeping together but…” You shushed him by placing your finger onto the center of his plump lips. “Clyde, I think it’s cute. Of course I’ll be your date.” You closed the distance between you, flung your arms around his neck, and pulled him into a soft kiss. Clyde smiled against you and returned the kiss with vigor, his lips parting slightly as he pushed his face into yours. He pulled back with a smack, and his forehead came to rest on your own. A swift smack landed on your ass and you yelped. “C’mon darlin’, let’s get this cleaned up so we can go get that trail cam footage,” Clyde muttered as he squeezed you softly. 

~~~

The town was blanketed in a plush layer of crisp white snow. It lay in piles on rooftops and cars, on street corners and it lined the pathways that people swathed in layers of coats and scarves meandered down. It was everything you expected from a small town holiday, but it was far from gauche. It was crystal clear why the Logan family was so eager to attend.

With little care to watch the ground you walked on, you misstepped and yelped as your foot hit a patch of ice that threatened to slide your legs apart into a swift split. “Woah there!” Clyde jumped, hooking his arm under your armpit to keep you upright. You laughed at yourself as you held onto his thick arm to catch your footing. “Can’t seem to keep myself standing huh?” you joked, peering up at him. He chuckled, with an almost imperceptible eye roll. “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble one day from not watchin’ your surroundings, darlin’,” he tsk’ed, prompting you to stick your tongue out at him. Clyde shook his head with a small smile, and helped you right yourself. 

You stepped forward without letting go of his arm, and he squeezed your elbow into the crook of his arm to acknowledge your clutch on him. You could feel your face warm and you dropped your gaze to smile at the ground. 

~~~

The diner was warm and packed full of people. Clyde shielded you from the patrons as you pushed your way to the counter, eager to nab a winter drink to warm your insides. Once situated at the bar, he called out your order to a worker that seemed overjoyed to see Clyde. You laughed. “You know just about everyone in this town, huh Clyde?” He shrugged, passing you a steaming mug. “Comes with havin’ one of the only bars in the area,” he winked, and raised your mug to his lips.

Clyde stood behind you at the bar while you sipped your drink, acting as a human wall to halt people from trampling your feet, with his hand resting on your waist. He pointed out all the people that he knew and provided a small anecdote for each one, almost as if he was providing his own personal, albeit abbreviated, history of Boone County. You could listen to him talk forever, his honeyed words soothing to your ears over the cacophony of the diner.

“Hey gal!” you heard a voice call from across the diner, breaking you from your unwavering gaze at Clyde. You turned to see Mellie bounding towards you, Jimmy, Sylvia, and Joe close behind her. Jimmy was carrying a young blonde girl on his shoulder, and you assumed it was Clyde’s niece. Cynthia? Samantha?

“Hey lil’ Sadie!” Clyde called from over your shoulder. Sadie! That was it, you chided yourself mentally. Mellie rushed up to you and flung her arms around your neck and pulled you into a crushing hug. “Hey Mel,” you and Clyde responded in unison, your voice airy as Mellie squeezed your breath from your chest. With your head tucked onto her shoulder as you returned her embrace, you looked back to acknowledge the rest with a smile and their respective name. “And you must be Miss Sadie, huh?” you inquired as you pulled away from Mellie and turned to the young girl, who looked remarkably like her father, with her nose and ears tipped red with the cold. 

“Yes ma’am!” she crowed, her hands dug into Jimmy’s short hairs. You noticed her hands clench on his hair and she dipped her head to glance at him for just a moment, a devious smile across her face. “And are you Uncle Clyde’s girlfriend?” Clyde choked behind you, and you glanced behind yourself to look up at him. He was pale white and glaring straight at Jimmy, who was desperately trying to insist he had nothing to do with his daughter’s question, however unconvincing his protests were. 

You didn’t blame him. Two months of living together, and you and Clyde had yet to define your relationship. You didn’t really mind it. You knew that putting it off would dull the sting of your eventual departure. But how could you even begin to explain that to a child? Oh no, not his girlfriend, just the girl he sleeps with, the girl he takes out, the girl he fucks. The girl who can’t commit. That wouldn’t do. So instead, you motioned for Sadie to jump off of her father’s shoulders, bent down to her height, took her hands in your own, and said, “Well yes, I am Clyde’s girlfriend.”

The stifled gasps of Mellie and Sylvia were almost silent to your ears as you glanced back at Clyde. He was still white as a sheet, but his eyes flicked from Jimmy’s to yours, and the hint of a smile began to break through his blank expression. You straightened to your full height and turned to face him, chewing your cheek. “That is, if that’s what you want,” you whispered, searching his face for a hint of how he might feel. 

Clyde’s next words were more a soft breath than a whisper. “Yes darlin’. I’d like that very much.” You beamed, and he slunk his arm around your waist, pulling you flush to his body and into a kiss so deep your heart just about stopped in your chest. 

You melted into his touch and sighed, your hands threading through his thick hair. His family, his friends, and the strangers that surrounded you melted from your consciousness, and not even the hoots and hollers of Clyde’s family drowned out the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your chest. It was perfect. 

A small clearing of a throat reminded you that you were, in fact, in public, and you hastily broke from Clyde, opting to rest the side of your face on his chest instead. Jimmy shook his head, chuckling at the scene before him. “Congrats you two lovebirds, glad y’all finally decided to make this thing official,” he whistled, lifting Sadie up in one swift motion to set her perched back upon his shoulder. Mellie reached out to squeeze your arm tenderly. You laughed. “Took us long enough, I guess.” Clyde hummed and squeezed you tight, his cheek resting on your head. 

“Welp,” Jimmy continued. “I promised Sadie here we’d go on the Ferris Wheel so we could see the stars. Y’all care to join us?” Clyde peered down his angular nose to look at you cross-eyed and raised his eyebrows. “What’dya say?” You grinned. “We’d love to.”

~~~

It was a joy to run around the festival with the Logan clan. Acting as your personal tour guide, Sadie babbled to you about her favorite things at the fair. She grabbed your hand to pull your attention to whatever she deemed worthy of pointing out. Sadie bragged how she was the reigning champ of the ring toss, and how she wasn’t tall enough to go on the Scrambler yet, but the moment she could she was going to ride it the whole festival, which was easy to believe given her tenacity and spunk. Mellie passed you a never-ending stream of warm winter drinks - ”Spiked if you’d like,” she’d wink - and Jimmy, Sylvia, and Joe were cracking jokes nonstop. But what really made the night perfect was Clyde. 

Your sweet Clyde. He held your hand in his mitt of a hand, squeezing it randomly, pulling you in for kisses both short and sweet, and long and deep. You were sure you would get dirty looks from the festival attendants after you nearly devoured each other on the Ferris Wheel, but you really couldn’t care less. Clyde teased you and you teased him back, keeping up a line of banter that was so easy. At one point in the night, the two of you found yourselves separated from the rest of the Logan clan, cozied up by yourselves in a booth. You both warmed your hands with a cup of hot chocolate cradled in your grasp. 

“You having’ fun?” Clyde murmured into your ear, his arm slung around your shoulder. You nodded into him and tucked yourself up into the nook of his shoulder. Clyde’s arm outstretched to grasp his mug and lifted it to his lips to take a huge swig. You palmed the warm beverage in your hand, feeling the warmth radiate through your body from where you held it, and where Clyde was pressed to your side. 

You gazed up at Clyde, your hands and heart warmed and full. Clyde smiled at you, his eyes falling softly to trace the features of your face. For how often he pouted, you had yet to see one flit across his face all night. Something flashed in his eyes, and before you knew it, Clyde’s finger was dipped into the mound of whipped cream atop his beverage and he snapped it up to your face to dollop it right on the end of your nose. “Hey!” you exclaimed, pushing away from his chest just a hair as a laugh bubbled up your throat. “You’re a menace,” you laughed, as you made no move to wipe the cream from your nose. 

Clyde snickered and you swatted at his arm, pulling a yelp that feigned offense from him. “What’s that for now? You look cute as hell with a lil’ nose decoration,” he shrugged as he squeezed your shoulder and jabbed your side with the metal tines of his prosthetic. You smiled at each other, your eyes hazy with bliss. Suddenly, his profile was illuminated and you could see a bright flash out of the corner of your eye. With squinted eyes, you turned to the source. 

A beaming Sadie, clutching a disposable camera in her small hands, sat across from the two of you in the booth. It seemed that not even the squeak of the vinyl as she had climbed into the booth was enough to pull your attention from the trance you were drifting through, and you both jumped at her arrival. 

“Scared the living daylight out of me,” Clyde sighed, his hand coming up to clutch at his heart with drama. 

“Sorry Uncle Clyde, but I couldn’t help it,” she whined, “You two looked so cute and cozy!” You scrunched your nose up and wiggled the tip. “How can I be cozy with this cream stuck on me?” Clyde laughed a low chuckle from deep in his chest that made him rumble against you. He leaned in and bumped his nose with yours. When he pulled away, a dot of whipped cream was left at the very end of his nose. He grinned. 

“Oh my gosh. This is such a good shot!” Sadie squealed. “Get close! Let me take another photo!” 

Clyde’s arm tightened around you and pulled you closer into his side. You were mid laugh when the second burst of light broke across your vision and the click of a camera made it feel as though time had halted. 

You knew that your time in Boone County was temporary. But you knew you would live with that memory forever. 

~~~

The lightest flecks of white tumbled through the air, catching on the light of the street lamps and stringed bulbs that were hung throughout the parking lot that acted as the festival's main drag. Most of the attendees had begun their individual treks home or had moved into the warm haven of the diner. Large fishbowl windows gave you view into the crowded establishment through clear, unfogged stretches of glass. The cheers and merry yells of toasts and memories being made rang out over the empty courtyard, ringing free until they were absorbed by the snow. 

Instead of being pressed up against the townsfolk or against the windows as your feet stumbled across the toes of others, you and Clyde were leaned against a tree across the courtyard of the festival. You gazed skyward, watching the small flakes of snow swirl through the sky. Music lilted through the air and fell lightly on your ears. A familiar chord rang through the air and  grabbed your attention. You felt a nudge on your side. You looked up to meet Clyde’s crinkled eyes as he gazed down at you. “Want to dance darlin’?” he murmured as he trailed his fingers up and down your arm. 

“Yes please Clyde.” He beamed back at you and took your hand in his as he pushed his back off of the tree. Snow crunched underfoot as you wandered to the dance floor. It was a small area of interlocked wooden panels, slightly obscured by a thin sheet of snow. Clyde offered his hand up to you in a grandiose gesture. A small laugh bubbled up in your chest as you slipped your hand into his, and he pulled you tight to his chest and began to sway.

Clyde’s voice rumbled against your face where it was pressed against his chest as he asked, “So whatcha think, sweetheart? Think Boone County can throw a good lil’ winter party?”

You nodded immediately. “Absolutely. This is so beautiful Clyde,” you sighed with content. A voice crooned over the speakers and the lyrics rang out over the courtyard. 

“Wise men say…”

“You look so perfect, you know that?” Clyde crooned, raising his hand to brush the side of your face with the tips of his fingers.

“... only fools rush in…”

“So do you, Clyde.”

“But I can’t help…”

It was warm in his arms. Secure. You felt as if you were in another plane of existence. Tucked in his arms, you were hidden from the world. Safe. 

“Falling in love with you.”

Clyde spun sharply with you in his arms, swiftly grabbing your attention. He looked down his long lashes at you, gazing deeply into your eyes with his intense amber gaze. “Sweetheart, I…” he cleared his throat, and lifted his hand to palm the side of your face again. He ran his thumb over your cheekbone. “I just want… You don’t have to say it back. But… I want to tell you…” he sucked in a sharp breath. 

“I love you.”

Your breath halted in your chest. Your stomach swooped. No one had made such an admission to you in… well, you weren’t sure just how long. Before you had a chance to admit that you were speechless, Clyde pulled you into a mind bending kiss. You melted into him. It wouldn’t matter what you said. You were his and he was yours. The snow fell silently around you, and the two of you swayed together quietly.

~~~

Have a winter drink! Thank you to my Irish friends (love y'all!) for direction on the recipe <3 my favorite suggestion was "Coffee+Whisky, add in other shite as it pleases ya". ~~~ My lil’ take on an Irish Coffee:

As much hot coffee as you'd like. As much whisky as you'd like. Brown Sugar to taste. Fresh whipped cream to top off. (HIGHLY recommend whipping your cream. My favorite way to do it is 1 c. heavy whipping cream, 1 c. sugar, and a splash of vanilla extract, whipped to peaks. Don't overmix though, don't make sweet butter!)

Combine the coffee, whisky, and sugar. Stir, and top with whipped cream. A dash of cinnamon over top never hurt anyone either!

~~~

Taglist: @mind-p0llution @thedivinemissm @clydesducktape @finn-ray-nal-beads @ladygrey03 @desiraypark @1800-fight-me @aloneandsleepless​ @hopeamarsu​ (Comment or message me to be added or removed!)

[pessimisticlatte]

Glass Roses ~ Chapter 22

Adrienette/Adrinette ~ Marichat ~ Nathalie x Happiness ~ Gabriel x Ceasing Existing ~ Me x crying because my baby is finally done and I can start working on other fics

THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER OF GLASS ROSES, GUYS!!! I’m currently writing the prologue because I feel like a prologue is needed to tie up some loose ends (cough, comatose Emilie, cough). All chapters will be uploaded to AO3 for on demand viewing. If you’ve been reading since chapter 1, thank you so much for your support and I seriously hope you’ll read my next fic (it’s already in the works because I couldn’t help myself)! Anyway, on with the show...

“Hello, I’m Nadja Chamack with today’s news. The supervillain known as Hawkmoth was apprehended today after Ladybug and Chat Noir provided evidence to the police on his identity and his direct involvement to the ‘akumatisation’ of Parisians. Gabriel Agreste, renowned fashion designer and head of the Agreste brand, was revealed to be behind Hawkmoth’s mask, his son, Adrien, newly 18 has taken over as CEO of the Agreste Brand with Ms Nathalie Sancouer, Gabriel Agreste’s former assistant, acting as his proxy. Ms Sancouer has also confirmed that she has, in fact, adopted Adrien Agreste and that she has made the decision to remove Adrien from the public eye for the time being. Police Captain Raincomprix has set up police units surrounding the Agreste mansion to ensure that Mr Agreste and Ms Sancouer’s privacy is respected. 

“This devastating discovery comes a week after Adrien’s 18th birthday, which was held at the Chateau de Agreste in Alsace last Friday, where Ladybug, Chat Noir and the rest of their superhero team were said to have been in attendance. One of our interns was lucky enough to be at the celebration itself and capture footage of one of the superheroes, known as Queen Bee, saved a civilian as they took a fall from a balcony. It’s confirmed that this civilian is okay and taking some much needed rest at home with their family. Gabriel Agreste is currently being held at La Sante prison without bail and heavy restrictions regarding visitors; the date for his trial has not yet been set but the Ministere Public has released a statement saying that it will begin soon and will not be open to public viewing as a normal case would be.

“That’s all for tonight, I’m Nadja Chamack, don’t be bemused, it’s just the news!”

Leaning against the doorframe, Adrien watched Nathalie switch the tv off and stand, slightly shakily, before she turned to face him with a sad smile.

“Are you okay?” Moving around the couch, Nathalie gently placed her hands on Adrien’s shoulders and looked up at him with worried eyes. He was stressed and not taking his father’s arrest well, though Nathalie had seen first hand that Marinette was more stressed about Gabriel’s arrest than Adrien was and she had to wonder if Adrien was worried for his father at all or if the haggard, reserved look on his face came from worry for someone else entirely.

“I’m fine but I don’t think you should be the one asking that. How’s your head?” Looking at the bandage afixed to Nathalie’s temple, Adrien checked that no blood was spotting the white linen as a tell tale sign of her having torn her stitches again. After her fall from the balcony, Nathalie had needed 8 stitches and had been prescribed medicine for her blood pressure, once news had gotten out about Gabriel being Hawkmoth, her doctor’s demeanor had changed to become one more understanding of the situation the poor woman was in. 

“It’s alright, Adrien, I haven’t torn them again,” The night after Nathalie had come home from the hospital, she’d had a severe panic attack as she stepped through the doors of the Agreste mansion. The attack ending with her having torn 6 of her stitches and requiring the Agreste family’s preferred doctor to come to the mansion to stitch her up again. “I sent an email to all the news stations this morning asking that they respect our privacy. I doubt they will but at least Nadja Chamack has the dignity to say that we want it.”

“You need to worry less, Mum,” Hooking Nathalie’s arm into the crook of his elbow, Adrien led her to the dining room and helped her into her chair, right across the table from him. “Sabine and Mari dropped over a lasagna a few hours ago, I just took it out of the oven so I’ll be right back, okay?” Adrien dropped a kiss to the top of Nathalie’s forehead before disappearing through the salon doors leading into the kitchen.

After the whole Hawkmoth debacle, Nathalie and Adrien had decided to cut down on the amount of staff within the mansion. They’d made sure to hand write letters of recommendation for each of the staff members they’d let go, making sure to sign with both their names to ensure that Gabriel’s now tarnished reputation wouldn’t hinder them in getting new employment. The mansion felt even bigger and more empty without them but Nathalie had to admit that it felt even more like a home now that it was just her, Adrien and, occasionally, Jean-Luc Gorrille. She’d begun to look at smaller places for them to live, Adrien having caught her looking at some and having lit up so brightly at the idea of living somewhere smaller, quieter, easier to turn from just a house and into a home. She’d never been happier.

Emerging from the kitchen with two steaming plates of lasaga, a set of cutlery held in his mouth as another hung precariously between his fingers beneath one of the plates, Adrien tried to announce himself with a muffled ‘ta-da’ before he placed Nathalie’s plate down in front of her carefully and handed her the cutlery he’d been holding beneath the plate. Taking his set out of his mouth, Adrien moved around the table and took his seat.

“You know, it’s actually kinda sad,” Using his fork to cut away a small chunk of the lasagna, Adrien looked up at Nathalie with a wry smile.

“What’s kinda sad?”

“That neither of us can cook and yet we’re the ones preparing our meals,” 

“I hope you mean ‘preparing’ very loosely because all you did was heat this up, Sabine and Marinette made it,”

“Damnit, Mum, why’ve you got to go ruining everything?” Laughing, Adrien spoke with joking accusation in his voice as he pointed his fork at Nathalie.

“Language, young man!” Kicking the joke right back to Adrien, Nathalie’s laughed joined his. “Or I’ll have to wash your mouth out with soap and send you off to your room!”

“Remember when you actually had to wash my mouth out with soap?” 

“Yes! How could I forget?”

Sitting at the table together, reminiscing about happy memories of the past, both Nathalie and Adrien were given the very rare chance to forget about what was happening beyond the walls of the mansion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leaning against the railing bordering her balcony, wind ruffling her dark hair as it lifted off the seine, Marinette looked out across the city toward the Agreste mansion.

“Hey Princess,” Dropping down behind her on light feet, Chat Noir walked up to his girlfriend and wrapped his black clad arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her shoulder as she leant back into his warmth

“Hey Chaton,” Nuzzling her head up under his chin, she felt him squeeze her more tightly against him. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m alright, I think I did my grieving for him a long time ago,”

“I feel guilty...it feels like I took him away from you,”

Pressing a firm kiss to the crown of her head, Chat gently rubbed his thumb across Mari’s stomach. “You can’t take away something that wasn’t there in the first place, Mari,”

“But what if he could’ve changed?” It sounded as if she was pleading with him. Shaking his head, rubbing his chin against the top of her head as he did, Chat refrained from telling Marinette that his father wasn’t worthy of her remorse or guilt because he knew that it wouldn’t change anything, it wouldn’t change her mind or take away how she was feeling. “What if he could’ve changed, Adrien, and I took that chance away from him?”

“We’ll never know, Princess, and sometimes it’s better not knowing,”

“Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?”

“To some people, maybe, but for us, I’d like to think that ignorance is happiness. If we stop asking ‘what if’ then we won’t have to feel the same pain twice,”

“Sometimes you say the smartest things and I have seriously no idea where it comes from,”

“It only happens when Nino lets me use the braincell,”

“Nino lets you use the braincell?” Mari let out a deep, rich laugh. “Which one of you broke it then because it almost never seems to work.”

“No comment,”

“Saying ‘no comment’ is still commenting,”

“You’re too smart for your own good,”

“Well, Chaton, one of us has to be otherwise god knows what would’ve happened to Paris by now,”

Pointing out toward the Eiffel Tower with a claw tipped finger, a grin hidden in her hair, Chat drew Mari’s attention to the colours dancing upon it. “Well, there would be a big statue of me right over there, big enough for you to see from here and swoon over,”

“What about a statue of me?”

“Hmmm,” He pretended to think for a moment, drawing giggles out of the girl in his arms. “I think I’d put a statue of you right outside my window so I could look at it all the time.”

“That’s kinda creepy,”

“Then, instead of a statue, how about you just stand outside my window forever?”

“Oh my god, no,” Thinking of the snowfall of Paris winters and the stifling gummy heat of French summers, Mari shuddered. “No, no thank you.”

“How about a compromise then?”

“What compromise do you suggest?”

“I get to look at you all the time ‘cause you live with me,” 

Mari paused, her heart thundering in time with Chat’s against her back. “Let me finish university and then we’ll see,”

“You got accepted?” Pulling away from her, Chat turned her around slightly to look Marinette in the eye, gently pressing her back against the cold iron railing behind her.

“Yeah, I got accepted for a fashion and design degree,” 

“Oh my god, I’m so proud of you,” Gripping the backs of Mari’s thighs, Chat lifted her up onto the railing and held her securely, more wary of balconies and such since Nathalie’s fall on his birthday, before pressing his lips to hers firmly. “I don’t know if there’s a time when I’m ever not proud of you.”

“Sometimes, you make no sense at all,” Wrapping her arms around his neck, Marinette pulled Chat Noir back into their kiss, the two of them illuminated by the lights of Paris and of the silvery moon beyond. This was a new world, a world without Hawkmoth, and there wasn’t a way in hell that either of them were going to let it slip through their fingers.

~~~~~~TAGLINE~~~~~~~ @lady-charinette @mochegato @maniic-pixie-dream-girl @aussie-lesbian @imgaydontshoot @hnbutt @katieykat513 @itwasmydog @camelliaflwr @beauty-and-her-books @a-star-with-a-human-name @severalverysmallmangoesinabasket

[but-tom]

Iron Man Dildo

Warning: Smut. But I don’t even get to the good stuff lol. Self indulgent. Don’t bother reading.

It all started out when MJ was browsing through Amazon because “American history is pointless when it’s passed down in the white people’s narrative.” Ned and Peter know not to argue (after learning it the hard way) and get promptly started on their group assignment.

“Parker, As you know, I’m not usually one to pry on other people’s sexual relations because yuck.” MJ deadpans. “But for product verification, how big is Iron Man?”

Ned chokes on his noodles.

Peter blinks, “Well his profile lists him as 6 foot,” He adds uselessly, “Not that I googled him...much.”

His curly haired friend throws him a wtf kind of expression in pure MJ fashion. And Peter immediately concludes he probably has said something dumb. Again.

“Dude I think she meant his penis size.” Ned has clearly recovered from his fit.

Peter sputters, “How - how would I know?” But his cheeks are already burning.

MJ tuts, “We already know you guys are together and if the hickeys you were sporting Monday say anything, you’re obviously the one to ask.”

“Hey! You told me you were bitten by mosquitoes.” Ned turns accusingly to his best friend.

MJ shakes her head in defeat. “Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.”

If it was possible, Peter was only turning redder. He never had secrets anymore from Ned and MJ. They were the first and only people in his life who knew about both his Spiderman identity and his relationship of six months with Tony. But talking about sex and stuff was just weird and awkward. It rarely ever had to come up in conversation when MJ hated 99% of the human population and Ned was married to his sets of Star Wars legos. “I really don’t want to talk about this. I don’t even know why you want to know this MJ. Can we go back to the paper please.”

“Don’t be such a prude Parker.” MJ quips. “It says life sized but it’s Amazon you can’t trust shit.” She then turns her laptop around to show Peter the screen.

“What - what is that?!”

Peter’s eyes are immediately drawn to the signature red and gold colours and the glowing arc reactor, but it’s definitely not in the form of the Iron Man suit he knows and loves.

“No way! An Iron Man dildo? That is freaking awesome. Wait does it shoot out stuff like the original suit?” Ned is way too excited about this for Peter to be comfortable.

“Wouldn’t that be a safety hazard?” And as always MJ is way too calm.

Peter slams the laptop close with a bit too much force as apparent in the indignant, “You dipshit!” from MJ. But he can’t help but feel the need to protect his boyfriend’s virtue. Although Tony himself would have grinned fondly at his young lover’s antics.

“Why would anyone sell this? Why would someone buy this? Do you think Tony knows about this?” Peter panics.

“If people are buying Avengers flavoured ice cream, which is false advertising by the way, and an Avengers waffle maker, why not a dildo that actually guarantees satisfaction.”

“Unlike an actual man.” Ned finishes for her. Ned and MJ share a fist bump.

Sometimes Peter hates his friends. “I hate you guys.”

“Even though I spent $80 on you? Plus $7 shipping fees? You ungrateful hoe,” MJ huffs, stealing back her laptop.

“YOU BOUGHT IT?!” Peter and Ned shriek.

“This is your Christmas present by the way.”

——————————————————————————————————

Peter stares down at the small package in front of him, conflicted. He had made a big fuss to MJ and Ned that afternoon about returning the godforsaken thing immediately. But now that he actually has it in his hands, Peter feels the familiar dread of curiosity and something else creep up on him. And Spiderman has never been one to win over his own curiosity. His boyfriend can begrudgingly attest to this.

With shaking hands he unwraps the package. He reveals the prize and it’s smaller than he expected. Slim. Definitely smaller. But it’s long and he can wrap both his fists along the length of it with room to spare. And Peter’s face heats up from the memory this gesture provokes.

He notices the package comes with a small container of lube. Considerate.

There’s no use pretending he’s not going to go through with it. It’s all he’s been thinking about the past three days, alone in his twin bed. On the last day he’d even reached the point of resenting MJ for not choosing express shipping.

It was pure coincidence that Tony was on a business trip for a conference in Dubai for a week. It was the first time since they’ve been together that Tony has been away for so long. And Tony has spoiled his boy, from make out sessions in the backseat of his Bentley to bending him over his desk at Stark Industries overlooking the view of Manhattan.

So Peter, between his teenage hormones and missing his boyfriend, is deprived. He can’t resist this opportunity in the form of a sleek, red and gold promise. He’s never had anything but Tony’s everything up his ass. And there’s nothing like an Iron Man dildo to add to the list.

Peter dips two fingers in the lube, and immediately it drips and soaks his pajamas. He curses softly and quickly undresses himself. When he’s in nothing but Tony’s too big Pink Floyd t-shirt, Peter finally slips one tentative finger in his hole. He’s never really gotten used to fingering himself. Tony had always taken all his sweet time to make sure his young lover was opened up and stretched for him. And Peter never had any complaints about that.

Panting as he adds a second finger, Peter is grateful for the excess amount of lube he’d added. He can hear Tony in his head. “Always so tight for me darling.”

He’s scissoring his fingers but they’re smaller than what he’s used to and just not enough. He clumsily reaches for the dildo and briefly he is comforted by it’s smaller girth because he’s definitely not prepped enough.

When the cool head of the dildo touches his rim, Peter shudders because the temperature is different. It’s also a shock to his dialed up senses. It only makes him want more so he forces himself to relax as he pushes the silicone in slowly. “Oh.”

And from then on, he’s a moaning mess on the bed because the solid head of the dildo is nudging perfectly against his prostate. When he finally has the mind to actually use the remote to turn it on, the vibrations rattle his insides. He shrieks, “No, no, no too much.” But his hands make no move towards the remote tossed carelessly on the bed, clutching at his sheets instead.

Peter can only imagine what he must look like on the bed. His curls sticking to his forehead, the tears leaking from the corner of his half hooded eyes, and lips swollen from his biting. In his pleasured daze, the boy wonders how Tony would react to this sight. Wearing his T-shirt and using Iron Man’s dildo up his ass to bring him to orgasm.

“Tony, oh my god. Tony, tony.” Peter’s sobbing now. He’s so close. His hands creep towards his cock because he knows he needs the touch to get himself there.

Then the vibrations stop.

Peter groans. Stupid Amazon -. But he doesn’t get to finish the thought because there’s a sudden weight on top of him and a hand on his cock that’s definitely not his own. “As much as I enjoyed the show, I don’t think I can just watch anymore.”

Against the solid weight of his boyfriend and the cool fabric of his silk suit against his bare skin, Peter gasps, “Tony!”

He was going to die of embarrassment. How much had he seen? When did he even get here? Why was here? But the thoughts flew out the window as the hand on his cock picked up pace. The calloused hands showed no mercy as a thumb brushed his tip to smear the precum around the head. It was completely unnecessary and absolutely delightful because he was leaking. There wasn’t a dry spot below his waist. “Tony, please. I can’t. Please.”

Tony ignores him. “You know.” He drawls. “I was up in my hotel room in Dubai after a three hour conference, wanting to Face Time my beautiful boyfriend. But when he doesn’t answer after three calls, I get worried and naturally I ask FRIDAY to contact Karen to activate surveillance in your room.” For the first time today Tony meets Peter’s eyes. His eyes are dark and heated. But he continues nonchalantly. “Installed for your safety of course. But this is the last thing I expected to see.”

Peter’s breath hitches. He’s not even mad,  if only in the sense he needs to come right now or else.

Tony is closer now, lips to his ears, he whispers lowly. “I flew almost 11,000 kilometres because I couldn’t help but be jealous. But only after I watched the full footage of course.”

Peter tugs the collar of Tony’s freshly pressed dress shirt and meets his lips in a hungry kiss. It’s teeth and too much tongue. But Tony meets his fire with his own. More, more, he needs more. The dildo is still pressed to his prostate and he was so, so close to coming. He feels half mad with desire.

Tony’s large hands skim the sensitive parts of his body, making a clear path to his ass. Peter moans into his mouth when he finally cups his ass with both hands. He is thrumming with anticipation as one of Tony’s hands wander down to touch the end of the dildo still in his ass. But Tony is a tease and he pulls back, grinning. “So an Iron Man dildo? Once a fan, always a fan.”

Peter makes a sound in protest and retaliates. “Well they were out of Captain America products.”

He squeaks when Tony suddenly pushes the dildo in his ass even deeper. It doesn’t hurt but it’s too much. “You’re going to pay for that.” Tony’s eyes narrow but it’s the promising heat behind them that makes Peter whimper.

“Promise daddy?”

[inawickedlittletown]

Walking The Wire (135/158)

Summary: Tony Stark always knew about Peter Parker. He didn’t know that Peter was going to get superpowers and become Spider-Man, but he always knew about Peter because Peter was his son.

This will span from pre-Iron Man up through the rest of the MCU (eventually including Infinity War) and will be for the most part canon compliant except where I’ve taken some liberties and interpreted canon a certain way.

Pairings: Pepper/Tony, Tony/Steve (endgame), Tony/Mary (past)

A/N: If you want me to tag you when I post new chapters let me know. This fic is also on AO3

I used Collider’s MCU timeline to stay canon and the title of this fic is an Imagine Dragons song that is just so fitting for Peter and Tony

@findmeinthestarss

Masterpost

Chapter One Hundred Thirty Four

2025

The lab didn’t look like what Scott had expected a lab to look like. He’d been expecting something like what Hank Pym’s lab looked like which meant that he’d expected a workspace. This had become more of a living space than anything. There was a bed and a bunch of art supplies on one side and then in another corner a punching bag but there were still tool boxes and workspaces and yet none of that seemed like it had been used in a long time. The lab also doubled as a garage, it seemed like and there were two cars parked closer to the exit as well as a motorcycle.

The moment the glass door opened, a robot dog barked at Steve and he reached down to pet it for a moment. It followed after Steve as he walked further into the lab

“That’s K-9. He belonged to Peter,” Steve said.

Scott didn’t even know what to say to that as Steve knelt to pet the dog.

“Friday, give him a rundown,” Steve said when he stood up again.

“Hello, Mr. Lang,” a voice said -- he supposed that that was Friday. A video feed appeared in front of him in the form of some sort of holographic and Scott didn’t know if this was a future thing or a Tony Stark thing but it was kind of amazing nonetheless.

“She’ll show you everything -- everything that happened,” Steve said.

It was comprehensive and insane and Scott couldn’t -- he couldn’t believe it even though all the footage was right in front of him. New clips mixed with articles and footage that must have come from the Avengers compound.

Scott was startled when he heard something punched. He turned and found that Steve had moved over to the corner of the room where the punching bag had been set up. Steve seemed to be focused on that and that alone. Scott left him to it, hearing the punches as background noise as he turned back to the video.

Pieces of the battle in Wakanda were shown. All of that had happened while Hope had stolen him away to find a way to bring her mom back from the quantum realm. Then there were news clips of an alien ship in New York City and a news report about Tony Stark leaving on the ship. It made Scott wonder if that’s how he’d died -- but no, there was more to look at.

Tony Stark back on Earth -- an Earth where half the population was gone and no one knew what to do. There was destruction and pain everywhere. Accidents and lack of leadership left and right leading to chaos and more destruction because people couldn’t help but just do that even after things seemed like they were starting to get better.

Then, came something else. The remaining Avengers announcing that they were going into space to confront Thanos. The world cheering them on. Someone new was with them, a woman that glowed and wore some sort of red and blue and gold uniform. Some footage from space -- taken by Iron Man’s suit from the looks of it. There were bits and pieces of a fight and even Scott could tell that it hadn’t gone well. Then it switched to more media clips. The return of The Avengers without Tony Stark and without a victory. The world unchanged. Tony Stark’s funeral.

“We thought that if we faced him together we could do it -- we could steal the stones back and fix it all. Bring everyone back. Instead, we lost Tony. And nothing changed -- we couldn’t fix it. Even now, things are not the same. They never will be.”

Steve had left the punching bag, and he unwrapped his hands. There was barely any sweat on him but he looked a little better as he walked back. Maybe it was that he seemed just a smidge more relaxed.

“So I go back to before any of this happens. I warn everyone and we stop him,” Scott said. “Seems simple enough.”

Steve paused a few feet in front of him. He stared at the ground for a while and then looked up. “The only way to stop him is to destroy the stones before Thanos can get to them. None of this is simple,” Steve said.

“But how? I mean they look -- can they be destroyed?”

Steve nodded. “There are two people that can destroy the stones. Wanda is one. Her power comes from the Mind Stone and it can destroy the Mind Stone. Perhaps other stones as well.”

Scott nodded. “But isn’t it in Vision’s forehead?”

“If it’s taken out first it won’t hurt Vision. They just have to have enough time to do that. We didn’t the first time.”

Scott nodded. “Okay. That’s -- yeah, I go back early enough and we get on that. Who else can destroy the stones?”

Steve picked something up from one of the tables. It looked like a pager and it looked completely out of place there. Scott hadn’t seen one of those in ages.

“Carol,” Steve said. “But Carol -- she won’t arrive until Fury calls her in. She’ll be too late but maybe you can get Fury to call her in earlier. With Carol there at the beginning maybe -- well, we might have a fighting chance. She’s pretty impressive.”

Scott nodded. He just hoped that he would actually be able to control it and pull all of this off. Steve and the world at large -- no, the universe -- was counting on him being able to time travel. Scott felt like one of those college graduates lying about the level of experience they had on any given field of study.

“So, if we destroy a stone, it will change what happened?” Scott asked.

Steve hesitated. “Only if Thanos doesn’t get to the Time Stone. You’re not the only one that can rewrite time.”

Steve didn’t actually believe that Scott Lang would be able to pull it all off. Mostly, Steve just didn’t want to raise his hopes for anything to change. Hope had failed him time and again -- it was just going to lead to more disappointment. More loss. More pain.

There was a picture of Peter and Tony in a frame that Natasha had brought him one of the last times that Steve had bothered to see her or any of the rest of the team. They had taken it while Steve was gone on that mission with Natasha. Probably the last picture that Tony and Peter took together. It was silly because Peter was holding some sort of plaque about being a Stark Intern. It was all sort of a joke to do with the class field trip that of course Peter never made it to. In the one that was framed, the plaque was upside down. They were both smiling so wide. Happy. Steve missed them every day. He was never going to see them again, not unless--

Scott could make it possible. Maybe. So maybe he would see them again. Maybe it would make the image of Tony’s pain filled face fade from his memory. The way that Tony had mouthed his name and Steve couldn’t make it to him in time.

“I spared him once -- I will not do it again,” Thanos had said. Words that Steve would never forget.

Tony’s eyes had stared blankly and Steve lost everything.

He helped Scott go through everything that happened. He started with what he knew about Thanos and his children. He told him about Strange and everything he knew about the stones. Friday brought up anything relevant and Scott asked his questions and he seemed appalled at the things he was hearing. Then, after that was done, he sent a message on the pager and a text to Natasha. The pager was kind of redundant since Carol actually did have a cell phone these days, but she’d left Fury’s with him as encouragement to call her if he ever needed her as a friend or otherwise.

Natasha called him at once. “Did Thor give you more of his mead? I haven’t heard from you in months and now you’re texting me you need me to come over because you know how to fix things?”

“Just come,” Steve said. He was tired. The world at large was tiring and he didn’t want to think that any of this would work.

“Ask her about my van,” Scott said. “There’s a quantum tunnel in the back. Kind of one of a kind.”

Steve stared at him for a long moment, but then asked.

Natasha seemed to know exactly what Scott was talking about.

“Yeah, I know where it is. We’ll bring it with us.”

“Us?” Steve asked.

“Bruce.”

Natasha told him nothing else and then she hung up. Steve turned back to Scott.

“So, this van is an important part of the plan?”

“Kind of the most important bit,” Scott said. “Well, no. I could probably go into the quantum realm on my own with just the suit but the tunnel will help.”

Steve shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t really understand any of what Scott had tried to explain to him about how he’d gotten there and he wasn’t really pushing to know. It wasn’t all that relevant as long as it worked. He didn’t think it would work. Steve hadn’t known Scott all that well before, but he’d counted on him when it came to the whole Accords situation. Steve believed he wanted to help and he wanted to change things, but Steve also knew how stubborn he and Tony and all the rest were and he didn’t expect that things would be all that easy for Scott.

Natasha arrived with Bruce a couple of days later with Scott’s van.

Those two days were long. Scott had all kinds of questions. Steve mostly wanted to just hide away and not see Scott at all. For a large part of one he did, venturing to the bedroom he rarely used.

The Malibu house hadn’t been his first choice in place to live, but after trying to stay in New York and being constantly reminded of Tony and Peter and Bucky, Steve had just wandered. He’d gone from place to place never staying anywhere long and not finding any hope in how lost the world at large was.

He’d ended up in California eventually and at first he’d just gone there to have a place to go. It was still all Tony. Big and ridiculous and too technologically advanced. But it was less Tony in his mind because it wasn’t somewhere he had ever visited with Tony. He’d felt better there and it helped that it was isolated and away from everyone else. It hadn’t taken him long to decide to stay. Natasha fought him the entire time. Bruce and Thor tried in their own ways. Even Carol made an attempt at changing his mind and yet they all knew he was moving and leaving the team and that was that.

Natasha and Bruce didn’t look all that changed since he’d seen them last. He couldn’t remember when. Natasha hugged him tightly, pulling at his beard when he pulled back.

“It’s not good for you to be out here all alone,” she said. “You make horrible choices when you’re on your own. Like the beard.”

He just shrugged his shoulders. There wasn’t much that could explain his actions because they all knew how deeply rooted in Tony it all was. Looking at any of them -- their friends. Or the tower or even the compound. Without Tony everything was harder. Being a part of The Avengers had felt impossible. Steve knew that he probably would have stuck it out if they really needed him but with Carol in the picture, he’d felt like he could step back and let the others handle it.

“Where’d you find the van?” Steve asked.

“One of the new recruits,” Natasha said but only when Scott had gone with Bruce to look at the van. “His daughter Cassie, actually. She told me not to tell him. We were all kind of shocked. Wasn’t Scott decimated?”

“Appears not. He was trapped in the quantum realm.”

That was when Carol arrived. She was ablaze as she came down from the air and then her glow disappeared as she touched the ground.

“Hey, Cap,” she said.

“Hey, Cap,” Steve said back.

She hugged him. Steve would never not be impressed with her. In some ways, Steve still didn’t know how they had failed against Thanos when they had Captain Marvel on their side.

“So what’s happening? Who are you?” Carol asked.

“Scott. Lang. I’m Ant-Man.”

“Captain Marvel,” Carol said and shook Scott’s hand.

Between him and Scott they explained everything and the plan that they had come up with. Carol seemed all for it. If Steve knew anything about her, he knew that she was probably only just holding herself back from offering to travel back with Scott. Bruce seemed more interested in the technical aspects of it all and Steve saw him asking Scott question after question.

“Do you think this will work?” Carol asked him.

Bruce and Scott were getting the tunnel on. Natasha stood a few feet away, watching with interest. There was a hardness to all of them. Losing the way they did -- not being able to make things better took a toll. Steve didn’t think he lost more than anyone else did. He just knew that his loss made him a different person.

“I hope it will. I hope he can pull this off,” he said.

“Me too,” Carol said. “I hoped when you reached out that maybe you wanted to come back to the team. I didn’t expect--”

“I don’t want to come back to the team. I was done. It was going to be Thanos and fixing all of that and then I was done. Maybe not right away, and maybe not entirely but Tony asked me what the point was and it’s been to make things better and to make things safe but at some point the fighting and all of it had to end. And it hasn’t and it won’t and it’s naive to think that it ever will stop but that doesn’t mean we don’t get to step back and live normally. Even us. Even just me.”

Carol’s lips pursed. “You’re hiding away. This isn’t what Tony would have wanted. He wanted you to be happy.”

“Well he isn’t here and that’s entirely tied up with my happiness.”

“Steve, he would want you to move on. See other people, go out into the world. Be a part of the world. You can’t hide away--”

Steve shook his head. “I can’t.”

“So this better work,” Natasha said. “Then, this won’t be a worry at all.”

A few hours later, they drove to San Francisco and the parking deck where Scott had arrived at Scott’s insistence and then between Scott and Natasha and Bruce everything was set up.

“Okay,” Scott said, “to a better future.” He closed up the mask portion of his suit and then promptly disappeared.

“Do you think he can do it?” Bruce asked.

Steve stared at the space where Scott had been. He didn’t know if Scott would make any difference to everything that had happened. Maybe he would -- maybe he wouldn’t. To Steve it almost didn’t matter. He desperately wanted Scott to pull through and change everything and yet letting himself hope again felt like he was just getting ready for more disappointment and heartbreak. He didn’t answer.

“So, his daughter had the van?” he asked instead.

Carol nodded. “She kind of takes after him. She’s young, but she knows the importance of heroes. I like her.”

Chapter One Hundred Thirty Six

[viollettes]

“Creampuff Heist”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky wants to smuggle a dog out of the shelter but needs the help of someone who has experience carrying out a heist.

A/N: please remember it's the owner who raises the dogs to be evil and aggressive, not the dog itself! - j. x

Bucky plops onto the cement in a heavy but swift manner. He wiggles his flesh fingers through the small holes of the chainlink gate, trying his best to get closer to the pitbull behind the gate.

When (Y/N) suggested he volunteer at the animal shelter as part of his therapy routine, Bucky grunted his reluctant approval. Truth be told, he initially didn't have any interest in animal shelters and only agreed because he wanted to make (Y/N) smile.

But that all changed on his second day of volunteering, because for the second time in his life, Bucky Barnes fell in love.

Acting on instructions to check every water bowl, Bucky was making his way around the shelter when he made eye contact with a blue nose pitbull with scars running across her face. Both super-soldier and canine warily stared at each other, fatigue shining from both of their eyes, their posture a bit slouched.

The pitbull took the first step of courage, carefully padding to the chainlink gate barricading her from freedom. Her soulful eyes never breaking contact with his blue ones, the canine stuck out her muzzle to the best of her ability and licked his hand. And just like that, Bucky's heart melted.

Her previous owners called her Scarface, but Bucky calls her Creampuff.

When Bucky learns that Creampuff was rescued from abusive owners who used her for dogfighting, it takes all of his willpower to not punch a hole in the wall with his metal arm. It breaks his heart that this sweet creature was subjected to such torture, and it makes him want to protect her even more.

It doesn't take a genius to know that Bucky sees a lot of himself in Creampuff. Both Winter Soldier and pitbull share a number of similarities, and that’s one of the many reasons why Bucky fell in love with her. He sneaks her extra treats and takes his breaks in front of her cage. Bucky doesn't force affection or contact on her; the last thing he wants to do is make Creampuff uncomfortable. It takes a bit of time as Creampuff is understandably hesitant, but both canine and super-soldier grow attached to each other.

It's been about three months since Bucky started volunteering at the shelter, and Creampuff has yet to be adopted. It confuses him greatly, because in his eyes, she's the sweetest and cutest dog in the shelter.

"She's so beautiful, I don't understand why no one wants to adopt her."

"Well, the court ruled that she can't be adopted by anyone," his supervisor says. "I personally don't agree with the ruling, because she's a sweetheart, but there isn't anything we can do about it. Unfortunately, we have to put her down on Saturday.”

The light in Bucky’s eyes dims as his supervisor doesn't even attempt to downplay her word. But he knows she doesn't mean harm - it's just part of her job. He scratches Creampuff's muzzle and sighs, "I wish I could adopt her. Can't you just... deal her under the table for me?"

The supervisor laughs, not catching on that Bucky isn't really joking. "Good one, James," she giggles, patting him on the shoulder before heading back to her office. She halts in her tracks and looks over her shoulder. "Something just popped into my head. How insane would it be if someone broke into a shelter to steal a dog?"

"Totally insane."

"(Y/N), I need you to help me steal Creampuff."

The beautiful girl in front of him frowns in confusion. "Come again?"

Bucky props his elbows on her worktable and leans in closer. "I need you to help me steal Creampuff. We need to do a heist. A Creampuff heist," he repeats and explains.

(Y/N) sets down the blueprint she's been analyzing, a quizzical look in her eyes. "I don't understand. Why can't you just buy a creampuff from the bakery? Do you need money? I can -"

"No, doll, I'm not talking about a pastry. Creampuff is the pitbull at the shelter I told you about. They're putting her down on Saturday, and I can't let that happen." Bucky cranks up the intensity in his already-soulful eyes. "Please, (Y/N)? You're the only person who can do that without leaving a trace."

"What do you mean I'm the - ohh Bucky. You went there," she gasps, her eyes comically bugging out.

A glint in his blue eyes, Bucky swaggers forward and places his muscular arms on the edges of her worktable, effectively caging her in. She watches, an unfazed smirk dancing on her lips, as he slowly leans in until his lips are inches away from hers. "Whatever do you mean, doll?" he asks, his innocent tone starkly contrasting the tension in the air he's concocting.

Recruited by both Tony and Steve, (Y/N) currently heads the Avengers security team, but Bucky knows her past isn't exactly squeaky clean. He knows she used to be a wire-walker and safecracker for an elite group of thieves. He knows she retired from her life of crime after a heist involving a rare gem that once was in the possession of Louis XIV. He knows she's the reason why during a five year period, a number of museums and auction safe houses upgraded and changed all of their locks and safes at an alarming fast rate.

Hey, secrets come out in the bedroom, especially if you've been dating for six years and living together for two of those years.

"Bucky, think about what you're asking me to do," (Y/N) states, her voice surprisingly steady for someone who's shoulders and face are being sinfully peppered with kisses. "You're asking me to break into - oh!" Her breath hitches as Bucky's tongue flicks over a sensitive area on her collarbone. "Playing dirty, I see," she breaths.

His flesh hand skims down the curve of her hips while the metal hand slips underneath her sweater. "Please? Please?" he whispers as his lips inches up her neck.

"I've closed that chapter of my life and - Okay, whoa!" (Y/N) grabs the sides of Bucky's face and pulls him up. "Babe, let's save that for the bedroom, okay?"

A strangled whine escapes from the back of his throat as Bucky slides down onto his knees, his arms winding around (Y/N)’s waist and head slumping on her lap. He lets out a low sigh as she weaves a hand in his hair, stroking his hair in the way that relaxes him.

A comfortable silence settles in (Y/N)'s work studio, but Bucky's mind is filled with anything but. While he's still unhappy about Creampuff's destiny, it hits him that he was trying to proposition his girlfriend into doing something she isn't comfortable doing. He starts to wallow in his guilt, hoping that he didn’t offend (Y/N) in any way.

"Bucky?"

"Mm... Yeah, doll?"

"Is Creampuff that important to you? And are you ready for a dog?"

"Doll, I know I can do this. I'll feed her and clean up after her. When I'm gone on missions, I'll make sure she has a guardian looking after her. Clint said that he'd help me train her." Bucky tilts his head upwards to meet her eyes, his blue irises radiating with sadness. "This dog's been through so much. I just want to protect her, love her, and give her a chance to experience true happiness. I know it's weird, so I don't expect you to get it."

"Actually," (Y/N) pauses to gently frame his face with her hands again. "I do get it, because that's how I feel about you."

The super-soldier's breath hitches as his heart skips a beat. He brings (Y/N)'s hand to his lips and presses a gentle kiss on the knuckles. "How did a monster like me get so lucky?"

"Babe? Two things. First of all and most importantly, I never want to hear you call yourself a monster. Okay?" She punctuates her assertion with a kiss on his forehead. "Secondly, if I do this, I'm doing it my way, you're not allowed to help, and you can't ask any questions."

"I - wait, what?" Bucky's eyes snap open and he inquisitively stares at his girlfriend. "What did you just say?"

"I only need one day to call up a few pals and to do intel, but I imagine I can get it done by Friday. Is that okay?"

"Doll, are you saying that -"

(Y/N) chuckles and dangerously leans in, her lips a few centimeters away from his. "Babe, I'm going to bring your dog home. Just leave it to me."

Saturday morning

"Good morning, I - whoa..."

Bucky halts his steps, his eyes widening as he takes in the scene in front of him. Staff members are maniacally going through files, while a few people are muttering over security footage playing on a computer screen. His supervisor is pacing back and forth, a wildly puzzled look etched on her face.

"James, good morning," his supervisor rushes, panic lacing her voice. Her face hardens and she shakes her head. "Actually it's not a good morning. One of the dogs is missing from her cage, but it's strange. None of the locks have been tampered with, our security systems don't show any evidence of the shelter being broken into, all of her records have been erased from the computer ...It's like she disappeared out of thin air or never existed."

"Thin air, huh. That's so strange," Bucky mutters.

"Yeah. We've talked to all of the volunteers, managers, and guards who worked yesterday. No one knows where she is, and there's no way of knowing how she disappeared." The supervisor sighs into her hand before clearing her throat. "Sorry, I'm a little stressed. How can I help you, James?"

"Erm, I just finished my shift, but I wanted to let you know that today's going to be my last day. I'm sorry it's so last minute, but I'm going out of town for the week. Also, my therapist thinks I should focus more on personal sessions with her."

"Oh.. Well, we'll miss you. You've been incredible with the dogs, and not a lot of shelters can say they had an Avenger volunteer," the supervisor grins, holding out a hand for a handshake. "Thank you so much for all of your help during the past three months."

"It's been a pleasure," the super-soldier reciprocates. He awkwardly waves before spinning on his heel and exiting the shelter. He crosses the street and strolls across the park and to the car waiting in the parking lot. Opening the door, Bucky slides into the passenger seat, a happy sigh escaping his lips as his body reacts to the air-conditioned interior.

"Hi, babe. How's it going?"

"There was a break-in at the shelter last night," Bucky nonchalantly reports as he clicks in his seat belt. "One of the dogs is missing, but no one can figure out how."

"Mmhmm.. How did your supervisor take your very last-minute resignation?"

"Eh, I'm only a volunteer, so she wasn't too bummed," the super-soldier shrugs. A scoff huffs out of his nose and he twists his body to face (Y/N). He incredulously shakes his head and starts, "I have to ask... How did you do it?"

(Y/N) holds up and waggles her index finger. "No questions, babe. That's a rule that will forever be in place." However, a mischievous smile dances on her lips as she squeezes his hand. "But I'm glad you're happy. That's the most important thing to me."

Bucky's metal hand reaches out to gently cup her chin. "You're too good for me, and I don't deserve you," he softly whispers before closing the distance between their lips. Just as the kiss is about to get heated, their bodies are pushed apart as a blue nose pitbull with scars on her face forces her way through them and onto Bucky's lap.

Bucky bursts into laughter as (Y/N) feigns exasperation. ���This is my life now, third-wheeling my boyfriend and Creampuff the dog," she dramatically sighs. Pure content lines her eyes as she watches Bucky lovingly hug the pitbull. "And now," she smacks a hand on the driving wheel with a beaming smile, "I'm ready for my well-earned week-long vacation to begin. You ready?"

"I got my girl, my dog, a car filled up on fuel, and a beach house that awaits me. Of course I'm ready."

"Amazing. Let's do this."

[stephaniefchase]

Bajan Newscap 7/23/2017

Good Morning #realdreamchasers. Here is your daily news cap for SUNDAY 23RD July 2017. There is a lot to read and digest so take your time. Remember you can read full articles via Barbados Today ((BT), or by purchasing a Sunday Sun Newspaper (SS).

HEADS AT ODDS - A major rift has erupted between Prime Minister Freundel Stuart and the head of the Private Sector Association (BPSA) Charles Herbert. A contentious letter written by Herbert on Friday, July 14, warning Stuart of “social unrest” in the country is at the centre of the fracture.  In the letter, a copy of which was obtained by the SUNDAY SUN, the BPSA chairman told the Prime Minister that he was “not satisfied” that the administration had engaged enough with the business community and other social partners on the state of the economy. “I am disappointed that up to the time of writing, you have been unable to schedule a meeting with the Social Partners to avert social unrest,” Herbert told Stuart. (SS)

PRIVATE SECTOR KNOCKS RACE TALK IN MARCH – The private sector is pushing back at suggestions that tomorrow’s march in Bridgetown has racial and political overtones. Private sector leader Charles Herbert yesterday rejected outright the claim that the rare alliance between the private sector and trade unions was really a march against the Freundel Stuart administration to push for early elections. Herbert, the chairman of the Barbados Private Sector Association (BPSA), insisted that the march, which several big businesses are encouraging their workers to join, was not a political ploy. “I think there are a lot of people trying to detract from what we are doing,” he said. “The march is being led both by the unions and the private sector. It is not a march only by one or the other.  (SS)

MASSY DISTRIBUTION GIVES EMPLOYEES PERMISSION TO MARCH – Massy Distribution, one of the island’s leading distribution agencies, has announced its support for Monday’s march being organized by trade unions and the Barbados Private Sector Association (BPSA). In a memo dated 21st July, addressed to staff, General Manager Glenn Taylor said “Massy Distribution’s position is that we will be supportive of the BPSA’s request. Employees who wish to attend the march to show support can do so at their own will”. Massy Distribution adds to a growing list of businesses giving support to the march. They include Woolworth, Automotive Art, and all but three of businesses of Williams Industries Inc. (BT)

WOOLWORTH ANNOUNCES SUPPORT FOR MONDAY’S MARCH – Yet another business in the private sector has announced its support for Monday’s national march called by trade unions and the Barbados Private Sector Association (BPSA). In a statement on its Facebook page, Woolworth Barbados gave early notice to its customers about its intention to join the march. “To our valuable customers, please note that Woolworth will be joining the BPSA and the Trade Unions in the planned march on Monday, July 24 which starts at 10 a.m. at Queens Park.  Therefore, we will be closing at 9:30 a.m. and will reopen around 1 p.m. to enable all staff who wish to participate to do so,” the statement read. Earlier Chairman of Williams Industries Inc Ralph Bizzy Williams supported Monday’s march by members of the BPSA and the labour unions. Williams told Barbados TODAY that he would be closing all but three of his companies – Ionics Fresh Water Limited, which is a desalination plant; Sustainable Barbados Recycling Centre, which handles garbage disposal and Big Gases Limited, which supplies oxygen to the hospital – which he said could be considered “essential services that should not be disrupted”. Chief Executive Officer of Automotive Art Douglas Armstrong also said that the company “fully endorses the initiatives of the BPSA” and would therefore be closing to facilitate participation in the march. (BT)

SLOW RIDE – The cash-strapped Transport Board has been paying a Trinidadian consultant $22 000 a month to get 200 defective buses back in operation, the Sunday Sun can reveal. David Bartholomew, an engineer who worked with the public transport system in Trinidad, was hired by the Transport Board in March 2016 to undertake the repair of the buses on an initial six-month contract. Apart from his salary he has been provided with a vehicle, housing accommodation and airfare twice a month back to his homeland. When he took up the assignment, 142 buses were on the road, according to sources close to the board.  (SS)

BARBADIAN LAUNCHES CARIBBEAN EQUIVALENT OF FACEBOOK - Facebook, Twitter, and other social media websites have become a way of life for people all over the world over the last decade, but has anyone ever considered “localizing” them to suit the needs of their own section of the globe? That is what drove Barbadian graphic artist and web designer, Daniel De Souza, to come up with CaribLime, a Caribbean-oriented social media website. De Souza ran with his idea, but he quickly recognized that creating a social networking site was different to creating a typical website. CaribLime has a few distinguishing features not found on other social media platforms. De Souza said people who speak different languages, including Dutch, French, Spanish, German and Portuguese, will be able to log on in their native language. Since its launch, CaribLime has gained 168 subscribers, based primarily in Barbados, and a few from Guyana. De Souza is focused on increasing membership, primarily among commercial customers. De Souza said he is in the process of developing a smartphone app with an Indian company, since he found that local and regional firms were too expensive. De Souza said that, so far, the website performance has been strong and he is confident it will continue to grow. (BT)

HEALTH HAZZARD – The retired head of the Environmental Protection Department is hoping it would not take a major health problem to galvanise Government into removing asbestos roofs from its buildings. Jeffrey Headley made the comments to the SUNDAY SUN as he revealed there were many buildings and some Government housing units which still had their original asbestos sheeting. The Queen Elizabeth Hospital was one; some of the buildings on the compound at Enmore in Collymore Rock, St Michael, that was supposed to be the Ebola Centre, were others, as well as the imposing sugar bond on the Barbados Port Inc.’s compound, located along the Harbour Road, St Michael. Headley, who retired in 2013 after being at the helm of the department for over 27 years, said that not many asbestos roofs had been removed since he left. (SS)

TEENS CHARGED WITH MURDER – Murder accused 17-year-old Kadeem Torian Wilkinson and 17-year-old Torell Sergio Holligan appeared before Magistrate Bannister in the District ‘A’ Court today. Wilkinson, of Todds Land, St George, and Holligan, of #1 Pool Land, St John, were jointly charged with the murder of  48-year-old Kenrick Spooner of #1 Pool Land, St John. They were not required to plead to the indictable charge and were remanded to prison to reappear in the District ‘B’ Court on August 17. (BT)

ST. MICHAEL MAN WANTED BY THE POLICE – Police are seeking the public’s assistance in locating 25-year-old Dario Devon Drayton who is wanted in connection with serious criminal matters. Drayton, who is also known as ‘Scooby’ or ‘Luke’,  is last known to reside at Turton Gap, Gittens Road, Government Hill, St Michael. He is about  5’ 6” in height, slim build, of light brown complexion, has a small nose, small protruding ears, small brown eyes, and thick lips. He has a low haircut and a scar on the center of his forehead. Drayton is advised that he can present himself to the District ‘A’ Police Station, accompanied by an attorney-at-law of his choice. Police are also asking anyone who may know Drayton’s whereabouts is asked to contact the District ‘A’ Police Station at 430-7246, 430-7295, police emergency at telephone number 211, Crime Stoppers at 1-800-TIPS (8477) or the nearest police station. The public is reminded that it is a serious offence to harbour or assist wanted persons and any person caught committing this offence can be prosecuted. (BT)

CHARLES SHUTS DOWN MAPLE – Nikolai Charles took nine wickets for 26 runs to bowl CounterPoint Wanderers to a two-day victory over Home Improvement Hardware Maple in the Barbados Cricket Association’s Elite Division competition yesterday. The Barbados Pride leg-spinner’s remarkable spell orchestrated a Maple collapse as the home team crashed to 43 all out in their second innings at Trents. Charles’ outstanding effort handed Wanderers victory by an innings and 43 runs with a day to spare.(SS)

WONDER WOMAN THE STAR AMONG WARNER BROS’ EXPANDING SUPERHERO FRANCHISE - After smashing box office records this year, Wonder Woman received the loudest cheers among the DC superheroes gathered on Saturday at San Diego’s annual Comic-Con to present new footage and trailers for Warner Bros’ expanding comic book film franchise.  A teaser of Warner Bros’ upcoming superhero films shown to the 6 500 attendees at the panel gave a glimpse of Wonder Woman II, a presumed sequel to June’s Wonder Woman movie that is on track this weekend to become the second-highest grossing movie of 2017. No further details were revealed about Wonder Woman II, but star Gal Gadot joined Ben Affleck (Batman), Ezra Miller (Flash), Ray Fisher (Cyborg) and Jason Momoa (Aquaman), to present the latest trailer for November’s Justice League movie, which will unite the DC superheroes.  Affleck said he was “the luckiest guy in the world” and “so thrilled” to play the caped crusader, dispelling trade publication The Hollywood Reporter’s report this week that his future as Batman was uncertain. The latest trailer picks up after the death of Superman from last year’s Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, and shows Batman and Wonder Woman joined by the Flash, Cyborg and Aquaman to fight super villain Steppenwolf.  “All of these characters are dealing with personal issues and they come together and are able to use those circumstances to save the world, which is beautiful,” Fisher said. In his excitement after watching the new trailer, the muscle-bound Momoa threw his chair across the stage, breaking it and briefly sitting on the floor. Momoa also debuted the first look at the standalone Aquaman movie, and revealed the aquatic superhero will be battling his brother, the super villain Ocean Master, in the film due out next year.  The avid fan base at Comic-Con, a gathering of pop and nerd culture fans, were also shown footage of Warner Bros’ upcoming sci-fi films Ready Player One and Blade Runner 2049.  Veteran filmmaker Steven Spielberg is directing Ready Player One, out next year and adapted from the book of the same name, about a near-future dystopian America where people escape real life into a virtual reality world void of limits. Spielberg said the film is a “flashback to a decade I was very involved in, the 1980s, and flash forward to a future waiting out there for us whether we like it or not”. (SS)

TWO NEW CALYPSO QUEENS CROWNED - Barbados has two junior calypso queens. Following two keenly contested finals at the Kensington Oval tonight, Mhizz Kibabba, singing 'Bring Back The Love', emerged as the winner in the 7-12 category of the Crop Over Junior Monarch competition, while Sparkle T won in the 13-18 category with a self-penned number entitled 'This Golden Chain'. Both winners walked away with over $2,000 in cash and other prizes. The defending monarchs were Summa in the 7-12 category and De MC in the 13-18 category. Tonight, there was a tie for second position in the 7-12 group between Browne Star, singing Don’t Pressure Me and Master Kei with A Child’s Plea. Summa finished fourth with Potholes. In the older category, De Overcomer was second with 'Save A Child', De MC third with 'Who Madd?' and fourth place went to Lady Nica, whose performance of 'Questions for the Minister' was enhanced by a video presentation featuring Minister of Education Ronald Jones. It was Sparkle T’s final year in the competition so she is leaving on a high, while Mhizz Kibabba is off to a winning start in her first year in the junior contest. However, brothers Browne Star and De Rock failed to dominate this year’s competition in the way the Clarke sisters – Lil Az and Small One – and the Gittens brothers – Mylez Z and Jazz Z – previously did. Tonight’s competition was well attended and at the end of the night, the crowd generally applauded the results which were delivered just before 1 a.m. Sunday after the show got going at 7 p.m. Saturday. (BT)

That’s all for today folks there are 161 days left in the year Shalom! #thechasefiles #dailynewscaps Follow us on Twitter, Facebook & Instagram for your daily news. #bajannewscaps #newscapsbystephaniefchase

[flauntpage]

The Tactical Guide to Justin Gaethje vs. Michael Johnson

Lightweight has traditionally been considered the deepest and most talent rich division in mixed martial arts. The UFC can own every heavyweight of even marginal note and even those in the top ten will fail to impress fans, but in even B-level promotions you will be able to see a couple of lightweights who impress you and seem to deserve their chance 'in the mix' of the UFC's most chaotic division. Through his incredible PRIDE Bushido run, Takanori Gomi was considered the lightweight number one but even after PRIDE was dissolved and the UFC was the unrivalled leader in mixed martial arts, most MMA websites' lightweight rankings contained a couple of outsiders. From the WEC graduates (Benson Henderson, Anthony Pettis, Donald Cerrone), to Strikeforce alumni (Gilbert Melendez, Jorge Masvidal, Josh Thompson), to Bellator's 155ers (Michael Chandler, Eddie Alvarez, Will Brooks), there has always been someone fighting their way up outside of the UFC who would make for a great addition to the UFC's shark tank.

When another promotion's lightweight champion gets his shot in the UFC, the hardcore fans shiver with anticipation. For the 'PRIDE never die' crew, there is the chance to hammer home the idea that the UFC is not the be all and end all of MMA. For the 'Zuffa zombies', there is the prospect of laughing at those alternate MMA fanboys when their alternate champion loses his Octagon debut. With World Series of Fighting's lightweight undefeated champion, Justin Gaethje set to make his UFC debut next Friday against Michael Johnson, there are doubtless some hoping that this will be the first step of a destructive run through the division, and others hoping Gaethje's momentum comes to a sudden halt. Of course, when you're talking about the deepest division in MMA, nothing ever works out cleanly. Both the WEC's final lightweight champion, Anthony Pettis, and long-time Bellator champion, Eddie Alvarez lost their first fight in the Octagon—yet both went on to win the UFC belt.

Thriving Amid Chaos

There are fighters who appeal to something primal within the viewer. Think of Matt Brown in the middle of his welterweight tear, ferociously walking down his opponent and hammering them with whichever limb was closest. Justin Gaethje has that magic, and through World Series of Fighting's run he was the main reason to tune in. Entering MMA as an accomplished wrestler, Gaethje found out he has the gift for starching people and hasn't looked back. His style can be ugly, and primitive, and he gets hit way more than a fighter of his talent should, but the results speak for themselves. In his ten fights under World Series of Fighting, only one opponent made it the distance.

What makes fighting so unique is that there is no right or wrong way to fight. You can get hit too much, which Justin Gaethje definitely does, but if you are landing the more telling blows and winning the contests, that method is working. Joe Frazier got hit a lot, but he knocked a lot of men out and won the world heavyweight title in the process. The thing is that those fighters who do get hit a lot in the course of their fights tend to age worse than the less active, defensively savvy types who perhaps pick up less knockout victories. In interviews Gaethje has reflected on the risks of his style and seems to at least play lip service to the 'get in, get rich, get out' philosophy that keeps fighters hungry and prevents them from hanging around into their forties, suffering sadder and sadder defeats.

When you sit down to watch a Gaethje fight is actually quite easy to forget about the human aspect because he seems like a force of nature. Pressure is what creates knockouts for offensive fighters. Sitting back and looking for counters is great, but it is hit and miss once you start meeting men who know that that is your intention. Pressure is a reliable way to create finishes because it forces the opponent to fire back, opening himself up in the process, and simply being on the back foot and rushed at all times is a very effective means of wilting a man. There is scientific pressure—coming forward and looking to avoid most of the damage while countering as the opponent lashes out, think Mike Tyson or Julio Cesar Chavez, or Rafael dos Anjos in mixed martial arts, and there is a more primitive pressure, just coming forward, swinging big, and grinding on your man when he hits a surface: that's Justin Gaethje.

It is rare that you will see someone with as many low kick stoppages, or fights which ended as he swarmed on a limping opponent. Gaethje pounds in the right low kick with reckless abandon, but there is some science there. Gaethje's best kicks are often timed as counters on, or after an opponent's jab. Many fighters will toe their lead foot in on the jab as they blade their stance slightly to reach, without even realizing, this makes it a perfect time to buckle their leg inward.

Gaethje's kicks bring us to the position from which he does much of his best work: along the fence. While Gaethje can hit decently with his left hand, most of the time it serves the job of stiff arming his opponent or holding the collar tie. Stiff arming is almost universally undervalued in martial arts: a straight arm braced on the right part of the body can hinder a great deal of offence. We discussed this ahead of Holm vs Rousey—a great classical (and illegal) way to keep an advancing fighter away from the inside is simply to stiff arm their face to buy time before circling off.

You will notice in the above highlight just how much time Gaethje spends along the fence either pushing his opponent's head as he loads up on his right hand, or holding them in with the collar tie as he digs with uppercuts. It seems primitive, but even Lennox Lewis would do this when he was allowed to—see his fight with Frank Bruno for a good amount of stiff arming before the referee prevents him. Anthony Johnson was also ferocious from this position, I'm sure most readers will remember him stiff arming Little Nog's face and hammering in uppercuts as Nogueira pushed his head back into them.

It is along the fence that Gaethje does some spectacular work with his low kicks. Few fighters have checking low kicks on their mind while fighting in a clinch, and while another man is pushing you around it is hard to get on one leg comfortably anyway. Anderson Silva used to dig in the odd low kick while holding a collar tie, but as a damage dealer the clinch low kick is one of Gaethje's money strikes.

Being a former division 1 wrestler, Gaethje still hits the takedowns but often uses them for damage and style points more than position. Big slams have been a constant feature of Gaethje's career. Gaethje has also shown masterful use of that Chad Mendes principle—setting up the uppercut with the takedown attempt. Mendes will use level change to get his man to throw their hips back and bring their head forward, then pop them in the jaw from underneath. Gaethje often grabs hold of a leg only to release it and bring that same hand up the centre.

An interesting thought which struck this writer while reviewing Gaethje's tape regards Gaethje's defensive porousness out in the open, and his reliance on catch-and-pitch counters. We mentioned Joe Frazier earlier, Frazier fought much of his career half-blind and often couldn't see the punches coming: relying instead on a cross guard and constant head movement. With the thick glasses that Gaethje wears in any media appearance it makes you wonder how much of an effect his vision has on his defensive shortcomings and his decision to go to catch-and-pitch counters. Catch-and-pitch is typically what fighters go to when they aren't able to react to the punches fast enough, or are having trouble distinguishing feints from legitimate punches. When catching and pitching, the fighter feels the strike on his guard and then immediately fires back.

The best slip-and-rip counters I have seen Gaethje hit came as he backed off and invited the opponent to step to him, the majority of Gaethje's best counters have come out of the hands high, eyes down bull guard. Gaethje will take blows on his guard or forehead and try to time his return—often he isn't even looking at his opponent when he launches his counter. Of course, there could be any number of reasons for Gaethje to prefer this style of countering—the important point is only that he does.

This brings us to the man hoping to ruin Gaethje's party, Michael Johnson. Despite his relatively unflashy game, Johnson might be the perfect man to do it. Johnson is fast southpaw whose style largely consists of movement and straight hitting, with the odd snappy low kick thrown in.

If you know anything about Johnson, you will know that he is game. Footage of Johnson's rough sparring sessions with Nieky Holzken and Robin van Roosmalen makes it clear that he isn't one to hold back out of respect for an opponent's credentials. Van Roosmalen might be a smart sparring partner for this fight as his close range low kicks are his best weapon.

Johnson has also shown himself to be adaptable. The tools remain the same—the straight punches, the quick trades, and the skip up right low kick—but he can play the part of the bull or the matador quite comfortably. Johnson floated around the cage against Gleison Tibau, fought out in the open against Dustin Poirier and so many others, but applied pressure beautifully when he needed to against Edson Barboza. Johnson's constant forward motion in that fight kept Barboza from kicking comfortably and exhausted the Brazilian over three rounds.

Hypothetical Gameplans

For Justin Gaethje the gameplan is likely to be the same as it always has been: move forward and hit the opponent as hard as possible, preferably against the fence. It would be good to see him using takedown attempts to accomplish this—not just feinting takedowns to set up his punches, but actually ducking in on Johnson's hips and physically moving him to the fence. Johnson's feet are usually neat and he move laterally after each engagement, he can also stop a takedown decently. Khabib Nurmagomedov got Johnson to the fence by shooting on him, getting sprawl on, and simply bulldozing through until Johnson's feet hit the fence. Using his wrestling chops off the bat might save Gaethje from having to cut the ring on an opponent with neater feet than he is used to.

Gaethje might also want to keep the low kicking conservative—Palomino caught him with a hard right hand during a low kick and other opponents have caught him on one leg too. Gaethje has also thrown himself to the floor with poorly timed knees and flying knees. While it would be a surprise to see Johnson looking for the takedown, fighters at this level won't typically just let Gaethje get away with the kind of errors he could scramble out of in the lower leagues.

The level change uppercut and overhand might well prove themselves Johnson's downfall as he does commit his weight and hands to dealing with shots. Against Gleison Tibau these reactions were very apparent.

For Michael Johnson's part, he seems like the perfect man to show up the defensive shortcomings of Gaethje in terms of style. Lateral movement and straight punches are the skills which typically show up the forward plodding banger. Gaethje's ring cutting hasn't seemed anything too special but it is one of those skills which you only really get to see if the opponent is competent at circling off the fence to begin with.

Johnson's left straight to the body is an understated punch which might make a world of difference in this bout. Gaethje can take a shot but stands square and often raises his forearms high to form a guard, this makes his centre line and particularly his solar plexus more of a target for the left straight. While it is not good to look too much into sparring sessions, Johnson's left straight was one of his most effective strikes against Nieky Holzken, who in turn is a forward moving pressure fighter who covers up with a high guard. While feeding Gaethje straight punches down the pipe seems a sound idea, the left straight to the body is one which will stick with him and wear on him through the rounds of this twenty-five minute fight. Part of the genius of pressure fighting is that the opponent lashes out wildly at the pressure fighter's head, often forgetting the body entirely. Finding effective body shots can make the constant forward movement more exhausting for the pressure fighter than the man being pressured.

Whether Gaethje's first fight in the UFC is a bust, or whether he becomes an overnight sensation as a result of this performance, he has a catalogue of phenomenally entertaining fights behind him already. In an interview with MMA Fighting, Gaethje used the metaphor of a car crash to describe fighting, insisting that he wanted to enter the crash with more force so the other guy came off worse. Watch the glorious pile up and get back here for the breakdown after the fight.

The Tactical Guide to Justin Gaethje vs. Michael Johnson published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv